Vyson L. Abbott

The lovely Miss Liollio and I are going through a move and merge, and find ourselves with a surplus of belongings and a scarcity of funds. Which means we're dirt poor at the moment and have too much crap between us to fit into this new place. We'd have a yard sale if either of us had a yard and weren't wanted fugitives, but we're working with what we've got here. Therefore, all of the following is for sale at best offer.

- 1 futon - 1 DVD player - 1 small television - vintage gaming systems (Genesis, N64, Dreamcast, Nintendo) - an assortment of medieval weaponry - 1 20-gallon aquarium - cooking utensils (pots, pans, etc.; rarely used, if ever) - 1 welcome mat - 1 foot locker - 3 lamps - 1 stereo system  - a whole lot of DVDs, and some video games - 1 ottoman - 1 small kitchen table - 1 alarm clock - 1 small coffee table - 1 dresser - 1 mini-fridge -

If you're interested in any of it, you can contact me or Charlotte. Save us from having to pawn all this junk.

The sun is up, the pigeons are cooing, I'm back to sharing a bathroom with my siblings, and Picard's running for president.

It's a great day to be a terrorist.

( Private to Vince, Vaughn, Vance, and Virgie )

Another birthday survived, which is about the most I can ask for, as far as birthdays go.

I'm also running out of excuses not to adopt a python, as I will soon have pretty much every other sort of cold-blooded animal one could conceivably keep as a pet. And hey, I won't actually have to buy feeder mice, like when I lived at home, and it'll live a more peaceful existence than Cornwallis did. On the other hand, can this apartment really hold a bird, a lizard, six fish, two frogs, a snake, and a human?

By the way, Fletch, I didn't know they made lizard leashes. And Char...I figured out where my copy of Clash of the Titans got to.

My landlady has once again threatened to evict Josephine. Talk about discrimination. Every time she pokes her head in here she starts screaming her head off about how I need to chain that thing up or get it out of her building, which I don't think does anything good for the poor girl's self-esteem, not to mention my headaches.

Maybe what horrifies her so much is really the relative lack of roaches running around my apartment as compared to the rest of the place. She must like them or something, keep them as pets. Personally, I don't like finding them in my shoes, sink, bed, etc. And I don't, thanks to Josephine, but the old bitch refuses to listen to reason.

Can't we all just get along?

( On a clear day, I can read your mind. Oh, it's like a battlefield inside. )