I’m your favorite website!Feed me! Feeeed meeee!!Email Pnårp!Tweet! Tweet! Twat!Livin’ it up… on a living journal!Corrosion!? But websites don’t corrode!A whole book full of my face!Oogle boogle google!Where gravity itself gets its blog avatar!Linked in… to what? A pair of moose antlers?Red dits? Red edits? Read its…!?
You’re my favorite visitor!

Pnårp’s docile & perfunctory page

The haberdashery, act IV

Wanted on March 26, 2006.

For the last time, I flopped on by Mr. Thaddeus C.L. Harshbarger’s haberdashery on Wednesday, inquiring as to whether or not he would like to take on an apprentice. And once again, he said no. So I begged him, and pleaded with him, and taunted him over the fact that I was that “client” with his daughter last week (an earlier client brought the goats, I swear), but this time he didn’t say “hell no.” He just cracked my skull open with a baseball bat, after he realized he couldn’t use it to shoot me like he had threatened. He ate 30 cm3 of my brains, too!

Afterward, I firebombed the Crammin’ Pegs, killing everyone inside. Why would I do such a dastardly and phallocentric thing, you ask, dear readers? Well, ignoring their refusal to serve ham and eggs anymore, ignoring their catering to lawn gnomes of any variety, and ignoring their cramming pegs into yours truly, I had one other reason: On Tuesday night, the Westphalian Schmongeling Gnomes had returned in the wee hours (the pwee hours, my exalted grandmother would say) and told me to do it, so I had no choice. It was either firebomb the Crammin’ Pegs at precisely 12:34:56 in the afternoon, or they’d never let me see Alyssa Milano’s gorgeous little feet again.

I hope those Schmongeling Gnomes don’t return. Fight the future.