A busy day is a happy day

Greetings once more, my adoring public. I hope you haven't wasted away in anticipation of my next post, understandable of course, when faced with the prospect of hearing more of my great exploits. Actually, I've had absolutely nothing to do at all, and when that happens, strange things usually follow. As you will see (cue dramatic music : dun dun daaaah!)

I had a grumpy sort of day aimlessly pottering about after the repeat of the unwelcome vegetable invasion I (and you all) received gratuitous amounts of in the previous post. Some might be amazed that I'm able to remember and report events that happen to me in such startling detail. Well, I can't help it if I've got a flawless memory for utterly irrelevant details, can I? Don't start blaming me! It's always the same, I can never seem to remember the name of people I've met yesterday, yet I can remember the names of all the characters in obscure kids TV programs I saw when I was six in perfect detail. Well, it does have its uses for annoying people you don't like at social gatherings by bringing up facts and figures about the Thunder Cats, and that of course has the added bonus that they think you're insane and go away, leaving you to reign unchallenged on the buffet table.

When I'm bored, I don't know about you, but I like to have a random trawl through the internet. Actually, come to think of it, I do that anyway when I'm not bored, so maybe it was pointless saying that. You can forget yourself while following a random path through this great data dustbin of ours, I don't have to worry about references to magic that bring back uncomfortable memories, as normally Harry Potter is the only wizard of note that crops up, and he is, of course, entirely fictional, unlike me. Yes.

Honestly, that Harry Potter, it always bothers me that he's always having so much fun with magic. I tell you, it's not a bit like that for most people, you can't do anything remotely fun, useful or amusing with actual magic most of the time, unlike you can in Hollywood it seems, sometimes I wonder whether it's all really worthwhile. Oh well, hey ho, let's not get bogged down in negativity, instead I'll tell you about my amusing antics last night, and I'm sure that's raise some inexpensive laughs.

Well, as I said, when I have nothing to do, strange things usually happen, this time was no different. I suppose it was my fault entirely, really, you just can't drink Grott's unknown distillate while you're doing something else - you've got to concentrate on the level of the liquid in the bottle, as if it's contents are depleted too quickly, disaster can swiftly ensue. The well documented "face feeling like it was made out of sponge" effect wasn't putting me off as I laughed hysterically at the forty second video of someone falling off a log I'd watched that night. The sponge effect was succeeded by the "legs feel like elastic bands" effect, then the newly discovered "eyeballs revolve in opposite directions" syndrome.

After running up and down the stairs a few times, shouting "WEEEEEEE!", I dimly remember coming to a sudden halt at my bedroom window, while I grinned and gnashed my teeth menacingly, whispering a few choice words about the all knowing fish people under my breath. Eldrigar's tower sat in resolute verticality out there in the night. Something had to be done, and I decided that now was the time.

Grabbing a large pot of white paint that I'd been saving for unknown purposes, I proceeded to hang from the window in the attempt to paint the legend "YOU SMELL OF POO AND POTTING COMPOST" on the wall of Zarfang, in Eldrigar's direction. Ah, yes, don't, please don't ask me why that was the message. I don't know where the potting compost part came from, I don't think I was quite in my right mind, as you probably agree. In any case, it only came out as "YO SMEL OF PO AN POTTAG!". You know, I'm beginning to regret telling you about this.

I lay down happily in bed, my handiwork complete after amazingly not having fallen off the side of the tower. There was not a worry in my addled mind, apart from the way the room kept rotating disconcertingly around me.
"I'll take a nice picture of that in the morning," I thought to myself, contentedly. "I'm sure it'll look bloody great when the sun's shining on it."
I slowly drifted off towards sleep. Then an uneasy feeling began to slowly creep over me. The thought that Eldrigar might, in fact, come past and see it, and then blow me to smithereens gradually began to take form in my mind. Suddenly, my eyes snapped open and I sprang from the bed.

"Ohmygodohmygod!" I gibbered, running around the room. "How am I going to get that off there?"

It turned out that a pencil eraser wasn't quite up to the job. I hung from the window, rubbing at the letters, but the paint had dried on hard. On the horizon, the first faint light of dawn was beginning to show - time was running out! I needed something dark to obscure the letters.
"How ironic," I thought, as I dangled insanely against the outer wall, "A bit of potting compost would really do the trick right now..."

Just then, I had an idea. I went downstairs and ran a bucket of water, and chucked in six or seven bottles of heavy duty ink that I'd bought a year or so ago in an abortive attempt to learn how to draw occult runes. Then I added some soy sauce, some mud from the back garden and a few tea bags for good measure. I balanced myself precariously from the window once more and flung the concoction right across the terminally misspelt letters. Hallelujah! Joy! It worked! At least for the meantime, until I get some proper black paint, the words are covered. As long as it doesn't rain before I paint over them, everything should work out very well indeed. I went to bed, thinking that on the whole it had been pretty exciting in retrospect, it's always a crisis like that that bring out my true inventive genius.

Well, nothing much else to write now, I suppose all I've got to do now is wait for that girl to get back from her mission. I'm beginning to wonder if she'll turn up again. Probably pocketed the money and buggered off back to her stamps, I shouldn't wonder. Oh well, time to head downstairs and see if Grott can come up with something palatable again today. Stay tuned for more stuff, if that's really your idea of a good time....

I like to end with some dots like that. (....)