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Once at Steve’s Cabin this was the week’s most repeated (mis)quote:

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From the Old Craab Forum 08/09/02 09:27:08

The intelligence society was shocked yesterday when an anonymous source reported that a long time member of Craab and Lollipop Guild activist, is missing. When questioned about the time of disappearance the anonymous source who filed the report said, “Tim is not what we would call, ‘A Tall Man.’ We didn’t realize he was missing until . . . well, he was missing.” The missing Craab member is believed to be wearing a pair of green Berkenstocks and a long night shirt that says, “Brush your Baleen” on the belly. Tim Boyle’s wife Iris says she is mainly worried because, “I found the clean underwear I set out for him on the bed and I don’t think he has had his nap.” When asked about the possibility of foul play in connection with the number of opinions he is able to generate she replied, “I think that would be widening not narrowing the suspects.”

Since his disappearance there has been a reward offered for any information leading to Tim’s safe return. The head inspector of the case describes the reward, “It’s plush, has one horn and looks like a pony. That’s all I can say right now.” There have already been a few individuals to step forward and claim that they are Tim Boyle. Josh Boyle, Tim’s younger brother, has been in charge of the screening process. “We had one guy in here who was pretty good.” said Josh, “He was the right short. He had a piece of gunk under the skin on his calf like Tim. He even smelled like Tim, if that is even reproducible. He had me fooled until he turned to me and said, ‘Hey Josh wanna play Unicorn Club?’ You see Tim liked Besties not Unicorns. Tim was the president of the Besties Club and me and my little brother Jacob LOVED playing with him. So I had him cained and then sent on his way with some scraps from the compost heap.” So far there have been no leads on Tim’s disappearance, however his various connections with Leprechauns, Baby Ducks and Girls with Testimonies are being heavily investigated. The police ask that if anyone knows anything about Tim Boyle’s disappearance or whereabouts please contact them through the Craab Forum.

-Associated Press

This much we’ve been able to deduce is true: Boyles’ basement, mid 1990s, Boo was playing Nintendo on the old Zenith Television set when Tim moved silently up behind him with a drawn standard issue USMC tactical knife, or “KA-BAR“, in his hand. Tim then grabbed Boo’s forehead, pulled his head back and pressed the blunt back edge of the KA-BAR against Boo’s exposed throat. The situation escalated to bloodshed when the uncomfortable and disoriented Boo reached up to pull away whatever Tim was holding against his neck and grabbed the sharp edge of the KA-BAR, cutting open his hand. Boo then fled the scene “howling”.

These are the questions we’re still trying to ascertain:
-Was Steve there? If not, where was he?
-Is Boo’s skin weaker than an apple, since Tim holds that his KA-BAR can’t cut an apple?
-Did Josh intentionally or accidentally turn off Boo’s game of Master Blaster?
-Is it true that Tim “did it for no good reason”, as Boo insists?
-What did Steve’s cousin Leslie get for Christmas that year?

One redheaded witness, who “wasn’t there for it” but is a lawyer, was quite certain the whole thing went something like this:

Tim: “I think I’ll go put my Ka-Bar against Boo’s throat.”

Tim’s conscience (The voice of Keith from Voltron): “Why would you want to do something like that?”

Tim: “No good reason.”

Tim’s conscience: “Say no more sir! I’m sure only good will come from this.”

Tim: “Thanks conscience. You’ve never led me wrong before!”

Moments Later:

Boo: “What the HECK! . . . Oh, it’s just blood, no biggie, I’ve bled before.”

Boo’s conscience (the voice of the General from the Iron Giant): “The heck it’s just blood! That’s from your hand! How are you going to play Nintendo now, Mansly!?”

Boo: WhaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

The investigation into this incident continues.

“I know you’re not real, but you are my best friend.”
“AROOOOOOOOO!”
“No! That’s not fair! I will be born into a home that is blessed with the Gospel!”
“ARGH ARGH AROOOOOOOOOOOO!”
“Yes, yes! I promise!”

Que Music!

Once upon a time, a prepubescent Boo woke from a dream of hair and lightning. He went to his mother to talk of his feelings about the dream.

“No! It’s not because of a surfeit of video games!” he cried. “There is someone out there somewhere, in a jungle, waiting for me to bring the Gospel to them. My mutant friend from the preexistence! I WILL FIND YOU, MY FRIEND!!!” Boo ran away weeping, and he kept running, as hard, and as fast, and far as he could, until Tim pounded him.

Many years later, a still prepubescent Boo received a very special letter from a prophet calling him to arms in Florianopolis Brazil. “At last, my friend, your wait is almost over!” Boo cried as he ran away weeping.

Two weeks after Boo’s charred and battered corpse was found out in the jungles of Brazil, a letter arrived at his home. In the letter was a single page from Boo’s journal, and all it said was . . .

Once upon a time, before the summer of 1994, but after the summer of 1993, there was a gathering of CRAAB at the Boyles.  As common to this period in CRAAB history, this gathering had run late with various members departing into the night at various times to make their way home.  I don’t recall all who was there, but by the time Steve was making his way home, Ellery had already departed, and Tim, Jake and I (at the very least) were left at the Boyles.

Suddenly Steve reappeared, visibly perturbed.  He told us that he had just seen a skinny black guy who was walking away from him down the street, suddenly turn and sprint into Steve’s house.   Steve’s parents were not home and the house was empty, so Steve used the Boyles’ phone to call 911.  After being assured that officers were on their way, Steve called his house, let the answering machine pick up, and left a very threatening message to the intruder in his house.

We gathered out in front of the house across the street (the house that would, in the future, be Steve’s house) as a number of police officers, including at least one K-9 unit, responded to the call.  A crowd of concerned neighbors formed around us as Mesa’s Finest searched the Crandell home from top to bottom.  It was a good and tense 30 to 45 minutes before they reemerged and reported that they had found nothing and the house was secure.

Once the police left, we decided to conduct our own CRAAB search of the premises. We thoroughly searched every room, upstairs and down, the backyard, everywhere. It was at this point, during our search, that Ellery reappeared.  “Hey, guys.” “Ellery, you won’t believe this! Steve saw a black guy run into his house and he called the cops and the cops searched the house and they didn’t find anything.” “Well, I was on the roof, and I didn’t see any black guy.” “You were on the roof?”  “Yeah, I came over to surprise attack, Steve (Note: a common CRAAB practice in that day) so I climbed up onto the roof.  I saw the cops looking around and I just stayed up there until they left.”

A sudden wave of awe and respect rushed through CRAAB.  There was no black guy, there was only Ellery . . . he could have been horribly mauled by a K-9 unit, but instead he eluded law enforcement level detection with his bare hands.

But one thing still didn’t fit.  Steve saw a skinny black guy run into his house, not a skinny partial Asian.  Ellery had no explanation for this.   So we had the players go back to their places, with Steve just leaving the Boyles house and Ellery further down the street walking towards Steve’s house.  Ellery was pretty much a non-racial silhouette the whole time, except until he walked under a street light and the shadows fell perfectly on his neck and arms making him into, what I would swear was, a skinny black guy.  It was uncanny.

It was not long after this time that Ellery, a part time CRAABer ever since I had known him, politely excused himself from further CRAAB activities.  I always respected him for that decision.  He never seemed all that into CRAAB and thus never seemed all that CRAAB to me . . . and yet he was the only one of us, to my knowledge, to successfully pull off a covert feat of that magnitude.

“That’s tough, kid. That’s double tough.”

“Hey mister, I lost my dog Grinder!”