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Archive: Chapter 7: The Big Blue
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Blobby Log Day 105

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 7: The Big Blue > Vol. 1

Timestamp: WHO KNOWS; Day 105
Weather: The Sun beats down unto our brows like a PUNK.
Landscape: Water water, everyplaces.



Blobby: Maybe we could pass the time with you apologizing again for being such a butt-brain on the Isle of Detached Shawnimals.  And in general.

PF: This is not a desirable proposition.

Roy: But appropriate.

PF: We have been on the currents of Big Blue for some time, 80% of that has been spent apologizing to you three.  I believe I have paid my penance to the sorry-Gods.

Moustachia: Not weawy.

PF: Blerg.  Where and what is a Blubba anyway?  I have run out of ideas on how to summon this beast.


Roy: What the…

Blobby: We’re taking on water!

Moustachia: We’w gonna dwown!

PF: What disproportionately adorable last words if so, Moustachia.  Freckle-sand, mend our broken hull.

Freckle-sand: Yes, sir!

Blubba!PF: What have we aground-run into?

Roy: It’s some kind of bulbous, leathery island!

Blobby: Unattractive too.

?: That’s my head, thank you very much.  I knew I should have tried a more funky hairstyle.  I told the scrumps this one made my head appear bulbous.  Bulbous is unfunky to the extreme.  Oh dear.  Oh darn.

PF: This is a talking island.  Perhaps it is a Detached portion of the Isle of the Detached.  How anti-anti-social!

?: I am not an island piece.  I am a Blubba.  Which is to say, my name is Blubba.  I’m Blubba.

PF: Our savior!  Blubba!  Tell us how to get to Professor Island!

Blubba: Well, that shouldn’t be a problem.  It should be very simple.  I think that finding that place is going to be the easiest thing that has ever happened in Thing History.

Caloo!  Discovery!!!

Limited Edition Plush Discovery 7

Current Mood: PUMPED.
Discoveries Made: Blubba!

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 106

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 7: The Big Blue > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Morning; Day 106
Weather: Sunburnt
Landscape: Blue, Blue, Blue, ORANGE, Blue, Blue.


Blubba: …so when I say, “meeting you is like eating a delicious spaghetti sandwich” please understand, I have not ever eaten a delicious spaghetti sandwich, and I am unsure whether anyone has, basically, what I am saying is that meeting you can only be very specifically described as a foreign and, thus far, surprisingly enjoyable experience.  Like a ridiculous meal, like a spaghetti sandwich would be, I assume.  I have never eaten spaghetti, though in my comprehensive travels of this world I have met many creatures who have, most of them plumbers.  I have eaten plumbers.


Of course not.  But do you see what I had done there?  I made you think that I had.  That is a hilarious joke.  Making that joke was like eating a delicious plumber sandwich.  Speaking of…

STOP!  PLEASE.  Please.  Please stop.  This pleasant introduction has lasted twelve hours easily.  I could weep from the boredom of it all!

My.  I was just being kind.  Perhaps you do not need my help after all.  Goodbye…

Wait!  PF, apologize to him!  We’ll never find Professor Island alone…

Yeah, ya meany.

But you… Very well.  Mr. Blubba!  Sir, please accept my sincerest apologies.  I have recently gotten over a bout of evil and perhaps am still working out those traumas on my friends and colleagues accidentally.

Apology accepted.  So you would like to find your Professor Island?

YES!  Goodness me, yes.  Have you seen it?

If it exists, I have been there.

Oh, delectable.  Let me describe it.  It is shaped like…

No no.  You clearly do not know how my brain works.  I remember everything I see – EVERYTHING – but I need to tell my entire life story in order to get to the parts of interest to you.

Pardon me?

I have a Brobdingnagian brain in my equally ginormous noggin.  You have to understand that it takes a while for the synapses to fire from one side to the other.  Here is a question: if I were to shoot my mind lightning at full speed toward the horizon, would it wrap around the curvature of the planet or shoot endlessly straight into space?  Well my brain has a lot of space and is big enough to have its own curvature, so both are true, I suppose.  I answered my own question.  Let me ask another – topic, Sports and Leisure – who was the first Kicky to…

EXCUSE… excuse me, sir.  Surely there is a better way to access the location of Professor Island than letting you tell your whole life story.

Yeah, like, how old are you?

I am easily as old as everything if not older, but I suppose that isn’t so easy…

!  Cannot you just let me TRY and describe the island?  It is really very simple…

Well maybe you can just ask another sunburnt cetacean who remembers being everywhere?  Oh wait, you can’t – I’m the only one, good luck finding your home by yourself.  Toodle-loo…

No!  Fine, we will do this your way.

Oh magnificent.  You won’t be disappointed; it’s really a very gripping story.  Now one would think that I could start from the moment of my first conscious thought, but no story begins there.  Of course not – and certainly events shaped my life before that moment, all those years ago.  So you may think, then, that a good place to start would be at the moment of my birth, a great idea – my first undersea baby whale screams into the bubbled universe.  But surely even my life was impacted in the previous seven years my mother was pregnant with me.  And surer still, who I am is deeply impacted by the location I was born, the time in the history of things, the very characters of my mother and father, both unique in their own right.  Oh and how they met.  Not very romantic at first, but when viewed through the reflection of a funhouse mirror, or perhaps the ocean’s surface, I think you will agree that it is actually very sweet…

Oh darn.

This will be a while.

Maybe the sun burned his brain as well.

…No, it is ludicrous to even presume that a story could ever start in its own beginning, so let us go back BEFORE the beginning of the beginning…

Oh darn.  Indeed.  Oh darn, Blobby.

Current Mood: Leary.
Discoveries Made: The limits of my patience.

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 107

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 7: The Big Blue > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Morning; Day 107
Weather: Sunburny.
Landscape: Waves waving at me - "Come," they wave, "Come swim away from this verbose blowhard."


So much speaking!Blubba: …and many don’t know this, but the whole world was once made of a loose-knit corduroy.  It is true, or at least I have it on good account from my Great Uncle Toby that it was so.  Uncle Toby was possibly the finest sunburnt blubba that ever cut through these salty salty seas.  And you think MY hair is majestic?  Well, my little friend, you should have seen the powerful coif on ol’ Toby Whale!  Majestic times ten!  Eleven!  Twelve! Thir…

PF: Fascinating, my friend! A whole day of nonstop speaking, Blobby.  Surely, this fellow will get to the actual occasion of his birth in this bottomless life story.

Blobby: Erg.

Current Mood: Erg! That is the Word, my man!
Discoveries Made: Erg.

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 108

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 7: The Big Blue > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Evening; Day 108
Weather: Bird-filled.
Landscape: Not land. No escape.


Blubba: …which is just one of twenty-seven main arguments for the origin of stretch pants.  Two: The Infamous Stretch Mollusk…

PF: Fascinating…

Current Mood: ...
Discoveries Made: ...

Hereinto referenced: ¤

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Blobby Log Day 109

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 7: The Big Blue > Vol. 1

Timestamp: ...; Day 109
Weather: zzzzZZZZzzzz
Landscape: ZZZZzzzzZZZZ


SO. MANY. WORDS.Blubba: …whether my grandmother had told that policefish to suck lemons or not is irrelevant, the man CLEARLY had ISSUES.  Issues worthy of lemon-sucking.  Let me tell you just how many Issues are Worthy of Lemon-Sucking, of which, there are twelve main categories, eighty-nine subcategories, and three thousand four hundred and ninety-two real world examples.  Also, and I do not mean to alarm you, but there is even twelve DISPUTED subcategories, which I shall tell you all about, in due time, in reverse order of importance…

PF: Y A A A A A A A A A A W N . . .

Current Mood: ...away! away...
Discoveries Made: ...I do not want to go to University, Mother...

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 110

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 7: The Big Blue > Vol. 1

Timestamp: ...; Day 110
Weather: ...
Landscape: ...


ZzzzzzzzzPF: *sssNNNNAARghhhhhh* huh? WHA-ba-dat? Whooba?  Uh. Oh.  I must have dozed off.  I see Blubba is still going strong.

Blubba: My father had nothing but contempt for my mother,

Moustachia: *yaa w W W w n* It’s been going fowevew…

Blubba: and rightly so; she, like all female creatures, was cursed with a stupidity of spirit so pervasive,

PF: Indeed, this is the fifth day in a row of continuous speaking in this animal’s life story and the thing has yet to be born.  Blobby, please do not stop taking dictation in case he reveals the location of our beloved Professor Island – drink your caffeinated beverages and please use your auxiliary Typomagrapher to simultaneously record what I say and what Sunburnt Blustery Blubba over here says.  Do you understand?

Blubba: were she also cursed with feet, she surely would have great difficulty in the tying of her own shoelaces,

Blobby: Mmmph-hmm…

Blubba: as all feminine creatures cursed with feet have an immense deficit in the shoe-tying department.

PF: What was that?

Blubba: And my father could tell that my mother would hardly even know what a shoe was,

Blobby: Mmph-myumph…

Blubba: let alone the proper method for its fastening to her hypothetical feet,


Blubba: which is why he did not permit her to watch him chew his dinners,

Blobby: Garggh!

Blubba: she would most certainly have a cranial failure

Roy: I don’t think he can type two conversations at once and talk to you too.

Blubba: if she had to witness such a complicated feat of motor skill coordination,

Blobby: Ba-hummmgh!

Blubba: that poor insufferable simple twit-mom.

PF: I see.  Well, surely if he COULD talk, he would not complain about this predicament for HE is the one who convinced me to tolerate this enormous arrogance mammal.

Blubba: But she is not to be blamed for the curse of her gender,

Blobby: Grrrrr…

Blubba: just as I am not to be blamed for all the curses that have befallen me by being her son,

PF: Keep up the good work, Blobby – we are all going below deck on the dirigible-boat to sleep.  Cheerio!

Blubba: but just to be clear what we are not to be blamed for, I would like to present to you the Forty-Five Blameless Curses of my Life…

Blobby: Blerg…

Blubba: Number One Blameless Curse: My father.  He was even dumber than my dumb mother.  Men, by and large, are the most completely and thoroughly idiotic turd-brains that ever were…

Current Mood: GOING to BED.
Discoveries Made: Blobby's Incredible Blobby Log Dual Typing SKILLZ.

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 111

As written by Blobby in Chapter 7: The Big Blue > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Middle of Night; Day 111
Weather: Typewriter clicking upward like reverse rain-drop-clacks.
Landscape: The paper, never stopping paper.


Suctiony Big Blue CreatureRoy: How’s it going, Blobert?

Blubba: It is not known ashore, but water is ACTUALLY VERY INTERESTING

Blobby: …mrgle…

Blubba: and I, of all creatures, would know

Roy: Well, I painted some things we passed while Blubba was Blabbering…  This Big Blue – it’s really beautiful from below deck – see?

Blubba: for the water has been possibly the greatest friend I have had

Blobby: Awww…

Blubba: you see that it is strong; it will and it does lead you, yet it yields under my fins when it is time for me to lead it

Roy: *yaawn* Okay, back to bed for me…

Blubba: for I am not so large when considering my liquid atmosphere.  I can be quite small, and the waves I make…
Big Blue Creatures!

Blubba: …imperceptible…

Roy: Good night, Blobby.  You’re doing a good job.

Current Mood: *sigh*
Discoveries Made: Worlds. Worlds are below and inside. I didn't know. I didn't know about all these worlds.

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 113

As written by Blobby in Chapter 7: The Big Blue > Vol. 1

Timestamp: WHO KNOWS; Day 113
Weather: ...
Landscape: ...


Blubba: …and so there is a warm current originating in the southwestern seas, well to you it is southwestern, to me there isn’t a compass at all – there is just an infinite loop, a perpetuality that only announces itself through familiar landmarks.  For instance, I know the warm currents are in the southwestern, to you, seas because of the volcanic ring that I bump into each time I have circumnavigated the globe, which has been no more than five thousand three hundred eighty-nine times, no less than five thousand three hundred eighty-seven times.  These warm waters happen to be the very location of my birth, that joyous and horrid occasion whereupon I was catapulted into this disgusting, wicked, sometimes okay world.  But before we arrive at this critical event, let me paint a more vivid picture of the creatures who populated these particular birth waters.  We will start with the mid-wife who birthed me and work in concentric circles away from her until we have covered every cubic inch of that sacred, cruddy place…

Current Mood: ...

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤