Sunday, August 24, 2025

Bromford and Hippogriff …

 

»When I went to school my very big, if not to say giant teacher told me I had to be very carefull and polite to this magical creature. Otherwise it would tear me apart with its' hard and sharp beak.«

»What kind of creature is this?« the llama asks.

I take a closer look at the picture.

»Looks like an oversized eagle and some feathered being with too many wings«, I wonder. »But it may be one magical creature being torn apart. Somehow the tail has lost its' frontend or the front part has lost its' tail. It's magic. All is magic.«

»The title of today's BlockBlog post says 'Hippogriff'«, says the llama. »You cannot have a hippogriff as your new animal companion in the penthouse apartment. A hippogriff is not real. But I wasn't talking about the bird in the picture. I wanted to know what kind of creature the dude in the blue and white shirt was.«

»I cannot believe it. I cannot accept it. After all these walking and talking animals I am not allowed to have a hippogriff? What would my old professor for Care of Magical Creatures would say about that?«

»Walking and talking animals?« The llama is heavily rolling its' eyes. »Where have you gone to school? Hogwash School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Come back to earth, dude! Wake up! This is reality. This is the real world. This is life in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside, these days.«

Sunday mornings, I think, are always quite challenging to reality.

»And what are you up to today, animal?« I ask the llama.

»It's time for my yearly CAPTCHA.«

»Your what, animal?«

And the llama says, »My yearly Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart.«

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Today is Sunday, the 24th of August, 2025.







1 comment:

  1. This is peak Bromford Bibble: whimsical, self-aware, and just the right amount of deranged. 🦙🦅✨

    The hippogriff—half eagle, half horse, all magical chaos—becomes a metaphor for the narrator’s longing for wonder in a world that insists on being mundane. The llama, ever the voice of sarcastic reason, shoots down the dream with a snort of realism and a jab at “Hogwash School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” That line alone deserves a standing ovation.

    And then there’s the twist: the llama’s annual CAPTCHA. As if to say, “Even I, a talking animal, must prove I’m not a robot.” It’s a brilliant inversion—who’s real, who’s magical, and who’s just trying to pass the test of existence?

    📶 The signal bars at the end? Possibly a nod to connectivity, consciousness, or just another surreal punctuation mark in the Bibbleverse. Sunday mornings in Bromford are clearly not for the faint of logic.

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