Dr Octavius and Count Sinistro (AKA: Mittens and ParrotPoo)

Now, bear with me here:

A little while ago, on SJA, ol' Parrot and I embarked on a PM journey that was...well, interesting, epic, surreal and...surreal.

We basically sent bizarre missives back and forth in the guise of the aforementioned characters, in very odd antiquated speech mixed with curious modern day slang...it has to be seen to be believed... Laughing

If anyone wants to join in with their own 'alter-egos', then feel free to...just book the appointment with your Shrink now, in case of a mental 'mishap'... Very Happy

If Parrot wants to kick things off, that's cool, if not, I shall send my initial missive forthwith, Sinistro: Count of Calamity Court, Arbiter of the Manor of Shrill Voices...

Dearest Sinistro: Count of the Calculator Kids, Maestro of the Montreal Mime Association...

Further to our latest correspondence, I shall indeed accede to your vehemently childish demands that my butler, Derek, be ejected from my Gothic Manor on the grounds of, 'Being a be-suited douchbag with breath that could melt bank vaults'.

He shall be hoofed in the 'goodies' also, in accordance with your repeated and vociferous yelling fits.

Pressing on, our architect has arrived from the Province of Ballbagton to begin work on the magnificent 'Pirate Urinating' statue commissioned by you last month. I'm assured that it can be made to rotate and spray anyone within a 30-foot radius with liberal amounts of Sulphuric Acid, which is most pleasing! Oh, and that horrific pummelling you dealt the architect's assistant with that timber beam finally convinced the former to green-light your secondary project, but he'll require several of your Working Parrots to accomplish this task. And a comedy clown's wig...I know, he's a most peculiar chap...

To close, please remember that the Freemasons are visiting your domicile tomorrow evening to carry out a random 'drive-by', whereby they will riddle your humble country home with elephant gun fire. I think it'd be propitious for you to tremble in your expansive soda lounge whilst this deed comes to pass, or seek refuge here.

Yours saucily,

Dr. M. Octavius, Doctor of Fishmongery and Overlord of all Forty-one districts of Flangipan.

Legion Number of posts : 257 Age : 35 Registration date : 2009-03-07

Dear Octavius, Lord of Hugglebutt Manor and the Poodlewash Estate...

While I must thank you for finally giving into my request to have that sick pervert Derek fired, I must warn you that your dearest great grandmother's second cousin's dear friend's business partner's dog looked at my window funny. I humbly request you have the foul beast killed for such disgusting actions. Thank you.

This is very fine news indeed! Be sure to remind the architect to put the machine guns firing cherry blossoms on the statues rear, as that was a very important part of it's design, and I'd hate to see all that money wasted because of his habit to burn the blueprints and smear feces on himself. As you will know when you receive this letter, I have sent several Working Parrots with this correspondence. However, I regret to inform you that I don't have a clown wig.... Would the scalp of a clown who dared defy me suffice? It's all I have at the moment that would work. Well, I do have one clown wig, but that's a very special clown wig and I wouldn't want to lose it.

Oh, I thank you for the reminder. Do think that perhaps the Masons could reschedule to next week? My soda lounge is undergoing repairs from the last time I emptied my bowels there, and it'd be far too noisy and smelly to take refuge in. I suppose, if I cannot reschedule, I will have to stay at your manor, though you know how much I hate those blasted maids of yours, with their eyes and their looking and their glancing. I'm telling you, you should have the eyes removed. It makes it much harder for them to run away.

Vivaciously Yours,

Count Sinistro, Nobleman of Bratwurst, Adviser to Queen Lollipop the XVII of Lasagnatopia

Dearest Sinistro, Chief Bastard of my Realm, Loyal Potty-mouth of the Courts:

I am sorry to hear of your distress at the conduct of my dearest great grandmother's second cousin's dear friend's business partner's dog...such a vindictive beast has no place in the Realm of Salamander, and I can assure thee, the foul thing has been reprimanded, pardoned and subsequently shot with my 'Custom Spudgun' unit. The dratted bugger evaded the initial barrage of potatoes, however my Giraffe-skin cane didn't miss it's mark.
Incidentally, you owe me a new cane...this one is soiled and you know my stance on canes splattered with unspeakable things.

I accosted that badger-fiddling architect this very morning to refresh his whiskey-addled memory vis-a-vis the modifications to your 'Pirate Urinating' statue. He muttered something incomprehensible and slinked off, invoking some kind of Hex...odd fellow. Still, a sound thrashing was administered forthwith with a barbed lampshade, and the impertinent cretin soon soiled his undergarments. He tends to do that a lot, and that assistant of his CONTINUES to rub his own face in it...odd behaviour from a Mulberry of the Dinkburf lineage...

The Working Parrots you sent were insolent, so I had them roasted alive within my Fruit Dungeon.

And good news, comrade: I managed to wrangle a bargain to postpone any action by the Masons! They learned of your Soda Lounge problem and relented, offering a full pardon for your deviant, abnormal behaviour at last month's Singing Monkey Banquet! Huzzah! Truth be told, I thought randomly skinning Mason Board Members and frolicking in their effluence was generally acceptable...moreso during the Festival of Gaharahfugga...oh well.

And I've decided to act upon your suggestion of removing the service maid's optical receptors to prevent any further distress and fury on your part - they are now all eye-less, and for affronting you so disgracefully, I've adopted a 'zero-tolerance' stance on any beverage spillages they cause. The consequences are too severe to be written here, but I tell you, the lazy wenches will be tasting the wrath of Dr Mugglebutt's plutonium-powered nerve drill...

Yours nakedly,

Dr. M. Octavius: Minister of Internal Bowel Movements and Head Gas-Pumper of Outworld Services.