Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.

 

Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



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   Neville's good news
Tuesday, January 16 2018
The only important news of this day came in a phone call from the Hurley Vet. The lab results for the tissues removed from the lump in Neville's face had come back and they were consistent with infection, not any for of tumorous growth such as cancer. So, hooray, the three year old dog upon whom we just spent thousands of dollars is not dying of cancer! The vet said the stubbornness of the lump despite the antibiotics probably indicates we need to be using a stronger one.
I immediately called Gretchen (who was off getting a tuberculosis shot so she can work once more in prisons) to tell her the good news. (I did not add the additional good news about was how there was this guy named Jesus who died so that we might be saved.) Having resigned herself to the tumor being cancer, Gretchen was overjoyed.
Later Gretchen came home with a $100 fold-out pen designed for containing a smallish dog in a yard. The idea was to use it either in the laboratory or the teevee room to temporarily contain Neville in other habitats so that he can be with us while we're doing things we cannot do in the recuperation fort. The pen's panels are only two feet high, so they wouldn't stop Neville if he wanted to go over them. But they would stop him down long enough for me to run down to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich.

[REDACTED]


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