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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 72

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 3: Moustachio Territory > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Morning; Day 72
Landscape: A Floating Castle Couched in Clouds!


Oh, BLOBBY – I slept on a bed made of clouds last night!  Hairy clouds!

I do believe we Professors ARE descended from Moustachios because I AM GETTING USED TO THIS!  I AM SO GETTING USED TO THIS!  GETTING USED TO THIS IN MY HEART HEART HEART!

Please stop yelling into my log.

PF: I am SORRY, Blobby, but my soul will not cease its frolicking and that makes me EXCLAIM LOUDLY.

Blobby: Ugh.

Prime Ministache: Good morning, gentlemen – I trust you slept well.

Oh, Prime Ministache sir, I slept delectably!

Prime Ministache:
Capital.  And what about you, Mr. Whiskerton, how was your rest?

Sir, I didn’t sleep.

Prime Ministache: Oh?

How is that EVEN POSSIBLE?

Well I’ll tell ya – I appreciate you sending the Royal Moustachio Air Force to save us from getting pulverized by my buddies and all, and I certainly am privileged to be in your fancy castle, but I’m feelin’ kinda rotten.

Prime Ministache: Like you have abandoned your People, perhaps?

Whiskerton: Yessir.  Workin’ as a Royal Barber and hanging around Professor Fred here, it’s like I’m trying to be more civilized and so-phisticated than’s natural.  It’s like I’m pretending to be a Moustachio when I’m just a lowly Beard.  Those fellas don’t mean to be so ornery – but considering how none of them have as nice a job as me, I mean, I’d be angerfied myself!

Prime Ministache:
Well, Whiskerton, we see a lot from up here that you “lowly” Beards do, and we’ve been keeping a close watch on you since you started taking care of the little Baby ‘Stache you rescued…

Baby ‘Stache: *meep!*

Whiskerton: Oh Moustachia?  You know about her too?  Good grief, I AM a sell-out!

PF: Well, clearly!

Prime Ministache: Mr. Whiskerton, your only ethical concern should be that you are TOO kind!  To be honest, so many of the creatures we see from on high could learn something from you.  The bickering between Beards and Moustachios, the Beans and their ridiculous legal system, those bonkers Hot Dogs with their immature King – it’s all simply madness!

Whiskerton: I suppose you’re right, sir – this IS a crazy world.  I don’t know, even though I’m being pulled every which way, there’s something in me that’ll never turn away helpless critters like Moustachia and Fred here – even if it fetches me gobs of trouble.  I just can’t say no to creatures in need.  Sigh…

Prime Ministache: That’s why we saved you, Whiskerton – because someone should finally be rewarded for bringing our peoples together.  I am getting on in years, and frankly, I can’t stomach much more of the disparity between Moustachios and Beards.  You’re a remarkable fellow for seeing past what’s on all our hairy surfaces.

Aw heck, thank you, sir.

PF: Whiskerton, you…  you really want to help EVERYBODY?

Whiskerton: Well, yeah, I suppose so, Fred.

PF: *sniff*  So…  touching…

Whiskerton: What’s that?

PF: *BUH-BUH! buh-huh-huh!*

Prime Ministache: There there, Professor.  Don’t weep, man.

Just let him cry it out.  It’s the only way now.

PF: He is just so NICE!  *Guh-HUH!*

Prime Ministache: Oh my.

Whiskerton: It’s okay, Fred.  Here take my hankerchief!


Whiskerton: I forgive you, Fred.

PF: FORGIVENESS!  *Bah-huh bah-huh bah-huh-huh-hic!*

Discoveries Made: It is like, LIFE is SO HARD, and there is ALL of THESE THINGS keeping us apart from one another, YOU KNOW? It is not just, like, TOLERANCE, you know? It is like ACCEPTANCE, no matter what kind of facial hair creature you are.

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 71 (part two)

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 3: Moustachio Territory > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Afternoon; Day 71
Weather: The air is as crisp as diploma paper!
Landscape: The luxurious opulence makes my moustache curl!


S H H H H H H O O O O O M M M  !

PF: Thank you, RMAF!  What nice fellows.  Simply lovely.

Whiskerton: Wow, look at this place, Fred!  It’s so majestical!

PF: Pardon? Did you just say…

Whiskerton: I said MAJESTICAL!

PF: Yes, YES! I too find myself overwhelmed by this floating castle’s majesty.   Look at all the Moustachios zooming about!  Everything is golden-trimmed and beauteous!  Bring on the silken Moustache cuffs!  Bring on the fancy cheeses!

Whiskerton: Yeah.  Hmmph…

PF: What is wrong, Whiskerton?  I thought that you wanted to see the floating Moustachio castles.

Whiskerton: Well now, that’s true enough.  It’s just them boys what was chasing us – those are my FRIENDS, you know?

PF: Those dreadful vagabonds?  Whiskerton, you are in a CASTLE in the SKY – it is probably illegal to be sad here it is so amazing!

Whiskerton: That just might be true, pal.  I don’t know.  Being a Royal Barber is the swellest job a Beard can get, but the guys were always giving me guff for cavorting with Moustaches.  Now as soon as I meet you, I’m swept away by the ‘Stachios and in their super fine castle.  I feel like a sell-out, maybe.

PF: Well good!  Be a sell-out!  Look at all the fantastical things you get to see and do by selling-out!  You get to fly, Whiskerton!  You get to walk upon the clouds!  You get freedom!  Down in the Territory you are constantly dirty, you live in a tiny hair-house, and your “friend” had GLASS stuck to his FACE.  That is hardly living!

Whiskerton: Now slow down, Fred – that’s MY home and those are MY friends!

?: Please don’t bicker.

Whiskerton: But he was insulting my people!

PF: And he is being a dander-headed simpleton!

Whiskerton: I’ll show you simple!  Wait…  The Prime Ministache?  Oh goodness!  Sorry, sir!  I didn’t mean disrespect, sir!  Bow on yer knee, Fred – that’s my boss, the Prime Ministache of Moustachio Kingdom!

Prime Ministache: Now now, get up.  I won’t stand for kneelers.  Until we can straighten out what to do with you, you two are guests of the Moustachio Kingdom.  Please, gentlemen – follow me.

Whiskerton: If you got me in trouble with my boss, Fred, I swear I’ll have you tarred and bearded!

The Prime Ministache!

Current Mood: Conundrummed.
Discoveries Made: Racial Tension!

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 71 (part one)

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 3: Moustachio Territory > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Early Morning; Day 71
Weather: Hopeless!
Landscape: Utterly, utterly hopeless!


So this is it, Blobby.  We are cornered, surrounded by a mob of very disgruntled Beards.  I am so sweaty and breathless that I am fine with the Adventure ending forever, right now.  I am sorry, Whiskerton.  I am sorry, Moustachia.  I have led you to ruination.  Ruin Nation.  A desolate country with no central government, but at least there is less running there.

Whiskerton: Man, Fred – you really done it this time!  Why’d you go and spit in Fist-Face’s fist-face?

PF: It is not my fault your peoples are super absorbent!

Angry Mob: Get ‘em!  Get the Moustachio spies!

RMAF???S H H H H H H O O O O O M M M  !

Angry Mob: Hey!  Get back here you, varmints!

Baby ‘Stache: *meep!*

PF: What is going on?  Why are we not currently being pummeled into tiny bits?

?: Sit tight, old bean.  You’re quite safe now.

Whiskerton: The Royal Moustachio Air Force!  You’ve saved our buns!

RMAF: Yes, yes.  Cling tenaciously to our bristles, gents – we’re taking you to the castle!

PF: Gadzooks!

Current Mood: Flying! I am FLYING!!!
Discoveries Made: A new Emotion: "sweaty-relief-glee"!

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 69

As written by Professor Fliggins in Chapter 3: Moustachio Territory > Vol. 1

Timestamp: Evening; Day 69
Weather: Jovial!
Landscape: On a dusty Beard-street, with the goatee-like tumblescruffs a-blowing by.


Thank you for inviting me to your Beard Saloon, Whiskerton.  I cannot wait to meet your friends.

Whiskerton: Yeah, well, just make sure to be cool.  My buddies are a little rougher than me.

PF: I AM COOLNESS PROFESSORFIED.  Do not fret.  I am sure your chums are just as lovely and comfy to hug and hold as you are!

Whiskerton: Oh boy.


Whiskerton: Oh, hey Face-Fist, this ain’t a Moustachio.  It’s my new friend, Fred.

Face-Fist: Looks like a deformed Moustachio to me.  We don’t let moustaches in here.  This is a BEARDS ONLY saloon!

PF: Face-Fist?  Why he is ADORABLE.

Face-Fist: Tarvis, tell your Moustachio spy buddy to stop huggin’ on me right quick.

PF: What’s this stuck in your hair?  A decorative seashell?

Face-Fist: It’s broken glass!

Whiskerton: Fred, please don’t hug Face-Fist.

PF: You got it, chumly!

Face-Fist: I oughta smash that little Moustachio into paste!

?: I wouldn’t mess with that there Moustachio, Face-Fist, he’s got all kinds of scars all over him.  He must be a real bad dude!

Face-Fist: I don’t know…

PF: This place is so EXOTIC, Whiskerton.  All the little beards playing cards and spitting right on the floor – I am just dee-lighted by Discovery!

Whiskerton: Fred, try to calm down.  Do you want a drink?

PF: Surely!  You do not have Ginger Fizz, do you?

Whiskerton: Naw, but we got Beard Beer. It’s made from Hair Root!

PF: Flavorful follicles!  Magnificent!  I think!  Barkeep, two Beard Beers – one for me and one for my deeply intimate acquaintance, Whiskerton!

Bartender: You sure this guy is cool, Tarvis?

Whiskerton: He’s cool.  He’s just from some foreign place where everyone’s got developmental problems, apparently.

PF: I am working on an advanced degree!

Bartender: Two Beard Beers then…

Whiskerton: Let’s just play Stache Darts for a little bit and then we’ll go home, okay Fred?  Here, just try throwin’ ‘em at that target.

PF: All righty! How does one throw?

* C R A S H ! *

PF: Sorry! Let me try again.

* r e E E R !*

PF: Oops – sorry, tumblescruff creature!  Curse my clumsy nubbins.  Last one!

Face-Fist: Hey!

Whiskerton: Oh no.

Face-Fist: What’s the idea?  You just threw a stache into my face! MY FACE!!!

PF: My bad! I am more book-smart than arm and coordination-smart…

Face-Fist: I oughta barbecue yer brisket!

PF: Come now, friend – let us not be a Big Beard Baby now.

Face-Fist: There’s a STACHE on my FACE!

Whiskerton: I think we better get out of here, Fred.

PF: No, no!  We should be able to enjoy our evening just as everyone else.  I shall not let one dour albeit adorable Beard keep me from sitting here and enjoying my Beard Beer!



Whiskerton: Oh no oh no oh no…

PF: How can one stomach this bilious slop?  Drinking it is akin to sucking on a hairball soaked in garbage water!  Oh what now Big Baby Fist-Face, I suppose you do not like having Beer spat into your stache face?

Face-Fist: I’m gonna fustigate ya!

Bartender: Wait, Face-Fist!  Look at all them scars: he’s clearly a BAD dude!

Face-Fist: Well let’s see how the bad dude likes beer all over HIS face!


Bartender: Hey, wait a sec… His scars are washing off!  He’s a phony!

?: Yeah, he’s just some Moustachio with a fleshy, plaid sack attached to it! GROSS!

Whiskerton: Let’s get outta here, Fred!

Baby ‘Stache: Don’t huwt my Mama!

PF: Moustachia, what are you doing here?  You are not of age!

Face-Fist: Another Moustachio in here!  I knew he was one o’ them flyin’ dandies!  Get ‘em, boys!

PF: Foots, do not fail me now!

Current Mood: Running!
Discoveries Made: The limits of good manners!

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤