How the Watley Review came to be. Sort of.

Uncle Zeke went here for his vacation.

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Volume 1, Issue 18, September 16, 2003

Where In The World Is Uncle Zeke?

I have to say, as editor pro tem, I am not doing a very good job. For one thing, my efforts to hack into his bank account to get at the rest of the "Whaling Trust Fund" came to naught when I realized that the bank he uses is the last remaining financial institution to perform every function by hand. All of it. Not a damn computer in the place. Makes hacking a less relevant skill. Also, I still can't find his secret stash of top-notch Scotch, though I've been through his office a bit. This place is like a maze; chock-a-block with antiquated oddities and leatherbound books, and more secret compartments than you can shake a stick at.

Well Zeke found a berth on what must be the only functional steamship still sailing, and headed out to sea, following in the footsteps of that crazy old pirate Elijah. Anyway, sailing wasn't actually good enough for Uncle Zeke; he apparently then got in a lifeboat to get a "closer look" at a whale, which kinda sorta swallowed him, from what the steamship line told me me.

Now, we knew Uncle Zeke was all right, because Elisabeth stuck a cellphone in his coat pocket before he left. When I called the number, he picked up the phone, started pushing random buttons, and shouted "Prepare for Telephonic Communication from the Belly of the Leviathan!" before breaking the connection. I told Elisabeth he doesn't know how to use a cell.

Then today we got a postcard in the mail. At least I assume it came in the mail, though most postcards don't hum or give off sparks. Well, you see all kinds of things in my line of work, which is basically heavy drinking and internet surfing. He seems to have been rescued from the whale and is in someplace called Trepanning, which is not exactly on Mapquest. But they're having some sort of historical festival, which should suit Zeke just fine as he is a walking anachronism.

Man, if I wake up and dreamed all this, I will be seriously bummed, cause it's kind of trippy. But anyway, here's the postcard, which will fill up space on the page and save me writing a longer editorial. Who knows when Uncle Zeke will be back, but until then rest assured my buddies and I will be fabricating stories with the best of them and politely ogling Elisabeth, who has only threatened me twice today with bodily harm. I think she's warming up to me.

Ephram F. Watley