The Whatsit McJiggernuts is a confused creature, forever unsure of itself and its surroundings. And that confusion is something it broadcasts out from its body to us. Hence the name- both the strange phrase, bringing to mind something half remembered and just out of reach of one’s memory, and the needless pluralisation.
This is almost all of what’s known of the Whatsit McJiggernuts. Except that it lives on land, in the countryside and urban areas of Britain, sitting on or behind walls or in hedges or trees; and that it comes out at night, generally showing itself only to those returning home late at night from the pub, who, the next day, can’t quite put a finger on what they’ve seen. They know what it wasn’t- but what was it? They knew at the time for it told them but all they can think after is that it was, “a… a… Whatsit McJiggernuts!”
Many have tried to help these beleaguered beasts but those who actively seek it rarely find it. And so even the most straight-laced of these crusaders end up dowsing their innards with vodka in order to find their quarry, invariably finding themselves without memory and getting nowhere.
Those wily enough to succeed have all been driven mad by their confused captive, gaining no new information whatsoever before ultimately freeing it without knowing that they have done so.
So we see that the Whatsit McJiggernuts is unknowable and that is why I have never tried to discover more.
This is almost all of what’s known of the Whatsit McJiggernuts. Except that it lives on land, in the countryside and urban areas of Britain, sitting on or behind walls or in hedges or trees; and that it comes out at night, generally showing itself only to those returning home late at night from the pub, who, the next day, can’t quite put a finger on what they’ve seen. They know what it wasn’t- but what was it? They knew at the time for it told them but all they can think after is that it was, “a… a… Whatsit McJiggernuts!”
Many have tried to help these beleaguered beasts but those who actively seek it rarely find it. And so even the most straight-laced of these crusaders end up dowsing their innards with vodka in order to find their quarry, invariably finding themselves without memory and getting nowhere.
Those wily enough to succeed have all been driven mad by their confused captive, gaining no new information whatsoever before ultimately freeing it without knowing that they have done so.
So we see that the Whatsit McJiggernuts is unknowable and that is why I have never tried to discover more.
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