Hiya, folks. Time for another Got Ghand. I’d like to start off on a bit of a serious note: Recently I’ve been getting a lot of mixed feedback about Got Ghand. Some people think the nonsensicalness of the article is what makes it good, others think it should be more... understandable. But anyway, the general gist of people’s thoughts is that it should be more fresh, have new substance, stop being so repetitive, and actually look like it’s DX related! Well, folks, I’m just trying to write them in the best interest of the community - So give me your letters. Along with your normal whackiness letters to carelessly slap into my articles! Mail in! I don’t bite (usually)!
:Begin Transmission:
I’ve been lonely recently. Quite lonely.
Sitting in my cell all by myself. Mr. T doesn’t pay me any visits any more. They don’t let me out of my cell to wander the halls any more. Not since they implanted those butt augs...
And the whole dealing-with-females training I got from Mr. T went down the drain. My cow friend, Bessy... well...
Let’s just say she’s been voted off the island.
And Mr. Box is gone too. I’ve been missing him as of late. I’m afraid he’s in those burgers... now in the bowels of the MJ12 guards... Or perhaps, the bowel movements of them. And MJ12 is treating me like I’m not even alive. They were starting to use my cell for storage. Their single underwater facility is getting a bit too cramped.
They’ve been putting boxes in my room.
That’s when I realized.
I have all the Mr. Boxes I’d ever need.
But then, since I’d been getting high off the marker fumes, and contaminated the boxes with my... well...
Urine...
They had to burn them all.
...
So now I’m lonely again.
But alas! I always have you fine readers, no doubt. So, then, let’s open up the mailbag, shall we? Ah, here it is- ...WHAT?! WHAT IS THIS?! NO GOOD MAIL?! WHY... THIS BAG IS FULL OF IDIOTS!
Oh, wait, this is NathanK’s mailbag sack. Heh, mine’s over here... Ah, yes, the good letters!
Well, i've been reading your transmissions, Ghand, and I must say i'm pleased. Actually, i'm amazed that you are still alive, but that's besides the point.
I have an escape plan for you that should work, and get you free. It actually worked for me when I had to escape from my grandmothers house where I was being forced to feed her bacon while she was in her bathtub. (And yes, coincidentally her house also resides at the bottom of an ocean.) So, for this to work you will need the following materials:
1. A spork (NOT foon!!)
2. A buttered-up wicker basket
3. Five Q-tips
4. Half a tub of petroleum jelly
5. The phone number of an old girlfriend
6. An ordinary toilet
7. A rat.
Ok, now it may take you a while to get those items together, but hey, you've got nothing better to do right? Okay now take the spork and bend it either using your mind or your "huge muscles" (*snicker*) and form in into the shape of some brass knuckles. When a patrolling gaurd walks past your cell, tell him to come over and look at this thing on your neck. When he vomits in horror, knock him out and take his chocolate bar. Oh, and maybe the keys too.
Next, place the buttered-up basket on the patrol path of that military bot that likes to hit you in the face. It will see the basket, have a mid-robot-life crisis on the fact that it is not human and cannot enjoy picknics, and it will run off crying to it's chamber.
Now use the 5 Q-tips to clean out your ears so you can hear me better. Take the petroleum jelly and put a glob of it on the floor outside the guard breakroom. After a guard steps on it, he'll think it was a puppy, and go away promptly to beat up the dogs.
Welcome back. Now, get a rat, and coat it in the remainder of the petroleum jelly, and stick in into a toilet head first while grasping the tail. Now, without letting the rat get sucked in, flush the toilet. The balance of pressures in the pipes and air and stuff will get mixed up weakening the integrity of the complex.
Now, call your old girlfriend and call her a (*$%^%**) or somthing. Quickly hold the phone up to a wall to allow the unbearably loud response to disslove the hull of the complex. Take a deep breath, and swim up.
Congratulations! You should be free now, and if you're not, you're just not trying. Good luck.
-Hickadam
Brilliance. Sheer brilliance.
Unfortunately, every time I come in contact with a used Q-tip, I feel such an uncontrollable urge to eat it, that... I do.
I ate all my Q-Tips, Hickadam.
I ATE THEM. AND YOU KNOW WHAT? I ATE THAT RAT, TOO! YEAH! THAT’S RIGHT! THE RAT IS DEAD, JIM! IT’S DEAD!
AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHJGVSYTSVIUVESYOGUEGVSUEOGVTHE MANY SINGS TO US!
...
*Stares.*
Okay, is it just me, or are all of you suddenly having this insatiable hunger for flesh, too?
MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA... i have the best escape plan yet... and it benifits me too... i hate working for MJ12... i hate the insane fool named Xavier that i have to watch over... he is very dangerous with those questions he can ask... any way here id the plan... i think...
1. use your almighty hacking powers to hack in to MJ12 computer system...
2. go to the thing that says this this guard belongs here...
3. add my name to the bottom of the list... and put in the prisoner to watch field "GHAND"
4. hide in your cell and wait... for MJ12 to ship me off to your prison... in the atlantic... which is not in the indian ocean... ARGHHHHH i hate that place... they have no croutons... or cheese... only cottage cheese *shudders with fear*...
5. when i get there i will unlock your cell... and run to the submarine bay... killing all other MJ12 guards (we need to leave me alive so i can... can... can help you escape... yeah thats it...) with your magical feet of doom and my arm mounted GEP guns... i am MJ12 only nano-augmented commando... HA BEAT THAT JC MY VISION IS MORE AUGMENTED THAN YOURS... sorry had to get that out...
6. go back to NYC and have a big party and get drunk and make fun of Xavier...
JuRassu... MJ12's only nano-augmented commando that wasnt anhilated by JC...
p.s. - not all swiss cheese is evil... the non-holed kind is good... have phun and be sure to eat lots of croutons...
Pshht! You’ve gotta be kidding me! First of all, Xavier is obviously a figment of your imagination. You said nothing of the manner of whether or not he likes cheese, therefore he does not exist. Second, you MJ12 troops don’t know how to get up/down. You guys couldn’t even get into the House of Payne! Er... Pain! That’s pathetic!
...
Did I ever tell you guys about the completion of the puppy division?
Oh, yeah, they finished that a while back. To test it out, they gave each prisoner their own dog, and they had this big dog show so the dogs could test our their doggy augs.
...
They were testing out their running augs...
...
All the dogs had to run across the room as fast as they could and come immediately over to their owner.
Xavier’s dog mauled him. So your story is obviously false. Because he’s been dead long before you were born, mister, and he’ll be dead loooong before you’re dead.
Anyway, it was my dog’s turn...
...
My dog ran halfway across the room. Then it stopped dead... And crapped. Right there. On the floor. In front of everybody.
...
They laughed at me. All of them. Said that the dog must have butt augs too. WELL I’LL SHOW THEM. I’LL SHOW THEM ALL. I’LL GIVE THEM THE BEST DAMN DOG THEY’VE EVER SEEN.
Down, Fido.
Down.
That’s a good boy.
FIDO.
...
*Ghand pokes audience unsurely.*
He’s dead, Jim.
...so i said, that's not MY Mexican in the gas tank!!
so, here i am in jail! but seriously i've had lot's of time on my hands to read your wonderful <---make sure you italisize this)...
(How about I bold it instead?)
...articles on your journeys through the wonderful world of MJ12 jail life. i have concocted several beutiful plans for you to falsify and put down so that you may rot in your jail cell while you still to keep the fans happy!
1. Using the acid you mixed up with the Prep-H, burn a hole through the wall of your cell to the next guy over. Be "gay" together and get your "equal" rights, then demand a "same-sex" marriage. After you are married and you play "hide the monkey," complain to the Venezualen government that you are
being treated unfairly for being "gay". They will come and break you out and you can live happily ever after (untill you burn in hell) with your husband (or would he be the woman?)
2. Kill yourself! then when they bury you raise yourself from the dead by using high doses of LSD in time released capsules!
3. Tell the guards about your life as a low pixelated baby untill they all fall asleep. then as they're asleep hypnotize them into letting you go when they wake up.
4. Pancake?
5. Feed the guards lots of gum on chile and baked beans night. Feed yourself the same thing only with a little vegitable oil. Use the same acid as in #1 only use it with the wall facing out to the water. Then use spare knorks (not foons, or spork) to make an airlock. When the guards have to poo they will be GUMmed up!! You on the other hand will fart easily and make a giant bubble that you can use to escape in out of the air lock. You might want to practice holding your breath first.
6. During lunch throw the pile of poo that used to be Mr. Box at the guards, when they get back from showering stand outside your cell and ask them what they are all doing inside your cell. then tell they to get out (which would actually be IN) and after they close the door behind them take the puppies and use them as a pressure suit to escape!
7. Use the door marked exit.
And there you have it, straight from the monkey's pockets!
Don't forget, for these plans to work you have to be... well, i forget! Good Luck!!
-Pancake
Mr. Pancake, may I quote you on something here? You have asked a deeply philosophical question, and I’d like to acknowledge you for that.
“4. Pancake?”
Brilliant question, I’d like to delve into it for a moment with you. To answer the question of “pancake?” we’ll have to scour the most outer limits of the human imagination and processes of reason. Does the “pancake?” question symbolize something bigger, or is it purely straightforward? Does “pancake?” defy all laws of logic and physics, only to throw us off track of its true meaning, only to send confusion into the hearts of weary men that dare glance in the general direction of such a complicated word? Perhaps “pancake?” is playing us all for fools. Perhaps. But perhaps it is simpler than meets the eye. “Pancake?” can only mean one thing, I say, and that thing is lust for the unknown. That’s right. “Pancake?” has no answer, because it has no question. It exists irrelevant, it has no direct impact on anything in this living realm or on realms beyond this one. And do you know what that means, Mr. Pancake?
It means the answer to “pancake?” is “pants.”
Confusing? Perhaps for those of the weaker mind. But for those of the stronger, the relation will come clear easily.
...
What the hell did I just say?
Man... I wonder what MJ12 has been putting into my food recently.
Normally I’m an idiot!
I mean... uh...
I’m... always... this smart... uhm... aha...
*sweats*
And now back to acting like a fool in meaningless columns to get a few cheap laughs!
BIRD BIRD BIRD! BIRD IS THE WORD!
Umm... Yeah, your article is filled with illogic and makes my brain hurt. Therefore, I come to the conclusion that if I were to assist you in escaping your futuristic prison there would be no more articles and I could get back to my logical and quite sane life. (well, at least i hope im sane, because, ya know, if i was insane I wouldnt know it and then it would be really bad, because I would think I was sane and everyone would be like "Hey, your insane!" and id be like "No, Im not") anyway, I have found that the secret to making awesome-sweet weapons is Duracell batteries. No really! But it only works in game physics with theoretical science. If you buy a copy of Half-life and then buy a copy of HL:Blueshift and upgrade to the HD pack and then go to near the end and look at the room where the scientist and the security guard blow themselves up in a hilarious scene. Then you look near the pile of bones and blood and stuff and there is the Gauss gun.
It makes stuff go boom which is really cool in my opinion. and you can blow up helecoptors with Lambda elements and plutonium. But anyway, if you look really close you will notice that it runs on 2 duracell batteries whit I think is really funny. So here is what you do: Find batteries. Chop up your computer. Tie all the peices together with tinfoil and duct tape ( which in my opinion is just as cool as a foon or a spork.) It doesnt matter what it looks like because the real gauss gun just look like cool junk duct taped together. spraypaint random parts neon orange and teal. fill a small jug with melted cheese and tape it to the contraption (using electrical tape, not duct tape) tape on the batteries.
The guards will not wonder what you are doing because Deus Ex doesnt support Half-life technology and it will be invisible. Aim at wall and hold down the alternate fire button. The shot will go through any and all walls with out damaging the walls and it will evaporate the ocean. Then make the gaurds glow with it. Simple as that. ANd if that doesnt work you can steal an old cow pattie and fling it frisbee style at the guard's head. From then on, the guard will not let the cow crap in the cell, so it will have to be taken out every day at exactly 4:52 pm. make yourself invisible by rewriting source code, hiding inside the cow or making a dummy of yourself. then when they take the cow out you can escape too, just like they did in the The Adventures of Odyseus.
P.S., you wont have to gouge their eyes out because they wear goggles at night and their vission is augmented.
NOW LET ME RETURN TO LOGIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, people call me crazy. Guys call me illogical. Women don’t call me.
That’s right! I like my women polygonal! I like ‘em pixilated at 800x600 resolution! There’s nothing wrong with that!
AND LET ME TELL YOU, SONNY, I DON’T NEED ANY OF YOUR DAMN ADVICE ON THE CRAFT OF WEAPONRY! I’m a weapon specialist myself! I know what I’m doing! I fabricated a pistol from my own byproducts! Unfortunately, it was still fresh and warm, so I didn’t get to use it. Then it fell apart. But alas! I still had plan B!
...
Mother always wanted me to be a rock star.
...
I hate you, mother.
Alright Mr.Ghandaiah as you call yourself... I,the great newbie who has yet to buy Deus Ex (I pity the fool...) has devised a master plan for your escape... from now on I will refer to you as..... (**drumroll**) Ghandaiah (**applause,applause**)! This is my plan... ok... well... um... let me think... ok first you use your kni- ..wait you dont have one...god dammit...ok,use your finger as a lockpi-...no,no,too much pain... I GOT IT... ok.. first you cleverly disguise your self as a dog... then when the guards get close... no screw that idea... hmm... um... ok.. use your finger... as a knife... then lure the guard towards the cell and use your magnetic telekinisis to get the key from the guard.. from then you use you finger (knife... PAY ATTENTION!)to make small incisions around the guards body.. which you clean out and hop into... from then.. you make your way cleverly through the complex... and make an dastardly escape towards the ocean.. from where you drop your "skin" and light on fire.. to lead patrols to thinking you're dead! TA-DA! There is my excellent plan.. which is completely fool-proof(OH NO... I didnt test it to be Ghandaiah-proof!) ...well good luck.. and I'll meet you outside of the complex and provide you with backup... see you there...long live MAJESTIC12 4LIFE!
Unfortunately, I only read the first two syllables of your letter before deciding the half-eaten Snickers bar stuffed between the couch cushions was more interesting. I do not need your explanations of how to escape, anyway! I am a master of disguise!
Yeah, if JC had that suit, man, the whole silly charade that was Deus Ex would be over in a breeze. Huzzah!
...
You know, I don’t think there’s a single thing I’m not a master of.
And I believe I have previously explained my mastery of secrecy and furtiveness as it is. Remember this picture, kiddies?
Aha, those were the good old days. You know, you can always tell when a show or something is at the end of its line. They start making those episodes where all the characters sit around and say, “Hey, you remember that time when...” and then they play a clip from an old episode, and they just make a whole show out of that. Ha! Thankfully, we are not at such a time yet.
...
Hey, you remember that time when-
I have an extremely useless escape plan
1.scream like a lunatic until the guards come.
2.pistol duel at midnight with paintball guns.
3.rig the guards gun to explode.
4.he will kill your head out of anger.
THE END
Your Insane follower, Beefman11
I like your style, Beefman, you’re blunt and to the point. Unfortunately, you’re also an idiot. Woo! Ain’t life grand?
First of all, I never scream like a lunatic, it’s just demeaninggggggAAAAaaaaAAAAAARRRRRrRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH THE MANY SINGS TO US!
NO! MAKE THEM STOP!
AAAAAAAAAHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOAFIPUBEPIUGFVIYVDVUCVZXLJCVEI WHAT IS A DROP OF RAIN... COMPARED TO A STORM... ACK! FWPUEG! WHAT IS A THOUGHT... COMPARED TO A MIND... AAAAARRRGGGHHHHH! LET GO OF YOUR PATHETIC INDIVIDUALISM MMMMMmmmmMMAAAAAAA aARRGGGGHHHH GET THEM OUT OF MY HEAD!
*Passes out.*
...
...
...
*Commercial break.*
*Twelve pant-wearing purple-butted monkeys in bikini tops run onto stage and begin dancing to entertain the simple-minded audience. Audience “ooo”s and “aah”s at the cute little monkeys. That’s right, folks. Monkeys make everything cuter. Even the ugliest things imaginable... like Despot. Baha! ...Now where’s that rimshot zombie when I need it?*
Mr Ghandaiah,
You may not know me, for I am unknowable. But for those of you who may not have heard of me, I am Jaysee, Lloodoo priest extraordinaire, Archbishop of the holy llama and keeper of the sproKs (with a capital K - gives more of an orky feeling) and pans. I have noticed you discussing subjects of extreme evil such as cute squirrals, dung beetles and the like. REPENT!!! Worship llama and see the light (and the delightful fur coat!!). Follow the ways of the llama and do a huge article of pro-llama worshipping propoganda. If you suceed you shall be well rewarded. If not... (omnious rumble of thunder) you shall pay the consequences! (Chorus of little children: "Gasp! Not the conseqences!!") As brother T would say: "Ah pity the foo' who cross the llama."
Jaysee - on the payroll of the holy llama
Witness the marketing genius that is the llama. Who can resist such charm and beauty that a llama offers to all advertising campaigns and marketing strategies? Why, state of the art llama technology is being improved and developed each day for this reason. Llamas are in high demand! Everyone wants them! Zoos! ...Uhm... ...
Zoos!
...
And, uhm...
Really bad restaurants! Why, those darned customers will never taste the difference!
Okay, I’m feeling that urge for human flesh again. What the hell is MJ12 doing to me?
...
Dear God, are they turning me into a zombieeeEEEAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH JOIN THE HARMONY OF THE MANY!
...
Oh, that’s just The Many.
Hahaha! Silly alien creature trying to turn everybody into a collective of one-minded zombies that share the same thoughts and are controlled by parasites!
Hey, how come Dr. Bolt gets to be a zombie and I don’t?
Oh well. I’ll have to settle for corrupting into the collective mind of The Many.
*Lets parasite crawl onto his back.*
Ow! Watch the pinchers! HOLY HELL THAT HURTS!
Dear Mayo,
The end is a coherent creation of monks who eat raving bananas. But your dilemma is one of futuristic proportions, for which reason the following will be written in the utmost seriousness:
The mind of the common man is a downward spiral of inexplicable events and understandings. He suffers horrid hallucinations in which he is made to believe that he actually exists. But in reality (of a form of true non-existence as the case may be) we are all the attempted creation of an ominous mind of unencumbered thought. Therefore we can't actually die because we never truly were in the first place.
While all of this may not seem to apply to your current state of being, it is an actuality stating that you could simply mentally remove yourself from your surroundings. If you were to attempt such a feat with such ulterior knowledge, you would be sure to succeed. However death would be a much more plausible outcome and suicide is not out of the question.
I continue to state that the range of physical being can be summed up into a single point of interest: Pain. It is the only true understanding and therefore the only needed reason for existence. One cannot perceive oneself without knowledge of self pain.
I leave you to consider all of what I have stated, and remember, I am the man of X.
The sinister,
Mr. X
If we are all the attempted creation of an ominous mind of unencumbered thought, then what is insanity? Are the insane of this world really the hidden insanity of this ominous mind? Have they already mentally removed themselves from this world, as you say is possible? Perhaps the mentally insane aren’t at the pits of society as much as many may think. Perhaps the mentally insane are the abandoned minds of those enlightened and intellectually acute enough to mentally remove themselves from this false fabrication of a reality. In that case, they are at a much higher level than the rest of the world, which is wasting away in this imagined earth.
That’s right. The mentally insane of this world are actually the sane ones. They are no longer in this world. They no longer exist in our logic or in our reason, therefore we see them as insane. But those bodies are no longer inhabited by them.
They are the highest point of society. They are higher than any other group of people on this counterfeit planet.
Perhaps this all somehow relates to Deus Ex is a strange kind of way. But that is besides my current point. What can we conclude with this and Mr. X’s information?
As we all know, most of the world considers me to be insane.
Now what do you think that means?
*Gets a friendly grin on his face.*
See you in a higher place, suckas!
*Toaster randomly flies from off screen, hits Ghand in the head. CLANG.*
Ow, dammit!
ChanServX sets mode: +stupid
Two days from now, a stranger will enter the complex. He will look like Walton Simons. Walton man, as he likes to be called, will then instruct the guards to double all security on the Porto-Potties around the complex. Then Walton man will walk over to your cell, and ask you for your pink boots. THIS PART IS CRITICAL FOR THE MISSION!! You must give Walton man your pink boots. Walton man will then blush, stroke your hair, and slip on your boots. He will then reveal himself as ME! Because I am Walton man. I will then throw a fire cracker in all the Porto-Potties and then throw in the match. It works that way the best. When the firecracker goes off, all the MJ12 Guards will be covered with poo. Then, sensing the poo like a wild, crazed animal, beautiful girls of all kind will flock to the pooey Guards. They will devour them, like a cheetah to it's cheese puffs. In all the confusion, I will set up a "Big Top" circus tent.
It will contain Elephants and clowns and freaks! The full girls and the non-pooey guards will go to see the circus. While they watch, I will exit the complex, and then I will re-enter the complex using the sewage route. The girls will not sense me because they are being entertained. One by one, I will drop sleeping pills into their coffee. That will make them hyper-active. By this time you will be confused in your cell, wondering why this would help. CAN'T YOU SEE THE ENGENIOUS PLAN? While they are in their stupor, I will raid their kitchen and steal all the food. Then the MJ12 Guards will beat the clowns mercilessly until they are sick. The clowns will then stagger to the porto-potties where they will throw up and be sick. When they come out, you ask the guard by your cell "I'm hungry Mr. Mean man, may I dine on the contents of that Porto-Potty?" I will be hiding within one of Porto-Potties.
When he opens the potty door, I will jump out and scream "YOU MOVED THE HEADSTONES, BUT YOU DIDN'T MOVE THE BODIES! YOU MOVED THE HEADSTONES, BUT YOU DIDN'T MOVE THE GRAVES!! WHY!!!?? WHY???!" This will disorient the guard, and all he will hear is "Dancing Queen" by ABBA. This will enrage the guard to teh point where self mutilation becomes the only means of driving that damned song out of his head. Little does he know, that by the time the song leaves, a bus load of nuns with guns will arrive to put him down. All the while you will be fishing in the confines of the potty for the keys I have stolen. Your hand will smell, but remember, boys and girls, Women love poo. When you have obtained your smelly prize, I will simply pull open your unlocked cell door. The bus full of nuns will be a problem, but they can be easily dispatched with a "Robert Tilton" brand 3006. Gently squeeze the trigger to rid yourself of these ghastly god-fearing creatures. After all of the carnage, crosses, and clowns, we can safely make it out by using the door to the right of your cell entitled "Don't go through here, exit, go away!" Of course, then the Boxes will be there, but, of course, we still have the "Robert Tilton" brand 3006.
Cheers mate,
[BK]Dr.Death
Somebody’s been eating all the crack-loaded croutons, and it wasn’t me! BAHAHAHA! BAHAHAHAHAHAHA! BF:KWEVBFIUVEFIEL:VGF! SPFGBU! THE MANY SINGS TO US!
Hey, here’s another mail from the same guy as the last one:
There was a link and I clicked it.....and then my mail program came up............. what crap am I supposed to send? And when do I get my death!? You failed to deliver last time!
-Dr.Death
The answer to your question can best be expressed in the form of another question:
Why is the mouse when it turns?
And the answer to that question is merely one simple phrase:
...
He’s dead, Jim.
...
...
...
*Stares.*
Yes, please! Tell me more about your shirt!
...
*Stares.*
*Looks down at ground.*
Wow, this floor is shiny.
I think they had some cleaner bots in here recently...
...
...
*Stares at newly polished floor.*
Oooooooooh, the shiiiiiine... the SHIIIIIIIIIINE...
STICK A CLEANER BOT DOWN YOUR PANTS, IT’S GREAT!
Those darned French! With all their “fromage” and “pantalon”!
...
Translate the phrase in that picture, I dare ya.
YOU KNOW WHAT’LL HAPPEN THEN?
Then some MJ12 guys will bust into YOUR house and trick YOU into following a line of candy bars down a dark ally and then YOU’LL be stuck in some remote underwater prison! THAT’S RIGHT, BUDDY! You better watch your back! YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE! They’re always out there and they’re always watching through their cheese cams and with their BOXERS, NOT BRIEFS. WELL WHO CARES IF I PREFER BRIEFS? WHO CARES IF I LIKE MY WOMEN POLYGONAL? This country has to undergo a revolution! A REVOLUTION OF THE DAMNED! And I’ll be damned if I’m there to witness it, boys and girls! I’ll be bloody damned!
So what’s the morale of this episode of Got Ghand?
BE SMART. BE SAFE. USE BUBBLE WRAP.
(Distant British voice from off sreen:
“Right! You’re bloody well right!”)
...
*Stares.*
Eddie knows.
...
What’s that sound? Are the muffins ready?
:End Transmission:
Eddie knows things. Lots of things. Eddie knows all. As long as you bring him something stinky and chewy. Right, Gwog?
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