Thanks for the llama
I knew a llama once. At least I thought I knew him. I mean, how well can anyone really know anyone, much less a llama. With their air of mystery and thinly veiled contempt. It’s hard. But I digress.
His name was Kevin. But for reasons I will never understand, he would only ever answer to Albert. Identity issues aside, things started out okay. The usual introductory sniffing and sneezing went well, despite his allergies, but then things started going downhill during the ritual licking phase of the pleasantries. We pushed through. And had it not been for the spitting, we might have even been able to make it work, but alas, after just 3 seconds of bittersweet brotherhood, we finally decided to part ways. It’s kind of sad, when you think about it. Spitting seems like such an innocent thing to fight over, but he was pretty adamant that I should stop and that was just never going to happen. We might have overcome that issue, but Kevin, like all llamas, was very competitive. First came the stench competitions. Then it was belching contests. And lastly, a painstaking count to see which one was hairier. You can clearly see why our relationship was doomed. The poor fellow was a bit of a sore loser.
So he snuck out, taking with him a failed friendship, an obliviously optimistic dread of the future, and my sixth favorite toothbrush. Now that he is gone, I can honestly say, it's for the best. He was too much of a chick magnet anyway and who needs that drama?
Full disclaimer, as Kevin’s official biographer, a position of which he blackmailed me into (don’t ask), I’ve been instructed to inform you about his ongoing series. The journey starts here with The Kevin Chronicles - Chapter 1, and this gallery contains the rest. You should check it out.
*End of cue card*
And don't worry, they're pretty short.
No pressure though, only if you want.
Thanks for the fav on Inktober 3 - Roasted a.k.a Hot Snot
Hot Snot was my call sign during my prodigious time in the Air Force. Admittedly my tour of service only lasted the time it took me to sign up, after which the medical examiner determined that I was unfit for duty and was given the medical discharge from a three week old dead cat and told to leave immediately. In case you are concerned that I don’t take military service seriously enough, I want to assure everyone that the cat was given full honors and a state funeral. CPOTUS even attended. I feel really proud that I got to be part of her noble sacrifice, but now I don’t know what to do about this Flaming Boogers tattoo on my forehead.
Thanks for the fav on Inktober Day 2 - Tranquil a.k.a Completely Stoned
I don’t want to get too political but I have a real issue with the War on Drugs. It isn’t so much the hypocrisy that bothers me, I mean you hear about people surviving drug related deaths all the time, so obviously the Drugs aren’t winning. And it isn’t the idea of War, either. If I had my druthers, I’d say there isn’t enough war, but I come from a very dysfunctional family, so that could just be me. My issue is that if we are going to go to war with inanimate objects, we really need to be more discerning about who the real enemy is. Pavement. It’s a silent killer and nobody is talking about it. Do you know how many people concrete kills each year? Of course you don’t, nobody does, because we haven’t done the recon necessary to really understand this threat. And if you’re one of those, live and let lie sort of people, and you think that I’m crazy to even consider that a footpath might be plotting the downfall of our civilization then I ask you this. When was the last time someone stepped all over you without a second thought and it didn’t make you want to kill them? I rest my nutcase.