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08 March 2014 @ 12:58 pm
Chapter 24: Goooooodnight, everybody! Or: A Man Needs a Pancake Companion  

In we stumble drunkenly towards the finish line, accompanied by: stank, electrocution, green sprogs, inappropriate makeout locations, and literacy-promoting facial hair. Sounds like a legacy!

It’s time yet again to send the heir and spare off to uni, and Morgan barely has both legs in his horrible-transition gym shorts before the college fun begins with two of his distant cousins throwing punches on the sidewalk, while a third cheers them on.

Jefferson isn’t even given time to pee before Weird Hair Cheerleader (who must be like a 80th-year Sophomore by now) shows up to drag him to freshman orientation activities.

“I dread to ask what student activities consist of on this campus.”

Well, you’re gonna find out anyway.

How about a game of front-walk pool with your third cousin Smackhead, who in addition to the hiking backpack he never takes off, has somehow acquired a vase of sunflowers and superglued it to his head?

Or a round of Guess Who’s Having a Social Anxiety Breakdown And Hallucinating Large Hopping Stuffed Companions?

Learn about our fire safety policies firsthand when you set the kitchen aflame!

Sample the campus specialty, fly-covered rancid pizza.

Or if that form of green fumes isn’t to your liking, take a tour of the Random Piles of Trash exhibition, now on display in the patio.

(If that form of green fumes isn’t to your liking, Crazy Aunt Carla is probably around here somewhere).

Don’t worry about all the filth though, at this point we’ve just hired an exterminator to spray the whole property weekly. And that includes the inhabitants.

“Hey man, get that toxic junk off my feet!”

“Have you smelled yourself lately? You are the toxic one here, my friend.”

You can also go skating on our inexplicably frozen outdoor desert ice rink. Defying the laws of thermodynamics since 1952!

“This is the first interesting activity you’ve suggested. Hey, there, babe, wanna go warm up somewhere more comfortable?”

Jefferson wants to have 50 first dates and he is excitedly snatching up every member of the newly expanded dating pool.

“Hey bro.”


“Still got that pot plant on your head?”



“I dunno, I think it gives me a certain style.”

Smackhead, apparently determined to prove that he will take that potted sunflower to his grave, actually goes and dies.

Jefferson goes running to his rescue, but the Reaper doesn’t seem tremendously keen on his plea.

“Please save my fourth cousin twice removed--or is it second cousin four times removed? Whatever. Anyway, he’s got a stupid name but it’s not his fault, I think he was named after an Eddie Izzard bit, and if he dies who will I eat pancakes with? A man needs a pancake companion!”

Yeah, that didn’t go over super well.

Oh well, chalk another deceased cousin up to my incompetent playing. And frequent lemonade breaks.

I’m not sure why I have this picture. I think I just liked the lighting.

Ooh, ahh, marvel at the lighting.

This uni session went by pretty fast. Both Morgan and Jefferson return home to the legacy house to give lonely Bjorn some company. Since Morgan (our first male heir in seven generations, I realized) seems to be exclusively interested in the menfolk, we will have to produce the sprogs by other methods.

Meanwhile, Bjorn is busy getting broken and running amok. As this also seems to have happened without my notice, I assume that this is also my fault.

He doesn’t electrocute anybody and eventually shuts down on the lawn, and Jefferson takes a shot at fixing him.

Did I say “doesn’t electrocute anybody”? Apparently I forgot to knock on wood.


“Christ, this family...”

Luckily, Jefferson and Morgan are actually great friends, and Morgan wins the guessing game.

“Uhy, I need a vacation. Where my hula zombies at?”

Morgan is getting close to elderhood, but luckily one evening an eerie blue light washes over the balcony.

He’s back...and 20% more flexible!

And he’s soon showing a bump. Don’t look so concerned, Morgan, there is a lean, green, generation 8 machine growing inside that belly of yours.

And, in another installment of I Suck At Playing Weekly, somehow we forget to pay the bills and the repo man comes and steals our pet food bowl.


Jefferson is not amused.

“I was not consulted on this matter.”

Know what else you won’t be consulted on? Their names. Meet Yakko and Wakko Kirkegaard.

I think there must have been at least one generation in this family that didn’t suck at parenthood. The first one, maybe?

We’ve obviously gone precipitously downhill from there.

Morgan, who has recently gone gray, has finally discovered a lifelong companion, in this dude, Arthur.

As is my habit, I cannot remember his actual name, but he looks like he should be named Arthur. So. Sicut dixit me.

The two get married, and Jefferson, feeling that two’s company and that a couple, two alien toddlers, a robot, and a brother are a crowd, moves out on his own.

Nothing like some salsa jams for some alien spawn/stepfather dance bonding.

Morgan has some strange hobbies, among them playing mah-jong against his two-year-old.

He should just move in. It’d save on gas money.

The twins grow into lovely young chlidren. Yakko attempts to show his brotherly love for his embryo-mate, but Wakko is uncomfortable with such humanoid displays of affection.

Rejection is rough.

Yakko adopts a badass-looking parrot and names it Never Mind, so now the entire family sounds like they don’t have the energy to finish their sentences.

“Yakko, could you please feed--never mind.”

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to go check on--never mind.”

Bjorn invites over our local blond, butt-faced headmaster to get the younglings into private school. He feeds him pork chops and tries to reassure him that the boys will be able to adjust to the demands of private school, despite the fact that they’re green, have C averages, were raised by a robot, and have never met a female of any species.

Headmaster Brady, who we know at this point is only in it for the free pork chops, agrees and admits the kids.

And even though Bjorn did the tour, the cooking, and the schmoozing, fortune Sim and proud father Morgan gets a huge aspiration boost from the double-admit.


“What? (smooches)”
That’s the kids’ bedroom! With the kids in it! If you value your own sanity, boys, you will stay soundly asleep.

Bjorn is getting some love too, or at least he’s trying to. He keeps abandoning his dates in order to make the bed. Which the ladies think is sexy until they realize it’s not a euphemism.

“Oh. You’re...literally....making the bed.”

Morgan and Jefferson make occasional halfhearted attempts to reinvigorate the family business, but business is tough when everyone in town is fracking insane.

And the wreckage of my CC folder has wrought one of the weirdest graphics glitches yet.

It takes a barber of considerable skill to actually cut the words “ace beard santa” into your beard.

The twins become teenagers and Yakko rolls romance. He decides that a pompadour will be the best way to woo the ladies. Uh...we’ll see.

Morgan’s husband “Arthur” dies of starvation three feet from the fridge, because he is a champion.

But Morgan likes him or whatever, so he is saved. Grim must be getting really sick of this family.

Eat. Food. You. Idiot.

But mere leftovers cannot keep death away from the house for long, and Morgan’s time is up.

Dr. Otto Von Scratchansniff comes by to check in on Arthur’s mental state following the death of his husband.

He prescribes the usual: four seconds of hypnotherapy followed by a chicken dance. He’s board certified, we swear!

Wakko has an overwhelming desire to attend college, so he troops off to Sky High University, leaving his twin behind for the time being.

Yakko, meanwhile, has a acquired beau from Vacation Land, whom I have generously decided to name Juan Whatsisbutt, and very much wants to hang out with him, so he, Bjorn, and Arthur head off to their vacation home in Three Lakes for some axe-throwing and slap-dancing.

For all the fancy CPUs in his brain, Bjorn is remarkably bad at choosing appropriate vacation activities. Running amok in 3...2...1...

Everybody else is too busy to bother fixing their wayward robot.

Can someone explain to me why we couldn’t have just slow-danced and yoga’d on our lawn at HOME?

Arthur spends some time stoicly fishing with Bigfoot. Yakko is bored because any minute when his face is not on Juan Whatsisbutt’s face is a minute wasted.

The vacation ends and we return home. Someone has kindly left us a gas stove on the front porch. Just, y’know, being considerate neighbors and all.


And in conclusion ghost dogs are creepy.

Thanks for reading! Next time we will check in with Wakko over at the Uni. I’m predicting llamafights.