Saturday, November 12, 2005

suspect numero uno

Meet Sloginski:



I'm not sure I trust Sloginski. I keep finding him slithering across the laundry floor in the dead of night. He claims he's just on his way to the 7/11 for Stuyvesants and Pringles, but I know that's just a cover story. The word on the street is that Sloginski likes to imagine he is actually a high level secret agent from the USSR; poor little fella learnt all he knows about international relations from the 1972 edition of Encyclopaedia Brittanica.

I have an troubling feeling that Sloginski was behind the sudden disappearence of Clacky Claudie. Claudie, though mainly a hard drinking dilletante with a penchant for nudity and musical theatre, was nonetheless well known for her fierce interest in politics. I worry that Sloginski discovered her support for lowering taxes and work for the dole, and has had her exiled to Siberia. I've tried to question him about it but he's a sly motherfucker, he just gets all shifty tentacled, looks pointedly at the daddy long legs who lives behind the toilet and says "maybe you should ask Monsieur Octavo about what happened to your little friend, hm?"

Sloggie is messing with my head. I just don't know what to believe, anymore. But I know Claudie is out there, somewhere, and I will not rest until I bring her home. Come back to me, Claudie, come back.

xoxoxox nora

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