I can’t believe this. I take a nap, just a little three year snooze mind you, and some yammering trouserbass of a do-gooder tries to exorcise me. I’m a physical being you boob– ok, maybe not a live one but still a physical being. That “The power of Jeebus compels you” crap don’t apply to me. Oh well, it wasn’t all bad. That preacher really hit the spot.
Anyone know how to get holy water stains out of a shroud?
Anyway, after my run in with the good Reverend Hasenfeffer I sat down with nice cuppa to read the online news and what do I see? Some dumbass woke the Baron up, too. I certainly hope whoever woke up that dried up old beast wasn’t someone who’ll be missed. Cover-ups aren’t cheap you know. covering up the disappearance of that holy happy meal I dispatched took a bit of scratch I’ll tell you that.
So why should I care about Hie’s scribblings? I’m not sure I do really, but every time I check the news he’s going on about something other. That is one image obsessed ghoul:
“You see, class, style and elegance – the three main concerns of this small space – are timeless”
Ok what are you smoking, Hie? I swear his manners are as stiff as the women at his parties. I shouldn’t kvetch too much, though. I was stupid enough to date him back in the day. Back in the day, year, century, era, what difference does it make? He can’t live it down either so I suppose we’re even.
Ok, enough of that crap. Now that I’m up I may as well go ahead and revive my blog as well. After all I’m half expecting another assault on the old manor before too long and you know how much Albert loves crowds– especially with a little Adobo. Blogging will help me pass the time and who knows? While I’m online I might find a few new recipes for deep fried vacuum cleaner salesman.
Toodles, Toads.
OM
The Old Monster's Abattoir 