Ah, parenting!

Julia is at her most feminine as she hoists the The Lad and myself to Collins Hall to raise the youth there.  Of course, after seeing the way he nimbly destroyed a laboratory of industrial-grade equipment made of metallic amalgams and space-age genius, it is only logical to let him have the run of my curated museum of priceless and frighteningly fragile antiques.  If Constable Patterson’s treatment of the wicker is any indication, the future does not bode well.

I will need to kill him soon.  Luckily, The Lad does not qualify as human.  If, as Mr. Burke Devlin’s mug indicated, “Life Begins at 40,” I believe that terminating his life now will put me in no moral threat.




Leave a Comment ↓

No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: