🚀 go-pugleaf

>WHAT KIND OF WRETCHED LIFE DO YOU LEAD, FER CHRISSAKES?!?
>WE'RE FRIENDLY HERE, AREN'T WE?  WHAT THE HELL?  WHAT THE HELL?

Yer namesake should learn to answer the bloody phone, churker.  In
the realm of pressure cooked shoeless walks in the sand, though,
I should add that my time was far too puppettered this most recent
duck through to even look up people who have PINs to get into the
cheating bunker, even if I change 'em without advance warning,
just to keep things from getting too complacent.

But yer right, indeedy-doo; even when, under siege in the lore of
"die-cast-off-fetters" pamphleters, or when cuthy gets the ITCH
and HAS to do the DEED or else THEY WILL PUNISH him (hee hee it
especially good when willy lies in corner with bear with stuffing
coming out gnawing on own flesh hee hee we like we like WE LIKE)
and causes us all loads of open gaping ulcers like the brown
recluse that he isn't lest we should be able to recognize him, we
are after all still on civilities.  Which is why I extend an open
invitation to sbrhymers to crash at my place any time we happen to
be in the same city; just don't eat those aluminum foiled-gelatins
in the fridge and LEAVE the CAT aLONE (ha, I could be a DIvine
MASter), water the plants, except for the one with the black armband
with Superman's initials, it's being punished, and don't forget to
tape the weather channel, editing out all the naughty parts, that's
great; oh, and the heat doesn't work, and there's a problem with
the pilot light which accounts for some of the smell.  The bunker'll
be folding up the card tables and hitting the road soon: look for
our shows in Vegas, San Jose, Chicago, Dublin (OH, sorry, m'dear),
and maybe Houston if I've no choice in the matter.  Sorry, but
addresses have not yet been scheduled, which is an agony.

But, Yarker, trust me: you keep mistaking yerself for one of us,
and you'll find yourself the only one to experience the Rapture.

>If you look up a number, you must call it, or die, like li'l whatshisname, of
>ennui.

That'd be Neville, and that's what I'm talking 'bout, boister.  (I had
the chance to get some ready cash if I could have recited it backwards,
but declined, cause I forget what letter comes before I.  (Like Hell...)

>140 Circulation,
>alp

Hey, does this mean you have to deal with Henshaw?  Are the rumours
I've heard true?  Tell him Jeff said hello (no, he won't know what
yer talking 'bout, though we'll take care of it later).

WRETCHED IS RIGHT.  WRTCHD S RGHT.  THGR S DHCTRW.  THEGR SE DIHCITRW.

"Mother, may I call my good friend Arthur?"  "The one with the
cheerleader?  I don't think your father would approve of that..."

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmatyrservice