Lost and Found

Our Lost and Found boxes at ML and FL2 are filled to the brim. Please come and check out the items to see if we have found something you have lost. All items not claimed by 20090228, will be donated or recycled.

Here is a pair of cufflinks that we found lying on the floor under the piano:

And here is another pair that a lady brought us.
Quite fetching, wouldn't you say?

And , ah, here is another one . . .

Er . . . No, wait . . . Those would belong to the bartender, actually. (I've no idea how they ended up in that box.)

Anyway, sometimes, people are too embarrassed to claim their possessions. Don't be. There is no reason to, really. Just remember: the lost and found staff at the Wulfshead has seen it all before. Verily, there was this gentleman once who had lost a bat. No, not Babe Ruth, sir. Why, no, the man was not at all a baseball player. And this was not the kind of bat you'd see Alex Rodriguez swinging, but the flying kind, sir. Like this one, here:

Isn't she cute?

Yes I know what some of you gentlemen and gentleladies are thinking: Losing a pair of cufflinks is one thing, but a bat? How does one lose a bat? Ah, it is a little known fact that bats can fit through a hole the size of your thumb. And they move rather fast.

Did I mention that peculiar one turned into a vampire?

And then there was also those gentlemen who were looking for their Golden Parachutes, but this is another story altogether:


  1. Yes, I wish to claim the missing links the lady graciously turned in. If you can disclose her identity to me, I'd appreciate it. In that way I can thank her personally...and perhaps also determine if she was the same woman who was doing a bit of work on me that evening. Thank you.

  2. FL2 is a bit of a dusty place.I spend quite a while there pulling out some of the envelops from a small cardboard box, about a hundred of them. As a squeezed down on them in order to pull the whole bunch out of the box, I felt something like a marble somewhere in there in the stack floating between the tips of my fingers. What a shame, I thought to myself, all those unopened envelopes...

  3. I tried shaking the marble out from between the envelopes. But nothing there.

  4. Nothing inside either. I found that each envelope on its own was empty.

  5. Nothing in the box either. Except for this rather strange note:

    Ode to a Box of Envelopes
    (For all who have lost their marbles...)

    by Jeannel King

    A box of env'lopes on the floor—
    I want to shift them to my drawer.
    I squeeze inside — there’s something there!
    I look inside — there’s naught but air.

    I squeeze again and marble find.
    Is this a marble of my mind?
    Determined now, and one by one,
    out come the env’lopes — still no plum!

    For closer views of each, I must
    brave paper cuts and motes of dust.
    In tips? Or env’lope forty-six?
    My marble, whole, does not exist.

    Then coarse-grained Mother whispers, “Nell,
    you keep this up, you’ll go to hell!”
    to which Dad counters, “Mind yer mopes!
    Let Nell seek God in envelopes!”

    So envelopes lie all around
    as I sit, vexed, upon the ground.
    My marble’s lost, but in my core
    could there, perhaps, be something more?

    For more than parts this whole has grown:
    No single part doth stand alone.
    In parts, the marble simply mocks.
    Intact, I think, I’ll keep this box.