MacRobert and The T*l*sk*r Lake

Submitted by Jon Croft

Mr Jon Croft has drawn our attention to this article which appeared in 'Georgia's Best' magazine.

Three months ago, four men from Georgia heard of a legend which captured their imagination. It was a tale of an underground lake of Scottish T*l*sk*r whisky which was free for the taking. They were so entranced by this story that they gave up their comfortable lives in Bugtussle to seek out this treasure. The four men, Ewan Stewart, Kevin MacGregor, Cooter Jackson, and a man known only as MacRobert, set out to find this whisky, but they were never heard from again. The only record of their ordeal was contained in a journal found by Washington State Police on the side of Interstate 5, apparently written by MacRobert himself.

Here is the disturbing story of the "MacRobert Talisker Project", in his own words.

Day 1 :

Well, we're off. Ewan had a dive in the dumpster behind Suzy Q's, and he found enough stale donuts to last us for several days. As we were loading up the car, I noticed that Cooter had brought along his gun. I was deeply shocked, and asked him if he knew how many people were killed with guns every year. He replied that, 'guns don't kill people - people kill people', adding that we needed protection on the road. I told Cooter that we weren't going to leave until this gun issue was resolved, so we set about discussing the issue.

Day 14 :

After 14 days of arguing, we have agreed that more people are killed by cars than by guns, and that guns are designed to both shoot people *and* put holes in targets. We have decided that we will take the gun, but we will not take any ammunition. Further, if someone tries to attack us, we will run them over with the car. With that issue finally settled, we turned in for the night, eager to begin our quest.

Day 15 :

We got up bright and early, and were excited to finally be on our way. We had heard that Loch T*l*sk*r was somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, being guarded by a fearsome troll-like creature called a MacPhàdruig. We had also heard that, although the MacPhàdruig was said to be very old, it guarded the whisky like a mother bear guards her cubs. We have some trepidation about this journey, but when free whisky is at stake, a MacRobert never backs away.

Day 19 :

We're making good progress. We have been replenishing our traveling funds by using the 'Dosh and Dash' technique invented by our ancestors in Scotland. My Great Grandfather used to tell me tales about how the MacRoberts would approach the Romans at Hadrian's Wall and offer to paint it for only 15 quid. When the eager Romans agreed, the MacRoberts would ask for the money in advance so that they could go and buy paint. Of course once they had the money, they would never return to do the job. We did the same thing, only we offered to mow people's lawns. After getting money from them to buy gas for the mower, we would drive off and resume our quest. It's wonderful being a MacRobert !

Day 22 :

Our mood is beginning to darken, and things have not been going well. What has happened to change our mood ? Well, it all began yesterday when Cooter went into a liquor store and stole the latest issue of 'Really Big Knockers' magazine. Upon reading his favorite publication, he became very upset because the girls in the lesbian photo spread were not quite to his liking.. This put him in a foul mood which rubbed off on the rest of us, and caused me to look at the magazine to find out what the problem was.

It was then that my life changed forever. There, right after the article on how fat bald guys *can* pick-up high school chicks, was a chapter from the novel 'Siddhartha' by Hermann Hesse. I was so impressed by what I read, that I went into town, broke a library window, and stole a copy, so I could read the whole book.

It was a revelation to me. I stayed up all night reading it, surrounded by a cloak of silence that was broken only by the hum of the crickets and the occasional raspy tart from Cooter.

Here was the story of a man like myself. A man who has set out into the world to find Truth, and to find himself. But, rather than searching for his soul, Siddhartha attemps to destroy his Self through the suffering of Samanic asceticism. He sees that Samana's knowledge might lead him to his salvation and, it was there, on Page 11 Chapter 2, that I read these words . . .

'I had one single goal, to become empty; to become empty of thirst, desire, dreams, pleasure and sorrow, to let the Self die. No longer to be Self, to experience the peace of an emptied heart, to experience pure thought.'

This was my goal as well. If I find the T*l*sk*r, will I experience 'pure thought', or will I drink until I fall down and piss my pants ? Only time will tell . . .

Day 31 :

We diligently followed the directions we were given, and by noon we approached the entrance to the great cave that contains the underground lake of T*l*sk*r. The scent of whisky wafted strongly through the air, and my companions were joyous beyond words . . .

As we came closer to the entrance, our passage was barred by the creature we had been told to beware of. It was him, the Great Beast MacPhàdruig. He was a monster seven feet tall; covered from head to toe with bristly red hair. One of his red-rimmed eyes was a dead milky color, and drool ran down the corners of his mouth. His teeth were decayed and yellow and many of them were missing. Those that remained were the canine teeth of a wolf, and bits of rotting flesh could be seen lodged between these great fangs.

'What have ye come for, ye wicked wankers ?', the Macphàdruig roared.

'We seek Loch T*l*sk*r', I said with an unsteady voice.

'Aye . . . And so have many other brave men but not one has lived to tell the tale !!!
If ye wish to swim in the Loch of Whisky, ye must each answer me a single query'.

He turned to Ewan and asked, 'In the Albert Camus novel "The Plague", what modern phenomena is symbolized by the quarantine of the village ?'

'I don't know', said Ewan.

The cruel MacPhàdruig grinned, and Ewan immediately burst into flames.

He turned to Kevin and said, 'Explain the significance of the 'code hero' in the writings of Ernest Hemingway'

'I . . . uhhh . . . ', Kevin stammered.

And with another evil grin, MacPhadruig caused him to burst into flames.

He then fixed his wicked eyes on Cooter and asked, 'Who is the publisher of Really Big Knockers magazine ?'

'Why, I don't know', Cooter said frantically, 'I just look at the pictures !'

And, like the others, Cooter vanished in a whirlwind of fire.

The creature then turned to me with a sly grin and said, 'Explain the motivations of Siddhartha in the novel written by Hermann Hesse.'

'That's easy', I said, 'He had one single goal, to become empty . . . to become empty of thirst, desire, dreams, pleasure and sorrow . . . to let the Self die. No longer to be Self . . . to experience the peace of an emptied heart . . . to experience pure thought.'

'Right, you're in !', he said. 'And make sure you wash those smelly feet before you dive in. I have to drink out of it too, you know. . .'

And so I am about to see the great Loch T*l*sk*r. I wanted to make this one last entry in my journal before I go in, because with any luck I will soon be too pissed to write.

That was the last entry in the journal, and nothing has been heard of the four men since. As they had no fixed address before they disappeared, police are so far unable to determine if the journal is just a hoax, or if evil really has befallen the four men of Bugtussle.

So what do you think ?     Doesn't that sound like our very own MacRobert ?
Will he ever return ?     Or has he vanished forever into MacRobert's heaven, with a glass of Talisker in one hand and a stale donut in the other ?

Only time will tell . . .