Dr. LeChamp is back! She’s your second favorite French Canadian, and very favorite TV wannabe, right?
Everyone admires her for her flying tackles.
Dr. LeChamp is back! She’s your second favorite French Canadian, and very favorite TV wannabe, right?
Everyone admires her for her flying tackles.
Well, I think this guy’s wound a little too tightly, and will probably sleep well tonight. Or whenever he finally stops moving and his legs quit twitching.
So, Mal has decided that he, like you, wonders what the heck’s going on.
And has decided to ask. Politely.
Probably wise of him.
It takes a special kind of person to ask about the screaming while watching an old military elevator smash into its own housing over and over again… and then hurry onto the subject of the temperature of the coffee.
Gladys is a special person with her own ideas about the hierarchy of importance in the world. But then, so is Mr. Cranky. Apparently, so is the Cassowary, Shelly, Mr. Out-Front-Biker, and … well, everyone else. We’re all special.
A science enthusiast like, say, Shelly, would notice that as these chaotic panels continue that they knit themselves into parallel narratives.
Thus, the OutdoorFest, far from being chaos itself, is bringing order to a disordered system. Such a thing, physically speaking, generates heat, and adds to the overall chaos of the universal physics and will eventually lead to the heat-death of the universe and the end of all molecular movement. Party!
But in the smaller scale of the neighborhood in which Hubris works? The Chaos is being Ordered. Not in an even pattern or anything, but…
Well, we’ll all see, won’t we?
Things are hotting up all over the Fest now!
Oh, there’s just no way the five-legged race will be half as exciting as the general chaos going on around it, is there?
Clem’s sure to get some traction with this story.
Of course, he’ll have to change the names of everyone involved to protect, well, not the innocent, but protect him from having to go get people’s permission to put their names in a crazy story that no one would believe anyhow.
What goes up must come down.
The cassowary is a flightless bird. It wasn’t going up, so something else had to.
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