The Thing On Our Doorstep

(Guys, I had some uploading issues with this post. It was meant to go up last week, but wouldn’t: presumably I displeased the Internet God and this was His pale, sweaty judgement. Anyway, here’s this one, and hopefully from here on out it’ll be every second Thursday at 8pm Queensland time.)

Before I start, can I just say: wow. It's been six days since I published my first post, and in that time its pageviews rocketed up from one lost little view, up to seventy-five. Seventy-five people, reading what I’d written. And not just from Australia: our ever-helpful Overlord, Google, tells me a significant number of views came from America, and a small handful even originated in Europe.

This mightn't sound like a huge deal, seeing as there are websites out there that rack up millions of hits per day from all over the world, but to a tiny wannabe like me just starting out: wow. And it feels truly amazing to someone who’s greatest dream in life is to be read. So to everyone who took a chance clicking on my last post: thank you, and I hope you enjoyed it. I'd like to thank you more concretely, but until I can find a way to science high-fives through the internet, words will have to do.

We're thinking maybe voodoo?

Biological Viability: Confirmed.

It will come as a surprise to exactly no one reading this that I am in possession of a human infant. While this concept is rightfully frightening to anyone with an ounce of sense, my stewardship of said baby - commonly known as Oscar but known, in my heart of hearts, as Punchfist DANGER Incognito - is both legally and socially valid. In fact, it was surprisingly easy to find myself entrusted with an entire human being to raise: I didn't even need to take a test. I, in short, have a son.

Pictured here. Or...wait, no...