Oh, don't mind me. My head's just going to explode at any minute, flinging grey matter all about my living room. Skeletor and Sassafrass (who are only ten months apart in age, bt dubs) have been at each other's throats all week. Yet, they refuse to be separated. Put them in different rooms, and they're all, "Nooooooo! We're best friends! We love each other!" And then two seconds later, pow! Right in the kisser. I am so tempted to just let them duke it out gladiator style. Two kids enter, only one leaves. But, alas, I fear that the authorities would somehow hold me responsible for the resulting carnage. Lame. And to add insult to injury, all the joints in my body are all swollen and Lyme-y, making it even more difficult than usual to make them respect my authoritah. It's hard to rule with an iron first when one can't even make a fist. Ooooohhhh! I need a fist like the one Dr. Claw had on "Inspector Gadget!" I have to go, now. I know that someone out there in the vastness of the interwebs has a Dr. Claw prosthetic that they are willing to part with. Or they can build me a scale-model gladiator ring in my backyard. Either of these things would make a fabulous Mother's Day present.
This is what I want, Captain Gingerbeard.
Gangster spiked bracelet included.