Brendan Peveril . net

It’s long gone. This was well over a year ago, and it will never happen again. My meth-lab exploded, you see, and the recovery was long and difficult.

I was going to hold out until I had the story I mentioned earlier all typed out, but I had to to share this. Apparently, if Russians encounter alien life, they will eat it. All ethical discussion of whether or not alien intelligence is a viable food source or not aside, that shit’s fucked.

Turns out it’s not an alien, it’s a guitar fish, but still, that’s awesome.

This is all courtesy of Mr. Gaiman

So, since I write a lot (well, I write some) I have configured my apartment so that there is nearly always a notebook or something within reach so that if I have an idea I can write it down. Now, as anyone who does this knows, frequently the ideas that are had and recorded aren’t good ideas at all.

Skip to the present. Last night I had an idea, so I did my usual routine: stop talking in mid sentence, stare into space for a few minutes, grab the closest notebook and jot it down. I happened to grab the ‘next to the bed’ book, since I was in bed. The note that I wrote is inconsequential (although it is pretty good, I’ll let you know if it comes to something). The funny part is what I found on the first page of the book, roughly translated here from the heiroglyphs I originally transcribed it in:

For MAD! ?

Poop jokes gone wrong

a few (four, maybe 6?) toilet jokes carried to the extreme

some terrible calamity ensues.

Explosions, motherinlaws [e.d. that’s clearly one word] splattered in dung

Employ [I think] lots of synonyms

See kids, this is what happens when you drink. I’ve never had a problem with a motherinlaw.