Lies and Vaudeville, finding their way home.

Well, it's a good thing that that's worked out, then. As much as I don't like revenge - it's a messy thing - there has to be an equivalent exchange. I try not to think about it too much, or else I'll have to think about something else to balance it out, when I would much rather be talking with The Lord or finding out why rain is wet - or if it is wet at all - or if it's raining in the first place.

Tea-time's at four, anyway, every afternoon, and you're all invited; do stop by some time. We'd love to have you, or at least I would; but I rather think The Lord would love to have you, too.


Messenger's Report

This is not going to be pleasant.

I’m here to report the death of Emma-Sofia "Kathleen Schrödinger" Mondegreen.  She died...sometime within the past few days. Thursday evening is our best guess. As I’m sure all of you reading her blog know, she was being held hostage by a certain “Cheshire,” and he proposed a little “game” to determine her fate.  Only problem was, he had five aces and he dealt us a hand of Monopoly money.  He never intended to honor his deal.

Cheshire just sort of disappeared, and a few of our Agents went in after him to check out what had happened.  They found a note in her apartment directing them to the cellar of a library…the same one, if I’m not mistaken, that Schrödinger mentioned in her post that featured my own blog.  Funny how those things work out sometimes.

When the Agents got to the cellar, Cheshire was already gone.  So was Schrödinger.  They…didn’t find a body.  Technically.  I can still, unfortunately, report with all certainty that Schrödinger is dead, because while there was no body, there was still a head.

There were also bones.  Bones that we’ve managed to identify as belonging to Schrödinger.  Bones that…how do I even put this?

The bones were covered in bite marks. Human bite marks. I’ll give that a moment to sink in.

I’m not usually one to pay final respects.  Sure I’ll make observations or post any final wishes that may exist, but final, parting words to the deceased?  It’s unprofessional and it requires getting attached to the victim.  But I guess there are exceptions for everything.

Kathleen, you made me smile.  You convinced me that, no matter how dark things get, it’s possible to remain optimistic.  You made me, and I’m sure so many others, curious.  But they’ve opened up the box, and I guess that same curiosity is what killed the Kat.  But you live on.  If not in their hearts, then in mine.  And for you to be able to impact someone who’s technically your enemy as much as you have?  Well, it’s an understatement to say that you’ll be missed.  No one deserves to go like this. But you least of all.

Blog's over.  Move along, people.  Nothing more to see.

-Don’t Shoot The Messenger-



I'm a businessman. I'm fair. So I'll put the slut's fate in your hands.

How about a contest you all know and love?

One some of you have entered before.

One that's easy.

One that really shows off your true colors.

One that's fair.

If a predetermined number of people post OFF WITH HER HEAD in the comments,

Emma's life will end posthaste.

If a predetermined number of people post SUPERPOSITION OF STATES in the comments,

Emma will live on as is.

If a predetermined number of people post L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N. in the comments,

Emma's former condition will be restored and all memory of Master wiped.

Cast your vote below. You have three days.


Because Jellicles would, and Jellicles can
Jellicles can, and Jellicles do...


Last night I had a dream
We were inseparably entwined
Like a piece of rope
Made out of two pieces of vine
Held together
Holding each other
With no one else in mind
Like two atoms in a molecule
Inseparably combined
he drew a circle that shut me out
But then I woke
From the dream
To realize I was alone
A tragic event, I must admit
But let's not be overblown
I'm not trying to write a love song
Just a sad pathetic moan
And maybe I just need a change
Maybe I just need a new cologne
heretic, rebel, a thing to flout;
Now I look at love
Like being stabbed in the heart
You torture each other
From day to day
And then one day you part
Most of the time it's misery
But there's some joy at the start
And for that I'd say it's worth it
Just use a blade that's short and sharp on me
but love and i had the wit to win
If love is just a game

Then how come it's no fun?
he won't play fair
If love is just a game

How come I've never won?
we drew a circle that took him inininininininininininininininininininin
I guess maybe it's possible
I might be playing it wrong
And that's why every time I roll the dice
I always come undone


And so on, and so on...
Garret Patrick. Taken in from the streets by Emma-Sofia Mondegreen until his parents could locate and return him to his proper home. Was to be heir to an immense fortune formed in solid gold, until entire family was killed when their limousine was hit by a police car in the that was responding to a crash on February 29, 2008, Emma's twentieth birthday.


Seth Fitzgerald. Served in Vietnam for one year until he was taken as a prisoner of war until the last few troops pulled out, four years later, in 1973. Divorced his wife in 2000 and lived as a homeless man for some years until Emma-Sofia Mondegreen encouraged him to live his life the way he wanted to. Died when a taxi cab crashed into his bus on February 29, 2008, Emma's twentieth birthday.


Esmeralda Mondegreen. Loving mother of four and eventual grandmother of Emma-Sofia Mondegreen. Diagnosed with melanoma at age seventy-four. Struggled against it for a grand total of two years, and then recovered. Died one month later while being transferred to another hospital when the ambulance crashed at the wreck of a bus on February 29, 2008, Emma's twentieth birthday.


Sal Sigby. Bullied Emma-Sofia Mondegreen in school because she always had her dolls with her. Secretly wished he had the courage to bring his own stuffed animals. Died while driving his taxi on February 29, 2008, Emma's twentieth birthday.