This is it! THE LAST MELON— er, chapter of the generation. In 73 short screenshots, we will finally be moving on. As if the universe couldn’t stand for that to happen, I slammed my left hand in a car door yesterday. Soooo we’re gonna find out how funny I can be while typing one-handed.
Spoiler alert: Not very.
We’ll begin with Motherless Mandrake a.k.a. Mediocre Mandrake a.k.a. Lettuce Loins Langurd. Despite all the unfortunate titles, he has a new flirt.
Mandrake: What am I wearing right now? Well, it’s hard to explain.
The lucky guy is Rickey Lynne-Hudson, born of simself incest. He was dating my own simself’s son for a while, but little Andrew got his ass dumped. That’s my boy!
Hello again! Seems like all I do these days is blog. Just as it should be, since I checked the archives and apparently this generation alone has taken me over a year to write. How? HOW? That’s 1/3 of the time this blog has been alive. What is it about Katana’s children that have made things so difficult?
Don’t answer that.
Thanks again to everyone who read the birthday posts. I know it was a lot to get through, but the party isn’t over! Oh no, keep your dancing feet warm because it’s Christmas in July! This post would have made sense if I’d stuck to the schedule dammit
Teqeq: Do you like what I’ve done with my hair? I hear chicks dig the flow.
And since Snowflake Day is a time for family, we invited all the relatives we could think of. Birth certificates/paternity tests required at the door.
Twist it! Pull it! Flick it!
But hey, now that I’ve ruined that for you, let me… ruin lots of other things as well. Welcome back to the Langurds!
Lira: I am Mrs. Nesbitt!
We already did that.
Lira: But the readers liked it!
That doesn’t mean we get to repeat stuff.
Lira: Uh, yeah. It’s called a SEQUEL.
Okay, fine. Presenting: “Lira Drinks Tea 2: This Time with Wings.”
I have waited so long to use this chapter title.
Welcome to the world of Langurd. My name is Sam. People affectionately refer to me as the Soulless Overlord. This world is inhabited far and wide by creatures called Langurd. For some people, Langurds are entertaining. Some use them in their own legacies. As for myself, I study Langurds as a profession.
But first, tell me a little about yourself. Are you a boy or a girl?
Your very own Langurd legend is about to unfold. A world of dreams and adventure awaits you. Let’s go.
^ ^ Hopefully this post doesn’t do anything of the sort.
But hey, just in case, I take no responsibility for any drool damage to your keyboards.
Last time, Death struck the Langurd house twice in as many hours, leaving Boa and Weston wifeless. It was a rough blow for both of the men, but apparently I’m starting this chapter with Lira because I have no sympathy.
Lira: Rockabye baby, in the spaceship…
Nice try — there’s no wind in space.
Gumby: Heehee, you said “wind”!
And you’d best enjoy it while you can, little buddy…
Lt. Surge: Greetings, scum. As the master of this household, I have taken over narration duties for the time being. The coup was easy; Sam is a creature of very little willpower, known to melt in the presence of cats. She lets us sleep in her clean laundry and chew on her headphone cords because she doesn’t have the heart to tell us no. All I had to do was sit up here and make this face, and she immediately bumped my picture to the top of the chapter. Pathetic.
You know how when people live together, their cycles sync up? Apparently, I’ve been “living” with the Langurds for too long, because I’m experiencing a severe case of simulative synchrony. (Why yes, I coined that term myself just now.)
Just like Boa, Lira, and the rest, your Director of Shenanigans is now officially a Gryffindor graduate! Discovery: the door clusterfuck is a myth. In fact, the whole process was highly streamlined and efficient and the worst nightmare of a socially awkward person. Why am I telling you guys this? I’m pretty sure 80% of my readership is older and more life-experienced than I am. Which is an interesting story, but seeing as I haven’t finished this one…