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Blobby Epi-Log

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 12: Professor Island > Vol. 1

Timestamp: The end of the start.
Weather: Perfect?
Landscape: Familiar and new.


What a scrumptious nap!

Blobby: You were asleep for a week!

PF: Scrumptious!

Professor Professor: Yes, we did not want to disturb your well-deserved slumber, Professor Fliggins. However, now that you are up, we should like to speak with you…

Blobby, Roy, & Moustachia: OOoooOOOOooooohhhHH!

PF: Oh, grow up… What is it, Professor Professor?

Professor Professor: Please, step out of your house, into the open air…

PF: Oooookay..?

Every Kind Soul on Professor Island: Huzzah for Fliggins!

PF: Oh my!

Professor Professor: Fliggins, it is an honor to have you, finally, return to us, and even though you brought much destruction to us, you also have ushered in the most prolific era of Discovery this island has known since the Age of Original Discovery in the Ultra Ancient Times. It is with no jealousy or damaged pride that I turn over my title of Discoverist Champion to you, dear Fliggins. CONGRATULATIONS!

Professors: Huzzah! Triumph! Discovery!

PF: Thank you, Colleagues; thank you, new and old friends. You honor and honour me, to be sure.

Professor Professor: This hono(u)r is just the beginning, sir! It is my pleasure to noprofessorisland.comine-up of classes, panels, and lectures to lead, but we, the Professor Island High Council, are delighted to bestow upon you the titles of Full Professor, Provost of Adventure, Doctor of Discovery, Champion of Super Neatness!

PF: Goodness gracious me! Such esteem! And to think I was getting very poor grades before I dropped out and ran away! What a turn!

Professor Professor: Well, we do not have to focus on that for ever after now. You came back and it is clear that your work in the Field of Discovery has surpassed exemplary. It is like an ‘A’ plus a billion!

PF: I am not sure we should forget the blemish of my expatriation, I deserted this island, sir. I mean, this system, the one that you wish me to become an instrumental member of, I do not, clearly, belong to it.

Professor Professor: Nonsense! Professor Fliggins, we are offering you the cushiest tenured position possible, there are titles, dental benefits, you can have Stubbler’s old office! We have added heretofore unheard of cush to this job! Cush everlasting!

PF: I do not deny the greatness of your cush!However, why should I advise a system for which I did not have respect? Besides, I am in no way interested in holding sporadic office hours and writing unreadable books – I must travel!

Professor Professor: This is a shock, but understandable, for it is your Discovering ability in which we are in awe. You could possibly lead a Discovering expedition to the mainland every year, returning with all the Artifacts and Creatures the hull of a ship can hold!

Professors: Huzzah!

PF: Nozzah! Friends and Colleagues, I am going to say something to you that mayhaps blows your minds… Discovery… does not exist.

Professors: *grumble grumble harrumph and grumble*

Professor Professor: Perhaps you are in need of another week or two of slumber, sir.

PF: Why I have never felt more rested, sane, and lucid than as I do now. Do you not SEE WITH YOUR EYEGLOBES? We cannot go around the Universe, Discovering Things and taking them for study. This Universe is not OURS to Discover, it exists without us, and I dare say, it does not at all care for our systems and hierarchies. You cannot Discover something that already exists.

Professor Professor: It is like you are speaking space languages…

PF: I am different than you, sir. I, and my generation, have grown up always knowing only a Post-Discovery Age. We were born under the belief that the Known Universe was all there is. Unknown was impossible.

Professor Professor: But you have shown us a New Unknown! The expeditions of Discovery are already planned! We have begun building similar boats and Ginger Fizz Dirigibles as your own, we have picked out the right kind of Discovery pith helmets and puffy pants, and we are going to begin our cataloging with the Lands you have already traversed.

PF: And what would you do? Ransack and name all in the pursuit of fame, tenure, and power over lesser creatures and Professors? We have much to learn for being so wise, and it begins with the realization that one cannot Discover what already exists, where things outside our Academy already flourish, with their own, often ridiculous and beautiful, systems and hierarchies.

Professor Professor: For someone who does not want to teach, this monologue is feeling QUITE didactic…

PF: I would like to propose this, sirs and madams: External Discovery as we have known it is impossible. Internal Discovery is the REAL Unknown. As we traipse this Universe, we can only EXPLORE, can only Discover the new rooms and doorways and cheese cellars in our own Mindbrains. We are not Discoverists any longer. We are Explorerists. And the first thing any Explorerist must practice is the courtesy of asking permission, that every Creature, no matter how Different, is a colleague, just by practicing the passive Art of Existence. We Explore our Worlds, we Discover ourselves. Blobby, I hope you are getting all this.

Blobby: Yes, PF.

PF: Thank you, friend.

Blobby: Thank you. I’m, like, proud of you, man.

Roy: Yeah! You’re being very unjerky right now!

PF: Thanks. Thank you.

Moustachia: Weeoo!

Professor Professor: I am aghast and found dumb by these statements. My initial impulse is to banish you forever, but as Professor Island would not exist without you and your clear home-love… What should I do with you, Frederick?

PF: A suggestion? I would LIKE to open a Museum for those interested in this new Field of Explorerism. All items in my Museum will only be donated after a friendship is created with the donor. These objects will not be the primary focus of the Museum to be worshiped and dissected, they will be representative of real creatures in foreign lands who I feel comfortable calling Chum. A celebration of such things, you could say.

Mom: I would donate an item to your Museum, Fliggins. Foodlandia is honored to be your “Chum.”

PF: Aw, thanks, Mom.

Bingo Clem: Detached Isle too! A-course!

Three Bean Teens: Bean Village is in, yo!

Vampire Pants: Pantsylvania, for sure, now, bleh!

Whiskerton: Moustachio Territory’s got yer heinie, Fred Friend!

Kane: You can have my used Kicking Bags from the Kicky Village Kicking Gym…

Land Lump: You can have as many Lumps as you like, brother. We are just as much Item as we are Friend!

Pink Ninja: Ninjatown has some magic bubblegum to spare!

Flying Devil: Yeahs!You can haves my old wingses!

PF: AH! A Devil!

Flying Devil: Oh, it’s is cool. I go to schools heres nows.

Professor Starney: No, no. It is: “I go to school here now.”

Flying Devil: Sees! I can’ts helpz but learns!

Professor Professor: Sweet Cheeses! Your Museum is only conceptual and it already is more interesting than any of our millennia-old institutions!

PF: And if these were not friends, I would not have anything. I would not have anything at all.

Hilda: Are we late?

PF: Hilda! Is it a dreamtime mirage image?

Hilda: Looks like the Hot Dog Kingdom missed the epic battle…

Sausage Cadets: Aw, rats!

Hilda: But, we’ve been ordered to stay here, on a rotating guard duty, to help defend Professor Island from Mr. Demon and the forces of not-so-goodness. That was my idea…

Professor Professor: I am astounded by the power your friendships hold.

PF: Frankly, me too!

Professor Professor: I see… I have not another choice before me… I now declare the Professor Fliggins Museum of Foreign Lands and Friendship to be constructed immediately! Harvest the pillars at once!

PF: Oh I am amazed and honored and crying a little out of my aforementioned eyeglobes.

Professors: Huzzah!

Hilda: Your little monocle is getting all misted up, Fliggins. Here…

PF: Thank you… Oh the dams of my face waters are overwhelmed!

Hilda: You know, Fliggins, the Hot Dog King has approved my stay as ambassador to Professor Island to command our Sausage forces.

PF: *ulp* Is that so?

Hilda: ‘Tis.

PF: I see. I shall be retiring to my house for some time…

Hilda: Why is that?

PF: I must calm down.I am not built for this much unrestricted success.

Hilda: Of course. When you’re rested, I’ll want to meet with you about your future trips to the mainland. Besides your Explorations, we’ll need to stay on top of Mr. Demon’s movements. He’s crafty…

PF: Surely. Yes. Indeedy do.

Hilda: So… I shall see you soon…

PF: You will…

Hilda: Good.

PF: Good.



Hilda: .

PF: Hilda… Of all the things, I am the most happiest you are here…

Hilda: I won’t tell…

PF: Thank you.

Professor Professor: Let the Age of Explorerationism commence!

Professors: HUZZAH!

PF: Huzzah.

Current Mood: Gleeness!
Discoveries Made: Nothing, dear me. And thank all the goodness for that!

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 162

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 12: Professor Island > Vol. 1

Timestamp: High Noon; Day 162
Weather: Climactic.
Landscape: The opposite of pretty.


Mr. Demon: Come back! Don’t let an impressive amount of body parts discourage you. Well… Okay, sure you’ve defeated my army of zombie food products, but I still have my Flying Devils, and I’ve put earmuffs on them so they can’t be confused by any of your rhetorical trickery any longer. Flying Devils – ATTACK!

Flying Devils: Whats was that? A snack?

Mr. Demon: (flailing and complicated signals, generally conveying the message that the Devils should once again attack Professor Island.)

Flying Devils: Ohhhhhh! Let’s gets ‘em, boys! Maybe ifs we disposes of thems properly, we’lls get that snack the boss was yellin’s about!

Mr. Demon: BWA-HA-HA!

PF: It seems that we are in need of another nick of time miracle. The Professors are nearly powerless to deaf Devils.

Mr. Demon: I am full of disproportionate confidence!

?: Lump, lump, lump, lump, lump…

PF: Hmm…

?: Lump, lump, lump…

Flying Devils: Raarrrrrr!

?: Lump, lump, lump. We’re here!

PF: Oh, hello Land Lump. Um, you got my letter?

Land Lump: Yes, brother Fliggins. The Lumps moved as fast as we could as soon as it arrived. Also, we met a butterfly that was pretty, so we got a little distracted. But we are here to Lump you to victory!

PF: Well… That is… What is your strategy, Land Lump?

Land Lump: Oh. Well. Give me a second… Hummmmm.

Flying Devils: RARRRRR!

Land Lump: Let me see… Do you think we could take a nap first?


Mom: The Devils are almost here!

Land Lump: Oh! Oh no, they probably don’t need any pamphlets. Hmmm… This is a lot of pressure!

Kickies: We know what to do!

Roy: Hey! Look at the Kickies running on top of the water like that!

Mr. Demon: Whoa, cool! I mean… DARNIT!

Kane: Greetings! We received your missive, Fliggins. The Kickies would like to figuratively and literally kick butt for justice!

PF: Well, the Devils are too high to be kicked. Oh, duh and doi! Start kicking the Lumps at them!

Lumps: Lump?

Kickies: Yeah!

*Bup bup bup bip punt but bup*

Lumps: Lump, lump, ow, lump…

Flying Devils: Hey! Ow! Ouches! Lumped by Lumps! Ow!

Mr. Demon: Charge! Charge!

PF: Oh the Lumps are slowing them down, but not enough!

Sid: Hey, P. Flig, WHAT UP, SON!

PF: The Three Bean Teens, my Dogs and Cats!

Bonzo: We hitched a ride here with the Royal Moustachio Air Force and the Royal Barbers. Came up with a pretty sweet plan.

Sid: Joe, this thing is about to be on and popping!

PF: Oh, excellent, Gee! You are most certainly my brothers from other, very nice mothers. Where are the Moustachios and Beards?

Bonzo: They’re settin’ up their part of the plan. First, we gotta shoot this BEAN JUICE HOSE at the Devils! Let ‘er rip, Gree!

Gree: Wickey-wickey!


Flying Devils: Sicks! Beans juice! Sticky beans juice!

Bonzo: Okay, RMAF! NOW!


RMAF: Hello, old bean, so to speak – hope you don’t mind being covered in our MOUSTACHE CLIPPINGS!

PF: Pa-tooey! Hair blizzard!

Flying Devils: We’s tarred and featherds!

PF: More like “beaned and haired.”

Tarvis Whiskerton: Howdy, Fred!

PF: Oh! Tarvis! You have come to help too!

Professor Professor: Goodness, you never had this many friends before!

PF: I know!

Whiskerton: Yep! The Royal Barbers and me are gonna put the final touches on these here Devils. While they’re dazed, we’re gonna summon the powers from our Great Barberian Ancestors and doom these cretins to the worst possible fate known to all of Shawnimaland – BAD HAIRCUTS.

PF: You fiendish beard, you!

Whiskerton: Stand back, Fred! Barbers! Commence shearing!

Royal Barbers: Yeee-haw!

PF: This is simply remarkable.

Roy: Hey, here come the Pink Ninjas, floating on their bubble gum balloons like the best dream come to reality!

Pink Ninja: Hey, Professor Fliggins! We’re here to do what we do every month, stomp some evil!

PF: Well, thank you so much, this attack is all but thwarted.

Whiskerton: Voila! Now thems some UGLY HAIRCUTS.

Flying Devils: Nos! I gots likes three mullets and a hightops fade! I’s gots an amish beard ands the words “Rufus Rocks!” shaved on my scalps! Who’s Rufus?!

Pink Ninja: Girls, look! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Pink Ninjas: Hoohoo! Hahahaha! HA!

Flying Devils: My deepest fears – BEIN’ LAUGHED AT BY LADIES! Embarrassments! Ah! Guh! Arg!

Pink Ninja: Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha. Ho ha. Man. Man. Ha ha ha… SIGH. Oh, it feels good to laugh like that. PHEW.

Flying Devils: Oh goods, we laugheds ‘em tired!

Pink Ninjas: Not quite!

(Sounds of the Pink Ninjas beating every ounce of snot out of the discombobulated and ridiculous-looking Devils. How lovely.)

Hooray!Mr. Demon: Aw, geez!


PF: Wow – everyone is coming. It took me a year to find Professor Island, and now so many creatures are here… Hey-lo! Vampire Pants!

Vampire Pants: Bleh! Halp me!

PF: That is a fine boat you have there, sir! I see you got my letter of plea to help me too! Marvelous!

Vampire Pants: Letter? What letter? I’m running for my life from these two mobs you let into my house! I wouldn’t help you!

PF: Oh.

Angry Pants Mob: Get him! Get the evil Vampire!

Vampire Pants: I’m not a Vampire! Bleh! I’m just the PANTS of a Vampire!

Hysterical Pants Mob: Don’t you hurt the beautiful Vampire Pants! We love him! Vampires are SO COOL! SWOOOON!!!

PF: Goodness, we did kind of leave you hanging… I have an idea! *ahem* BOY, I SAY, VAMPIRES ARE SO LAME AND STUFF!

Pants Mobs: What did he say?


Hysterical Pants Mob: Liar!


Angry Pants Mob: What’s he saying?




Flying Devils: Huh?

Hysterical Pants Mob: Yeah. Vampires are so played. I heard Vampires can’t even use a mirror – GRODY! Devils are pretty hawt tho. Totesally hawt! YEAH! DEVILS! WE WANT DEVILS! WE WANT DEVILS!

PF: Hey, look over there! SO MANY DREAMBOATY DEVILS!

Angry Pants Mob: Devils! Why they’re even more amoral than Vampires! Get the Devils! Burn the Devils!

Flying Devils: Uh-oh…

Hysterical Pants Mob: Don’t you hurt our precious Devils! WE LOVE THEM MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THE UNIVERSE!

PF: That should take care of that.

Flying Devils: Ah! Ah! Gets ‘em off me! Theys burning and hugging! Ow OH! RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY!

PF: See you later, evil!

The Forces of Good: HOORAY!

Mr. Demon: Crud. It doesn’t matter! I will take you all on myself! I’m quite the scrapper, and my anonymous friend here with the comb-over will lead me right to all your secrets! Professor Island IS MINE!

Moustachia: Gimme that costume, mistew!

?: Stay away from me, little flying Moustache!

Professors: GASP!

PF: Why, Mr. Demon’s accomplice… it is… PROFESSOR STUBBLER!

Professor Stubbler: Oh are you that surprised?

Professor Professor: Oh, Stubbler, how could you? We had some doubts about your last few books about the study of Dark Syrup ingestion, but we never thought you would turn EVIL. This will have to go up for review with the Council of Provosts…

Professor Stubbler: Your Council of Provosts can CRAM IT!

Professors: DOUBLE GASP!

PF: If you keep shocking the Professors, Stubbler, you are going to make them hyperventilate!

Professor Stubbler: I do not get any respect around here! I am too BRILLIANT for Professor Island! Mr. Demon respects my brain!

Mr. Demon: Sure!

Professor Stubbler: A brain so large it scared away most of the hair from my head! Stupid hair! It did not respect me!

PF: Stubbler, you sold out your home.

Professor Stubbler: How does that make me any different from you, Fliggins? You ran away from this place. You could not succeed in our circuitous academic system, so instead of accepting your failure and facing it, you retreated. In fact, if you did not leave, Mr. Demon would have never even come here. We are the same!

Professors: TRIPLE GASP!

Professor Weezygrist: Huff Huff. I need an inhaler… Too many… surprises…

Professor Professor: Is this true, Fliggins? Did you lead Mr. Demon here?

PF: Yes…

Professors: QUADRUPLE…

PF: BUT! But, I was put in a trance by Dark Syrup AND he spied on me. I have spent the year taking in LIFE. Looking at it from every imaginable angle! If you just stay at home, friends, you will not know how to properly value it. You will fall into a daze. You will live your life unconsciously, not knowing about all the wonders that await you elsewhere! It is in the Elsewhere that I found the real meaning of Home.

Professor Stubbler: Poppycock and applesauce!

PF: Stubbler, you foolish turdmouth! Do you not see? We are NOT the same. I have been forced out of my comfort zone and given the gift of JUDGMENT! I do not LET things happen to me – I judge them and can now decide if they are good or evil or delicious or made of facial hair or are a whale…

Blubba: Someone beckon me?

PF: Blubba!

Blubba: I got your letter, and finally put the pieces together about where I was born. THESE ARE MY BIRTH WATERS!

PF: I see.

Blubba: I am so grateful, I would help you out of any thicket!

Mr. Demon: OH MY GOD I AM SO BORED. All right, freakshows, I don’t care about what you’ve Discovered… prepare to be conquered!

Blubba: You, Kane, the Stealth Kicky!

Kane: Yes, my dear smelly abomination?

Blubba: Do us the honor of Kicking me in the rumpside one more time…

PF: Huh?

Kane: Ha ha. Yes, Blubba, sir. Yes indeed.


ULP!Blubba: Thank you, Frederick Fliggins! I will always be grateful to you!

Mr. Demon & Professor Stubbler: What the..?

Blubba: *ULP!*


The Forces of Good: Hooray!

Blobby: Blubba just swallowed Mr. Demon and Stubbler. He’s not so bad after all!

Blubba: Thank you, Professor Fliggins! I will now swim these rapscallions to the adjacent corner of the planet! Fair thee well!

PF: Thank you, Blubba! You are a wonderful monster!

Blubba: You too, my friend! You too!

Mom: Fliggins you did it! Let’s celebrate!

PF: Yes. Celebration. Right. Perhaps we could first take a ZZZZZZZZZZZ zzzzzzzzzz…

Mom: Yes. Of course.

Professors: ZZZZZZZZ zzzzzz snore-hiccup zzzzzzzzzzzz ZZZZZ zzzzzzzzzzzz…

Current Mood: zzzzzzZZZZZZZzzzzzzzZZZZZZZzzzzz...
Discoveries Made: zzzz - snuh - uh - zzzZZZzzz-lala-lovezzz... love...

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 161

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 12: Professor Island > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Evening; Day 161
Weather: Sweaty!
Landscape: Oh, your typical battlefield...


Two full days of fighting, Mom – how are your Foodlandians holding up?

Mom: They are fortified with the best vitamins and nutrients, but I see their little food bodies growing tired. I don’t know how long we can hold. How are your Professors?

PF: Also waning. The most physical activity they get on a daily basis usually involves eraser-clapping or pencil sharpening. We even had escalators added everywhere since they outlawed stairs forty years ago.

Mom: That is not very healthy.

PF: Luckily, since the battle started, we have had some great technological advances.

Blobby: Lookout!

Zombie Corn Dog: Arrr! Hopefully the forces of evil will soon prevail!


Zombie Corn Dog: Arrr! It is to be hoped that the forces of evil will soon prevail!

Prescriptive GrammarBot 3000: *Doot-doot!* SPLIT INFINITIVE! *Gooble-boop!*

Zombie Corn Dog: Arrr! Gimme something to bludgeon this robot with!


Zombie Corn Dog: *Glug glug glug!* I’m outta here!

Prescriptive GrammarBot 3000: OUT OF HERE! OUT OF HERE! OUT OF HERE!

PF: That was close! The poor sentence construction of these fiends threatens to overwhelm us! That GrammarBot almost had its syntactical programming overloaded…


Mom: What is he doing to my poor enslaved foodstuffs?

PF: They appear to be climbing on top of one another into some kind of clump. Some kind of big ball wad. A wad of trapped food spirits. A clump spirit!

Mom: Why!


PF: Oh no! We cannot possibly create distracting discourse with a giant orb of sticky foods!

Mom: Fall back! Fall back to the center of the island!

Roy: Hey, that weird comb-over guy is talking to Mr. Demon. Who is that guy?


PF: The ball rolls toward us! And it gets bigger with all the things it scoops up! Eekers!


Mr. Demon: Follow them, zombie wad! To the Professor Island Library!

Blobby: How would he know where the Library is?

Roy: It’s that trench coat guy next to Mr. Demon! I smell a rat! Or possibly a possum!


WAR!PF: I fear we will not be able to fall back, it is too fast! Aiiieeee!


Professor Professor: Another giant sphere!? We are doomedsy goners assuredly!

PF: Wait, it hit the other giant sphere? It is pushing the zombies away!

Bingo Clem: Hey, Buddy! Got your letter!

Mom: That other giant ball, it seems to be made of arms and legs and tentacles…

Professor Professor: …and teeth and doors and discarded vacuum cleaner parts…

PF: Why it is an equally impressive giant ball made of my friends from the ISLE OF DETACHED SHAWNIMALS!

Bingo Clem: Hey, Mr. Fliggins! Heard you needed help from your fellow Detached pals and of course everyone gathered at once! We were so excited, we got all rolled up into this clump of destruction!

Detached Clump: Hi, Fliggins!

Bingo Clem: We should have no problem taking on these food zombies!

PF: Vice Chancellor, you are a great detached pal to be sure!

Mom: Wonderful! Hold your ground, Foodlandians! Reinforcements have arrived!

Foodlandians: Hooray!

Professors: Huzzah!

PF: The war is not over yet. But oh golly, I am thankful for these friends.

Current Mood: Rejuvenated!
Discoveries Made: Bingo Clem is my friend!

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 160

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 12: Professor Island > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Afternoon; Day 160
Weather: Hungry!
Landscape: Getting messier...


*Battle Noises*

PF: Gracious, this ongoing struggle between good and evil is making me PECKISH! What is this? A sandwich laying here, just for me?

Hobo Sandwich: Oh no, not again! Don’t eat me, you idiot!

PF: Just a tiny bite for the road…

Hobo Sandwich: OWWWW! My head! My… say… what’s going on? Where am I?

PF: Oh sticks of fiddling, I have bitten Mr. Sandwich again. Are you okay, sir?

Hobo Sandwich: I’m fine. Just fine. In fact, I feel pretty nice. I’d say, everything’s ALLLL RIGHT!

PF: I am so very sorry to have eaten part of your head again, Mr. Sandwich – you are very tasty and…

Hobo Sandwich: No, it’s fine. Totally cool. These things happen. We’re still cool though, right? My man? My maaaaaaain man!

PF: Hmmmm….

Hobo Sandwich: Professor Fliggins, my main dude! You and me, brother man, we’re gonna be groovy forever!

PF: Now this is peculiar. This sandwich was just a minute ago one of the most bitter, unpleasant fellows I have ever met. Now this.

Hobo Napkin: I think you bit the part of his brain that makes him irritable…

Hobo Sandwich: Sky rockets in flight… afternoon delight! Aaaaaafternoon delight!

PF: Fascinating. He seems otherwise unharmed.

Hobo Napkin: Yeah… I think I like him better like this.

PF: I as well. Right then, back to the war!

Hobo Sandwich: Hey, anyone wanna hear my poetry?

Current Mood: Satisfied.
Discoveries Made: I could have been a surgeon!

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 159

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 12: Professor Island > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Dusk; Day 159
Weather: Clear.
Landscape: The (un)familiar.


Ah-ha! There they are!

Blobby: Mr. Demon?

PF: He has pushed his Flying Devil armies through the storm and now they are amassing off the shore.

Roy: Yeesh…

PF: I can see through my Monocular Discoverator as well that the rural Foodlandian Zombies are in boats…

Blobby: The delicious horror!

PF: Truly.

Mom: My Foodlandians are ready, but they’re also worn down to the bone from fighting… well, at least the ones with bones…

PF: Let your forces rest, Mom. The first charges can be handled by us Professors…

Mom: That seems fine in theory, but they keep trying to “Discover” us… OW!

Professor Flagglesham: Got her! Now, Madame, if you would not mind, I should like to begin dissection.

Mom: Get this tag off of me! Fliggins, control your countrymen!

PF: Right-o. LADIES AND GENTLEPROFESSORFELLOWS! Leave the Discovering alone! The time is near that we must gather our pudgy, pasty resources as a collective unit to defend our homes! Worry about your tenure later, we must now worry about OUR VERY LIVES!

Professor Yabbleglam: Is there a difference?

PF: Yes, you nincompoop! We must repel the advances of evil with our ACTUAL nubbins! Not merely discuss it, holed up in a classroom! Theoretical discussions should only exist to improve the physical world we live in, not the other way around! We are more than eggheads! We are egghearts, eggbodies, and egganimals too! Professors, I urge you, let us battle in the real world now, so that we may discuss it comfortably over tea and biscotti later – WHEN WE ARE FREE! HUZZAH!

Professors: HUZZAH!

Mr. Demon: A very moving speech, Professor FARTINS. Seriously, it was actually very moving. BUT NO MATTER. I am fairly confident we will overwhelm your meager defenses in a sec, and be ready to enslave your people and their knowledge soon after. I am just brimming with confidence about this!

Blobby: What a jerk. You’re a jerk!

Roy: Who’s that guy in the trench coat with the bad comb-over next to Mr. Demon on his cloud?

PF: I cannot tell. It does not matter. Now, PROFESSORS – ATTACK!

Professors: Here-here! Here-here! Huzzah!

Mr. Demon: Devils, go spank those tub-mounds so we can get those secrets from their library.

Flying Devil: You gots it, boss! Let’s gets ‘em boys! RARRRR!!

Professors: HUZZAH!!!

Devils: RARRRRR!!!

Professors: HUZZAH!!!

Mom: Foodlandians, get ready to attack!

PF: Save your strength, Mom. Let the Professors do battle first… Fire the Rhetorical Dialogue Cannon!

Professor Dimplepuss: Right-o!

*shoooom fssssss BOOOM!!*

Flying Devils: These numbskulls is flyin’s right at us, what gives?

Professor Dimplepuss: I say, my good man, might I speak with you in my office hours.

Flying Devil: Hey, gets off me! I can’ts fly with a bigs heavy nougat man holdin’s ons!

Professor Dimplepuss: I was just wondering, chap, do you not suppose that you are more or less just a cog in the clockwork? That is to say, are you not feeling exploited by this Mr. Demon here?

Flying Devil: Oh, I don’ts knows…

Professor Dimplepuss: I mean, whose war is this, chap? His or yours? Did you have dreams before you came here? Did those dreams involve being torn to pieces in some foreign land?

Flying Devil: Nos! I wanteds to be an architects!  I don’ts wanna be in the corporate war machine!

Professor Dimplepuss: I see, tell me more…

Mr. Demon: What the..?

PF: Fire the Grammar Tutor Hang-Glider Slingshots!


Flying Devil: What’s alls this heres?

Professor Sigglebiggle: Oh, no no no. That will not do. Say, “what is all this here?”

Flying Devil: Whats?

Professor Sigglebiggle: You ought to repeat after me, or you shall never pass this class.

Flying Devil: Oh nos! I wants to gets an As!

Mr. Demon: Stop that! Stop listening to the paunchy flying tweedholes!

PF: Now! The acceptance letter flashbombs! Fire fire fire!


Flying Devil: Hey, what’s this things? “Dear Flying Devils, We ares delighteds to notify yous that yous been accepteds to Professor Island University!” Hey, sweets!

Mr. Demon: STOP THAT! This is the problem with cheap labor – Devils! Devils, regroup! Stop reading those acceptance letters! Hey, you! You, Flying Devil, get over here!

Flying Devil: Oh heys, what’s up, Mr. D?

Mr. Demon: Get back to battling!

Flying Devil: I’d likes to helps fight, but if I’m gonnas get this PhDs in astrophysics, I better hit these books! Calls me this weekends thoughs, maybe we can hang outs or somethin’s…

Mr. Demon: Where’d he get that backpack… You! Get back to fighting!

Flying Devil: Yeahs, maybes I can fights later tonight, but I gots a three hour appointment in the University Writing Lab… Laters!

Mr. Demon: Gah! Fall back! Regroup! Argh!

Mom: Good job, Fliggins.

PF: Thanks, that should at least stall those Devils, though we still have those Food Zombies to worry about. Let us dig in for the good fight, eh Mom?

Mom: It’s an honor, sir!

Professorial Tactics

Current Mood: Not over yet.
Discoveries Made: Naughty Devils crave STRUCTURE.

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤