Despite my most enthusiastic protestations and threats to writhe miserably on the clean carpet, my mother has decreed that it shall come to pass that I receive a hair-cut later today…which will doubtlessly impede my daily procedures in various ways. No longer, for example, will I able to look directly into the sun, as suggested in the doctored image above. Nor, either, will I be able to forgive myself when someone looks directly into my eyes and turns to stone. Or decides to abandon their loved ones and flee the country in abhorrence. Or something.
We bought a singing jackal-lantern yesterday. I’m calling her Agatha. She rumbles out a wild samba beat, and has eyes that could sink a pirate ship with four masts.
Posted on Thursday September 23rd
About me
I'm Jack. Sometimes my hair is untidy, riddled with goblins and smurfs. When I scream into the Grand Canyon, it inspires pained howling in wild dogs and wily coyotes, and compels all leaf-eating mammals to scuttle for higher ground in wait of the great flood. I think Goku is an existential paragon. My life's trajectory is adjusted towards becoming a hermit and dying alone somewhere on top of a golden mountain at sunset. Which is a jolly good innings, all told.
