@Joria No plans to stop anytime soon! I'm having too much fun. Thank you so much!
@oshizu Indeed, Pernille is perfect, just ask her!
Thank you! The teenage years may be a bit of a struggle. I cannot wait to reveal the answer to the question about finding a man to match her brilliance! It's awesome and I still can't believe how lucky I got! But first . . . a different sort of luck . . .
Chapter 39: Ullal be SorryCatherine: Watcher, check it out. This is my impersonation of a cat!
Watcher: That’s such a funny word, “impersonate.” I mean, can you im-“person”-ate a cat? Is that, like, a possibility?
Catherine: Um, yes. I’m doing it right now, and I’m doing an awesome job, watch! Meeeeooooow!
Watcher: Hold that thought! Okay, I have a real job for you.
Catherine: Really? Oh, man! I’m excited! Is it an important one?
Watcher: Actually, yes. I need you to go save Pernille’s new friend’s life.
Catherine: I am so ready for this.
Lucien: She did it! It wasn’t me! I swear!
Catherine: Lucien! Stop blubbering and start singing Eye of the Tiger!
Lucien: . . .
Catherine: NOW!
Lucien: Ummmm . . . risin’ up! Back on the stre-ets! Something guts something glory!
Catherine: LOUDER!
Lucien: WENT THE DISTANCE NOW I’M BACK ON MY FEET, JUST A MAN AND HIS WILL TO SURVIIIIIIVE!
Genevieve Goth: Oh, my science!
Catherine: It’s okay, now, honey. You’re safe.
Genevieve: Thank you, mysterious stranger!
Catherine: I’m Pernille’s Mom.
Genevieve: Oooooh!
Lucien: IT’S THE EYE OF THE TIGER IT’S THE THRILL OF THE FIGHT! RISIN UP TO THE CHALLENGE OF OUR RIVAL!
Catherine: Okay, you can stop now. I saved the day.
Watcher: *slow clap*
Catherine: Shhhhh. I know.
Pernille: Hey! Whimsy! I totally get it now! This is incredible! I’m experiencing pure, childlike joy!
Wendell: Rrraaaarrrr! Okay, kiddo. It's late and I'm getting sleepy. I'm just going to go read my Book of Life . . . actually, you know what? I think I'm going to go to bed for once. My career is maxed, my aspirations are practically finished, and I can't dig up anything else until the rocks respawn. I think I'm actually going to relax!
Wendell: Ahhh. This is nice. My first night’s sleep since I was a baby. This is great. Sleeping! Who knew?
Pernille: Wow. This is so much more efficient than that whimsy nonsense. Thank goodness for technology.
Wendell: Okay, okay. Bladder needs kicking in. Yes, I’m doing the peepee walk in my voidcritter pj pants, but am I still smooth? Yes, I am.
Lucien: All right. One more. But if you ask me to write any more Books of Life after this I’m just going to die out of spite.
Wendell: This would probably be more romantic if my nose weren’t buried completely in your eye.
Catherine: Nah. Let’s get even closer. I love you so much I want to be literally melted into you like two globs of wax.
Wendell: Okay. Not more making out by the fire.
Watcher: GASP!
Catherine: Did you just speak the word, “Gasp?”
Watcher: It was for emphasis! It’s him! Go get him! Go get him now!
Catherine: Really? The guy with the perky walk?
Watcher: No, the gorgeous hunk of steaming manhood with the perky walk. Go. Go now! I must have him!
Catherine: Oh, check it out! Pernille’s already talking to him.
Watcher: Oh yeah! She needs two adult friends for her social aspiration. That . . . might be a social skill that she’s exercising right now.
Catherine: Or a chicken impersonation.
Watcher: A monkey? I think she’s being a monkey!
Catherine: Well, Beardy seems to be into it, so at least we’ve got his attention. I’ll send Wendell over to seal the deal in a bit.
Wendell: So my wife seems to think we really need you to move in with us and has promised to make my life miserable until it happens. Help me out?
Ullal Francis: Ah, yes. I have this effect on many women. I do not quite understand it, but what can be done, eh? Yes, my friend with the charming daughter who does the animal impressions, I will help you. I will save your marriage and I will live in your home.
Wendell: Okay, then!
Wendell: So. Welcome home! Your room is the red one that smells vaguely of recent death and rose petals.
Ullal: Ah, the melancholy aroma of the pollinator’s den. I shall go and commune with the spirits of my predecessors. Who knows? Perhaps they will teach me a few new lines from beyond the grave, eh?
Wendell: Yeah, it’ll probably just be Dennis Kim using your bathtub. We should really start locking him out of there. He won’t be able to teach you much.
Mallory: Oh, man is he gorgeous! And so suave!
Arianna: Oh, honey, I know! Makes me want to seriously reconsider my position on re-marrying.
Morris: You two are terrible! You’re both very married, and I don’t see what’s so special about this clown. His pants are ridiculous.
Arianna: Oooooh! Good point! Let’s give him a makeover!
Mallory: I’ll help with the swimwear!
Morris: Ugh! Unbelievable!
Ullal: *wink*
Watcher: Swoon!
Catherine: Did you just speak the word, "swoon?"
Watcher: Shhhh! It was a private swoon!
Lucien: Hey, there, new guy! Nice pants. Listen, stay away from my wife or I’ll lock you in the sauna, okay?
Ullal: *chuckles* Oh, my friend. You have nothing to fear, although your wife is a lovely woman and you are a truly fortunate man. I understand why the fates have brought me here, and I plan to concentrate my charms on only women whose wombs are ripe and fertile.
Lucien: Ah. Yes. When you put it that way it sounds . . . super gross . . . yet somehow alluring. I should go. Good chat.
Ullal: I look forward to our next meeting.
Lucien: Yeah . . . I’m going to avoid you.
Ullal: Ah, Kristen. Your presence on this threshold is like a warm summer breeze. I want nothing more in this life than for that breeze to gently ruffle my hair and tickle the tips of my ears.
Kristen: Wow. I could get used to this brand of pollination.
Ullal: How is this, my angel? Please, allow me to massage away every last care you might have. I want to see your lovely brow smooth and unwrinkled by worry.
Kristen: Yup. I’m used to it.
Lucien: So then I was like, “You say away from Mallory or I’ll tear you limb from limb,” and he totally backed off with his tail between his legs.
Arianna: . . . That doesn’t sound like our Ullal, and it’s still your turn, and I’m still beating you 90 games to 10.
Ullal: What can I say? You can pluck a man out from behind the bar, but you cannot similarly pluck the desire to keep things tidy from his soul.
Ullal: Some people say I am always posing, but I don’t know about such things. Am I statuesque, or is a statue Ullalesque, eh?
Watcher: Ooooh. Say, “Ullalesque,” again. Oh, shoot! He can’t hear me. CATHERINE!
Lucien: Aren’t you a little young for cocktails?
Pernille: I’m a little young for a lot of things, Grampa Lucien, but when the weight of the world is on your shoulders, you grow up fast.
Lucien: What happened to appropriately whimsical? I miss that. Bring it back.
Pernille: It’s a black and white party, Grampa. I have temporarily given over whimsy for somber elegance.
Catherine: I’m afraid you may have edged into jaded, honey.
Pernille: I blame the drink.
Arianna: I’m going to regret this later, I know, but I think all that black and white cake is finally starting to show.
Pernille: I must say, Grandmother Eliza, you are probably the most sensible person I’ve met yet. I’m so glad we’re related.
Eliza: Call me Liz, dear, and you’re absolutely right. When it comes to being sensible, I’m head and shoulders above all of these yahoos.