Discombobulated

Never trust a commodities broker who wears penny loafers. That should have been a dead giveaway for me but I was all too trusting the day I made my last S.O.S. video, Mars Broadcast #4. If you look again at that video, you'll see me sort of making a toast with my Mallo Cup to somebody off-camera. I said, "Might as well." as I toasted this other homeless bum from Earth who was also toasting me with a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. One I'd apparently missed the last time I rifled his jacket pockets while he was napping in some underground corridor, here in netherworld Cydonia.

The little broker rat, whose first name is Farnsworth (go figure — only in Manhattan) and whose last name is definitely "Mud" had squealed on me (unbeknownst to me) to Liz, the big-ass Reptilian warden who was gunning for me because she thought I'd posted that animated caricature of her on the Saturn Outernet, which I hadn't. But later I posted it on the World Wide Web on Earth where it's a lot easier to malign people and apparently perfectly legal. Still, Liz discombobulated me at the end of my fourth Mars videocast because she was enabled by this lousy rat Farnsworth, this speculator shithead with his peanut butter cups and his goddamn penny loafers.

I found a CD-ROM on Farnsworth the other night while I was looking for peanut butter cups in his goddamn Brooks Brothers suit jacket. The damn disk had an animated gif. file on it that made me want to hit him in the head with a stick. But there aren't any sticks on Mars and there aren't any stalactites in corridors, naturally. So, I took half a strawberry Twizzler from him and the CD-ROM. He and Liz must be buddy-buddy now. I bet they watch this flash image and laugh and laugh and laugh. Anyway, this is what it looks like to be discombobulated.

Damn right it hurts. When you turn that many colors all at once it has to hurt.