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Blobby Log Owners Manual

Tagged: Whiskerton
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Blobby Log Day 68 (part 2)

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

Timestamp: Dusk; Day 68
Weather: Almost unreal yet...
Landscape: Part Heaven, Part Space.

NOTES:

What an exhausting life you lead!  I had no idea a Barber could work so hard!

Whiskerton: Today was nothin’!  You should be there on Cowlick Tamin’ Day!  Them suckers is vola-tile!

PF: Gracious!

Whiskerton: Yep, it’s hard work, but I got a good life.  I can’t complain none.

PF: I admire you.  I suppose it is nice to know what ones calling is.

Whiskerton: Well, what’s yours?

PF: I would like to say “Discovery!” as is my instinct, but that does not capture it all.  I feel more and more that I must fly, as the Moustachios do.  That seems closer to the mark.  Sometimes the sky calls…

Whiskerton: Why flyin’?  What’s wrong with walkin’?

PF: Oh to be in the skies, with access to ALL the directions.  Featherless wings.  I love it, Whiskerton.

Whiskerton: Well I hope we can get you back to your skies.

PF: I am GOING to go back there someday.  *sniff*

Whiskerton: Hey, Fred, you got some stuff in your ‘stache.

PF: Oh?

Whiskerton: Lemme get it…

?: MAMA!

PF: Ooof!

Whiskerton: Aw, get off the man, Baby ‘Stache!

Baby ‘Stache: Mama!

PF: What is this thing attacking my face!

Whiskerton: Um, well, it’s a Baby Moustachio, and I think she thinks your moustache is her mama.

PF: Oh dear!

Whiskerton: Baby ‘Stache, that man’s face is not your mama!

Baby ‘Stache: Mama!

PF: It is hurting me!

Whiskerton: She’s just bein’ affectionate.

PF: OW!  I believe it is tearing the moustache from off of my face!

Whiskerton: Oh boy.  Just relax and maybe she’ll loosen her death grip.

PF: Why is this happening?  Ugh.  That is better.

Baby ‘Stache: *purr*  Mama…

PF: Shhh…  That is a good, surprisingly strong girl-‘stache…  Whiskerton, where did you acquire this cute tiny thing?

Whiskerton: Well, um, this Baby ‘Stache was sittin’ in the Goatee Hedges I was trimmin’ and she was shiverin’ and shakin’ and I almost hurt her bad with my big shears.  I could tell she was abandoned because her Moustachio name tag was removed.  I didn’t know what to do, so I took her home and been takin’ care of her since.  Please don’t tell no one about her!  I could get in so much trouble from Beards and Moustachios alike!

PF: I shant tell, but Whiskerton, my face is not this creature’s mother.

Whiskerton: I know, I know, but she’s harmless, Fred.  I’m more worried about bein’ found out now.  Beards don’t much like Moustachios and vice versa – neither of ’em would be too happy to find out I been takin’ care of someone that weren’t my own kind.  But what was I supposed to do, she coulda been Barbered!

PF: Well, I do not blame you, sir.  She is quite adorable.

Baby ‘Stache: *purrr*  Mama…

Whiskerton: Oh boy…

Field Drawing: Baby Stache

Current Mood: Though Whiskerton is uneasy, there is much more comfort to be found here than I first imagined.
Discoveries Made: There's not a word yet/for old friends who have just met...

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 68 (part 1)

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

Timestamp: Morning; Day 68
Weather: I can breathe this here hairy atmosphere without the aid of lung goggles!
Landscape: Whiskerton's humble but lovely domicile.

NOTES:

FriendshipWhat a lovely night’s rest!  Trudging through hair storms is more tiring than one would think!  Good morning, new friend Whiskerton!

Whiskerton: Morning, Fred!  You sleep good?

PF: Like a baby angel!

Whiskerton: Great.  My home might not be a Moustachio Castle, but it’s got the market cornered on cozy!  Help yourself to some breakfast in the kitchen.

PF: DELIGHTFUL!  Walk, walk, walk, walking away…

Blobby: Pssssst, Whiskerton!

Whiskerton: Who’s talkin’?

Blobby: Hey, it’s me, Blobby – in the log!

Whiskerton: Talkin’ logs!  What’ll that bulbous feller bring here next?

Blobby: Hey, so, don’t tell PF that Roy and me painted a bunch of warts and scars on his face last night.  We had to teach him a lesson for being so jerk-headed!

Whiskerton: Oh, that’s paint?  I just thought that he naturally got more hideous overnight, since he already looks like a deformed Moustachio.  Your secret’s safe with me, talkin’ log!

Blobby: Shh!  He’s coming back!

PF: Walk, walk, walk, walking back into the room… I shall tell you, Whiskerton, your hospitality is like a warm blanket wrapped around my shivering and hypothermic Heart.  I am so grateful to you!

Whiskerton: It ain’t nothin’, Fred.  Poor deformed feller like yourself could use a little respite and retreat!

Blobby: *snicker*

PF: So, Whiskerton, why will you not quit your job for me?  I would do you oh so many favors.  I will TOTALLY be your best friend for a forever!

Whiskerton: Well, Fred, I can’t give up my work.  It might not be the most glamorous life, but as far as Beards in Moustachio Territory are concerned, I’m basically a celebrity!

PF: From hair-lawn care?

Whiskerton: You don’t understand.  Us Beards are ground-bound here in Moustachio Territory, living simple lives with basic pleasures.  But we and the Territory are controlled by the Moustachios, them flyin’ Moustaches you might see zoomin’ ‘round out the window.  They live on floatin’ islands in the sky, where they monitor and legislate us from above.

PF: Flying!  Oh, Whiskerton, I LOVE flying.  Can we see these magical flying islands?

Whiskerton: I’d love to.  But Beards aren’t allowed up there.  We can only speculate what goes on in that floating kingdom.  I bet they got all kinds of fancy cheeses and high-tech primpin’ equipment!

PF: Well, perhaps I cannot get you to quit your job, but if you help me acquire the necessary Bean Gas from the Mayor of Bean Village, I promise to take you in my Dirigible to those floating castles in the sky!

Whiskerton: That sounds like a fine deal, Mr. Fliggins – a fine deal indeed!

PF: MARVELOUS.  May I accompany you to work today so as to devise a plan for ending the hair storm?

Whiskerton: You sure can!  Oh boy, flying castles…  I can taste them fancy cheeses now!

?: *squeak!*

Current Mood: Content and Focused.
Discoveries Made: Deal-Making with Beard-Creatures!

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤

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Blobby Log Day 67 (part 2)

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

Timestamp: Evening; Day 67
Weather: Brisk!
Landscape: The Hair grows from the Earth! Is the ground a Face?

NOTES:

PF: All righty, Blobby and Roy.  Whiskerton has brought me to his Beard-Shack.  I must convince this Beard Hair Hill Barber to cease his hair mowing so that I may get my Bean Gas and fly away from all these incessant troubles!

Whiskerton: Come on in, friend.  Have a seat.

PF: Thank you for inviting me into your home, kind sir.  I have much business to discuss with you.

Whiskerton: Business?  You’re not gonna try ‘n sell me enchanted teeth or some other such crud?

PF: Enchanted Teeth!  Ho Ho!  What a HI-larious proposition!  Ho ho!  You are HI-LARIOUS FOREVER!

Whiskerton: Well, what’re you about then?

PF: Well, my goodly fellow – I would like to give you the chance of a LIFETIME.  Have you ever heard of a little thing called MAGIC?

Whiskerton: ?

PF: Well, sir, I have here a stupendous, non-horrendous, MAGICAL PHOTO-PAITINING SEPTAPUS!

Roy: Say what now?

Whiskerton: I don’t know what the words you’re saying are…

PF: That is right, my cousin – he can photo-paint you a photo-painting instantaneous-like with just a few flicks of his tentacles.

Whiskerton: I don’t think…

PF: Did I mention he is ENCHANTED?

Roy: I should photo-paint his mouth shut…

PF: …AND all you would need to do to own this little be-tentacled wizard is to quit your job forever!  No payment required!

Whiskerton: My job?  Oh no.  No, sir, no, thank you!  I’m a Royal Barber!  I got the best job a Beard like me can get in this here Moustachio Territory!

PF: Not so fast!  Act now, and receive your very own Stenographer Blob!

Blobby: !

Whiskerton: Sorry, pal.  I wouldn’t trade my job for every friend you got in that there log!

PF: Please!  The Mayor of Bean Village is going to give me Bean Gas to power my Kerchief Dirigible if I can just make the periodic Hairstorm that curses his lands cease.

Whiskerton: Well, I’d like to help you, but even if I quit, there are a hundred of us Royal Barbers, and we got strict orders to keep these hills shorn short!

PF: A hundred!  Drat sandwich!  I am never going to return to the skies!

Whiskerton: Now buck up, little fella.  You can fly cantcha?  You’re a Moustachio!  All Moustachios can fly!

PF: No, I am not.

Whiskerton: Are you sure?  I mean, you look kinda like one, ‘cept for that pale bulbous growth that’s protrudin’ out your body.

PF: Sir!  I shall have you know that this pale bulbous growth IS my body.  My moustache is subservient to my face, not the other way around!

Whiskerton: A Moustache a servant?  Maybe you DO know magic…  Well, if you’d like to stay for a stretch while you pick up them shattered pieces called your life, by all means, stay with me!

PF: *Sigh* Yes, I believe I will have to.  Thank you, Mr. Whiskerton.

Whiskerton: Not a problem.  I could use a new friend.

PF: I as well.  Though I promise to cease the annoying habit that I have developed to try and exchange my friends for goods and services.

Whiskerton: Thanks!

Roy: I’m gonna draw stuff on his face when he goes to sleep.

Blobby: Yeah, I was gonna say.

Current Mood: Defeated and Hopeful.
Discoveries Made: Friendship! Do you HEAR ME! FRIENDS FOREVER!

Hereinto referenced: ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤