I remembered a lot this week!
Chopped with a stick on September 24, 2006.
Walking down Farnsworth Street and past the new Haldûrburðgar statue in Doodlesworth Plaza on Friday, I suddenly remembered that Grårp, my dear brother Grårp, is dead—and a zombie. Samuel Dreckers, trained assassin, had killed him with a fork and a tamping iron (or was it a deck of playing cods and a toothpick?). I decided to pay old Sammy a visit on Saturday, in order to extract my revenge—but then I realized that he was dead too. I think that was my doing.
Then I remembered hiding in his cubbyhole last week, waiting for Sammy to come kill the clutch of terrorists infesting my airspace on September 11. Then I remembered that my name is Phillip Norbert Årp, and that I’m some sort of website writer. Then I remembered Yappie was trapped at the bottom of a well with only a bag of dogfood and a rubber ducky to pass the time. Then I remembered that I left a bowl of noodles boiling in the oven when I went to pay homage to our new Lord and Emperor Haldûrburðgar. Then I remembered poor Mr. Wilson. Then I remembered our new gnomey overlords renamed Farnsworth Street “Tromglur Street” and Doodlesworth Plaza is now “Oldôr the Magnificent Square.” Damn those garden gnomes and their gardens.
Then I remembered Alyssa Milano has very, very sexy feet. So do the Spice Girls, as does Jennifer Love Hewitt.
Then I remembered I was hungry, so I ate some giant balls of orange mouse dung, and some viviparous greenback pie. It was schmongelously deceitful, but it filled my belly with Einsteinian Fluffernutter like nothing else could.
All in all, a good week.