Something something sixteen something blog! Hooray! (Shut up good titles are hard to come up with)

Terrible news! my computer blogrammers,

Let me start in the beginning. So I was in the lab trying to finish my latest invention (It's a machine that turns cats into dogs), when I heard a knocking sound at the front door. But when I went to answer it, lo and behold, there was no one there. This happens again, twice even. So at this point like any sane, rational person who's been taking all his pills like a good patient so there's no need to check Dr. Mandelbaum, I made an immediate dash towards my panic room whilst screaming about the return of the invisible woodpeckers.

There they are, outside my window, waiting for me.

That was 46 hours ago. After much contemplation I surmise it may not have been the invisible woodpeckers after all and all in a likelihood was just some punk kid. It also seems that when building this panic room, I may have miscalculated the necessity of a doorknob.

 God, it was staring me right in the face.

So now I'm stuck in here, at least until I can figure a way out. Fortunately I have enough supplies to last several months, provided I don't require food, water or air.  I have however thought far enough ahead to bring my laptop. So I figure I may as well update my blog, it's not like I could use it call for help or anything. I mean it's not like it's a telephone.

  Also not a telephone.

Well dear readers, it looks like it may be the end for me. So I've decided to leave you with detailed instructions as to what to do in case of my untimely demise.


Step 1: Check to make sure I really am dead and not just asleep.Some people sleep better when the window open. Some sleep better with the window closed. I sleep best ontop of a pool of red food colouring while wearing my zany prop knife hat. Which may have been the reason I was never invited to sleepovers when I was a kid. Sigh.




Step 2: So you're sure, I'm dead. Now what? First things first, while I congratulate you on making this far into the house alive, if you wish to stay that way, don't touch anything on your way out. I don't trust conventional security systems, so I build my own. Note: If you enjoy having all of your skin, I wouldn't open the silverware drawer. Just sayin'.

There's also a cobra in the toaster.

 Step 3:  Surprise, you'll be planning my funeral! Now you see the hundreds of names I've scrawled in what looks like blood throughout the walls of my home? That's my enemies list. Err, more likely than not, your name will also be on this list. But since you're doing me this favour feel free to cross it off.  Now you'll need to get these people to attend my funeral. But it won't be easy. You won't able to tell any of them what they're going to, since I've burnt down more than my share of bridges with these people (and the occasional orphanage). Instead tell them they're attending the premiere of one of those stupid vampire movies. 

[No, I'm not going to do a Twilight MS Paint mock-up. Every possible joke that can be made about the series has been already made. So I'm not going to waste my time]

 Step 4: Now I know you won't be able to get all of them. Some of them will be already dead, others fictional characters or inanimate objects. Some will just be just described as "that one guy who sat too close to me on the bus". But do try your best. Now that you've assembled my greatest enemies together, lure them onto the ship that will be waiting in the harbour. Once you are far enough out at sea inform them to their predicament, more than a few will jump ship and attempt to swim the hundreds of miles to shore. Don't be shy about using the harpoon gun to retrieve them. That's what it's there for.

I couldn't possibly let you leave before trying one of my famous devilled eggs.

Step 5: Inform the guests they may leave in an inflatable life raft, after paying their respects. After their angry, bitter and  profanity laden speeches, hold up your end of the bargain and let them leave. Then, release the nawhals.
 

Step 6: Rather than a messy burial, I'd much rather be cremated. Then I'd like my ashes to be thrown somewhere of unparalleled majestic like the Ayer's Rock in Australia or Robert Downey Jr. face.

Step 7: Divvying up the goods. In my lifetime I have collected many rare and and valuable items (holographic pogs, purple M&Ms and Amelia Earhart just to name a few). For helping me out in my time of need, you and anyone else who helped you in fulfilling my last wishes may have any item from my collection. Careful though, most of my antiquities are also booby-trapped. Wear kevlar. As for the rest of my things? I highly doubt anyone need such trinkets as my end-world-hunger ray or cure-for-cancer beam. So just burn the rest of it to the ground.


Oh wait, my experiments, I almost forgot about them. I don't think PETA would approve of my burning them alive, so just release them at PETA's headquarters in Norfolk, Virgina. They'll do the humane thing.

This is Mr. Scruffaduff. He likes walkies after dinner and to be scratched behind his brood pouch.

So, there you go, a detailed of that things I'll need done when I'm gone. Heh, to think the panic room that I built to protect me is going to be the end of me. Wait. The panic room that I built? That probably means it's a piece of crap. Yep. Just punched a hole in the wall. I'm guessing drywall and drywall alone wasn't the best thing to build a panic room out of. Well good news readers! It looks like I'll be living a long long time. At the very least until tomorrow. Well I'm going back to work on that machine, its only half done. Right now it's just turning cats into foxes. So until next time, don't forget: Mr. Scruffaduff is always watching you. Always.