Here we go. Let’s keep kicking the can that is this legacy!
Previously, Siesta decided that seven uniquely blossoming personalities were just too many, and shipped Ixi off to Snob School (her wish, not mine).
While I do not condone her choices, I too am overwhelmed by numbers – especially when you account for a cat, two robots, and the fact that she and Dusty are mentally five.
I decide that the easiest way to deal with this is to keep them all in one place. As in literally cram them into a singular vehicle. What could go wrong?
Kau: Are we there yet?
Acara: Obviously not. We haven’t even left.
Dudley (driving): Left?
Siesta: No! You stupid hunk of junk!
Kiko: Jeez Mom, why don’t you ship him off to boarding school too?
Dusty: Who went to boarding school?
Tonu: Another day tells the tale of flowers.
Pete: ROD TURP!
Kougra: *dying a slow death in a middle seat* Read the rest of this entry
Guys this legacy turns nine tomorrow. What the actual fork.
Will I make it under the decade mark at this point? Actually, I forbid anyone from answering that. Don’t even put it in the universe.
In other news, I am humbled by the fact that I can disappear for seven months and come back to one of these:
Once again proving that the people reading this blog are far cooler than the dweeb writing it. Thank you to anyone on Boolprop who voted for this dumb, inactive legacy. ❤
Alright, back to business. Gen Seven. Raising seven kids. And screenshots dated 2017 – which honestly just hurts, man.
How did we end up here?!
Ixi: Allow me to stage a dramatic reenactment.
Alright, I’m waiting.
Ixi: No, this is it.
Guess who’s back, bitches!
(Using that phrase purely for power-drama. I think very highly of you all.)
To start with, thank you for your moral support/commiseration/technical advice on that very articulate Error 12 post. I’m happy to announce that WE ARE IN THE CLEAR! And in fact, I’ve nearly finished playing Gumby’s generation, so now comes a crapload of writing. Enjoy!
The fate of the family is now rests on… a guy who still creeps around like a grounded teenager.
Gumby: I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Polly.
Polly: Don’t tell me what to do! Go to your room!