February 15, 1921

The Plateau truly is a place where anything can happen.  Not surprisingly this also applies to matters of style. A gentleman can feel very secure about his style, full of confidence about his choices of fabric and cuts, and all of a sudden a new adventure forces him to reconsider years of outdoor style.

It all started when Veronica encountered a suspicious shapeshifter, who claimed to have information about her mother and father. Our generous hostess was led to believe that his master, Prince Apep, could lead her to her long lost parents, but only if she rescued him from unjustified captivity. Full of hope, she freed the seemingly harmless man, who sported a shaved head (probably to cover beginning baldness), rather feminine looking silken trouser, a gaudy golden earring and most immodest upper body nudity.

While Veronica was focused on his role in reuniting her with her parents, Marguerite seemed to have other things on her mind. When we all met this supposed Prince, we all had a few doubts about him. All but Marguerite, that is. She made remarks about how lucky Veronica was to meet this gentleman. She pointed out his high rank, but I could clearly see that her eyes never left his lewdly displayed nude upper body. We had a short verbal sparring in which I tried to point out her misplaced values - after all there is more to a man than a chiselled abdomen – but it became very obvious to me that, in this case, she was more than willing to chose flashy style over true substance.

After we said good-bye to Veronica, we went back to the Treehouse. Malone was sad and depressed, understandably so, since he had just lost Veronica, a woman who had not only been an excellent hostess, but also a dedicated friend and lifesaver to all of us. And of course Neddy-boy had always followed her around like a love-sick puppy. I myself have never lost control over my feelings and have always shown great restraint around the fairer sex, but Malone is young. And American. No stiff upper lip in the New World, I guess.

I tried to console Malone and pointed out to him that finding her parents was Veronica’s biggest wish. Letting her go was a selfless act.

Ned agreed, but then he blurted out that he couldn’t help thinking that Veronica might have allowed him to come along to El Dorado, if his style choices hadn’t been so conservative.

“Did you see how Marguerite stared at that guy?” He asked me, cruelly rubbing salt into a sore, badly infected wound.

With my usual composure I replied that this had completely escaped my notice, which inexplicably caused Malone to laugh in spite of his depression. Strange sense of humour, I must say.

We dropped the subject after we had reached the Treehouse, but I have to admit that my mind couldn’t let go of it. While I was cleaning my guns, I started day-dreaming, imagining myself dressed in Prince Apep’s gaudy outfit, with Marguerite staring at me, completely unable to take her eyes off me. Then another thought occurred to me - would my beloved hat go with such an outfit? Or was that style mix too over-the-top even for the Plateau? A most difficult question…

Malone interrupted my confused thoughts, when he asked me to join him in a clandestine meeting at the base of the Treehouse. I excused myself to Marguerite, who showed complete indifference to my being absent for what might easily add up to half an hour or more. Probably too busy dreaming about effeminate silk pants wearers to even notice that a real man was missing…

Ned came to the point quickly. Just like me he hadn’t been able to banish Prince Apep’s style choices from his mind. He had analyzed the pro’s and con’s of silk pants, golden earrings and shaved heads in our Treehouse environment. He was sure he had found the appropriate answer. No to baldness and earrings, but a resounding yes to more upper body nudity.  

“We have to better adapt to our environment”, he said and I had to ask a clarifying question.

“By “we” you mean you and me, not Challenger, right?”

“Oh yes!” He replied. “Has Challenger ever bothered working out?”

We both sadly shook our heads. It was an open secret that our esteemed scientist had spurned all our efforts to have him join our rigorous fitness regimen, with predictable and rather flabby consequences.

Malone outlined his upper body nudity theory in more detail. We could continue wearing our khaki pants and our boots, thus projecting the image of the virile Western adventurer. Shirts and undershirts would be shed if temperatures increased over 77 Fahrenheit, which is practically a daily occurrence on the Plateau. This would give us the more native look that seemed to be such a favourite with our female Treehouse cohabitants. We would explain our new dress code with the need to spare our shirts for adventures outside of the Treehouse. Less wear and tear, less mending. Marguerite should be pleased with the turn of events.

Although Malone isn’t really an expert, I had to ask him a most pertinent question.

“Can I wear my hat with this look?”

Malone pondered this question for a few moments and then he reassured me that the hat wouldn’t diminish the impact of the shirtless look at all, on the contrary, it might even enhance it. What a relief!

I know that Ned never wears a hat, but you don’t have to be a cook to know whether a meal has a pleasing taste, so I relied on his advice in this matter.

Then he proceeded to outline our new fitness regime. The increased shirtlessness would necessitate triple the amount of crunches per day, a stronger focus on cardio (increase T-Rex 10k from once to twice a week) and lowering our carbohydrate intake by 20%.

“Strenuous, but doable.” I said.

“In the interest of defined abs we have to make those small sacrifices.” Malone confirmed.

The journalist and I were ready to change our lives fundamentally, starting the next morning, but all of a sudden Veronica returned and informed us that Prince Apep had been a liar and knew nothing about her parent’s whereabouts. Not only that, but on closer inspection his nude upper body wasn’t nude at all. He wore a skin-like rubber outfit, which gave the illusion of a well-defined upper body and abdomen, but hid a rather underdeveloped chest and a flabby abdomen.

I KNEW IT!!!

Oh, and he had turned into a giant.

Marguerite’s abduction prevented me from gloating too much, but when she was back safely at the Treehouse (Seducing a giant!! Is there no limit to this woman’s resourcefulness?), I couldn’t resist bringing up the subject. She just rolled her eyes and told me to stop obsessing about other men and their effect on the female Treehouse inhabitants. She said that both she and Veronica knew they had a perfect male specimen right under their roof. I felt rather flattered until she informed me that this comment referred to Malone.

“After all, men are at their best before they hit 30, don’t you agree, Roxton?”

I decided that enough was enough and left the Treehouse to shoot a raptor. Or Malone, whichever species jumped in front of my rifle first.