Marriage, True love, as if.

The past two days I have not been myself. I'd been, well emotionally cut off from the world. Not caring at all really. Anyways, I am back, there is no need to fear... Well there is plenty of reason to fear, mainly because I am back.

Now you're probably wondering what this has to do with the title. First off, nothing at all. Second, I can't do the accents right from Princess Bride, so that little humor has been eliminated. Alas, such is life.

But why talk of something so strange, so abhorrent as marriage? I mean it is not as if I am dating anyone or am involved with anyone, or will be anytime soon. But sadly those arguments fail against the insistence of Wally. At first I assumed his mind had gone mad, after all, he refuses to date the enemy, which to him just so happens to be all females. But something was amiss, something that I could not place my finger on, and could not merely assume it to be the teasings of an old friend. But tonight my dear readers, I learned the truth, I learned of his deceitful plan. Most would deem it too harrowing to tell, but I must. You see, he plans to use the distractions of the wedding reception to take objects of every day value and use them *shudder* to graffiti the Tin Can Mobile, my car, with marriage decor. Do you not see his dastardly plan? And as more time passes, the more preparation he has, and so I have not a moment to lose, because the Tin Can Mobile's integrity must be preserved I say! It must!

Yes, I know what you're all thinking, just wait a few years to get married, and Wally will have forgotten about the threat. But that is what he wants us to think, that will give him more preparation; considering he will be a computer/mechanical engineer of great talent in the near future.

So how do I propose to win you say? By beating him at his own game, and getting married before December!* That is the only way, but I need a victim lady to agree... I first conferred with the Giant, but unfortunately I doubt that Lilian, the great Rocket Scientist, would be able to find time in her hectic schedule to aid me against the malevolent Wally, and lets just say that such a proposition made to Lilian's sister got her running in the opposite direction, clutching her stomach.

But, as I sit here and meditate on who who could aid me, I realize the qualities that I will need from my partner: the need for secrecy, hidden talents, a deadly smile, a mighty wit, and the most exuberant sense of humor (needed by you reading too, that's right, YOU) that the world has ever known. An army of younger siblings is appealing as well. So as I pondered on the possibilities, only one person came to mind, only one person could help me defeat Wally the Third through the bonds of holy matrimony.

Who is it? Bob. That is right, you heard me. Bob.

And so I ask you dearest Bob, will you come to my aid against the vile Wally; whose evilness is just a blip on the spectrum of vilehood, whose mischievousness is entrenched in all would be friends of the groom and whose threat is only paralleled by the mighty ladybug on a fresh spring morning.

And so I ask; Bob, Will you marry me?




I mean, it worked for the Scarlet Pimpernel when he fought the French right? Surely it could happen again.



*DISCLAIMER: The author of this blog claims no responsibility for those who read this entry as literal. Those who read this entry literally will be in danger of being handed over to a pack of Norwegian Ridgebacks for failure to recognize the intended humor of said entry. The author also does not confirm if being up at such a late hour has affected his reasoning, but it is the most probable. Although, the author also admits that if there is a female concerned with victory against the foul Wally, such help will not be denied, so long as said female states an oath acknowledges that she understands the humor in this entry, and also recognizes that there is no love in the authors heart for her. Only laughter. That will lead to another asthma attack someday. But yes, much laughter is all that is in the author's heart. Except for blood. And white blood cells. And maybe something else. Or the author is really a cyborg in disguise. And maybe the author should have headed to bed by now. He is clearly insane, you might want to commit him before it is too late. No? Well don't blame me when the author plots with two lab mice to take over the world, I'm just the disclaimer. I mean, it's not like anyone listens to me. Seventh graders just throw me away without properly looking at me on the first day of school...