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Blobby Log Owners Manual

Tagged: Supermarket City
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Blobby Log Day 156

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

Timestamp: High Noon; Day 156
Weather: Dust snows down from the rafters.
Landscape: The Foodlandia War Room.


I wish that I had been a more attentive student in my Defensive War Strategies class at Professor Island University, but it was incredibly boring.  It seems actual war is much less yawn-inducing.

Mom: Yes, yes.  We’ve exhausted most of our reserve ketchup and the mustard’s been coagulating much faster on the cannon barrel.  The advancing Devils are relentless.  I don’t think we can hold them off much longer.

PF: But you must!  They are trying to get to my Professor Island so Mr. Demon can enslave my Professor people and exploit their superior scientific and historical knowledge.  You are the last barrier between he and they!

Mom: I’m sorry, we just don’t have the resources.  Fliggins, do you know why I invited you into the war room instead of having you thrown into a TV Dinner Freezer Cell?

PF: Because you were charmed by my huggably soft middle-region?

Mom: Hardly.  As ruler of Foodlandia, I’ve tried to do right by my Foodlandians.  I make sure everyone is happy here and also that they are not exploited by outsiders who would find them delicious and kidnap them for picnics and brunches.  We’re a peaceful land, but also isolated.  Fliggins, we don’t have any exterior friends or allies.  We tried sending emissaries to the Hot Dog Kingdom, but that angry King would not listen to them.  He forgot from where his Hot Dog ancestors immigrated.   I could tell you were a Foreigner, and as such, I was hoping you could call your home and bring us aid.

PF: But as I have been trying to tell you, I cannot reach home.  Your shores lprofessorisland.comt is where my people are contemplating Belly Button Philosophy.  THEY need YOUR help.

Mom: Then I fear both our countries are doomed.

Blobby: Pssst!  PF!

PF: What is it, Blobby?  Cannot you tell we are being very doomsy and sad about our hopeless fate?

Blobby: Listen!  Foodlandia might not have any foreign friends, but YOU do!

Roy: Yeah, we’ve been flying around the whole world for the last YEAR meeting all kinds of friends.  Like Moustachia here.

Moustachia: Hewwo!

Blobby: PF, we have friends!  They’re ridiculous and misguided, but we’ve basically been hanging out with the rulers of almost every country we’ can call on all of them to come help.

PF: I suppose we HAVE made a lot of friendships.  Though I have also been very impatient and rude about getting home.  Do you think they would help me?

Blobby: It’s worth a shot.  You can be a jerk a little, but there’s something loveable about you.  I mean, it’s pretty admirable how hard you’ve been fighting to save home.  Maybe people would admire that in you too and come.

PF: It is worth a shot.  This is a tall order, Blobby.  It is not like I am asking them to help me move – they will have to fight!

Mom: Honestly, Professor, this is the only chance we have.

PF: Right-o!  Mom, do you have any fast messengers?

Mom: Yes!  The Energy Drink Express are the fastest creatures in all of Shawnimaland.  To the extreme.

PF: The extreme is where we are!  I will quickly draft nine letters of plea, but not sound too desperate, just casually ask for the assistance of each land’s most powerful warriors.  That is all.

As soon as each letter is finished, we will send it off with our messengers.



Mom: Please hurry.

Current Mood: Purposed.
Discoveries Made: I may actually have real friends. I may have real real friends.

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

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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: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 151

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

Timestamp: Midnight; Day 151
Weather: Ketchup rains down like scripture.
Landscape: Like we are walking upon one giant meatloaf. I think we actually are...


I surely do apologize, sir – I did not mean to…

Hobo Sandwich: …To take a bite out of MY HEAD?  Of course you didn’t mean to, ya moron!

?: Earl, what’s going on out there?  What are you doing?

Hobo Sandwich: Nothing, honey, just stay in the sack.

?: I’m not going to stay inside the sack when it’s being picked up in the middle of the night and some giant nubbin reaches through our ceiling and picks you up and… OH MY GOD, EARL – YOUR HEAD!

Hobo Sandwich: Now don’t go makin’ a big stink, it’s just a bite…

Hobo Napkin: Just a bite?  Half your head is gone!

Hobo Sandwich: Go back in the sack, Doreen, I’m handling this…

Hobo Napkin: Oh, sure, then this monstrosity can reach in and blow his big nose into me…

PF: Big nose?

Hobo Napkin: Use what’s left of your head, Earl!  And here I thought you couldn’t get any dumber…

Hobo Sandwich: Will you pipe down!  I can’t hear myself think…

Hobo Napkin: Oh that’s odd, because I can hear you think just fine and it sounds to me like the Hunchback’s finally moved out of the bell-tower you were bad for his IMAGE!

PF: *snicker*

Hobo Napkin: What are you laughing at, ugly?

PF: Oh, please do not point your disdain at me, madame!

Hobo Napkin: Oh, I’m just warming up, you…

?: Wahhhh!

Hobo Napkin: Look what you two did, you woke up the kids!

PF: Your children are corn chips?

Hobo Napkin: Hey, you got no room to judge, you hang around with a pile of snot, flying facial hair, and a debilitated sea monster.

Blobby, Moustachia, & Roy: Hey!

Hobo Corn Chip Kid #1: Wahhh!  Mommy, the bad man broke me in half!

Hobo Napkin: Oh, good lord, let me look at you…  Well at least it was a clean break…

Hobo Corn Chip Kid #2: Is Francis going to the chip bag in the sky, Mommy?

Hobo Napkin: No, sweetheart – he’ll be fine after we get some nacho powder to bind his wounds…

Hobo Corn Chip Kid #1: I don’t wanna go to the sky bag, Mommy!

Hobo Napkin: Do you see what you’ve done?  How am I gonna afford nacho binding powder in THIS economy?  We’re not even insured…

PF: I am terribly sorry, I…

Hobo Napkin: Pa-tooey! I spit on your sorries!  Tooey pa-tooey!

PF: Spitting napkins?! I would like to make it up to you.  How may I acquire the necessary items to mend your family?

Hobo Sandwich: We can only get those inside the walls of Supermarket City over there, and there seems to be a war going on, so the gate’s closed…

PF: Well, I need to get in as it is the last obstacle between me and my home…

Hobo Napkin: You know what was the obstacle between my home and you?  A thin wall of brown paper!  Now get out of here already while we figure out whose turn it is to sleep in the cellophane sleeping bag tonight.

Hobo Sandwich: Now settle down, Doreen.  Maybe this tubby guy can carry us through the secret path  into Supermarket City where we could finally talk to M-O-M.

Hobo Napkin: Hmmm…  Maybe…  He would just have to stop shattering the bodies of my children.

PF: Yes!  Show us the secret way and I will take you to this Mom…

Hobo Napkin: Oh wow, he can spell!

Hobo Sandwich: All right, let’s go then.

Blobby: I wonder if there are marriage counselors in Supermarket City…

Hobo Napkin: I heard that!  Mind your business, snot pile!

PF: Very good – on to Supermarket City!

Current Mood: So close, so close, so close...
Discoveries Made: The unique family dynamic of the Hobo Lunch Bunch.

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤