The Secret Library discussion

Tell us a little about who you are and how you found The Secret Library, won't you?

I, myself, stumbled upon the ancient ruins of a lost civilization in 1943 and was amazed to learn how well-read its people were. When Mr. Miller and I built The Secret Lair, I had the vast library moved, brick-by-brick and book-by-book, to one of the sub-basements where it is guarded by...well, that would be telling.

Everyone seems to be very shy about introducing themselves. Perhaps it's because you think know each other already? Don't believe for a moment that I am beneath doing false and entirely fanciful introductions for every single one of you.

I was born a poor alien child in the slums of New Globlsnorx, Venus.

I am a middle-aged, fat balding white man who likes books.

I was walking in the woods outside of Cleveland. Just minding my own business, when suddenly I fell in a hole in the ground. My fall killed the hamster guard, and thus I discovered the Secret Library.

The venerable Andy Hopp wrote me up this way:

"Oh Lord Fecundus, we bow to your fertile loins. Gus has more kids than a termite queen. He's the most fertile dude I know. Seriously, if I may paraphrase a line from my friend ShoEboX, if you put an Egg McMuffin down his pants it'll turn into a McChicken. Wow, I mean he seriously has like six thousand children.

When not spewing forth offspring, Gus spends his time sallying forth, galavanting onward, jaunting to and fro, perusing Woman's Home Journal for elusive brownie recipes, spending quality alone time in his bitchin' tree fort, writing wishy-washy sonnets about bumblebees and apple trees, coloring inside the lines, and eating jelly beans (lemon lime Jelly Bellys are his fave).

When you meet Gus, nod politely and say hello, but don't linger too long, you might end up with one in the oven..."

Andy Hopp is a strange, strange man.

hmmm... I was in a third world cantina, trying to leverage Our Side's position by wining and dining a consortium of sugar plantation owners. Suddenly, the waiter pitched over dead in front of me on the table, a kris knife buried in his shoulder blades. pinned by the knife to his back was a bloody piece of parchment. Scrawled on the parchment was the phrase: THE FIRST RULE OF THE SECRET LIBRARY IS, WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THE SECRET LIBRARY. After the protests were lodged and carrion carried away, I revisted the scrap of parchment, which I had hastily palmed during the uproar.

My colleagues in the Firm did some research for me, and here I am.

/me eyes the others with cold suspicion..

Welcome, Hotspur. Your is a story I have heard many times, only the words are different.