In my haze of exhaustion last night, I completely failed to acknowledge a feat I have not accomplished since Chapter 1.3: two legit updates in one day! Universally recognized as the first sign of the apocalypse, so start hoarding those cans. Given that in Tewl’s day my average post length was a weak 40-45 screenshots, I think I get to claim victory over myself here.
To celebrate that victory, and because everyone begs for this shit on Leisure Day, the Langurds are opening up their glorious yard for entertaining!
Like any good party, this one begins with a fumbled pizza delivery.
Pizza Girl: Tada! Did some ants order a pizza?
Ah yes, finally—a chapter number to match the Langurds’ maturity level. Just in time for…
Wink wink, nudge nudge. But of course, that’s a very sore topic around here with our Gen. 6 OTP fresh off a divorce and trying to cobble their lives back together. R.I.P. Quilamity, you had a good run were never going to make it anyway.
Both parties take some time to focus on themselves, which tbh is basically what they did while married anyway. Calamity spends hers witnessing important milestones.
Cal: Try not to get arrested, okay?
Trance: Sorry Mom, but my coolness is a serious crime.
Round of applause for Gryffindork tanking her self-imposed mission in less than 48 hours. It’s not my fault, guys. Failure radiates from my very being. My friend asked me to look after her betta fish this week, and he literally died on my watch.
But in the words of a misguided Death Eater (and a really dated reference), IT’S NOT OVER YET! This seven-posts-in-a-week thing can still be a thing. I’ll just have to double up one day, which is totally doable. /delusion
Last time, a trilogy of Ghost Crises caused all sorts of rule breaking and left me wishing for several plates of ambrosia, which I then remembered is also against the rules. Basically, things are going great and everyone is really happy.
A fine time to check in with the one who started it all.
Quinn: Inspector Flanagan reporting for duty, sir.
Tewl: Well well well. So dis is da new man of da house.
Funny story. So I’m at this quiet writing session at a local café, determined to pen some legacy words for the first time in three months. So far, I’ve stared at this page for a solid twenty minutes, trying to convince myself that I can write without caffeine. I can’t figure out where the self-serve coffee is, and the only way to find it is by blindly wandering through a minefield of easily-disturbed introverts.
Needless to say, addiction won out over anxiety (this time) and I made the expedition. Turns out it was ten steps long and only involved eye contact with like three people, but I still feel accomplished.
Now that we know how pathetic I am, let me remind you all what happened at the end of last chapter.
Frieda: What is that thing cleaning up our dishes? Did you buy an ogre slave?
Sky: Oh, that’s your son. I made him ugly so he can find his inner beauty and stuff.