It was a midwinter evening when Dr. Wojciech and myself decided to follow through on our rubber-table banter and penetrate the abandoned sewers of Middle-town. Bidding farewell to our compatriots at the gentleman's club, we motored to the outskirts of town where a cache of tools awaited us. Dr. Wojciech had spent hours surveying in order to delineate the most advantageous entry point, and his studies had turned up a yellowed map in the town clerk's office that further convinced us that we should enter from a point just off the road going by St. Stephen's Episcopal Church.
With a swing of a crowbar, I knocked the grate from the mouth of the pipe, and we crawled in. Our electric torches sent dim and fiery light down the smooth grey bore ahead of us, and we hoisted our packs, adjusted our hats, and crawled right in. The pipe was a good three-and-a-half feet in diameter and we crawled for at least a hundred yards before reaching the first intersection and stopping to check the map. Already, I was becoming claustrophobic and secretly wished to see the starry night above, to watch the planets dancing like dragonflies and smoke a good pipeful of Hanscomb Red. Dr. Wojciech drew two portable radios from his bag and handed me one. He began to study the map.
With a swing of a crowbar, I knocked the grate from the mouth of the pipe, and we crawled in. Our electric torches sent dim and fiery light down the smooth grey bore ahead of us, and we hoisted our packs, adjusted our hats, and crawled right in. The pipe was a good three-and-a-half feet in diameter and we crawled for at least a hundred yards before reaching the first intersection and stopping to check the map. Already, I was becoming claustrophobic and secretly wished to see the starry night above, to watch the planets dancing like dragonflies and smoke a good pipeful of Hanscomb Red. Dr. Wojciech drew two portable radios from his bag and handed me one. He began to study the map.
