The Holy Gopher Pilgrimage: Day Three, PART ONE.

I apologize for the lack of service last night. I know many of you have been touched by His Holeliness, ready to dedicate your days to Him. But it seems the disruptive forces that came upon us in St. Louis was one step ahead of us in arriving to Gallup last night and cut the phone lines. This effectively halted all communication to the outside world, including internet.

Needless to say, THG comforted me in my terror, his soft chitterings sending me off to sleep as the monsters howled outside. It was truly a harrowing experience. And now, without any further ado...

When I woke and found the strength to venture into the bright, morning sun, I found my will weak. What would come of us today? Will we survive to hibernate in our small hotel rooms once more?




When I arrived at Denny's, I was still quite shaken by the lack of internet the evening before. I was having a crisis of faith - should I abandon this journey, I thought to myself? Is this cross-country pilgrimage to the City of Angels really risk gambling one's life on?

"Drink, my child." The Gopher was calm, serene, offering me a cup of what could only be descrived as liquid strength. A shining bowl of Splenda sat at the ready beside him, his gaze unfaltering as tears welled in my eyes.

"But oh Great One," I choked past my tight throat, "I am so scared. We have so far yet to go."

"And yet, you have come farther than you imagined." Still, he motioned to my arms. "But I have adorned you with the proper sigils in which to protect yourself."

I looked down at my arms and in amazement saw what had appeared there.






I gasped. There in bright technicolor were Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers engraved on my skin, their teddy bear visages bringing forth a renewed confidence within me. With these two pillars of unerring fanatacism I knew that I would get through this day, my will just as strong if not stronger now that I had the two masked teddies upon my flesh.




The coffee was ambrosia, an elixir the likes of which none but Denny's can prepare. I quietly gave thanks as it's magic worked its way through me, preparing me for the task at hand.

We began our ride again, the vastness of Texas laid out before us. I noted a sign as we rode along, boasting that at the next exit "The Largest Cross In The Western Hemisphere" was housed. It was impossible not to stop, to pay our respects to a religion much younger but no less as humbling as Christianity.




The sheer height of it awed me, next straining to see the top. Oh yes, this was a mighty symbol...




The Gopher and I paid our respects, His Burrowing Grace parting from me only once to enter the replica of Jesus' Tomb. All Fourteen Stations of the Cross were present, including a marble stairbase that led to a life-size bronze statue of Jesus dead upon the cross. Needless to say, we quickly departed. This was clearly a place of deep meditation, and there was still work to be done.

Finally, after hours of harrowing winds and vast nothingness, I became addled. I discovered this day that in Oklahoma, Texas and New Mexico that there is an astounding amount of nothing.







Do you see anything different? Neither do I.

The trip wasn't all for naught, though. Word of The Gopher through my blog has begun to spread, my friend Stefanie calling me to help break the monotony that was my existence upon this day.




The Gopher listened to The Great Stefanie's adventures, her stories colorful. This pleased He Who Forages Below. He blessed the humble bi-ped, my heart leaping at the idea of out little flock growing already.




Still, the road madness had settled in. My world became a blur of flat lands, of blank landscapes that only the strongest amongst the human race would be able to endure.






I begged THG for a sign, for anything that may save my sanity. I felt the concepts of reality slipping away from me, the ethics of right and wrong becoming a muddled chaos that only the most unstable of madmen experience. "Please," I murmured to the Small Savior," "Give me a sign."




Behold! I opened my eyes to a staggering sight - a replica of a Brontosaurus Bone. I gazed at it in shock, my madness quickly losing its grip as I dropped to one knee before the tiny god that had gifted me with such a brilliant piece of interesting history.

We approached the inside of the rest stop, His Gopherness taking in his surroundings as one might survey their prized accomplishments. I turned my head to thank He Who Must Dig, only to be caught by a brilliant sight.




A SHAKESPEARE GHOST TOWN!!!




I was beside myself with joy. I would jump at the chance to experience such a place, its promises of Old West Gunfights and Shakespearean Reenactments nearly bringing me to my knees. To think such a paradise exists! Truly, The Gopher had touched his tiny claws upon me this day. I would be unable to visit such an invention, but I had no fear. To know that out there, somewhere, someone was uttering the Saint Crispin's Day speech and firing a Colt was enough to keep me weeping myself to sleep that night.