Sliced Bread 2: The Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread

Man, it's been hard catching up with my life. I don't mean my real life; I hardly have one of those. I mean typing it out in this journal. It's been a couple of weeks now since we've been back, and I've had a hell of a time posting here. I've been sick, I've had internet connectivity problems, and half a paragraph got chopped out of yesterday's post because I screwed up the italics (since fixed). I'm going to have to skip over a lot of boring parts.

Anyway, once Perseid was herself again we stuffed the PFB in an envelope and FedExed her to Mr. Scarab so that he could dispose of her. Then the three of us went for coffee and to plan strategy against Redburn.

"I feel gross," Perseid said. "I've been grooming myself instead of showering, I've been surviving on spilled beer and dead bugs and I keep trying to retract my fingernails."

"Me too," I said. "It feels like there's a thin film of scum all over me. I think I had mouse droppings for lunch yesterday. And I can't get used to being out in the light where everyone can see me."

The guy at the next table said, "Do you mind? I'm trying to eat, here."

We decided to postpone the meeting for the day.