Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

A Story by jwilkinson20

It's not finnished but it's a work in progres so be patient with me.

Once upon a time there was a post-it-note, and let’s just say that his name was…oh I don’t know…Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

So Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had a problem, right? Okay? You still following? Okay good because sometimes certain people can’t seem to catch up when I’m telling this specific story. Anyhow as I was saying, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had a big problem, but in my personal opinion it was Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s fault that he had that problem. So getting back to the problem, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was being hunted down by three…no, FOUR Russian assassins. Well the reason that all this was Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s fault was because he had been messing with the Russian mafia since day one, and I swear to god they had given him warnings and such! But stubborn old Henry Wadsworth Longfellow just wouldn’t listen, and I even told him “Eh ‘enry, you’ve been messin’ ‘round with the mafia since day one I tells ya. You ‘re askin’ for it ya knows what I’m sayin’?” so as you can see Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was already well aware of his Russian mafia problems for a while.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was never one to back down from a fight, but Russian assassins are NOT something that you’d like to mess with, and once the mafia sent FOUR count them FOUR Russian assassins after poor Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, he ran off crying like a little school girl (which was very bad for his reputation might I add). Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was at the top of the food chain, the grand poobah, the king of the jungle (if you can think of any more let me know) and let me just tell you that almost everyone was at his service. He was like a king. Every since Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was born people had been treating his as if he was some kind of saint and he was beginning to get used to life on the easy street. Once Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was 18 he started his own mob. It consisted of some of the greatest gangsters known to man at the time: George Sand, Opechancanough, Robert Wadlow, Chester McFreiden and Dancin’ Alfredo (don’t ask). They were the toughest in Botswana they were, and they had more authority than the police force. Well enough about them, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow went off on his own, being as stubborn as he is, just because no one agreed with his plan to take over China, and decided to do it on his own. It turned out to be much harder than it seemed. Since China is very big you know. So he switched to Russia, even though it was much, much bigger…

And that’s basically when Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s mafia troubles began. That was three years ago this day, and now he’s still on the run from those same assassins. All I know is that around here, no one really cares if he’s dead or alive. It’s been wonderful three years without him around. The pond isn’t polluted anymore, the birds sing like they mean it, and everyone works as a community to keep our town functioning as it should. Yes, yes it’s been wonderful. Just last year we held a bake sale in front of the church… Mmmm, the best brownies I’ve ever tasted, Mrs. Fredrickson really outdid herself that year. This is the part where people start losing interest in this particular story, but it just so happens that I’ve been keeping tabs on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, we’re really very close. I know where he is right now, I knew where he was an hour ago, and I’m certain that I know where he’s going to be in the next 14 hours. And I know every single detail of his Russian mafia involved story, down to the miniscule thread that hung from Russian Assassin Number One’s hat the night that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was forced to jump into the Grand Canyon. And yes, I am willing to tell you this story, and this is usually the part where people begin to gain interest again.

First off I’ll tell you in detail about the night that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow found out about the Russian assassins, and then when he found out that those four assassins in particular were actually plotting to kill him while he slept.

The night was August 18^th, the year was 1952, and poodle skirts were all the rage. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was fast asleep in his bright orange room, tucked into his bright yellow sheeted bed. You could have sworn he was dead, because, you see, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow slept in a way that someone could easily mistake him to be deceased. But of course, you know old Henry, 203 years young, the fittest he’s ever been, at the top of his game, in the best shape ever. It’s hard to believe that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow would ever die, even though he was presently the oldest man on Earth…and on Mars. Considering his old age, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow looked quite young, or at least he tried to look young. He kept his hair long, it was grey and full bodied, some parts were white like snow. His hair was so long, that when he walked his hair would drag on for at least 60 feet. He always kept tropical flowers growing in his shoes, so that when he walked around everyone would always ask “’Ow’s de garden ‘Enry?”, He’d always reply by saying “Tis’ be flounderful, my good Frien.” Because that’s just how Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was, always polite to his fellow Botswanians. Now the Asians on the other hand, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow couldn’t stand them. Their many mafias would try and take over his mafia on countless occasions. That’s one of the main reasons that he invaded Russia.

Anyhow, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was asleep in his bed, when suddenly there came a knock at the door. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow opened his eye a crack.

“Ermmm… jeist a minutt.” He mumbled under his breath, while at the same time picking up his 1898 antique pistol that he only kept for emergencies and special occasions.

You might be wondering how Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had obtained this pistol, and why he was using it now at this precise moment. After all, how could old Henry possibly know this was an emergency? I’ll explain to you why.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow acquired his antique pistol, well, let’s just call him… Samuel Langhorne Clemens, on the 31^st of January, 1898, in the Black Market of Botswana.

Samuel Langhorne Clemens was an interesting character, he was fascinated by the studies of plastic re-enforcement and um… stuff like that... He was also the creator of the Laundromat. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Samuel Langhorne Clemens became very quick friends, and in the year of 1905, the two of them took a trip around the world in a hot-air balloon.

The thing was that Mr. Langhorne Clemens had a horrible, terrible secret, which he did not tell Henry until many years later. The secret was that Samuel Langhorne Clemens could see into the future. A power that he had possessed since he was at the ripe age of 4.

Of course these powers were to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s advantage, because without Samuel Langhorne Clemens being able to see into the future, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow would not have been able to know that there were four massive Russian assassins awaiting him at the door. And not the usual late-night door-to-door-salesmen that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow usually talked to for hours on end, but never actually ended up buying anything on account of his loss of money after the fire at the Bank.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow fox-trotted his way down the large hallway. The large hallway that had infect been built over an ancient Indian burial ground. Which was probably why it’s walls were always bleeding at 12 AM sharp, and stayed that way for sometimes over 6 hours. Anyways, it was always quite a mess and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had to hire a clean-up-crew to be able to keep his house clean as it was.

And seeing as his house was but a bedroom and hallway, keeping it clean was usually an easy task to accomplish.

Well, it so happens that it was exactly 12 o’clock AM when these four Russian assassins in particular knocked upon Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s door, so the walls of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s hallway were just beginning to bleed, making it hard for him to keep his balance. But you know old Henry, 203 years young, the fittest he’s ever been, at the top of his game, in the best shape ever. And the fact that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow spent most of early years as a traveling acrobat in the many circuses of Botswana.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow opened one of his fancy-pantsy French doors that were large and immense and were made completely from ivory. This meant that he had killed at least 2000 elephants in the process of creating these doors. But oh, were they beautiful, probably the most beautiful doors the Russian assassins had ever had the privilege to knock upon.

“Eh, hillo.” Said Russian Assassin Number Three, and took off his hat in respect.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, already knowing what their purpose at his house was, fired one warning shot from his antique pistol. It just barely skimmed Russian Assassin Number Two’s head. But none of the assassins moved an inch.

“Wee wood like two knoo eif we cood assassinate eeuw tonaight.” Russian Assassin Number Three asked, his Botswanian speech was flawless, considering that he came from Russia.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow fired a second warning shot. This one skimmed Russian Assassin Number One’s head, and killed a toucan that happened to be flying by at the time.

“Geiit uf ma proupurteii yu Russian assassins.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow cautioned.

Suddenly, and it all happened so quickly that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow could hardly comprehend it all, all four of the Russian assassins pulled out the largest machine guns anyone had ever seen. Ever.

Everyone was firing their weapons of mass destruction at all angles, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow got shot in the face an astounding 317 times. This all left his horribly disfigured. But, as he was a post-it-note, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow could always fix this up with some tape or glue… or whatever.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s shots hardly did any harm to the massive Russian assassins. Especially since none of the shots actually hit them. And since Samuel Langhorne Clemens took a good 10 minutes to re-load, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had hardly fired 3 shots until he was out of ammunition.

That’s when Henry Wadsworth Longfellow realized that if he kept this up he’d be as good as dead. So, this is what he did. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow began to run, he ran through his grand hallway, through the many pools of blood that covered the floor, then ran through the doorway to his room, then he jumped out the large window. Glass shattered everywhere, and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow plummeted to the ground, an amazing 630 stories.

You might be wondering, “If Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s house is an amazing 630 stories high, then how did the Russian assassins get all the way to his large doors made completely out of ivory?”. Well I’ll tell you, those Russian assassins in particular had to climb the largest staircase in the world to get to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s house, probably taking them a good 5 months.

Well, unless those four Russian assassins in particular wanted to lose Henry Wadsworth Longfellow after a long 5 month trip, they were going to have to jump out of that window. So they did. And being the hefty Russian assassin-men that they were, they got out of the incident perfectly unharmed, and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, being in the best shape of his life, got out of it perfectly unharmed as well.

Now it was just a matter of who could run faster.

Immediately, and out of instinct, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow jumped onto a baby giraffe and began riding through his giant rose-bush field, 200 km per hour, speeds, unknown to man.

If you’re wondering, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had implanted a giant rose-bush field in his back yard back in 1908 to stop anyone to ask him to participate in the Second World War. The staircase was yet another strategy he used. Well, this rose-bush field was an astounding 230 football fields long, and an astounding 90 football fields wide. And each and every rose in the field was a different color. Like a majestic rose-rainbowish-thing.

Each one of the Russian assassins got to their feet, and steadied themselves. Then out of instinct, as well, each one of the Russian assassins jumped onto their own baby giraffes and began chasing after Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 200 miles per hour, speeds, unknown to man.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had gotten quite a head start, but his giraffe did have a handicap, this giraffe in particular, whose name is too long to mention and who’s life story is much to long to allow me to include some background on him… well, he had but two legs. Leaving poor Henry Wadsworth Longfellow very, very unbalanced, and leaving him, very, very, very unbalanced as they speeded across this enormous rose-bush field.

The fact that these four Russian assassins in particular owned guns which fired nothing but pipe-bombs didn’t help him at all either, because in the process of running, while being bombarded by a barrage of pipe-bombs, Henry Wadswoth Longfellow’s baby giraffe lost the remaing two of its legs.