Action A: [Some of you might have noticed your Christmas light and decorations going missing. None of the big or heavy things, like lawn ornaments, but things like tinsel, small wreaths, strings of lights and the like are disappearing. Or maybe you'll catch the culprits in the act - two large crows who quietly chatter and squawk at one another, ( Read more... )

Why look! It's your friendly neighborhood Mr. Crawford who happens to be out washing his car today at 337 Brady Lane. Sure, it might be getting a bit chilly for that, but chores are chores, right ( Read more... )

[Theo doesn't know the blonde woman lying unconscious next to him. No matter. He didn't particularly care. He's been through this particular little song and dance before, and knew that they were trapped in this room for the next several hours ( Read more... )

[Moving down the street is a pair of individuals. Though moving might be a generous term, as the young, disheveled and put-upon man is really being shoved from behind down the sidewalk by an orange pony in a cowboy hat.]

Ah don't care if you don't want to or not, those letters said you have to and you are not ignoring your responsibilities while ( Read more... )

( short preamble )

[Theo wakes up the next day back to normal after his adventures of being 8 years old again. He also remembers being helped by a friendly boy with a familiar Brooklyn accent, and another little blonde girl with an English accent. Who now, in retrospect, were very familiar ( Read more... )

[GUESS WHO IS ALSO WEE TODAY ( Read more... )

[Hey Tlachtga, enjoy being woken up by the sound of your not!husband cursing a the locked door of the hotel you've just woken up in. He's also thrown his coat and tie accross the room, and there's a bouquet of flowers lying on the floor.]

Son of a BITCH! This goddamn town, I swear to God...!

[My, my. That's a large delivery sent to 337 Brady Lane! Several small, heavy crates are dropped off sometime early in the morning for one Mr. Theodore Crawford.

Theo comes out to look at them, frowning, cigarette in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.]

What the shit is this. KAY!? Who the HELL would send us stuff in the mail?

[Sure, ( Read more... )