Hey to both of my readers,
I accidentally spilled a few tons of Sea Monkey Eggs inter the ocean cove place behind my cave. It wuz one of Them Accidents what you never seen coming, iffn you know what I mean.
You guessed it. The Landlord had ter brace hisself on a tree to whine that hard about his lovely ocean and what he precepted to be The Disaster Of A Lifeline. Sumthin’ like that. I was watching billions of them Sea Monkeys billowing up onta the beach. Good, stiff onshore wind back there, normally seems nice.
Point is, no searching fer the Madame B. until the sand sparkles like new or sumthin’. So’s I’s only been pickin’ away at that Interview Place I mentioned previous-like.
I started by pickin’ out a sweet spot, good view of the local cranes huntin’ fer their food, I ‘spect. And then I added a trailer, a constructive trailer, a’ course.
Then I added some workin’ people, make the place respectable.
Then I added a lawn chair, fer the supervizin’ I was born to, iffn I’m not bein’ too subtle.
And some constructive signs. Safety and stuff.
And that’s when I figured it:
Get the Landlord ter do it. I am a Sea Monkey Wrangler (supervizin’ type).
On my way, Madame B., maybe not one of the straight lines sorta thing.