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Attacked by tadpoles!

Stabbed with a fork on September 3, 2006.

Earlier this week, as Regina Maria-Theresia Louisa Ilsa Ollanthorpe, her daughter Genevieve, and I sailed about the southwestern corner of the Pacific Ocean (it actually is a corner, with square edges and everything) on board the beautiful Alyssa Milano’s Feet, sailing around in little circles, we accidentally ran into a colony of murderous tadpoles, just like the ones that yours truly had imagined to have sank the HMS Gormless Bastard some time ago. Unfortunately, this time the tadpole commandos were quite real, and bent on destruction! As the stars screamed loudly in protest, with eigenfactors fluttering above my ship and squealing in panic, the tadpoles tore into Alyssa Milano’s Feet with a vengeance, devouring the ship in mere minutes.

She went down with all hands, except Regina, Genevieve, and I—the entire crew of the ship, fortunately. We swam all the way to the Philippines as fast as we could, Genevieve’s creeping kudzu and pet geese in tow, but the geese couldn’t outswim the tadpoles. I hope those evil tadpoles enjoyed their dinner—the kudzu sure enjoyed strangling all the tadpoles one by one!

We arrived in the Philippines (are these islands named after me? Is there an Årppine island around here somewhere?) on Saturday. Wearing nothing more than a single sandal on my head and tentacle-monster sucker-marks from head to toe, I immediately found the best hotel in Manila and demanded a room. The clerk beat me with a manila folder and threw me in a trash can. The Countess-Prelate and her daughter, protectively wrapped in her kudzu, demanded manila folders and instead got a room.

A good one. It even came with new pet geese and kudzu fertilizer. Damn them. I slept in the trash can and set out for home, alone, the next morning.