Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Slarris The Sludgy Jiggler

I found Slarris as I was coming up the sewer pipe to our building.
He asked me if he could get into Frankie's Jiggler Family post from a few days ago.
"I'm sorta like a Jiggler -burp!-".
Admiring his manors, I snapped a photo of him and featured him in his very own post.

Which made the poor bastard very happy... Wait til' he finds out how many people read this blog!


  1. How many manors does this jiggler have? He must not have as many manors as my pal Lord Cladmore! He's got three along the Hudson River, two up in Maine, five on the West Coast and 16 in England. How does he do it? (Well -- he manages them from the booby hatch in Zaghaven. He even wears an invisible monocle).

    You've got to respect a jiggler who's got manors upon manors but still hangs out naked in a sewer!

    That's old money.

    And I thought you could only have one manor, over which you rule with an IRON FIST!!!

    1. I would have imagined Sudsy to be the ball buster....

  2. Does one need manners to have a manor? Or can one be ill mannered whilst in said manor?
    Minor, Miner, Manner, Manor.....

    1. What no one knew (but everyone kinda did already) is that Frankie's Apartment is also known as:
      The only thing Sudsy busts is the button on those white shorts he wears under that disgusting sheet of his.
      I don't care how much weight he's lost in the past 6 months... which is probably the only bonafide SCARY thing about him.

    2. I thought the point was to bust balls till they break. Then you play checkers with the little nubs and ruptured pieces that remain. Checkers, or the 6th Borough version of Monopoly: "Indian Burial Ground." It's not a politically correct game, and Sudsy always seems to win, but it sure is exciting, especially when the pieces align in just the right way -- opening up the "Hole to Nowhere" an actual for-real interdimensional wormhole that the "loser" gets tossed into. It's sort of like in the movie Poltergeist -- in a few minutes the loser is spit back into our world covered in pink ectoplasmic gak. And let me tell you -- you haven't lived until you've tried a peanut butter and ectoplasmic gak sandwich on 7-grain bread. TO. DIE. FOR.

    3. I guess you're right. Up until now I thought the point was to break balls til they're JUST ABOUT to break... Say you're sorry in the form of not saying anything.
      Avoid Sudsy for a month or so, then... Business as usual.
      I was wrong this whole time. Wear em down, then a few rounds of IBG, a Dominoes delivery, a sixer of cream soda, ecto-sandwich things and back to the world.
      But still, Sudsy's kind of a dick though right?

    4. It took me a few weeks to realize this conversation happened....