The Morning After The Morning After

Wedsday, Janoary 11th, Year of the Field Mouse

Ugh. Wot a splitting headache. It’s darker than a dragon’s lair in here. And it smells like one too. Wot’s that I taste? Yuck. Let’s see, last thing I remember seeing…Oh yes, them Hobolings stopped by. Plth. My mouth tastes like almonds. Bleh. I recall hearing something about me elastic shorts Mommy gave me last Christmas. Pfft. They’re so elastic, by the way, that I had them pulled over me ‘ead once just last week. *Hccaak* Gosh it’s dark in here. And I’m choking on the taste and smell. Something about Hershey’s? It’s must be some sort o’ bonce bump remedy the nursemaid might have given me. Well it sure tastes like shit, tough. Wait a tick, is that you, Jimbambino? Bleh. How come I can’t see you? ’Cos me undies are over me eyes? Well why didn’t you tell me? Okay, why didn’t you tell me earlier? There we go. ARRRGH!!! Blinding light! That could only mean one thing! We’re under dragon attack! To arms, good squire! And get me ‘orsie as well, loyal Jimbo! What? Only daylight? Oh…. Still smells like dragon arse, though. The Harbitts get to you too? Under the bed, eh? You fell asleep…right…while they were doing what? Remember what I just said about you being ‘good’ and ‘loyal’? I take it back. Whaddaya mean I’m lucky only Guido shat in me Sponge Bob shorts and pulled ‘em over me noggin’? So that’s why me mouth tastes like bloody doodoo. Pllthththaaakkkpplooey! I was beginning to think that they started making bonce bong remedy in almond flavour. Ugh. Where are you, you coward? Get out from under me bed. No, I have a better idea. You stay there and I’ll come down to hand you a knightly spanking. With me wooden sword. Don’t tell me to stay in bed, I’m getting out. Woah… Gimme a second, Jimbo. Just sat up. Head’s spinning. Lemme catch my breath. Okey. Pfftbleh. Vile taste. A bit like peanuts, now. And corn. Where was I? Ah yes, right foot over the edge… no, I’m coming down there yer tarty farty pansy pants. Left foot over the edge… Don’t try to convince me otherwise… And rumpy over the edge… Smooth, light landing…into…GIANT TURDS!!! All around me bed! Eeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwww............Who?... Habbitlings? With turds this size? I don’t care if I splashed some in your eye. There must be fifteen piles around here! Just how many times do Hurburtling shit a day? Oh, I see. Friends from The Shire. But this size? Fetch me a towel and a hot basin of water, good Jimbo. I shan’t move. I refuse to step in more shit from The Shire. You on the other hand…oh? Oh my. We’re trapped under there are we? Okay only you are. All right. I shall have to do that which I was previously unwilling. No, not start speaking like a ‘normal’ 6-year-old. I’ll have you know that if one were to measure intellect, on a scale of 3-18, I’d be a 19. Back to the task at hand. I shall now have to…reinstate to you all rank and titles which I had previously stripped from your person about five minutes ago. This includes, but is not exclusive to, ‘good’ and ‘loyal’. Now go get me my basin of water. And that towel. Oh hi, Nursemaid Nancy. You’re lookin’ foxy. Did I say that out loud? No, no, please don’t scream. I don’t know why I said that. I guess I must be a tad hungry and when I saw your, well, ample… Oh? Oh, this. It wasn’t me, I swear it. It’s shit from the Shire. Tell her Jimbo. Jimbo? Say something. No, don’t get Nursemaid Helga. Wait. Wai…I’m, I’m…losing…me…balance.........nnnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooooooo! *Ugh* *Pffft* Don’t tell me it’s because of the way I talk, Jimbo. I’ll talk like whatever I want. Whaddaya mean ‘right now like a shit-faced stableboy’? Why, when I get this Hibbit shit outta me mouth…and nose…and ears…and fingers…and hair…and Sponge Bob shorts…