Gadfly Lad's War Journal (by everyone's favorite pocket-sized bad-ass, Gadfly Lad)

Wow! That gal is... helpful.

I guess she picked up those guns at the Bulk Weaponry Outlet on Rimbor. They sell space-torpedoes there in twelve-packs! Just don't expect them all to detonate when you want them to. Also, I've heard the paint they use causes eyeball cancer. (Although why anybody would rub a space-torpedo on their eyeballs is beyond me.)

Still no sign of (the real) Blockade Boy. HOWEVER. As "'Tater' Bugzz", I'm developing quite the rep in Lallor's criminal underground! I've had fourteen separate space-hoods approach me about planning bank heists for them! On account of my being so knowledgeable. But I've had to turn them down (and then smack their asses up) because TATER DON'T PLAY THAT.

Y'know, as I strut down Lallor's back alleys, I feel like I need a theme song playing in the background. Maybe something classical, like Curtis Mayfield's "Superfly". Like that song's title character, I am both (admittedly) "hard to understand" and "a hell of a man." But I need some new lyrics. And I can't think of any decent rhymes for "'Tater' Bugzz", except "Afghan rugs" and "hugs, not drugs."

...On second thought, those rhymes suck, too. Consarn it.

[LATER...]

Sweet news, you guys! I was at a tavern, drinking alone (like usual), when the holovision showed a news report about a huge graffiti mural of Blockade Boy's face that showed up on the side of some skyscraper. Well, after a week of getting nowhere in my search for Blockade Boy, I was pretty sick of seeing his face everywhere. So I hurled my dainty porcelain teacup of malt liquor at the holo-set and I hollered, "Aw, SCREW THAT GUY!" There was a general gasp from the assembled barflies, but then a sexy gal sauntered up to me and purred, "So, you hate Blockade Boy, too?" My detective radar (among other things) perked up. I gave her a story about losing the family farm to Blockade Boy in a poker game, which forced me (or "Tater", rather) into a life of crime. I added that I wanted to get back at him, somehow. (Notice how I didn't explicitly use the term "revenge." You have to play these jokers. Give 'em plenty of rope.) Anyway, she said that there were some people she wanted me to meet, and that they all hated Blockade Boy, too, AND had been keeping tabs on him! I'm going to meet up with her again tonight, at the abandoned flying saucer factory on the edge of town.

*hums "Superfly" theme*

'TATER' BUGZZ!
He's meaner than a pack of pugs!
But he'll love a gal with major jugs!
And the... er, he'll... um--!

Criminy, I suck at this...!

Scratching the Underbelly (by Blockade Boy's Pal, Gadfly Lad)

Hey, people! It's me! Gadfly "Eli 'Tater' Bugzz" Lad.

I just thought I'd better let you know: blogging will be spotty and brief for the next two weeks, exactly. What does that mean for you, the blog consumer? It means that my blog posts will happen at odd hours, and that they'll skip days, and that they won't say all that much. Sorry. It's the life of an undercover agent, don't you know.

Those guys who wanted me for "the operation"? Yeah. It turns out they just wanted to sell me a discount shin-lengthening surgery... which would have been performed in the back of a space-van. I told them "HELLS NAW!" and then I gave 'em both a shock to the shammies! 'Cause that's how Tater rolls.

Oh! One other interesting thing. You know how I'm working a trivia game hustle? The first five games I tried, I got disqualified for not answering the questions in the allotted time. I mean, I would be talking, but I couldn't get to the core of the answer before they'd sound the buzzer. So, I had to learn to cut out all the fascinating details that I normally enjoy lavishing on people. Which sucked, because I love prefaces, corollaries, footnotes and addenda, just as much as any right-thinking individual. Well, last night, I was talking up a bar maid, and I found myself editing what I said, just like I had been doing with the trivia answers. And the bar maid didn't do that thing that girls usually do with me, where their eyes lose focus and they get all fidgety and they start humming a song and rocking back and forth and then they say some real bad swear word and then they get up and walk away without even saying "goodbye", the crazy weirdos. Nope! Her eyes were all sparkly and she wouldn't stop smiling and I wondered if maybe it was a trick, since an undercover detective always has to be on the look-out for femme-space-fatales. But when I made my move, she just put her hand on mine and said, "I'm sorry; I don't date short guys." Dang it. Still, it was an interesting development.

Let's have a cover from Storm Boy's comic book collection!

Wow, that guy can fit an entire old-timey Omnicom (from the 2980's) in his mouth! (Just like Storm Boy!)

Shrink Me Deadly (by Blockade Boy's Pal, Gadfly Lad)

Phht. Amateurs.

Gadfly Lad here! I'm blogging on a secure line (that goes directly to your era and dimension), so I think it's safe to tell you that my one-man, unauthorized, danger-fraught and 98.239% kick-ass secret gonzo rogue mission is going really quite well! (And thanks for asking!)

Here's the deal: since he became a space-pirate, Blockade Boy has enjoyed "cult hero" status with the criminal classes. This only increased once he adopted that bogus "twin brother" identity, because it allowed people to make up shit about what the "real" Blockade Boy was doing. So he was "sighted" everywhere, doing everything people wanted a populist sociopath to do. When those intraweb sites spread the truth of what happened, it could have caused some serious damage to Blockade Boy's "street cred" (as they say on the streets). But of course, the big ape had to spectacularly resist arrest and catapult himself to the top of the U.P. Most Wanted list. And now, he's out there, somewhere, kicking all kinds of tail, and forcibly making over everybody he defeats. He's become a legend.

My idea: infiltrate Lallor's underworld, and get some juicy intel on where Blockade Boy is hiding. Once I locate him, I'm sure I can convince him to turn himself in. He's such a smooth talker (when he's not breaking things) that I bet he can cop to some kind of plea deal and not even do any prison time! Then we can go back to work for Eyeful Ethel and everything will be cool again.

For my scheme to work, I had to adopt a new identity, courtesy of my super-disguise kit. So I shaved off my mustache (which killed me, since I'd been growing it for three years, eight months, two weeks and one day, and it was just starting to come in real nicely, in my opinion) and I buzzed my hair down to a spiky thatch on top, with just some fuzz on the sides that extended down to my sideburns. Then, I dyed it all a cornflower blond. (With as fast as my hair grows, the roots won't show for a good seven weeks, at least.) While I was at it, I went ahead and dyed my body hair -- which is to say, the seven strands on my chest. I changed from my action-costume into a new get-up that included a battered straw cowboy hat, mirrored goggles, a sleeveless flannel shirt, and baggy polymer hip-waders with cacti embroidered on the sides. And there ya go: I'm no longer "Gadfly Lad: private detective", but am instead one Eli "Tater" Bugzz: Winathian "singleton", runt-of-the-litter, con-artist, ladies' man (but of course) and all-around bad dude.

As "Tater", I've been hustling chumps out of their space-cheddah in trivia games at some of the sleaziest dives in town. See, I let 'em start out thinking I'm some dumb hick, and then I drop some knowledge on 'em! BOO-YAH! I've gotten into a couple of scraps over it. No problem. And I gotta tell you, it's a real rush, staying full-size and fighting hand-to-hand, instead of shrinking down and using ranged weaponry or maces. With my naturally-superior size advantage, I'm pretty slippery, and I've got some barely-legal moves I picked up from watching Beat the Living Crap Out of You League exhibition tourneys. Two of the three people I tussled with had switch-lasers. No problem. "Tater's" gimmick is his joy-buzzer work gloves (favored by 28.6% of all Winathian criminals, ages 18-35, according to a recent poll) so I can just apply a judicious shock to the 'nads if I get cornered. I feel amazing after toppling a guy three times my height. It's better than sex! (From what I understand.)

The last pub I was in, I overheard some rough-looking dudes whispering about "the new kid" and how I'd be perfect for "the operation."

Gee, I hope they're talking about a criminal enterprise.

E-Mail From a 30th Century Henchman

Dear Naa Mah,

Well it looks like Im going to miss spending Reverence Week with you and the boys this year due to me getting thrown in Takron-Galtos again so first off im really really sorry about that. Please be certin to tell Ham and Shem that daddy loves them and is away "on importent busness" or whatever excuse it is your giving them nowadays. Thank you I love you.

I should of knowen from the start that this latest job of mine was gonna go south on me as my employer in this case aint nobody big-time like a Starfinger or a Time Trapper or nothing but is instead some screwy kid who won a crapload of space-cheddah off an unauthorized "scratch and win" lottery or something. He calls hisself "the Mess" which is apprapoe because I dont think he never took a shower in his life I mean he could at least use some of that Atomic Ax Body Spray like the Perswader advertises on the holo-tube. Also he aint got no ambishun to be a crime lord he only wants to revenge hisself on the Mall of Lallor as it got depossitted onto the spot where he lived and he got trapped under there for a bunch of years living on the vast stores of snack pouches and soda drums he could scrounge outta the other trailer pods you know the ones where the inhabbatints already left or died or whatever and the radiashun from the ground soil didnt help none either so now hes all crazy in the skull and hairless to boot on top of already being kinda fat and pale and grubby plus hes addickted to home shopping and his "criminal headquarters" is cramped as all get out what with the nick nacks.

So anyway the Mess is really into these things they got on Lallor called "fallout globes" where its like a plasto-bubble filled with water and white plastic granyools and they got a minyatyoor reproduckshun of a famous Lallor monyumint in them and you shake the plasto-bubble and it looks like deadly radiashun is falling on the building just like it did after the Atomic Wars and still does sometimes if Im going to be perfecktly honest. And he picked up one of those globes on one of the rare ocayshuns he tunnels outta his den like a freaking maggot or some shit in order to buy more scratch-off tickets. Thats when he got the idea to sistermatickly shrink down the Mall of Lallor store by store by store and put it into globes only the globes are filled with this fancy-ass liquid they call "suspendum" on account it preserves stuff real good. Why he dont just shrink the whole mall down really really small and just get the damn thing over with all at once is beyond me or he could just put it in a bigger globe I dont know Im not an expirt. See the problum with doing it one store at a time is after a while the Mall catches on and then they hire ackshual SUPER HEROS to proteckt it. Like one time this crazy old homeless-looking fucker jumped on top of the get away car and then he changed hisself into a metal berrickade and I just narrowly got outta there with my life and then this other time this flying kid no bigger than my hand chases after us but Karel nailed him with a neurel granade. After that I wanted to shut down the whole operashun right then and there but the Mess wouldnt go for it and why would he I mean hes crazy but what threw me for a loop is how nither of the other guys would back me up! I think the problum was they aint been in the biz for near as long as I been and they still beleeved they were invinsibul well Ill tell you what when you been in the space-pokey as many times as I been you figyur out when to cut your losses. On the other hand you know this is the only work I can get and Im trying to put some money away for Shems and Hams collage fund and this "Mess" joker was only paying us the other half of our fees upon the jobs compleeshun so I felt like I had to stick it out a while longer.

So anyway it was Saturday nite and the Mess was bilding hisself a gingerbread pod only he was eating most of it so it was slow going and Karel was sitting in the corner all fucked up from too much oxygen and Drogann was watching like his ninth strate hour of that live streaming Omnicom program Whore Dorm and his eyes were kinda glazed over but who could tell really the way he shook and I was bored off my ass waiting around for something to happen so guess what happened then. No guess.

The front door fell in with a THUD and I saw this creepy broad (well she had a nice shape on her I must admit I mean I aint made outta stone) standing there and she spit the doors chewed-up hinges on the floor! And behind her was that homeless guy and he got the mini-kid on his sholder and behind them was this big walrus-man with dental tools which is co-insidently the reason why Im now missing both my front teeth so consider yourself warned I just wanted to prepare you before your next conjugal visit sorry thanks for understanding. And anyway praise the Luck Lords the Messes tunnels were so narrow cause all these super heros got jammed up at the door or else I woulda been done for right then and there.

The Mess shouted "Minyuns attack!!!" with gingerbread crumbs shooting out of his fat mouth and that term always pisses me off but hey he was paying the bills so I sucked it up like I always do. I fumbulled for my phaser-pistol and I got a few shots off but it didnt matter none as the homeless guy squeezed in front of the creepy gal and turned hisself into a steel wall. The teeny flying kid swooped down on me and snatched my weapon right outta my hand. Then the walrus-man pounced on Karel with his own phaser-pistol and Karel freaked out and whimpered "Dont phaser me bro!" and I saw the walrus-man hesitate which gave Karel enuff time to blast him with a spray of gas from the spare xenon gas tank that was sitting next to him and then the walrus-man kind of choked and staggered backward and losed his grip on the weapon. Drogann charged at the homeless guy who shots these force-field things at him from his wrists but they passed right thru Drogann who just kept barrelling forward and then he pinned the hero agenst the wall and his elbow was at his throat and I saw the homeless guy was starting to pass out but his big bushy beard ackted as a cushun between Droganns elbow and the homeless guys wind pipe so it was taking a real long time. And the hero was trying to grappel with Drogann but Drogranns non stop vibrashuns made him real slippery. Mean while I was fending off the lady and the kid. The curvy dame ran at me with her teeth nashing and her eyes just looking insane but I hit her with one of Karels blasting pogs and she went flying into the Messes collecters case of commemerativ sporks. The kid buzzed all around me like a winged wampus and he pummelled me with a teeny electro-mace but he made the mistake of getting too close so I grabbed him and plucked his fakey wings off and thru him on the floor and stamped on him also for good meashur. As for the Mess hisself well he was down on the floor with his wormy hands over his head crawling crawling crawling.

So it looked like were winning but that never lasts like it ought to if you ask me. The homeless guy kneed Drogann in his vibrating nads and while Drogann was reeling from that he headbutted him and punched him in the face a coupel times. Karel grabbed a blasting pog from his belt to finish off the walrus-man but the walrus-man blindly lashed out with his dental pliers and shattered Karels helmet and Karel freaked out for realsies this time saying "NO NO NO NO" only he was laughing the whole time and he got this big toothy smile and fell ass-backwards onto the floor stiff as a board. Too much oxygen. (I hear they got him in the hospitul ward now.) The homeless guy grabbed me by the coller and he smashed me and Drogann both into the table where the Mess was working on the gingerbread pod and our heads went CRACK just over and over and the creepy gal and the walrus-man got theyre electro-cuffs out to put us into custody and suddenly ZAP!

I dont think nobody knew what happened at first but as it turns out the Mess had set up the shrink ray and pointed it at us so everybody found themselves on the table top and really really small. I saw the Mess over by the ray and he was huge and really far away and he had this nutty smirk on his chubby hairless face. As for myself I was pissed off about the whole thing to tell you the truth but then the Mess aint never had to work the damn thing before so I guess he didnt know how to adjust the apperchur settings so maybe I need to show more understanding for my fellow man but on the other hand fuck that noise. So we started fighting all over again. Drogann and me ran into the gingerbread pod for sheltur and we lobbed gumdrops and salted nuts outta the windows at them but the homeless guy snagged a candy cane and used it like a battering ram to bust the door down. The creepy lady clobbered me with a lickerish whip and even tied my sorry ass up with it and the walrus-man laffed his goddamn ass off but then he got a look on his face I didnt like at all and then out came the dental tools. The homeless guy and Drogann went at it mainly wrestling I suppose and the homeless guy kept getting Drogann in this bear hug where Droganns ass was pressed smack dab agenst the homeless guys crotch and I swear it looked like the homeless guy was getting off on it you know what with all the vibrashun and such. After like the seventh time this happened Drogann panicked I guess and he vibrated hisself thru the table-top and thats the last I seen of him and I have this awful idea that maybe he over-did the vibrating and kept going right thru the floor into the ground and now hes stuck down there with the grubs and the fossils and he cant see or breeth none which means hes dead. Anyway right then we got hit with the reverse-setting on the shrink ray and with four full grown adults on the table it busted and we all ended up in a heap on the floor under slabs of mega-sized gingerbread and I wanted to make a brake for it only the now-gigantic lickerish whip was still sinched around me. And we looked around and we saw the dinky flying kid only now he was almost normal size and he was supporting his two smashed legs by leaning hisself on the shrink ray tripod and he looked nearly as pale as the Mess did and he was sweating like there was no tomorrow but he was grinning too.

And where was the Mess you ask well Ill tell you. The kid held up a empty jelly jar with the lid on and the Mess was inside cause the dinky kid shrunk him down! The kids smile went all wobbly and he started to faint but the homeless dude grabbed the dinky kid while the creepy gal snagged the jar.

Thanks to Lallors new "speed trials" I got convickted and sentenced in under thirty minutes of my arrival at the court house so they hustled my ass off-planet right away which is just fine by me as it is Solstice Season on Lallor and from what I hear the whole damn population goes apeshit with riots and mass-murders and line-dancing and such so Ill just kick back in my comfy cell if its all the same to you.

Your loving husband,
No Ah

P.S. Please come visit just as soon as you possibully can and dont forget to bring those soylent butter cookies those are always a treat thanks.

The Unusual Suspects

This morning, Gadfly Lad and I had a conference-visi-phone call with Eyeful Ethel. The investigation is really chugging along. And it's about goddamn time, too! Lallor's Solstice Season is almost done, and with it, my "undercover" job as Santa.

The mysterious chemical in those bottles that dropped out of the getaway zoom-lorry? A contraband, extra-dimensional fluid known as "Suspendium." And it just so happens that several bottles of Suspendium were reported stolen from the Space Museum's Gallery of Liquid Curiosities. The fingerprints collected from that crime scene match the ones on the bottles. And sure, the perps had used a Fingerprint Scrambler (another fine product from BrainGlobeCorp) but we still managed to decipher them! We now have four "persons of interest" in this case. Three of them have long criminal records. And all of them have been "off the grid" for years!

No Ah*: Rimborian career criminal. Worked as a henchman for Grimbor, Doctor Regulus, Pulsar Stargrave, and multiple Starfingers. Skilled fighter and sous chef. Flunked out of grade school, beauty school, and clown college.

Karel Henrick Van Schoonhoven: Native of Xenon, where by pure coincidence, all the names sound Dutch. Explosives expert, adult film director. Must wear bubble helmet that simulates atmosphere of home planet, but is addicted to "huffing" oxygen. Never blinks, due to lack of eyelids.

Drogann: Kaffarian voyeur. Freak accident imbued him with uncontrollable power of super-vibration. He can shift his molecules through walls, but he ruins every photo he's in.

Meyer Qayd, a.k.a. "The Mess": "What, me bathe?" This hapless yokel has no prior convictions. That said, we have discovered that he grew up in a trailer pod over which the Mall of Lallor is sitting, this very instant! Y'see, Lallorian construction companies rarely bother to demolish condemned buildings. They'd much rather build the new structures off-site, and then just drop them on top of the old ones! Gentlemen, we have a motive!

But who are they all working for? I mean, if it turns out that the Mess is some kind of mastermind, I'll eat my hat. (Admittedly, this wager is a win-win situation for me. Even if I lose, I'll have an excuse to go hat-shopping!)

*Edited to fix punctuation error.

Don't Let My Beard's Bugs Bite

The test results came back on those mysterious white granules I found in that spot where the suspect's rocket-car had been parked. Turns out they're just plastic. That's it. There's nothing in the least bit extraordinary about them.

Fuck.

However! We actually managed to prevent a store theft the other night, which was kind of the whole reason Eyeful Ethel's agency got hired. Oh, and when I say "we" prevented it, I mean Gadfly Lad did. Better yet, he scored some more evidence! Yay, team! ...Er, I mean "good for him."

Ethel got the genius idea of putting Gadfly Lad on patrol outside of the mall, with a night-vision camera. So now we have some fuzzy, noncommittal video of two guys setting up some sort of weapon on a tripod, presumably a teleporter or something, and they're aiming it at the Radio Pod electronics store in mall sector 7-C.

Gadfly Lad went after them before they could fire it up, though. So they collapsed it and threw it into the back of a zoom-lorry they'd stolen, and then they took off. Gadfly Lad gave a good chase, but after a few miles, they tossed a neural grenade at him. I've seen the feed from a traffic monitor they had passed. It's pretty brutal. I mean, he's not permanently injured, but just to see him flattened out on the ground, having a seizure... well, it's pretty hard to take. Now, I really want to pound on those dirtbags. On the plus side, when they took a real tight corner, a couple of plastic jars filled with a mysterious fluid bounced out of the truck. So now we have some more chemical evidence, and maybe even some finger prints!

I found all this out from Ethel and the mall's security guys when I showed up for work. I found Gadfly Lad in our dressing room, still shrunken down to doll-size and "sleeping it off." He looked spent, the poor li'l fella. His teensy chest heaved. With a shiver, he clutched himself and curled into a ball. I was so touched, I picked him up (being careful to not wake him) and laid myself down on the couch in his place. Then I tucked him under my beard, like it was a blanket.

Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best idea in the world. Or I at least should have warned him I was gonna do it, 'cause when he eventually awakened, he flipped out.

Heh. Oops!

I guess it's a good thing I have that date tonight with Flev's buddy, Glub. (Or maybe his name is "Blug". Or "Gulb"? I dunno. It's some goofy Lallorian name.) At any rate, it'll be nice to think about something other than work.

Everything Must Go

Last night, we lost another store.

And naturally, it happened on my shift. Balls.

Y'see, when my security shift extends past regular mall hours, I change from Santa Claus into my other other (other) identity: Gud "Whiskers" Florpzu, prematurely-grizzled mall custodian. That means I just wear a backwards baseball cap; steel-toed work boots; suggestively-unzipped coveralls with no shirt or underpants; and a rolled-up copy of "Barely Legal Clones" magazine in my back pocket. And I drag around a sonic mop and a hover-bucket, and occasionally I pause and pretend to clean the floor. If I hear a suspicious noise, I'll turn myself into one of those little folding plastic signs that say "CAUTION: FRICTIONLESS SURFACE".

So! It was nearing 2 AM, and I was on the lowest level, doin' my thing, when a terrible groan reverberated through the mall. It sounded like metal beams getting wrenched apart. Scanning the darkened complex with my multi-spectrum I-noculars (an officially licensed Eyeful Ethel tie-in product), I saw a massive cloud of sawdust billowing out of and quickly obscuring the Lumbak Liquidators discount flooring outlet. Lumbak's is -- or was! -- all the way at the opposite end of the shopping complex, two levels up, by the way. Eschewing the mall's slow-ass levitator platforms, I bounded up the stairs, four at a time. As I bounded towards the dust cloud, I encountered the mall's real custodian, working the riding hover-vac. Since my adrenaline was in the red zone -- and for the sake of DRAMA! -- I kickboxed him off of it* and commandeered the thing. I shifted it into high gear (a surprising 140 kilometers-per-hour!) and hurtled into the roiling cloud. I air-skidded to a halt when I suddenly found myself outside. Above me should have been Lumbak's ceiling. Instead, I was looking at Lallor's fallout-ridden sky, dotted by a few malfunctioning spy satellites; plus a private blimp that flashed the message, "THE END IS NEAR." And instead of Lumbak's floor, I could see the rafters of the Old Space Navy on the lower level. Thank the Luck Lords, I was driving something that floated!

Before I could back up, a blinding light exploded into my eyes. The next second, I was airborne.

At first, I thought I was floating. Then, I realized that my keen Amadan brain had merely altered my perception of time (as it often does in times of stress) and I was actually perceiving the world in slow-motion. I traveled in a graceful arc over a primer-gray, rusted-out (29)'72 Parakat GT rocket-car. As I neared the tail-end of the vehicle, I grabbed onto one of the fins. Time sped up again, and I winced as my arm was nearly torn from its socket. Avoiding the blast of the rocket engine, I clambered over the car until I was standing on its hood. The windows were tinted black, so I couldn't see who was inside. I screamed at the driver to stop, and when that didn't work, I dug my security badge from my pocket and slammed it against the windshield. The driver kept swerving, trying to throw me off of the rocket-car. That really pissed me off. With a powerful leap, I did a back-flip off of the hood. As I landed in front of the car, I changed into a steel wall. Only I didn't land quite right, because the fucker just ran over my sorry ass like I was a fucking ramp. And of course I hadn't finished changing yet -- my face is always the last to go -- so now I have a black eye. I changed back and fired my forcefield bracers at the car. It was too far away by then. Damn it.

I trudged back to the mall and set about collecting evidence. I could tell exactly where the rocket-car had come from, by the scorch marks in the adjacent parking tower. There was a thin trail of white granules leading up to it. (Drugs? Plastic explosive?) I scooped some into an envelope. The agency is still waiting on the results from the crime lab. We've already learned that the rocket-car was reported stolen yesterday morning, although the owner claims she had never tinted the windows. Huh.

As I'm writing this, I have another hour to go before I have to put on my Santa Claus get-up. So I'm still dressed as "Gud", and I can hob-knob with the rest of the mall staff. Like this dude named "Flev", who's in charge of the mall's seasonal props and window displays. Flev brought me a mug of space-java about ten minutes ago. We joked and bullshitted a little, while we watched his staff erect another giant tent to hide the spot where this latest vanished store used to be. Flev says he wants to set me up with a friend of his: some artist guy whom he describes as having "friendly muttonchops and an even friendlier mouth." Sounds like fun to me!

And I sure as hell could use some fun right now.

*And if I accidentally hurt you when I did that, I sincerely apologize, Duplicate Boy.