Exit, Stage Right: Le Red Fin

You thought I'd forgotten, hadn't you?

Shark Puppet is a temporary stand in - I'm waiting on Metropolis to get more puppets in. This post is also a temporary stand in - instead of heat keeping me quiet, writing is keeping me quiet. I have to make the most of my ability to turn a computer on before the next heat wave strikes. Between teeth and my bone marrow melting, I'm behind on everything.

(Just between you and me, I'm glad Le Red Fin is gone. He was a touch irritating. Not that Shark Puppet makes for good company.)

Socket

Getting my teeth pulled tomorrow. I imagine it will be not at all like this.

May try to blog coming off the drugs, just for the hell of it. Or, may be out of commission for a while.



Never you fear, sweet readers, Le Red Fin will take care of you. I will not allow her to indulge in asshattery whilst medicated. I stake my honor upon it, much as I would enjoy seeing her make an asshat out of herself, but oh, it is a shallow joy, since it comes so naturally to her...

insert immature giggling here

This is why I try to keep my surname off this blog;



If, poor googler, you meant to spell that with a 'c', then the answer is: put the sheets in the wash. If immediate washing is not possible, then wipe it off with, I dunno, tissues or dirty socks or whatever is lying around. It'll dry out. And go crusty. You can sort of scrub it off then. Or pick off flakes. Whichever you prefer. Probably not a good idea to use dark sheets if this is a common occurrence. Sloppy or dried, there is no state in which spooge is anything other than kinda sorta gross. And funny. Heh. Heheheh. Heh.

If, poor googler, you spelt that correctly, then apply lemon, lime & bitters, pizza, and episodes of Spaced at once.



That is not funny, mon cherie. You are being very childish. Remove me from your finger at once.

New Job; The Prelude

Ah! Mon dieu! What is this?

This is two hours sleep.

Why is there no pants? This is not proper!

This is two hours sleep.

Pants! The sun is risen, it is pants time!







Yeah. Today is gonna rock the kazbar.

Le Red Fin: Not a Skunk

When the delicate fragrance of melancholy silken in the night air, I come to you- oh, mon dieu, it's you.

Where is that Shark Puppet? Gone? Oh good.

Oui, you are alone in the dark, I know. Hush now, all will be well. I'll take care of you. First, you need a new haircut. This straggly dog look, no wonder the seas part for you! And no more pizza, oui, you carry enough baggage already. And oh, little bird, stop listening to Shark Puppet. Shark Puppet has no taste. What can you expect of a crass selachimorphan brute? Shark Puppet has no style. Shark Puppet can only lead you astray.

You see? Your blargh is neglected. Your email is neglected. Your kitchen sink is neglected. Oh, mon dieu. Sacré bleu. The shark, the shark.

You must listen to me, mon amie.

I am Le Red Fin. I will save you from Shark Puppet.

Now give us a kiss.



...stop looking at me like that.