Packing

Last night Plotnik and Ducknik sat on the veranda of their luscious, elegant villa, high in the buttery hills overlooking Greater Saint Plotniko. In the distance they could see the spires of the Half Completed Boondoggle that connects Saint Plotniko with East Smokyland; the headlamps of carriages moving at gentle, barely subsonic speed across the span; they could hear The Great Birdnik trilling in the pines, when the drummer down the block was not practicing to see how many times in a row he could smash his head against his snare drum.

Live is good here, but The Great Plotnik has opened his suitcase and begun sorting his garments for his and Ducknik's upcoming voyage. These garments include regular garments, overgarments, undergarments (including a pretty darned sexy bathing garment, heh heh heh), robes for sleeping and assorted raiment for air, land, sea, mud, jungle and estuary, not to mention communal kitchen and bathroom. He is bringing a separate steamer trunk for his vitamins.

Plotnik and Ducknik have had their shots. They have been innoculated against Typhoid, Tetanus, Diptheria, Polio, Hepatitis A, B, C, D and E, plus F and G just in case they are invented before arrival, Yellow Fever, Purple Fever and COF (Colorless, Odorless Fever). Plus they have to take Malaria pills, load up on Cipro and Immodium and watch out for buses driving on the wrong side of the road.