I think Dyslexia is being tortured this very moment

Those screams coming from your basement must be getting to you.

We must save him!!!!

You're looking pretty damn hot these days, dlowan.

We must grab a car....

Re: I think Dyslexia is being tortured this very moment

dys prolly doesn't feel its worth it to chew through the leather straps...

Grab Kicky

the other muscle



and brains







and weapons...biological




electrical




berserkers





the unspeakable....





who else can we mobilise?

Don't forget the cannon fodder. Someone has to distract the enemy. I can block their attacks with my face.

Why yes, I HAVE been a little flustered....

Well, Margo said that Diane had forbidden him internet access while she was away, but he managed to say one sentence on the radio. Had something to do with ransom and a dark cellar.

I think it is really sad the way Diane controls dys.

Is it time that we, as a board, intervene?

Perhaps some deprogramming is required.

gustav is actively looking for him...

Is it true that he sounds just like Bruce Dern?

Derned if I know, lezzles. <smile>

. . . .

if gus times it just so, he might be able to sneak past the security door...

Give the guy a break, folks. Just being without Diane while she's away is torture enough for the old cowboy.

Hope he hasn't started talking to his yard flamingos yet.

I sat at my kitchen table and pushed my eggs and sausage around the plate. I was hungry, mind you, but the thought of dys being tortured in that basement was just too much for me to take.

I got up from the table, walked to the garbage can, and dumped the contents of my plate into the garbage.

"Gus" I said to myself, "Dys needs help. This is your time."

I raced out to my truck, made sure my shotgun was securely placed in its rack, and slammed the pedal to the metal.

"I'm coming, Dys!" I shouted out the window as the gravel threw behind my truck and the startled geese scrambled out of the way.

Dys doesn't live that far from me and I pulled into his driveway going about seventy five miles per hour. As my truck spun into his driveway I jumped out and hit the ground rolling. Like a cat, I regained my balance and raced toward the house, my finger on the trigger, and, I'm not embarrassed to say, I was ready to kill.

I raised my gun as I saw the door open and I was ready to blow the son of a bitch away that had been torturing dys.

I aimed. Sweat pooled on my forehead. Silence. A crow cawed in the distance. And then.... a dog barked.

With steely eyes I aimed my gun and the door opened. I pulled the trigger.

You ever had one of those days when you think you are doing the right thing and all of a sudden everything spirals out of control and instead of being a hero you are castigated and arrested, tossed in jail, and charged with a heinous crime, scorned by your neighbors, and pretty much shunned by society?

That's what happened to me.

The door opened and I fired my gun.

But it wasn't the hitchhiker. It was Dys. And Shewolf's daughter. I forget her name... something like "beaner"

Anyway.... there they were.....



Unbeknownst to me, shewolf had used her daughter to distract the hitchhiker, and as the hitchhiker approached beaner shewolf stuck a twelve-inch blade between his ribs and killed him instantly.

Dys had raced up the stairs from the basement and kissed beaner while shewolf wiped the blood from her knife.

And then I come along with my shotgun and blow dys away like he never existed. Nothing left but bone, gristle, and a dirty cowboy hat.

Thank god I missed the kid. She cried as she stared at the carnage and shewolf appeared from nowhere, scooped the kid up in her arms, and said, "Thanks for nothing, Gus!"

It's been one of those days.

That is clearly not Dys, but Norman Rockwell, and the world is better off without him.

You moved out to Arizona? How do you like the climate? A bit too hot for me.