Greetings, dear reader. It is time once again for your faithful chronicler of disease, death, decrepitude and destruction to regale you with his tales of derring-do whilst decimating disorder and saving lives.
“Tut, tut Dr. Cranky,” you might say. “This really will not do. It has been almost FOUR YEARS since your last post. Surely it does not take that long for your electroshock therapy to wear off! Pray, do not trifle with our affections in this fashion. What on the good Lord’s green earth have you been up to?”
Rest assured that your favorite scrivener has not allowed himself to lie fallow. The truth is not always a pretty thing, and Dr. Cranky must confess that he has spent the past several years afflicted by nothing less than a full-blown midlife crisis! Although he would like to bestow upon you wanton tales of salacious intrigue rife with buxom blonde bimbos, red ferraris and a bad comb-over Dr. Cranky is afraid he must dash such expectations on the cruel rocks of reality. First of all, as mentioned in a previous post, your faithful servant is utterly devoted to Mrs. Cranky (who is not at all cranky herself). Second, he is not especially fond of russet hues. And finally, Dr. Cranky just happens to be in possession of a full head of hair. Fear not, however, revelations shall soon be in the offing once the time is right.