Memories of 212

Frankie H would have hated this done in Chakotey's voice...

Matt Lucas Must Die

TOM BAKER NARRATING (I AM A LAZY CALIFORNIAN):  "...After all, mustn't we each of us in his turn find doom, and, mayhap, that which lies beyond...?"

[THE KITCHEN OF A FLAT AT 23 FITZROY ROAD.  MR. LUCAS TENTATIVELY ENTERS, AND COMES TO STAND ABOVE A WOMAN'S MODESTLY ATTIRED BUTTOCKS.]

MR. LUCAS:  "Um, Sylvia dear, I don't know how American ovens work, but I daresay you'd know by now whether or not the pilot light is out....  Sylvia?  I can tell there's more going on here.  We've all noticed that something's been amiss with you for quite some time...  Sylvia?  Please talk to me...  Fine!  Have it your way!  God, you are self-involved, though...  Honestly, girl...  Anyway, where are the children?"

[MR. LUCAS EXITS AS HE ENTERED...]

Diary of the Antichrist

Well the good stuff is good.  My social life is pretty healthy, even if people act a little distant (probably for their own protection.)  I seem to get along with most everybody okay, and the animals all seem to like me.  But there are snags.

Earlier my social worker at the hospital called me an abomination.  Like she has room to talk -- she's a lesbian witch!  I told her I liked her shoes.  She said her girlfriend bought them for her.  I said, "When, in 1998?"  Score one for the star of Revelation.

I guess I feel lonely.  No one wants to date me, as though they all think I'm an asexual angel or something.  I want to be close to someone, but my destiny is not to be shared, I guess.  I'd even appreciate a visit from the CIA, but apparently they're too scared of me.  Opus Dei isn't returning my calls, and the Vatican appears speechless in the face of my portentous existence.

At least the schizophrenics and the tweakers are on my side.  Still, the Bible has definitely cramped my style...