Admit it, if someone hands YOU a story like Grover’s, are you gonna believe it, or assume he’s just making it up?
Or suffering from one of those conditions where you see stuff going on that other people in the room somehow don’t see?
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Posts Tagged Gladys
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You can’t just go talking about ANY memories with ANYone.
The little tyke would likely be upset a bit by some of Mr. Cranky’s memories of Gladys as a young lady.
“Lady”
Looks like Ms. Gladys Cravettes has had a good influence on Mr. Cranky. Look! He has a yard in which to do yard work!
Will this mean that Mr. Cranky will stop living in an underground bunker? Will he rejoin the suburban humans rather than being a subterranean human?
Will the sight of helicopters make him think of traffic news rather than international wetwork military assassins?
Let’s hope not. He’s more fun when he’s convinced that drones can read his mind and that the fact that the university he attended still has his name on file means that the sociology department is keeping biannual tabs on his (and other people’s) life progress for inclusion in a database to be used to turn humanity into the mammalian version of an ant colony. Hilarious.
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.
