And Babbuhl they did.

DA-NANA-NANA (Andre, looking for an exit.)

DA-NANA-NANA (This is Eric, a cool dude.)


DA-NA-NA-NA-NANA (Kyle, cookin' up a-somethin'. I asked him what and he said my demise and then started laughing so hard he began to cough.)

WHEN WORLDS COLLIIIIIIDE!

T-Rex!

We met, we talked, we bought, we laughed, we ate, we saw chinchillas and fish and pennies and made threats and got all philosophical. A winning day, to be sure, to be continued come March something-something, when the game Eric won is released to the masses. At present, he has a pre-order paid in full, and a demo disk for Black, a game that takes mindless killing and spontaneous explosions to a level not seen since 1986's Raw Deal. There's also the incalculable damage to his mental state. Suffice it to say, the dude did not go home empty handed.

So, yeah.

Here are some stupid pictures of marginally intelligent people doing idiotic things:

"Kyle. Kyle."

"I'm trying to I'M TRYING TO EAT MY SANDWICH."

"Seriously, Kyle, it's funny but there are people here. Like Eric. "

"Man, he doesn't want to play Jurassic Park."

"Zibbudie BRAAGHB--!"

The look on Kyle's face in this picture reminds me of violent bowel movements and the sound small arms make when they're fired.

We were going to take pictures of the animals but that's a sketchy move considering the vague imprint of the law on our collective psyches, and well, there's not a lot a lot of comedy inherent to an artificial pond full of goldfish and change. Unless they exploded, as Eric pointed out. Dude's sharp.

Lastly, a small venture to the arcade with empty pockets before parting ways on our city's great system of rails. We basically commented on the smell (cigarettes and sweat here--Eric's local joint was marked by whiffs of Asian people and soy sauce, apparently) and marveled at how Pac Man raped and pillaged his way into the Mario Kart franchise. It looked nice, though.

So that's that. We all lived, thankfully, and Zibbudie Babbuhl touched another human being. Consensually.

Until next time, keep your babbuhls by your breast and your gun under your pillow.

Jemsy out.