Private Message to Lavender

[alt_linus]

Finnegan is a broken-wanded, boil-infested, lackwit with all the personal charm of a redcap. If a streeler touched him, it would die. He is an improperly prepared mandrake in the cauldron of life. He is a walking, talking bubotuber.

ALL IS DUNGBOMBS AND ASHES.

Comments

[alt_lavender]

I hate to be contrary, love, but you couldn't really expect him to be pleased about it.

[alt_linus]

It's not being pleased or not being pleased. It's that he did not say what he was supposed to say! And yet he came close enough that I cannot in good faith....


Oh, augh. JUST AUGH.

[alt_linus]

My only consolation is that his little performance will be forgotten soon enough amidst the noise of the general circus this whole thing has become.

What on earth was Bones singing about? Things one cannot do with hedgehogs? Excuse me?