Four Score And Seven Years Ago circa millions of years ago
History contends that on that scorching hot summer June sixteenth in the year 616 after the Devonian era, two love lovers - a Mister Belmont Me and Missy Bryn Mawr Hu felt the call of the wild within the wilderness in the virgin hinterlands of Penn Valley and supposedly got cannibalized by a Hottentot Mailer Daemon named Manyunk Yahoo.
All the plugged stoppers got pulled as the passionate children of Mother Nature and Jethro Toll rumbled in the jungle, and shook the firmament echoing subterranean catacombs with their private feral Carnival antics.
The ensuing Millennium spawned one bizarre tale after another each appending a more farfetched tail spinning embellishment from the preceding legend.
Mary Watersford considered as the first person to record the shroud of mystery lurking in the hollows of sleepy hills, which rumor harbored this legend of the lost Lower Merion lovers.
Even to this day (one eerily similar at that fateful bewitching hour) one can hear the blood curdling and hair-raising bacchanalia underground Brahmins deep pounding beets on their crude ovens deep within the bowels of the Earth.
Many believe present day tremors that line the main tract hearken Earth linked presence of sinning wood nymphs and elfin grots continually being birthed within the many gnarled rocks causing groundswell similar to a Welsh Valley overtaken by hocked conch blowing Harridans.
Some of these hardy adherents tagged as unprintable expletives, whose self-righteousness bound by unwavering assertions of woody apparition.
Visages of fearsome flesh eating muscle bound underground golems toting haversacks as big as a town (surpassing the likes of 1148 Matthew’s rolled into one) sustains the longevity of ogres not even all the brooms could sweep away far as next new town.
Although rarely seen, but more often heard tectonic vibrations that shake and bake like the local house special chicken Radnor (often cleft fissures upon flint stoned layers of bedrock comprising Delaware Valley) infuses the imagination even of the most stalwart (that hulking Hogan -hero - humans whose fiery fearsome braggadocio) continue to haunt present day townsfolk.
As testimony two macho lumberjack chaps (top notch pugilists) bravely ventured into this haunted haven and vanished without a trace.
Most like their fate became a gourmet meal i.e. tasty as Salad Augustus with seven season Caesar dressing.
Postscript: I thought to withhold sending the publishing contract until bona fide acceptance of all the pieces you found agreeable gets relayed back to this guy! Would that be agreeable? Fair? hunky dory? okay with you?
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