And doing his part to keep the evil spirits of procrastination away from our most prolific of McGillian sequiturians, let me introduce you fine souls to our substitute commenter for today’s entry: Nicholas, aka Mr. Pissy Pants himself and one time proud owner of his own sculpture…of hair, that is. Perhaps our Masonic misanthrope’s sour puss was befallen by a wayward Medusa who, upon looking at the reflection of her own sour puss, got drunk on six liters of Sour Puss and mistook the Yellow Sea for the Aegean. Then again, maybe the jaundiced waters had more to do with Nicholas peeing on Ian’s leg after his own run in with Medusa. Oh…wait a minute. Yah, that’s right. That was actually Nicholas pissing himself as he ran for the shore at breakneck speed trying to avoid getting stung and thereby missing his only opportunity to naturally neutralize the noxious nettles on poor Ian’s leg. That, and the threat of a severe pummeling by Ian and an oath of secrecy if said urinary first aid had actually taken place.Hopefully, this will officially allow me access into the club and make up for not having posted on previous posts despite having gems such as “Quest for the Holy Grinds” and the little known place between Heaven and Hell called “Percolatory” to add to the Juan Valdez/Arthur legend.
You are in, fine sir. Anyone who has either: a)successfully coined and used the word "sequiturian" in a sentence; b) chosen discretion over valour in urinating on a brother's leg; or c) is one of only two people to have joined us on our honeymoon, can be any club that I'm in.
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