Here we are at last! The final chapter of—
Nah, I can’t. That’s too cruel a joke.
You see, the previous longest Langurd generation finished at eighteen chapters. That was Gen. 4, when I sent the dweebs to university and did the dual heirship thing. The others have ranged from ten to sixteen, but it’s always an even number for some reason.
Today, we hit eighteen chapters on Gen. 7, and the amount of stuff that has yet to happen is ABSURD. I haven’t blocked anything out beyond 20, but my current guess is… 28? 30? And that’s just until I can post an heir poll.
The biggest worry is that this is the ONE generation where I can actually run out of chapter titles, because there is a finite number of the thing I’m basing them on. At the very least, they’re going to start sounding really dumb. I did NOT think this through, guys!
Shall we begin?
After witnessing Dusty’s tryst with his boss from across the street, Siesta stumbles out into the front yard with hot tub brain. Her gallivanting children are all trickling in just before curfew, so it’s bonding time.
Siesta: So that weather. It sure is weathery, huh?
Kiko: Mom, let’s be straight. Do you remember my name?Read the rest of this entry
(NOTE: Chapter 4.12 went up less than 24 hours ago, so make sure you don’t skip over it by mistake! I only say this because back-to-back posts are unheard of for me, so I wouldn’t blame you for clicking the first post you see in the Reader Feed. :P)
Goodness gracious, I just looked through the screenshots for this chapter and we have a lot to get through. Don’t scroll ahead because some of it is big and game-changing. If you do scroll ahead, you’re probably the kind of person who skipped to the end of Harry Potter Six, so kindly let me know to un-friend you. What do you mean there’s no friend system on WordPress? The sentiment is there, okay? I will un-friend you in my heart.
But not actually because it’s your life, and this is a legacy for crying out loud, not Harry Potter.
Newsman: And finally, birdwatchers everywhere have reported that the nation’s owls have been behaving very unusually today. Do not be alarmed if a strange man in a cloak drops a scarred infant on your doorstep in the middle of the night.
Balboa: Malissa, dear — what’s the name of your nephew again?
Malissa: Gumby. Nasty, common name if you ask me.
(Now exiting the parallel universe where “Gumby” is a common name.)