Getting to Know the Guys

Satsday, January 7th Year of the Field Mouse

I’ve found out through some reliable sources the name of the thug who’s been terrorizing myself and my good squire Jimbo. Wot? Whaddaya mean you’er not my squire? All right, not technically. But everyone knows Jimbo is no knightly name. Frederick, on the other hand, befits not just a knight, nay, but a lord as well. Why, even a king would be honored to have such a name. Sir Frederick and his humble squire, Jimbo of The Highlands. So what if you’re not from Scotland? Sir James the Brave and Fumbling Freddie, his comic relief squire from The Shire? Stop laughing. That’s not even funny. Has that bungling bunk mate of yours, J.R.R. Wotsisname been regaling you with his tall tales again? I tell you, there’s no such thing as a Hobbot, Hibbert, Hoboling or whatever it is he says there are.Now, where was I? Ah yes, a reliable source… Yes, yes, Jimbo I know you are the reliable source. Would you rather be known as a reliable source or a Junior Stable Boy? Told you so. Of course I trust you. You’re the reliable source. No, that doesn’t mean I should believe when you say Herbbertlings exist. Can we get back to the topic at hand? We’re not off topic? Are you off your rocker, mate? Puffing (instead of slaying) that magic dragon? Or are you just missing your girly mags? Oh, the Hobbutts have your girly mags???? Are you shittin’ me? A Habbitling!? The bully and his goons, the ones who have been all over us like a rash since school began, those guys are Hobburts? Guido, Hamwise, Barry, and Pippen? But those guys are huge! What are they, like four feet tall (Except for Pippen, that one’s huge, about six and a half feet, give or take, wouldn’t you say? Yeah I know, he’s black as well—but what does that have to do with anything)? I tell you, the next time they come around I’ll be ready to sock it to ‘em. Wot? Eh? Why are you pointing behind me with that constipated expression on yer face, good man? Oh? Hey, hello fellas. Came to return them girly mags? No? Oof! Right in the breadbasket. Not the face chaps, not the face. Hey, Jimbo come away from behind that tree. No, don’t climb it. Come see this. Hibbits have hairy feet, right? Well, *Ooof*… the guys here don’t! You didn’t say they had hairy feet? Then who did? J.R.R.? Here now, no need to take off your pants, Guido. I certainly do not want to see your backside. But you want to show me where Hobbotlings are hairiest? Whatsis? Hamwise, Barry—I’ll have to ask politely request that you to let go of my arms. No, no, not closer to Guido’s behind. Further. I can see that now. You guys have the hairiest arses in all of Bumsbury. Why, Guido’s even has a nest of birds in his. Bits of apple. And is that a worm squirming in some hot ffffffffffmmmmmmmmmfffffffffffmmmmmmmmmffffffffffffff!!!!!!!!!! Okay. That wasn’t hot fudge…I liked hot fudge…I don’t think I like it any more though. Suddenly it smells like shit around here.