Young Siward's heart is filled with unwashed socks! But alas, he smells nothing like his heart! I obtained his toiletries and he owns no scented fripperies! No deodorants, no scented body-wash, no fancy cologne; he naturally smells of goodness!
Diary, this is a serious blow (a string of them seem to have popped up. Well at least Daddy is still alive and Uncle Macbeth is taking me fishing tomorrow!). Though his heart is a foul and pestilent lump of disease, he smells so fresh and so...clean? clean. That is it, he smells fresh AND clean! Diary, he is naturally scented like a dewy summer morn!
I have heard that he is quite attached to his coif. Maybe if I take the charred remains of Frederick's shears and use it as an instrument of revenge...Oooh, I tingle with what could be naughtiness. I shall lay siege to his regal crown and mangle his downy, sweet smelling locks!
Frederick shall be revenged!
Triumphantly,
Y.P.M.
2 comments:
A word of advice, Y.P.M...(in creepy posession voice)I would stay well out of the way of Uncle Macbeth's fishing pole.
Wait.
That came out WAY more awesome than I ever intended.
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