‘E.Tea in the Ama-Zone’
part III

reading time: 3 minutes


part I press here
part II press here

Promises promises. I had assured the tribe’s shaman I could track down his long lost brother and was sticking to the plan… 

Once back from El Dorado I parked the birdlike artifact in the attic, got pleasantly surprised by my three legged Greenpeace registered sustainability pushing cat named Clawdius who, after he’d seen me venturing into space, had turned off the tap filling the tub, fried myself some eggs and waited for the coffee to seep through the percolator. 

Ate the eggs, drank the coffee, took the hose, rinsed myself down, collected the gold dust in my C.G.D-jar and got to work.

Effortless I hunted down the university that ‘d offered the scholarship and waited for the evening to fall… 

Krik. Kruk. Larceny.

Cloaked in moonshade I snooped around campus, ransacked the archives and found out the faculty had changed the shaman’s brother native name into the somewhat peculiar sounding Ernst Po-Peloo.

Clue One 

Y tho? 

I wondered as I took out my miniature camera and shot some miniature pictures.

Krik. Kruk. Tjak!

And I was out.

The Next Morning

With a double espresso, a loupe and a fine tooth comb I sifted through the data and peering into the past I found out how Ernst, during his years on campus, had spend his time visiting libraries and laboratories, how he had dallied around, moving left, right, up, down and how he’d finished his semester graduating cum laude in the field of pharmacology.

Remarkable, but nothing out of the ordinary. 

After graduation Ernst got caught up in the thing where every graduate gets himself caught up into, a blazing cyclone of hard party after hardy party. It seemed to be the moment where things got a bit off road.  

Clue Two

Digging deeper I discovered how he, during these party times, had befriended some folks frolicking in the world of clandestine chemistry, how he, surrounded and nurtured by this crowd advocating Unity and Harmony, was pushed tapping into his native shamanic witch doctor like potential slowly metamorphosing from a shy grade-A pharmacology graduate into the likes of a laboratory legend. 

In the years that followed, the peculiar Po-Peloo, gallivanting through the party scene with his cabinet of potions and supernatural snuff, hurling minds into another dimensions, became the the top banana in the underground jungle, renowned and lauded for his ability to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary.  

Until it all ended abruptly and the great Po-Peloo went poof… 

Y tho.

What had happened?

There is only so much one can find out using a comb, a coffee and a loupe.


For the sake of finding Ernst Po-Peloo and reunite them brothers, I slapped on my party pants and jumped face first onto carousel of carousals. I hitt every party scene known to man while simultaneously frying my brain into a molten soup of murdered serotonin receptors. I probed, scanned, inquired and pursued. Round and round I went, but it was dead end after dead end after dead end. 

Could it be the great Skeleton Peeves, had bitten off more than he could chew? 

Getting desperate, becoming paranoid, I envisioned how I had to throw in the sponge and go back empty handed…

Promises promises. 




Promises promises. 



I had to find him. 

But where?  

Sunday Morning 

White skin, wide pupils, trembling hands. 

Chomping one dollar cheeseburgers trying to appease the hangover of hangovers, I suddenly picked up on a dialogue coming out of the ball pit at the end of the red slide in the children’s corner of the fast food restaurant I was at.

It was kiddo’s bragging about how Billy’s birthday party had been the best party evaaaaaaaah!!! How everything had become cooooool after a little magical creature had handed out lemonade that made the fruit talk while visiting the stars, cupcakes and lollipops that made the whole world dance and come alive and, and.. 

Wait a minute…

And then it hit me.  


The balloon popped and children started to scream.

Stuck on the ride in adult party-land I had overlooked the party scene of party scenes and if it wasn’t for those kiddo’s at the burger place I would still be stuck riding that ride hitting brick wall after brick wall. 

Disguised as Timmi The Clown it had taken me a run of fifteen unsuccessful performances but today felt different. 

‘I want a poodle! do a poodle.’ A blue eyed red haired freckled fucker shouted while tugging on my oversized plaid pants. I smiled and contemplated if I should knee the little bastard in his eye.

‘Are you sure you want a poodle?’ I asked while my eyes scoured the garden grounds and…

There! In the distance, next to…

‘Yes!! I want a poodle, a big one!!!’ the ginger blared, tugging and tugging on my pants.

‘One moment please.’

… the swing in front of the blow up castle, I saw something familiar. Three toddlers were yawning with a smile on their face, acting a bit off, after which they started to wave their hands in front of their faces and laugh and laugh some more.



I dropped some disappearing powder on the floor and with a boom I left the whining ginger, empty handed, wondering where I’d go. 

Dash. Dash..

Fizz sipping housewives and hundred toddlers were about to blast off into a new paradigm ushered in by the peculiar Po-Peloo.

Dashing through the garden I was sure Ernst was close, but where? 

I made my way into the rented porta-pottie zone where I quickly dumped my disguise and sneaked into the big house. The party’s hosts were part of the city’s glitterati and it showed. 

Tiptoeing from room to room. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Noh…

A clue came to me in the form of a lingering smell. Up and up I went through the house until I reached the attic. 

Silently snooping I unlocked the door and went in. 

First part of the attic. Nothing. 

Unlocked another door and went in. 

Second part of the attic. Nothing. 

But then, as I unlocked the door to the last section of the attic the smell grew stronger, and there, all the way in the back corner, stood a toddler sized doll house with little puffs of pink smoke bolking out of its chimney. 

This had to be it. This had to be him. 

“The end is near but incomplete!”

I shouted as I pulled open the little front door. 

part I press here
part II press here

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