it smells like cumin.

As flattered as I am that some of you suspect that I am the cause of this mayhem, I can assure you that victory is NOT mine, and that the realm of manipulating air, earth, water, and fire does not (as yet) involve the interdimensional shift of reproductive organs.

In short: you've got the wrong woman.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've a variety of padded brassieres to try on.

Come out, come out, wherever you are...

the doctor is hungry.

BROTHERS. Sisters, also, and those of you whose powers allow you to wobble betwixt the two. Your Doctor calls to you! Too long we have split our methods between multiple factions, but the time has come to unite. If we stand along side one another, we may have a true chance to take this city as our own. To hold it in our sweaty fists and sink our teeth into its festering flesh. To tear the head from its body, hold it above our own, and shake it in offering to the Gods.

In short, we need an alliance. Who's with me! Band together arms! Resist the tomfoolery and goody-two-shoes-ness that has leeched our beautiful city dry! In the name of EVIL.

Minions!

ENTERTAIN ME.








...it was worth a shot. My god, no wonder I used to destroy small islands with hurricanes on the weekends. Sundays have got to be the most godforsaken boring days of the week. There isn't even anything on the blasted box, and Forest Boy is out mucking about with his 'women'*, quote unquote. In the meanwhile, I have attempted to make myself crepes, and caught a ficus on fire that attempted to intervene. I suspect I need to clear the kitchen of foliage. The greenhouse likes to takeover sometimes.

Oh, ha. Yes, I'm back in town. Security has been freshly locked down, so to those of you who suspect I should still be in jail: come and have at me!



* His women may in fact be men, I do not presume to know nor do I care.

Let me see if I understand this all:

Justice James-Evans-Stryder-Donovan has been adultured by some intelligent young man.

Samantha James-Evans-Stryder has mercifully extracted her claws from Frank Stryder.

Nate Donovan is marrying his bint of an ex wife.

And Wendy Klassen's back in town?

How much money does a man have to pay to unlearn these bleeding dramatics?

The margaritas in Caicos are to die for.

Prison is decidedly less entertaining than I previously recalled. Well... perhaps that's too generous. It isn't prison yet, it's a holding area while I await my trial. I suspect they're actually attempting to draw up an accurate list of everything they can charge me with over the last forty-odd years. It should be a few days.

My keepers' idea of amusement is to have the captive read aloud for her entertainment purposes. I include, thus, a recording of Shakespeare's Sonnet 130, as read by yours truly.

I can hardly stand the excitement. Perhaps I'll turn all the window-glass to sand tomorrow.

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If I could choose one country in the UK to decimate via earthquake, it would be... Scotland: they're all just sheepfuckers anyway. Ireland: the boozy schmucks will never know what hit them. Wales: already the armpit of the UK, no one would notice the difference. England: ruining the value of the American dollar for 3 years running. view results

For those of you who might be interested, regarding the death of Captain Liberty, aka Jameson James, his water-logged body can be credited to myself. I killed Captain Liberty, while he whined and begged for his hair to be preserved. I can't imagine why you sniveling sacks of idiocy would give a damn for a man that worthless, but since there seems to be a point of clarity in the making: I killed Captain Liberty.

My name is Doctor Natural. You should all remember me quite well. I crushed Captain Liberty to death this week, and Frank Stryder helped.

Don't be shy!