oh. about that last post. i should elaborate.
the Late Major Sebastian Bludd has passed on, i'm afraid. the day had started promisingly enough when i decided to get serious at my job, where i cure cancer, so i came in for the first time in over a month. "Where have you been?" they asked. "Stomping out the russian mafia," i responded, then scheduled an afternoon presentation on my latest research grant proposal. it's very technical and there's a lot of tricky math involved, but it mostly involves further desecration of the late Ted Williams' body, specifically his decapitated, frozen head.
i propose taking the late Ted Williams' headsickle and building a newer, better Ted Williams body out of stem cells, then plugging the old Ted Williams brain into the new Ted Williams Monster Body, which leaves new england with an unstoppable outfield featuring an unfrozen Teddy Ballgame, the Unfrozen Caveman Centerfielder, and Rainman Ramirez in right (he won't notice; put manny at catcher, and the man would still hit the snot out of the ball). Sulkypants at short and maybe the now expendable Trot Nixon could be packaged for pitching, although i can't imagine anybody getting past El Diva, the Shill, and Knuckles in a best of seven. you can imagine the excitement a pennant would bring New England, which in turn would generate silly money for The Jimmy Fund. and thusly would cancer be cured.
of course, stem cell research is illegal, so i proposed unveiling the Ted Williams Monster at the DNC, where his appearance would propel native son John Kerry to the white house, at which time he'd lift the stem cell research ban and we'd escape prosecution. the guys at the office were so impressed by my presentation that they told me i could take the rest of the day off, so i did.
needless to say, i felt pretty good about myself, until i remembered that the remains of my faithful helper monkey, The Late Major Sebastian Bludd, lay splashed about the parking lot. i spent most of the day picking bits of monkey fur and giblets off the hot asphalt of the parking lot adjacent to the residential hotel i live in, cursing chowder under my breath for being such a moron and murdering my helpmonkey. chowder didn't help me, because he threw himself a going away bowling party that i wasn't invited to. our friend The Love Doctor is an astronomer, so to impress her, chowder had been secretly training The Late Major Sebastian Bludd to repair the hubble space telescope. his impending departure for japan sped up the timetable and, as with the real NASA, this led to tragedy. instead of seeking private funding, chowder decided to send the doomed monkey into space wrapped in aluminum foil, strapped to a thousand bottle rockets. since i was working long hours bringing down the russian mafia and spending all my spare time in the Science Room on my research grant proposal, this all happened without my knowledge.
i was inconsolable when i realized that the mess in the parking lot had been my trusted companion, and i was inconsolable until refridgerator monster told said "Such a thing was bound to happen, with stupid friends such as yours." as i dropped the garbage bag with most of her remains by the curbside to be picked up later this week, i shed a tear for The Late Major Sebastian Bludd, and cursed the day i met chowder.
he leaves for japan tomorrow morning. good riddance, i say. now i need some new friends.
