The blogosphere is a mean, brutal place. Instapundit and his blogfamily prowl the lawless 'net, beating up on smaller blogs like mine with their massive numbers of hits. Even though Glenn Reynolds has not yet insulted me personally, I can't take the chance that he might. So I've done what any rational person would do in a situation like this-- I've joined a gang. My fellow gang-bloggers at the Alliance of Free Blogs will protect me from the wrath of Glenn Reynolds. (Won't you, guys??)
As part of my initiation into the gang, I am writing a filthy lie about Glenn Reynolds.
Glenn Reynolds came by my house one dark, rainy night. "I've heard you grow the world's cutest free-range babies here," said Glenn. "I have never seen such a thing before, and I would like to see them." Flashes of lightning illuminated his face with a sinister light.
"How on earth did you find out where I lived?" I asked, startled.
"It isn't hard. How many small college towns with recycling programs are there in Northern Utah?"
The neighbors were watching and I didn't want to start a scene, so I let him into our living room, where the kids were all playing on the floor.
"Is that your youngest, most tender baby, whose pictures you regularly post on your blog?" asked Glenn.
"Yes," I replied, "this is Bagel."
"May I hold him?" At that, Bagel let out a plaintive but quiet cry.
I didn't like the look in Glenn's eyes, but I feared what he might do to me if I didn't comply. Favorite Husband was in the bedroom, trying to figure out a new way to crash our server. I was sure that if Glenn tried to do anything evil to me, Favorite Husband wouldn't hear.
Glenn looked awful hungry, so I offered him some crackers. "Do you have any cream cheese?" asked Glenn, looking even hungrier. I brought him some from the kitchen. Sonshine grabbed a handful of the crackers, smeared cream cheese on them, and stuffed them greedily into his mouth.
But Glenn didn't want to spread the cream cheese on his crackers. To my horror, he spread it on Bagel! As he raised my little son to his ravenous mouth, I jumped over the coffee table and snatched my child from his jaws! "He's not a real bagel!" I screamed. "That's just what we call him on the blog to protect his identity!!"
"You must let me eat your child!" raved Glenn. "Free-range babies are smaller than regular babies, and are much, much tastier! Besides, I tire of puppies
, and normal-sized children don't fit in my blender!"
Just then Favorite Husband busted open the bedroom door, shotgun in hand. "Get out of my house NOW, you sick bastard!" he yelled into the living room. Glenn just hissed at him.
Favorite Husband took aim at his chest as I pulled Bagel and Sonshine into the kitchen. "Run, Tiny Princess!" I screamed. Tiny Princess just sat there with an inquisitive look and asked, "Why does that man have so many sharp teeth?"
"You want something to eat, Evil Glenn? EAT THIS!!" and with that Favorite Husband's trigger finger began to twitch. In an instant, Glenn Reynolds had leapt from my couch and was out the door.
"Indeed! You'll regret this, Wacky Hermit!" he hissed ominously as he left, slamming the door.
So there you have it-- Glenn Reynolds tried to eat my baby!
A filthy lie by Wacky Hermit of Organic Baby Farm