Halloween left Rassmussen fat with candy and miserable with a cold. You don’t want to see a gargoyle with a cold. It is a horrendous sight, nose running, bloodshot eyes, and his normal gray-brown complexion muted to a sallow pea green. The oddest thing, even in statue form, his nose dripped. The most sanitary solution … Continue reading Fairy Tales and Tissues
I've decided to get a life; one that expands beyond reading and writing and spending long winter nights snuggled up to a laptop. I've heard there is a whole world out there where people actually talk face to face. Some even date. I remember dating. That was before the gargoyle moved in. I'd meet someone … Continue reading Get the Girl a Life
Rassmussen wanders off for days at a time now. When I ask where he's gone, he mumbles something about mind my own business or snaps, "What's it to you?" Personally, I couldn’t care less where he goes. I just wish he would let me know how long he plans to be gone. I don't appreciate … Continue reading Running Away From Home
It’s my fault, really. I was researching weaponry for wannabe killer Sherry Merlot, one of the main characters in the sequel to Shyster & Shyster. Rassmussen caught me. His eyes lit up like some toddler demon when he saw all those semi-automatic handguns. I could have sworn he mumbled “oh, pretty” at one point, but … Continue reading Gargoyle’s Got a Gun
It’s happened. Rassmussen gone a matter of weeks, and I have become an official cat lady. I didn’t mean to become a cat lady. Mrs. Meadows fell and broke her hip. What could I do? The ice storms have made it nearly impossible to trek back and forth from her house to mine, caring for … Continue reading Here Kitty, Kitty!
I’m not sure, but I can think of no other reason for the drastic and sudden change. Rasmussen’s got a girlfriend! It is as clear as the creases across my forehead. The first sign was when he changed his clothes two days in a row, and he didn’t just grab fresher ones from the dirty … Continue reading Rassmussen’s Got a Girlfriend
To my surprise, Rassmussen has a fan. A real, honest to goodness, flesh and blood fan, who care about him and wants to learn more. When I told Rassmussen, he said, “Get a life!” and stomped off, scratching his butt-cheek. Later, he came walking stiffly back from wherever he disappears, carrying a club in one … Continue reading Chef’s Special