4.18 To Infinity and Beyond

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!

4.17 Robots in Disguise

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.

4.16 Bop It

Twist it! Pull it! Flick it!

…The most innuendo-filled game of your childhood.

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.”

4.15 Gotta Catch’Em All!

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?

Lira: Huh?

Your very own Langurd legend is about to unfold. A world of dreams and adventure awaits you. Let’s go.

4.14 Sing Me to Sleep

^  ^ 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…

4.13 Oh Boy, That Tickles!

(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.)