Pit Stop.

May 9, 2008

Edgar asked to be buried between Augie Podgórny

and the Feuerbachs. “You’ve got your snorkel and

a peppermint”, said Virgil, swatting a clod with his shovel,

“we’ll be back for you on Thursday”.



14 Responses to “Pit Stop.”

  1. kyknoord Says:

    I’m trying really hard not to think about “underground movements”.

  2. Now you’ve got me thinking about Beethoven’s “last movement”… thanks. Thanks a lot.

  3. The Ex GW Says:

    Mrs B, you make me weep with delight! However, I am also weeping with sadness… what happened to your old layout? I miss it!! Noooo! Bring it back from the dead!

  4. Mrs. Benitez Says:

    NO! Is it…? It is! Where the HELL have you been, woman? Don’t they have The Internets in the World of High Finance?

    Pfft, that old thing? The layout was So Last Year, dear – sometimes you’ve just got to Swing With The Times. Roll with The… Hearse…

    Fine. I’ll tinker with the CSS again one of these days, possibly bring back a little doom and gloom. Possibly. I’d have to run it past Mother first, of course.

    It’s good to have you back, dear. We may have *mumble* missed *mumble* you.

  5. daisyfae Says:

    Edgar is such a dirty boy… now more than ever…

  6. Please. This is a family website.

  7. Aw. I love Edgar. Kind of reminds me of Tim Burton in the most beautiful of ways.

  8. Mother says she’ll swap him for a microwave.

  9. Dolce Says:

    I’ve been swatting clods too, but they just won’t stay down.

  10. Hahaha! No microwave I’m afraid but I’ve got an old blender I’m not using right now.

  11. Parenthesis Says:

    Windle Poons would be so proud ;)

  12. Dolce: I’ve been dying to flatten a couple around here, but, alas… another Restraining Order.

    Mandy: So much neater than a chainsaw. We’ll drop him off on Friday.

    Parenthesis: May he eventually rest in peace, dear.

  13. The Ex GW Says:

    Alas I am a corporate hostage, bound to the call of the wild blackberry, and little time for blowing my hair, nose and, uh, let’s call him bubbles.

  14. Sadly, I know what you mean, dear – this empire doesn’t just run itself, you know.

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