20 of my finest legions of waffle troops were savagely consumed with little consideration given to their tasty legs. Such a disgraceful way to go. For a waffle anyway. Damn, mass wafflo-cide could've only been the work of...yep, you guessed it: the Methochaun. That little vile bastard is back, and pissier than ever. Tubbs is organizing a reconaissance mission with a few of the remaining, un-stabby bums to recover the legs for dinner tonight. Dinner's important, dadgummit!
So uhh...after the failure of the Q&A session (stern, disapproving look), things have gone to all hell. Wait, only some of hell, not all. Like a few of the layers of hell anyway. So yeah, things are there. At least, some things have already gone there, while other things are either in the process of going there, or are just haven't bought their ticket yet. But yeah, hell's involved, and so are things. And it sucks.
There's been a delay in the deployment of my latest squadron of secret quadrilaterals, and now the enemy have been graced with weapons of kaleidoscopic power: the colors Yellow and Violet. "Cheese" I exclaimed, thinking of the first thing that came to mind when I first learned of their Yellow power. What is it with me & cheese anyway? And always related to women, too. Sorry, Larry, but my blood-and-syrup-soaked daydreams are no place for a beautiful mime. But Yellow?! And [i]Violet[/i]?? What am I to do against such colorful weaponry? Stuffed horse bombs have been rendered impotent after being blanked by a double-coating of their multi-colored firepower. And unless my toy binoculars are deceiving me (which they promised me they wouldn't anymore), that damn Zombie Barbie seems to be flaunting Yellow & Purple facepaint too. Hmm...zombie-barbie look? Yellow & purple? Yeah, I *thought* she reminded me of an aging Paula Abdul in her Laker Girl outfit! Bada bing!
And Whitesnake, ever the rock n' rollin' harbinger, apparently finds purpose is his constant prophesizing of Bogart's coming. I find it quite annoying, and am beginning to relish even MORE so the first opportunity I have to snake a paintball in the back of that pajama-loving infidel's gourd with "Warm Embrace's" venomous accuracy. And I won't be holding it backwards this time either (grr)! Oh yes, my friends and neighbors and friend's neighbors and neighbor's friends. My determination in doing so is sky-rocketing like a thermometer on a hot day tied to a sky-bound launching rocket.
Oh, and Squiggy's on holiday. What in violet blazes was I thinkin'? I should've never allowed him to get out and see 4th Street at such a taxing time (even though I *do* hear it's lovely this time of year). Ugh. I hate being mired in this rut of battle. This has been goin' on for too long, dammit! I dunno, but maybe I'm getting a little disillusioned with all this war & chaos (though I suppose it could be the "Drink").
[size=1]Also: A.M.A.I.L.A. (As Much As I Love A.C.K. [Alienated Cretins for Killing]), I've decided that journal entries aren't quite as efficient using this code as wartime communication (even though it's still perfectly brilliant, I say). Expect it sparingly now. T.I.A. (That Is All).[/size]