'ay' 0 - bertlham (The End)

(12/28/2020) I'm calling this project tlhev lut ("tlhev's story") because it is a story about a Klingon named tlhev. But it is also, somewhat against my will, a story about me. And my part of the story began five months ago, when I decided to see what the internet had to offer in the way of Klingon ukuleles.

To be honest, ​I was expecting to find a plastic soprano with the symbol of the empire printed on, if anything. After a bit of looking around, however, I stumbled upon this: 

Advertised as "an authentic three-stringed Klingon Supghew, previously owned, possibly haunted".

Although the seller of this item, suspiciously called ngevwI' yuDHa' ("honest seller"), had exactly 0 customer ratings, the instrument was so unique and intriguing that I decided it was worth the risk. And at first, it seemed my bet had paid off: the ukulele arrived in one piece, looked just like the picture, and played well. I started thinking about what song I should record with it.

However, there was this little matter of the "possibly haunted" part of the description. I hadn't given it much thought, assuming it was just an odd sales tactic. But soon after I got the ukulele, I started having some incredibly strange reoccurring dreams. One in particular featuring this little critter (or at least an alien version of it): 

Besides the fact that the dream was vivid, slow-paced, and reoccurring, it differed from a normal dream in that it was usually accompanied in my head with a song. A song with Klingon lyrics. A song that I seemed to just naturally know how to play on my very new, very strange little Supghew. I will leave you with this song, and leave further exploration of the mysteries of the ukulele for the upcoming new year.