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Blobby Log Owners Manual

Tagged: Mom
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Blobby Log Day 155

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 11: Foodlandia > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Dawn; Day 155
Weather: Explodesy!
Landscape: The front of the line!


Supermarket City Store Manager: Municipal Customer Service, how can I help you?


PF: Yes, we should like very much to have audience with your ruler, Mr. Mom.

Hobo Sandwich: Mom is a woman!

PF: Mrs. Mom.  Please excuse my gender power assumptions.

Supermarket City Store Manager: Buddy, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a WAR going on – Mr. Demon and his Devils are on the verge of breaching our defenses.  Now unless you’d like to purchase some cigarettes or apply for food stamps, I’ll have to ask you to leave.

PF: We have come too far, I am sorry.  We are not leaving until we speak to Mom.

Supermarket City Store Manager: Security to Customer Service, Security to Customer Service, please.

PF: No!  If you do not let us in, then I shall… I shall…  Uh…  I shall take ANOTHER bite out of this sandwich fellow!


Hobo Sandwich: You better listen to him, Mac – he’s just crazy enough to do it!

Supermarket City Store Manager: Oh jeez!  Stand down, Security, we got some kind of lunatic CANNIBAL that EATS FOOD!

PF: That is right!  You ought to let me through!  I am unpredictable and attractive!

Mom...?Hobo Napkin: He’s delusional too!  Let him through to Mom!


?: What’s going on out here?  There’s no time for these shenanigans, Mr. Demon is almost through the… oh, lord.

Supermarket City Store Manager: Mom, this uncooked Turkey is threatening to EAT this SANDWICH!  It’s MADNESS!

Mom: I see.  Security, stand down.  You, Turkey, come with me…

PF: Yes, Mrs. Mom.

Current Mood: ...
Discoveries Made: Mom.

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 154

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 11: Foodlandia > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Fluorescent Afternoon; Day 154
Weather: Cloudy, with a chance of balls of meat.
Landscape: There are not THAT many savings...


Hobo Sandwich: Okay, we’re here!

Roy: What?

PF: That was not nearly as perilous as you had led me to believe.

Hobo Sandwich: Not perilous?

PF: No, we just had to walk from the back of Supermarket City to the front…

Hobo Napkin: Wow, a tough guy!

Hobo Sandwich: Lesser creatures have buckled under the weight of all those bargains and options.

Hobo Napkin: You’re not such a weenie after all!

PF: Thanks?

Hobo Sandwich: BUT BEWARE!  Now we must face THE SLOWEST MOVING LINE IN THE WORLD… WORLD… world…  *ahem* Sorry, I meant to just say that once.

Hobo Napkin: Wow, I guess that bite outta your skull DID make you dumber.  I didn’t think that was possible…

Hobo Sandwich: Not now, Doreen…  *GASP!* LOOK!  That old Can of Prunes is attempting to pay their property taxes IN PENNIES!  OH, THE HORROR!

PF: It is okay, Hobo friends.  We shall just wait our turn in line.

Blobby: When did YOU get so patient?

PF: Blobby, we have here our first REAL CHANCE at speaking with Mom, at saving Professor Island from Mr. Demon – we cannot jeopardize that chance by disrupting the native customs with our line-jumping.

Hobo Sandwich: Yeah, besides, Supermarket City has a strict “No-Cuts-No-Buts-No-Coconuts” policy.

Hobo Napkin: Those poor, marginalized Coconuts…

PF: We shall wait.  I must practice my plea to Mom anyway.

Current Mood: Not lost.
Discoveries Made: "I came in here for a special offer: a guaranteed personality..."

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 153

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 11: Foodlandia > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Fluorescent Morning; Day 153
Weather: Muzaky
Landscape: Rows of delicious savings for MILES!


We are inside the walls of Supermarket City after a heck of a time trying to clamber up that wall of wet pasta…

Hobo Sandwich: It’s a lot easier if you’re made of starch…  I shoulda mentioned that…

PF: Surely.  My GOODNESS, this place is overwhelming!

Disembodied Nasal Voice: Welcome to Supermarket City, where all the flavors live.  Specials today include: War.

PF: Was that Mom?

Hobo Napkin: No, that was one of the Cashier Ministers.  They make all the official government announcements.


Disembodied Nasal Voice: Shrapnel and Dark Syrup explosion clean-up in the Organic Food District.

Hobo Napkin: We’re at the back of the City, since we had to sneak in, so we’ll need to get past the allure of Deli and Bakery Night Clubs, go through the Cereal and Juice District – which are aisles of high-rise condo-shelving units.  Then we need to travel beyond the check-out lines to get to Customer Service, where Mom’s office/war room is.

PF: Okay.

Hobo Sandwich: But it’s not so easy!  You’ll be tempted by all the savings and impulse purchases offers!  The giant tabloid bill boards with their seductive stories of surprisingly fat celebrities and terrorist alien babies – the journey has driven good rural Foodlandians INSANE!

PF: Really?

Hobo Napkin: Yeah – guys twice as big as you and ten times more attractive…

Hobo Sandwich: Once we gain audience with Mom, you gotta get her to give us a new Picnic Basket Cottage.  She really dropped the ball when it was time to get us disaster relief after Hurricane Cy blew our house out to sea!  It was criminal!

Hobo Napkin: I can’t believe we voted for Mom…

PF: I shall do my best, despite these obvious muscular and facial deficiencies.  Come on, gang – let us go get Mom!

Current Mood: What is the opposite of dreamboaty? Nightmaresubmariney? Whatever that is...
Discoveries Made: That I shall not be winning any of the Foodlandia Beauty Pageants. Also, THE PERILOUS PATH TO MOM!

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤