Braaaaaiiiiins...

The raid on São Paulo Charlie’s Drive-thru Sanatorium®

was a bit of a disaster. Father almost lost a frontal lobe

in a duel with an orderly, and Edna flat-out refused

to eat any of the vegetables.

~*~

Gone, but not forgotten: It’s true: I haven’t visited your sites in ages, I haven’t written, I haven’t called, I haven’t thanked you for your lovely write-ups… I’ve even missed a couple of birthdays. And dangitalltoHades if I don’t feel a wee bit guilty about it all.

I’ll get back to Teh Internet eventually. I swear. I’ve only got 3 gargantuan epics left to midwife, and 8914… 8913 heads to pickle.

Update: The incomparable Ms. Vita ages disgracefully on Sunday – do join me in a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday.

Quick, while she’s still got that hangover…

Updated Update: Aaaand… let’s belt out another verse (I know it’s Monday, but with feeling, okay?) for Dolce’s Evil Twin and Trailer Park Temptress: daisyfaaaae!

Happy Birthday(s), dears – long may the liquor flow, and the cakes continue to… crumble.

Class Acts.

May 30, 2008


“Three Ds and a C”, Edgar mumbled, reluctantly

surrendering the Report Card. “Three Disinterments and a Cremation!”

exclaimed Father, dabbing his cheeks with a blindfold,

“Son, we may just get you that new bicycle after all!”.

~*~

Our Man in Valhalla.

May 23, 2008

I'm too tired and whiny to come up with a snappy comment this week. You do it.

“There’s a snekke blocking the driveway again,”

said Virgil, peeved, “Great Aunt Freygerd?”

“Third cousin Yngvar,” Edna grimaced, tossing him a helmet

and a hammer, “what – for the love of Stan – have you

done with my drinking skull?”

~*~

ZZ Big Top.

May 16, 2008

Farewell to the flesh. *Burp*

“The Carnival’s back in town”, said Mother, casually,

“you aren’t still upset about the thing with the bear, are you?”.

“Of course not” snapped father, “but I do hope your sister’s

brought her own beard trimmer this time”.

~*~

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”.

~*~

Rawhide.

May 2, 2008

It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.

“Ain’tcha getting a little warm in that coat, Ma’am?”,

stammered the cowhand, pompadour glistening in the moonlight.

“I’m not going to bite, dear”, I whispered, flashing an incisor,

then drowned out his moans with a howl.

~*~

Darn It.

April 25, 2008

Pay no mind to what they say, It doesn't matter anyway (hey, hey, hey), Our lips are sealed...Our lips are seeeeeeeal-duh!

“Someone’s moved my sewing casket”, grumbled

Mother, descending into the parlour with a hisss.

“Mmmmph… mmmphmmm…mmmph” suggested Edgar

from behind the ornamental rhododendron.

~*~