Yep, today I’m mostly going to be sitting on an armchair in Vantaa’s premier children’s entertainment emporium, waiting for Wump and Toop to exhaust themselves so we can spend stupid amounts of money on 17 cents worth of potato and reconstituted chicken sweepings.
Ah. Good times. I understand Mrs. Hatboy is enjoying a visit to a museum with some friends in the meantime. Some people just don’t know how to have fun.
It’s about 10:30am now and I anticipate being here until at least 17:00pm. Then off to Kallio for the birthday party of a couple of friends. I’ve been instructed not to drink jallu. This is a fair rule.
Let me just say, it’s brilliant that Wump is now old enough to look after Toop in this crazy place.
I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends.
Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages?
I am Hatboy.
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