My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

A Tragic Loss


If youíve been reading this journal for awhile, I do not need to tell you that my life is nothing but excitement. Perhaps even too much excitement, if thatís possible. In fact, if you've stopped reading (and stopped commenting, hint hint!), it may be because you are simply too jealous of my jet setting life.

While Iím not off running triathalons in the rain forests or scaling mountain peaks in Tibet or simultaneously running four IT businesses and flying my chartered Cessna to Seattle and back on a weekly basis, I am still Livin' Large.

Because, itís never a dull moment out here in the hamlet. Tonight (grab on to your seats, assuming you are sitting down because Ė why would you be in front of a computer standing up? Thatís just...fucked up.) the FreshHell Household will be attending the Sch0lastic Book Fair at Dustyís school. Dustyís already scoped out a few things she will die without owning because as much as Dusty loves books, she especially loves books she can ďhave forever.Ē Books that are her Forever Friends.

So, IĎm sure Iíll be parting with some Fair Weather Earnings tonight. Either that or Iíll be picking up books in Redís wake as she rakes them off shevles and tables.

Fortunately, I got a freelance assignment on Friday which will bring in some much needed cash. Unfortunately, I haven't sent in my invoice yet so the money doesnít actually exist. But it will. It will.

Now, if that isnít enough excitement for you, I failed to mention what happened this weekend. And itís tragic, really.

Stupid lost his legs.

Yes, somehow, Stupid, our beloved naked male bimbo ex-frat boy barbie, lost his legs in a mighty battle. I suspect Red had something to do with it but I was busy making DELICIOUS green tomato cake so I can only tell you what I heard from the kitchen.

Which was Dusty shrieking as she was being attacked by Stupidís legs. The legs apparently are quite evil Ė on their own Ė and were only safe while attached to Stupidís torso. Once freed, they wreaked havoc throughout the living room smashing into books and fireplace screens (broken) and the flesh of big sisters.

The legs would suddenly appear on the kitchen floor. As if they were flung there by wild animals - tasted and spit out. Mysterious.

They would also start walking up the doorway ON. THEIR. OWN! Spooky.

When things calmed down, I heard Dusty singing, ďGoing on a hot dog ride! Iím going on a hot dog ride!Ē

Do not ask. Because I can't tell you what that was all about.

Itís probably for the best. Some things are best in the abstract. Particularly when there are meaty doll legs running rampant and maiming all things in their path.


9:30 a.m. ::
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