[LOBO]
Knowing I can't speak to each and every one of you readers as often as I would like tears me up inside like a rusty, jagged catheter being ripped out by a startled Clydesdale; the glamorous lifestyle of an often-cloned, globetrotting international millionaire playboy-slash-spy at war with Santa is a deceptively heavy burden.So at least once, I feel I should share my most heartfelt and candid inner-most feelings to my favorite people: the selflessly-loyal, unsung readers.
That message is:
Look. If the submarine ninjas capture me and 57 Comanche helicopters whisk me off to a nearby aircraft carrier for interrogation, you're all pretty fucked; the second Doctor Hans hooks up electrodes to my nipples, I'm gonna sing like a canary on cocaine. I'm telling that asshole everything. Hell, I might even make shit up.
"Doctor Hans," I would say. "Please put away your chainsaw scalpel and sodium pentathol, and get me a pencil and a map." And then, drawing little 'X'es on everything I'll say, "There are 12,115 troops over there, and there's a poorly-defended nuclear facility over here. Doctor Hans, has a handsome bastard such as yourself ever thought of being in movies? I know where Steven Spielberg lives. Hey, do you guys like pizza? I love pizza."
2 comments:
I'm glad you can share your innermost feelings with me... even though you scare me just a little ;)
You can speak to me, too . Anytime...and I don't think you would need those darn electrods !!
Ouuuuch!!!! ( or as they would say in France, "aïe !!! ( pronounced like " eye" ).
Have a nice day, dude.
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