Today was a great day, all around . . .Turns out George took my place in the doomed plane. He’s really grown on me, and if he had survived the crash, the nuclear explosion, and the fatal radiation poisoning he absorbed a few hours ago, I’d buy him a beer. Here’s to you, George.
More good news (for me, not George): We found Evil Spock. No one bothered to check his home. We all assumed an evil mastermind creating robot ant armies and trained monkey warfare would find a big lair in which to hole up in, filled with minions and henchmen in color-coded overalls. Not so. He just overslept. And he’s a little bit perturbed about missing all the activity on his website today.
The part that is worrying me now is that I stayed up for over 24 hours. Blogging. I won’t live that down when I go back to my day job as a bouncer for Paulie Walnuts. (“Bogging??? Whatsamadawidu???”) I may have to pop him tomorrow. But not today.
Today is the day after yesterday and the day before tomorrow. (That, or a sponge for female contraception.) But doesn’t that preclude that yesterday ends at some point? I’ve been going for quite a while now. I could sleep, but don’t really feel like I have to.
I’m wondering if I just didn’t sleep if I could stop time. There would be no tomorrows because it would always be today. I’d never age. I’d be beautiful forever. And my mind would be clear, clearer than those around me who are always sleeping and getting older. For instance, I can see the zmoras coming to steal the breath of the baby I borrowed from Chloe. They are all around us, you know.
Oh, yeah, boy. I’m sharp. I knew Sherry was just in that relationship with Palmer for the power play. And that Jack wasn’t really dead. And neither was Kim, although she was caught in a hostage situation. That family really needs personal GPS tracking. And I knew that the audio recordings were false. And that the Vice-President was a weenie. I also knew that Oswald didn’t act alone. He didn’t off the President, but he did get to John Lennon on that street corner. Wait! … Did you hear that? Those voices. The zmoras are speaking to me in tongues. This sleep deprivation rocks! Wait, what? … The ex-President has been assassinated? Muslims have overrun an American Embassy? I’m sensing mutant powers evolving even as I type.
Look … it’s midnight. Maybe I can reflect on what that means while we play chess.
Transmission . . . *bzzzzt!*
9 are elated to see Evil Spock back!:
Dear Evil Spock,
You are so wise.
You knew that we did not properly appreciate you, so you removed your personage from our presence, replacing yourself with a cheap imitation instead. And lo, how the masses clamored for your return!
Evil Spock, we will never take you for granted again. Please smile upon us evermore!
-Your devoted fans
Don't worry, Evil Spock wouldn't leave The Few for an extended amount of time to the likes of Ensign Redshirt.
Things are back to normal. Evil Spock is back in the driver's seat, and Ensign Redshirt is on some excessively dangerous yet frivolous mission.
This is oppression. And depression, thanks to Dr. Stephanie.
BTW, count yourself fortunate, Doctor. I could have paid homage to 300 instead of 24.
Either way, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Dammit, Jim, you're a curmudgeon, not a Doctor!
He overslept? And you believed that story? It's probably an evil clone, you know
good God! Do I have to read all of these??
Don't answer that...
daaaaaamn i feel the hostility in the air....
/** hefts lead pipe into shoulder**/
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