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Nice to know he's learned to write. Given another 15 years or so, he might learn how to tie his own shoelaces, too.
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What?! As if birthing and raising him wasn't bad enough, now further indignities must be foisted upon me?
I can.
Granted. Candied gnomes have a similar effect on me.
Certainly - happy to help. I'll make sure Alphonse doesn't bother your maids, though it may be a good idea to electrify them too, just in case.
What? Oh, sorry - I thought you said Arch Vice Countess. Aunt Mika is the only person I know with that title, and GoatToucher only knows what she had to do to get it.
Lacastrakaa, I know you're dying for an excuse to try out your new Jumbo Rubber Wincers on Alphonse, but I do not feel that it's a good idea to introduce him to a succubus "wearing" that sort of outfit.
Alphonse likes them. What he likes doing with them doesn't bear thinking about, though (it takes a lot to make Orcus queasy, but the little beast managed it. Please, please don't ask for details)
Give it the right outfit, and he'd be more than happy with that. Juliette, dear, you'll just have to go and bail her out. Bail's set at €500, I believe?
Oh, you poor thing. Step under this parasol - it used to be Orcus' jockstrap, but has been ingeniously upcycled.
Reiner, Hubbins is my butler, and I do not appreciate having to get him glued back together A-GAIN just because you feel like throwing a tantrum.
For the last time, Alphonse, keep OUT of Grandpa's box of pills.
Good. I see they've grown back, too, unless that's actually a marrow and two grapefruits. The photo isn't terribly well lit.
No, you fool - you've fallen into his trap! Frying pans are his favourite! Well, hurry up. He's got to be back at the front in two weeks.
No, you fool - you've fallen into his trap! Frying pans are his favourite!
Can't be Hortense. The tentacles don't have lamprey mouths on the end.
Oh, is there a want of respect from certain people? Lacastrakaa, be so kind as to fetch both THE CLAMPS, and THE CORK!
Oh, hello, Auntie Gertrude. Sorry to hear about your husband - I hope he was tasty, anyway.
The gnomes? Delightful. Clearly they were paralysed with giant spider venom before being plunged into a vat of boiling sugar - there's a faint tingle in the roof of one's mouth after you bite their heads off which is just... Mmmh!
Mmm, Kingdom Hearts. Well, it's my opinion that the series lost its way a bit after Dinky and Toots crashed their ride-on lawnmower into Mr. Fogerty's Raunch Silo, not to mention that unfortunate incident where the much-anticipated tie-in pop-up book and kazoo score came out with Dana Goldberg's hair in the distinctive shade that Sherry Goldberg's hair was in on screen. I kept watching, if only to see where Dinky put the third turnip, but I think they need to get Makhyenavich and Ali back on the writing team, or it'll become a shadow of its former self. As for the DVC and Organisation XIII, none of them terrify me half as much as does Blandford Forum Rotary Club.
That doesn't mean what you think it does, you disgusting little oaf.
Candied gnomes?
Well, you're going to need more, because it's time for the opening ceremony of the Festival of Depravity, AT LAST. Octave, stand on *this* wheelie bin, take *this* catering sized pack of Kraft cheese slices, and perform *this* list of excruciatingly painful and undignified acts with them. Juliette, interpret his howls of agony via the medium of Flamenco dance, while wearing *this* deep-sea diver's suit. Fairies, inbetween the animalistic cries of anguish, I demand RED HOT FREEFORM JAZZ ACTION. Chop chop!
Oh, I say! Charmed, I'm sure, Lord H. Tell me, do you find your children to be as great a trial as I do mine?
what in hades is going on here.
Monaco is off - I've booked all the fairies for a Grand Festival of Depravity at the Chateau Malodor.
My my, Alphonse. What an unusual hat!
I think he'd be more distressed if you hadn't dressed the leeches in French maid outfits first.
My psionic powers are legendary.
Auntie Gertrude is an Abyssal pelican.
Alphonse, you filthy, wretched boy, pull your britches UP when you're squatting on those eggs, and Juliette, remember that a Lady never hatches her own brood.
Much as I agree that Alphonse should be far, far more careful with what he's doing with his fluids, I'm not sure it'd be possible for us to be blighted any further. I mean, look at him.
Now, dear, there's a nice well-mannered young being, with his own spaceship, astonishingly advanced DNA manipulation technology, and a fine collection of probes. A fine catch!
I think he'll perk up when it comes to the display of traditional Dark Elf tortures during half time, especially if provided with a hot pie and a mug of Bovril.
I fear he was born like that.
Temporary possession was the second part of the present.
Cheers! {Juliette, don't mention ANYTHING to Schism about Cousin Mimi's new batgroin mine}
Juliette, the Count is late! That's very unlike him.
Alphonse! Not in public!
May I offer you some of these jumbo sized and unusually shaped scented candles?
Just one wouldn't hurt...
He needed to lose some weight.
shut up, Lashcastrakaa
Uh, Alphonse, was it? From what I can understand, your sister (Juliette did you say?) doesn't trust anyone to help her win a contest where she intends to dance the tango except you (because you both won the Hell's Dance for the Devil competition for the entire 18 years it was active). And by washed up, your sister was impugning your honour by saying that you have lost your skill in dancing (she was calling you weak and worthless really). As the current head of the Malodor household, I doubt that you would tolerate such insolence, especially from your sister! Alphonse is head of precisely sod all, and has to put up with whatever Juliette happens to say to him. Now, you, have a bath, then go and dance nicely with your sister, or I'll burn your Naughty Paladins calendar.
That sounds absolutely disgusting, I thought you had much higher standards! She married him, so I doubt that standards enter the equation at all.
They do get rather tiresome about it, don't they? My former husband was just as bad, and as for my blasted son...
Alphonse, No.
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