The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 9.6 – Elevenses

Image result for elevenses
Art by some hippie here’s the link.

I didn’t have much reason to hang around the dawning of Atlantis. So I cleared my mind and rejoined the expedition.

“Is it elevenses already?” Sam inquired.


“What’s with the teaball man?”

“Oh..uh..I just had forgotten I’d put it in my pocket.”

“That’s pretty weird my dude. Heh..say what’s in that tea braheem…?”

I actually had no idea since I’d just gotten it from a Victorian ghost. But, I did know that now was not the time to consume it.

“Maybe I’ll let you try some later. And we’ll see if you can sit with elders of the gentle race.”

I stepped off the trail and let the expedition troop past me as I deposited the item into my ruck.

Doctor Cook came up on me after a bit.

“I have been talking to Senhor Hoyt.”


“Si, and he says that the map merely leads to another map.”


“Yes, that’s what I said. I love the jungle. I love the ruins we are seeing but…even I have my limits.”

“I think I reached mine before this party started.”

“There are many limits to be broken.” Graham muttered melodramatically.

“So Ipsissimus…” I quipped. “Where the hell are we?”

“We are a hundred some miles northeast of the true coordinates of Dead Horse Camp.”

“Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet….!” I taunted.

“We are within fifty miles of the location of the second map.”

“Please tell me that there are only two maps. Please….”

Graham merely smirked .

‘What a dick.’

“You’re not going to tell me where the second map is gonna take us are you?”

“Why do you assume I know.”

“Because you’re fucking demon possessed…”

“Am I?”

I was getting really tired of that statementesque question.


“You know that they said the same thing to Jesus.”

“And Satan often dresses up like Jesus.”

“Isn’t it teatime?” Graham prodded.

“Um…” There was no way he had seen my recent acquisition. Though given all his newly acquired parlor tricks I took this as a sign that it was indeed time for elevenses.

We had been trooping since dawn and my suggestion was roundly accepted.

Graham, Cook, and I found a spot away from the expedition and sat down to tea.

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The Sketch of Sam Monroe is a weird fiction thriller. Follow the adventures of five quirky Black Ops pharmacologists as they globetrot their way to the Mato Grosso jungles. Philosophy, psychedelics, and banter are infused throughout this literary comic-book.

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