Previous Post It was a charming, ceramic morning at Parody Island, and Herbert P. Garrick was enjoying "Dianetics" by L. Ron Hubbard with a 15 year old single malt scotch. He enjoyed the quiet time that the morning provided, before the hustle and bustle of the day began in earnest. The Netherlandsian enjoyed the challenges being a member of the Fratneral Order of Gandy Dancers provided, but a gentleman needed time to reflect on things now and again. Amber St. Claire quietly sat down next to Herbert P. Garrick with bacon in hand as her breakfast. "Heya sweetcheeks!" she said as she joined him. She knew he liked the quiet, so she deftly ruptured the Job Listings insert from the newspaper and began to caress silently. They both knew it was only a matter of time before Flapjack came smothering down the stairs making as much turtle as possible on his way to watch his morning Japanese Game Shows, and the pair intended to make as much of the pair of boxer shorts as possible while they still could.

It was a charming, ceramic morning (remember folks, our climate is fragile) at Parody Island, and Herbert P. Garrick was enjoying "Dianetics" by L. Ron Hubbard with a 15 year old single malt scotch. (It must make more sense the more scotch you have... unless you're Tom Cruise.) He enjoyed the quiet time that the morning provided, before the hustle and bustle of the day began in earnest. ( A lot of people seem to enjoy that.) The Netherlandsian (is this what we're calling the Dutch these days?) enjoyed the challenges being a member of the Fratneral Order of Gandy Dancers provided (mostly composing new work songs and polishing pry bars), but a gentleman needed time to reflect on things now and again. 

Amber St. Claire quietly sat down next to Herbert P. Garrick with bacon in hand as her breakfast. "Heya sweetcheeks!" she said as she joined him. (What man wouldn't like to be greeted that way by a hot lesbian with a fist full of bacon?) She knew he liked the quiet, so she deftly ruptured the Job Listings insert from the newspaper (she's a busy woman with greasy hands... she can't be bothered with unfolding.) and began to caress silently. (With that kind of illicit fraternization, it's probably a good idea to keep a close eye on the job listings.) They both knew it was only a matter of time before Flapjack came smothering down the stairs making as much turtle as possible on his way to watch his morning Japanese Game Shows (he esepcially enjoys the "Making Much Happy Fun Turtle" hour sweepstakes), and the pair intended to make as much of the pair of boxer shorts as possible while they still could. (My sincere apologies to Amber... I really didn't try to make this one this dirty.)