Dear Reader, I must now introduce you to the gremlin who has taken up residence at our home. His name is Truffle Moutarde, and I find the simple fact of his existence disturbing. Never have I witnessed such ridiculous behavior. Lately I spend most of my time attempting to outwit his devious plans and wiles, and this new pursuit has put an unwelcome damper on my busy schedule (I am sure you are aware that I am a very busy gentleman.) Here is a recent portrait of us at our petit déjeuner:

Truffle Moutarde and his victims. Do note how dapper I am in my breakfast shorts.

As I was enjoying my morning cup of frothed crème, I noticed him playing wildly nearby, the usual bewildering assortment of balls and coils strewn about. And then I realized with absolute horror: included in his collection of balls and coils was one half of a lizard. That’s right: an actual, partial lizard. The bottom half was simply missing.

How did this interloper come to live with us, you ask? Well, Mr. and Mrs. Idiot seem to have fallen for one of Murray’s recent schemes. Have I introduced you to Murray? He is the man about the neighborhood; he is here and there and everywhere; he is a favorite of the ladies; he wears a leather jacket and a spiked leather collar; he plays the electric guitar. He has a gaggle of aspiring little Murrays following him about on any given day.

Murray. His aspect is quite linear.

One morning at breakfast, Murray assured Mrs. Idiot that this gremlin was indeed one of his children, and that he simply needed to drop him off for daycare. Mrs. Murray had insisted. Mrs. Idiot, not wanting to admit that she had initially mistaken the gremlin for a rat, obliged, and that is how Mr. Truffle Moutarde has become a seemingly permanent resident. I would like to note that Murray initially promised to pick up Truffle from daycare, a task he has unfortunately never accomplished. I am certain that Mrs. Murry is just livid.

Fondly,

Jellybean