[a soft gurgly sound is heard through the journal, followed by a heavy, manly grunt]
Ugh... my head. [shifts in the bed] Where am I? Michelle?! ... Rip? Skeets, where am I?!
[a pause as it all sinks in] Am I back at Paradisa?
... Why are there roses everywhere? Oh... hey, I should --
[written] WALLY, YOU'RE ALIVE! And your kids are like,
(
Read more... )