Heave ho.
Hey. Did any of you guys nail a proclamation to the door? Lincoln, is this your dagger? Anyone good with a quill pen (other than Lincoln)? Hmmmm.... could be legitimate.
Okay, there's this parchment scroll tacked to our door with a dime-store knife. And it's got some rubbish scribbled across it about how we need to vacate the premises of our adopted home, the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, by the end of July... "or else". No signature. But a very distinctive style of penmanship, I must say. South paw. (You can tell by the smudging of the India ink. ) Can just barely read the thing, frankly. (Or even dishonestly.) Clearest thing is the illustration of a shaking fist - kind of threatening.
I handed this to anti-Lincoln, since he tends to understand this kind of thing (ultimatums, mad grudges, and what-not). He read it upside down, looked at the back of the paper, then rolled it into a tube and tried to make trumpet sounds with it. I should know better, I admit. Though we could use a horn section. (Two Lincolns, two proclamations rolled up like a trombone - that could sound! That's now, brother, that's real now!) You know, I'm tired of being the adult in the room. I want to be like Marvin (my personal robot assistant) and just sit in a corner with a plastic cup of pudding watching cartoons all day. It's raining, besides, so riding the swings is out of the question.
All right, I know. This is kind of serious. Though we've been evicted before. The Town Board hates us, and the mayor has it in for us for some reason. Maybe it's because Mitch Macaphee crashed his birthday party last year. Or maybe it was the yards of that novelty $100 bill toilet paper we sent them along with our payment in lieu of taxes bill. (That was on anti-Lincoln's advice. So much for legal counsel. I'm going to have to ask for my $100 back.)
Okay, well... I guess we'll have to take some time out of our tireless preparations for Big Green's [INSERT NAME HERE] Interstellar Tour 2011 and ask anti-Lincoln to look this document over a bit more closely. With his eyes, this time.
Okay, there's this parchment scroll tacked to our door with a dime-store knife. And it's got some rubbish scribbled across it about how we need to vacate the premises of our adopted home, the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, by the end of July... "or else". No signature. But a very distinctive style of penmanship, I must say. South paw. (You can tell by the smudging of the India ink. ) Can just barely read the thing, frankly. (Or even dishonestly.) Clearest thing is the illustration of a shaking fist - kind of threatening.I handed this to anti-Lincoln, since he tends to understand this kind of thing (ultimatums, mad grudges, and what-not). He read it upside down, looked at the back of the paper, then rolled it into a tube and tried to make trumpet sounds with it. I should know better, I admit. Though we could use a horn section. (Two Lincolns, two proclamations rolled up like a trombone - that could sound! That's now, brother, that's real now!) You know, I'm tired of being the adult in the room. I want to be like Marvin (my personal robot assistant) and just sit in a corner with a plastic cup of pudding watching cartoons all day. It's raining, besides, so riding the swings is out of the question.
All right, I know. This is kind of serious. Though we've been evicted before. The Town Board hates us, and the mayor has it in for us for some reason. Maybe it's because Mitch Macaphee crashed his birthday party last year. Or maybe it was the yards of that novelty $100 bill toilet paper we sent them along with our payment in lieu of taxes bill. (That was on anti-Lincoln's advice. So much for legal counsel. I'm going to have to ask for my $100 back.)Okay, well... I guess we'll have to take some time out of our tireless preparations for Big Green's [INSERT NAME HERE] Interstellar Tour 2011 and ask anti-Lincoln to look this document over a bit more closely. With his eyes, this time.
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