The Lost Stories of Karl El-Koura

AN INTRODUCTION TO

Like most people I both utterly detest and thoroughly enjoy a good pun. Why then am I so attracted to them?

My last year in college was an eventful one because of a number of events, but the funniest occurred with four other guys in a Daytona Beach hotel room. We were there for Spring break at the behest of Campus Crusade for Christ. At ten in the evening or thereabouts us five guys who shared one small hotel room packed with suitcases and rollaway beds would jump into the same, turn out the lights and swap stories for an hour or so before dropping off into sleep—except that one night, I was straight man to the rest as they reeled off bad pun after bad pun using the word “pier.” The most memorable was the discussion of how sea urchins ate the pylons of the pier—leading inexorably, my roomies told me, to urchin “pier belly.” I explained that when urchins ate the pylons, the piers collapsed, to which they all assented, “Of course, because of pier pressure!” The whole conversation lasted at least fifteen silly minutes, deteriorating with each mutilated breath of speech until I screeched something incoherent, shoved the pillow over my head and paid no more attention to their lunatic ravings. They, of course, fine Christian brothers that they were, enjoyed every minute.

To be honest, the reason why I was the straight man that evening is because I am not very good at generating puns. I can certainly enjoy the twisty ways some people have of purposely tormenting the English language. I just can’t participate. I might jape about how Nero cried “fiddlesticks!” when informed that Rome was burning, but that’s not a pun. It’s a perfectly logical use of the language that just happens to have a humorous inference.

That’s not what a pun is. A pun mangles the meaning of words and phrases. A pun uses prosaic mirrors and smoke to effect its humorous charge. A really good pun makes us pedants shudder with umbrage and shiver with delight at the speaker’s wordly wonder. And it has a long proud history.

Punstery is not slapstick. But neither is it serious. My first remembered literary encounter with puns came from the pen of Isaac Asimov in his marvelous anthology, “Buy Jupiter and Other Stories.” He didn’t even give us a break in the title of the short story but started out terrorizing us with “Shah Guido G,” which he later explains in his afterword is a “Shaggy Dog” story (the rest is left as an exercise for the reader).

My next foray into the world of the pun was a Christopher Stasheff novel; I believe it was called “The Warlock Rock.” For those of you who enjoy SF mixed with fantasy, and who can handle the terms “witch” and “spells” in a story without busting a circuit will thoroughly enjoy this series by Chris Stasheff, who, unless I misguess, is a devout Catholic (and isn’t afraid to show his characters—including witches and warlocks—going to confession). This particular story is a kind of metaphorical tour de force through the world of Rock and Roll. Stasheff took many opportunities to recklessly toss puns around like they were hand grenades in a battlefield. The Warlock, who is actually a family man (and a Catholic) from outer space is on a quest with his wizardly family. At one point in the story they encounter ants who wander around aimlessly. Rod Galloglass hears from his son that some “grass” is burning over here and it seems that the affected ants were passing through the “purple haze.”

And if that weren’t good enough, they proceed to a village of zombies manically dancing through the streets, and here I have to tell you that as I read this passage, I felt like I was on a slippery slope heading toward the fragrant mud below, frantically groping for anything that might save me from the stinky slime—I knew it was coming, and I thrashed and turned trying to prevent it, but the momentum of the story combined with the slippery slope doomed me to my fate; I slammed into the inevitable line, pleading for mercy, as Rod Gallowglass says, “What am I supposed to do with a bunch of grateful dead?”

I knew then and there that Chris Stasheff deserved to be removed from the living, and that I would buy every single book of his that ever came out, I was so pleased and appalled by his pun.

And that’s what makes a good pun, why they are called “groaners.” They absolutely must make a play on words that is completely unexpected, utterly fresh, utterly captivating, and utterly horrifying to the sensible palate.

Karl El-Koura’s LOST series is that way in every single story. These are short, pithy plots of a captain who is at best a rogue in uniform and who deserves a wide berth; though there are some who must, unfortunately for them, serve with him. El-Koura ends every single one of these stories with a delightful and dreadful pun—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So why do we put up with puns? They torture us as they tickle us. What is their attraction? Alas, I have no answer but that found in Gene Roddenberry’s “Star Trek.”

It is the opening scene of “Star Trek: Generations,” and Data commits a naļve and unpleasant “faux pas” on Dr. Crusher, immediately finding himself the recipient of withering scorn from the rest of “Enterprise’s” senior staff. Puzzling over their reaction Data finally comes to the conclusion that his only hope of ever understanding humans is to implant an emotion chip into his positronic brain, which he does shortly thereafter.

The next scene is of him and Guinan and Riker in Ten Forward. He and Guinan have this conversation:

Guinan:               “Please try this, Data.” (Pours a drink of some thick brown, obviously alcoholic fluid into a shot glass, which Data downs in a single gulp.)

Data:                  (GASP!) “This is AWFUL!”
     Guinan:               “Would you like another?”
     Data:                  “Yes! Please!”
	
Exactly.

John A.M. Darnell
July 24, 2005
Brookfield, Missouri

P.S. Lest some of you think that I am not as well-read as I let on, for those of you who revel in the good pun, do not hesitate to pick up Stanislaw Lem’s “Cyberiad.” There’s a pun a paragraph in that worthy opus! –John

THE LOST STORIES
A Series of Curious
COsMIC Events

by Karl El-Koura ©

Part One:
Lost Eternity

Part Two:
Lost Inheritance

Part Three:
Lost Time

Part Four:
Lost Word

Part Five:
Lost Ship

Part Six:
Lost Opportunity

Part Seven:
Lost Reward

Karl has his own website,
and can be found at
Ooter's Place