Captain Monkey Turds is no longer invited to parties, because "reasons". And he never was that much fun anyway. Because even more reasons.
Captain Mumbles won't tell us the true secret of his actual success, if any, or we can't actually understand him, and it's making us darn cranky. We hope to have some solid news real soon now, or else. Come by in about a week and we'll let you know what we know, if anything.
Captain Never Say Oompah is in the wrong business, I certainly hope. It's so quiet around here since his oompah ban that now we're actually well above my creepy limit. A few firecrackers could liven things up, but that's so ordinary. I may try it though, just to see how many oompahs start to come out from under the sofa.
Captain One-Two, Shuffle My Shoes is still living at home, teaching tango to his Mom's cat, and expecting to make it big any day now, something that he's been announcing for forty-seven years next Thursday, and, of course, we can hardly wait for the grand opening of his dance studio and shoe repair shop, both of which are seriously needed in these parts.
Captain Pants wore out his welcome. He could tell when people began pointing and laughing, which was nothing unusual, but then there was also that new telltale draft.
Captain Priscilla Sparkly-Butt is still doing her thing down on the street corner, as you might have expected from someone with a talent such as hers.
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Me? Comfortably in charge, and if not me, then someone, now, or certainly very soon.
