or Melvin and K's Excellent Adventure
posted by Godiva (No. You may not call Melvin. Put down the phone.) on Friday, 1 October 1999, at 11:47 p.m.
Pssst! Hey, K! Watch the sky!
Posted by NOT Melvin--nope, he's touring Paraguay! on Sunday, 3 October 1999, at 10:43 a.m.
I got the black helicopter out of the garage. G's correcting all her papers!
Drink lots of liquid. We'll do the K'PrinciVAL's bushes this time!
Bwah ha ha ha!
The badger's been eating chocolate all weekend, so it should be a great time!
We'll write messages in badger pooh on his roof!
Sekrit messijes!
It'll be great!
Hey, and let's liberate Socks the First Cat. I got a feeling he's sick of White House living!!!!
Not Melvin.
As ever your timing is impeccable.
Posted by not K on Sunday, 3 October 1999, at 1:06 p.m.
G's doing laundry. Lots of it. Then dishes. Lots of them too.
She'll never notice I'm gone.
Meet me in the back, land just inside the perimeter fence. I thawed a few steaks for the kanines and I've just downed a six-pack.
Die, bushes, DIE!
Posted by Not Melvin on Sunday, 3 October 1999, at 1:57 p.m.
(I love expletives in yellow on a field of white.)
FLATTULENCE, THE FIFTH HORSEMAN rides again!
Come on, BADger! Mount the pony! (NO NOT LIKE THAT!) That's it. We're gettin' him neutered!
Not Melvin.
*Hoping no one saw that debacle. Especially not Big G.*
Posted by Not Melvin on Sunday, 3 October 1999, at 2:00 p.m.
I have slipped the surly bonds of earth in my black helicopter. I fly ever closer to California with my trusty badger companion Runto.
(OW! Just kiddin'! Man! I hope you've had your rabies shots. You didn't pick up anything nasty from those squirrels, did you?)
Psst. Hey K-man...does Silas like badger? On a stick?
(OW! Crap! I didn't think he heard that.)
Posted by not K on Sunday, 3 October 1999, at 3:53 p.m.
No. But Caspian does. Silas is more a s'mores kinda guy. S'mores and beer.
Send matches.
Tell that steenkin badger if he bites my fifth horseman anywhere I'll be making a badgersicle and he won't want to know where I'm gonna put the stick.
Hurry. Drank the six-pack an hour ago. You cannot buy beer....you can only rent it.
Never mind. I'll just blame it on the kanines.
Posted by Not Melvin on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 4:52 a.m.
While the badger pilots the black helicopter, you and I can dangle our blue arses out the side windows and moon the rich and famous. What do you think?
And while they are phoning 911 reporting strange sights in the sky, we can pee in their pools. What do you say?
Ya-HA! Let the good times roll!
P.S. The badger is applying tin foil to all orifices now. Thinks he can resist the irresistable!
Posted by BugEater on Sunday, 3 October 1999, at 5:53 p.m.
You aren't bringing Caspian, are you? I don't want that guy in my state!
(here little, buggie. Come 'ere little bug.... *gulp*)
Posted by Not Melvin on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 4:49 a.m.
And you should be okay.
Hide under a rock.
Hee hee.
Well, maybe not. He likes to look under rocks. Good place to find snacks.
Not Melvin (I never told you this information. In fact, I was never here at all.)
Has anyone seen Melvin or the Badger?
Posted by Galatea on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 5:04 a.m.
Top Ten Signs that Something is Amiss at Galatea's House.
(10) The blue paint is all used up, and there are blue butt prints on the sofa.
(9) The address book is left open on the desk, and Leather Lad's number has been highlighted. In blue.
(8) All four rolls of tinfoil have been used down to the cardboard tube.
(7) The duct tape drawer is empty.
(6) The black helicopter is missing from the garage.
(5) The Tommy Lee clones have not been fed or watered, and goodness only knows when the last time their cages...er...quarters...where cleaned.
(4) The "history" button on the computers reveals several sites containing aerial maps of california--and the street addresses of several homes of the rich and famous.
(3) The big gallon jars of olives are missing.
(2) And so is all the beer.
(1) There is a note on the table saying, "G: Honestly, the badger and I are just going out for a walk. A walk. That's all. I haven't heard from Leather Lad all week. Don't wait up. The badger is flattulent. We'll be home soon. Love and kisses and more love and kisses, Melvin. P.S. Did I mention that I haven't heard from Leather Lad for a long, long time? Kisses...kisses.
Where is my duct tape? I have a feeling there's gonna be somebody on the ceiling tonight.
G, scanning the skies.
Posted by Godiva- searching for a frayed yardstick on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 5:51 a.m.
And why is a section of the hedgerow by the back perimeter fence dead?
Who put tin foil beanies on the Kompound Kanines?
WHERE IS MELVIN!?!
Posted by Godiva- busily painting milk cartons on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 7:32 a.m.
(courtesy of Bright Girl)
Posted by Galatea on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 8:24 a.m.
I wonder if I should put the blue butts on the bottom of the bottles? That's probably what people will see the most of, anyway.
*sigh*™
G
Personal Log...Star Date 10.4.99
Posted by Not Melvin AKA NOT the 5th Horseman Flattulence. on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 8:34 a.m.
The badger is busily hot gluing tinfoil beanies to the guard dogs at the kennels of the rich and famous.
Robin Lynch and his camera crew have some great blue arse footage for their next show. It's a worm's eye view shot.
We stopped at the estate of Cher and Co. and worshipped the shrubbery. Just for fun we left her the "Melvin Home Pyrotechnical Kit" (Can of vanKamps beans and a book of matches.)
I left her a single olive, dipped in chocolate. The badger left her what appeared to be raisinettes, but they aren't. I hope she doesn't eat any.
Flew over Doonan Wood. Badger gave a tinfoil beanie to the white wolf. It should block any dangerous C.I.A. radio waves. I don't know if it would have any effect on fleas and ticks, however. It certainly can't hurt.
Stopped for refreshments at the tavern. Played poker with Methos. He cheated so we worshipped his beer when he wasn't looking. Bwa ha ha.
Badger gave him a handful of Not-Raisinettes. I think he ate them. Oh well.
Now on our way to Visit the Colonel. Kentucky Fried Chicken. Looking forward to seeing K deKapitate the old fellow.
Thinking of asking K if he wants to spend the rest of our lives as air-pirates. Think I'd look handsome with a parrot on my shoulder?
Not Melvin. Nope. Never here. I'm in the basement at G's cleaning out the Klone Kennels.
Bwah hah hah hah
G's at school. What she doesn't know won't hurt her! (Or me)
Right K-man????
Posted by Socks the First Cat on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 1:57 p.m.
Don't meet me at the Western White House. I am not there visiting ex-presidents. (Like he could remember anyway!) The sekrit service men are not locked in the attic and there is not a large blue 'X' painted on the back lawn.
I did not send the Mel clone to Big G as not instructed by you. She won't know the difference.
p.s. The K clone is taking longer than expected. Every time I get one made some witch comes along and wacks it.
Posted by Not Melvin on Tuesday, 5 October 1999, at 5:12 a.m.,
I got some tranqui-biscuits for the dawg. (I'm pretty sure he's a republicanine anyway.)
The badger's got some catnip--he's high as a kite. Which is funny to see. While practicing with the Melvin Home Pyrotechnics Device, he set his own tail on fire. Have you ever tried to douse a flaming badger in a helicopter? It ain't easy.
He almost caught the K-man's leather on fire. You can imagine that the End of Time was not pleased.
It was almost badger on a stick!
Caspian would have been happy.
We finally had to worship the fire out.
What a world!
Not Melvin. Looking for the big blue X.
P.S. Can we paint all the sekrit service men's butts blue before we go? Huh?
Can we? Please?
Posted by not K bruising for a cruising on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 11:09 a.m.
It's gonna be a month duct-taped to the ceiling for you. Big G may just de-worm you for that wolf stunt.
Little G already saw the tin foil beanies on the kanines so she thinks it was you, too. I'm playing dumb and saying the kanines killed the bushes and that I was abducted by you.
She'll believe me.
She always does.
You on the other hand always have a tell-tale blue butt and chocolate under the fingernails. So say adios to the body hair Melvin.
I bet she gets out the frayed yardstick too.
Posted by Not Melvin on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 2:15 p.m.,
You can't abduct the willing! I blaming everything on the badger. I'm telling G that she bought inferior tinfoil byproducts instead of the real thing. It was radio waves. It wasn't my fault!
There was toxic waste in the blue body paint.
***I'm scared to go home!!!***
Not Melvin, hiding under the bushes.
Posted by screwball on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 12:46 p.m.
I want those blue butt prints off my patio door ASAP. Or I can gladly call G and let her know where in California you've been....you choose.
screwy
Posted by Socks the First Cat on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 2:03 p.m.
not so loud . . . are you wearing your tinfoil beanie? you don't want the CIA to know all those drooly thoughts you've been having, now do you?
sorry about the paint - Mel clone prototype 2c escaped during butt painting exercises. I'm sure he's far away by now. He must be. Far, far away.
I hope.
Posted by Not Melvin on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 2:17 p.m.
Did you get the package of Little Friskies we sent you? How about the badger poop carefully sculpted to look like a doggie treat? I hope you gave it to the appropriate party!
Not Melvin.
Shh. He's not here. he's cleaning the Klone Kennels.
Posted by Not Melvin on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 2:16 p.m.
Didn't you see the little hook mark next to the buttock prints???
Posted by one-armed man on Monday, 4 October 1999, at 3:38 p.m.
i just may need a lawyer...libel/slander/heresay...i'm sick of it!!
lefty
Posted by Not Melvin on Tuesday, 5 October 1999, at 5:08 a.m.
It's not slander or libel if it's true!!!!
Hey, we have your confession on tape...audio...video...scotch!!!!
(It might be heresy though...are you worshipped as a deity anywhere???)
Not Melvin, not hiding in the bushes.
Enter Melvin's Psyche Here