Gets Shrunk Right Down
8/10/94-10/10/94
8 October 1994 - GETS SHRUNK RIGHT DOWN
I've escaped from the leprechaun, and now find myself in a jar of plump preserve.
It's not as pleasant as it could be on account of the seeds, which smell like formica.
One seed in particular, Gareth Benson, has taken a particular dislike to my pink beret.
10 October 1994 - GETS SHRUNK RIGHT DOWN
I am now shown to scale (see right). I returned to my normal size by pumping pecans into my pockets.
Errm...
Anyway, here I am, sitting at home, waiting for the post-modernists next door to start on me like they usually do.
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