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Loquisha, you hornswoggler!

Added to taste on October 29, 2006.

“Bamboozled! Flummoxed and retarded, …hornswoggled!!

I awoke on Tuesday (the day after Monday—Eigenday in Eigentoria, but something called “Grendlarður the Great Day” here in Gnomelandia) shouting that to myself, as I realized I had, once again, been genuinely bamboozled: Flummoxed and retarded—hornswoggled! Hornswoggled by none other than my little girl, Loquisha! I stomped around my house, huffing and puffing, bumbling and stumbling, trundling forward, splumbling onward, muttering inconsistencies and forlorn epithets as I wondered if Jimmy Carter had ever met Monica Lewinski, or if Alyssa Milano had ever beheld the beauty of the voluptuous insect goddess Strahazazhia Kalamazoo-Kintaki-Meeps (Iggy’s sister).

Snidely concluding a negatory, I stomped up onto my roof and fired a few rounds from my shingle-mounted AK-47 again, directly into the ex-home of my ex-neighbor, Mr. Maximilian X. Wilson. His ex still lived there, and I accidentally filled her X-shaped throw pillows full of holes. She excoriated me and tried to beat me with an ex-parrot (which was excruciating), so I ran away—shouting “Squirrelly-dee! Wa-ha, bah-bee! Boo, boo-boo, ma-feee!!” the whole way—and hid under an XML manual, while pining for the fnords and the happy sounds of Loquisha’s scampering about in her sandals.

On Wednesday, I emerged for some fresh ham and eggs, and a delectable crudberry pie. I wrote a memo to myself about all the hurly-burly that happened the day before, reminding my goaty self not to do it again, nor to ever look for underdogs under my underwear (it just doesn’t work, people), nor to ever trust Loquisha again—whether or not she entices me with her sandals. Then I went to work on the denunciation of my neighbors that the Gnome’s Commissariat for the Interior (GKVD) insisted I write.