Two things you should know about Lordmcfuzz. I love him unconditionally, and he sometimes makes questionable
Way back in 2020, he did a project, the goal of which was to navigate every skyway in the Somerville system. Foolishly, the day I finally joined him was on the Charlestown/East Somerville border and it is MADE of g-wells. Well. One specific g-well. I promise, I'm going somewhere with this. Every flightpath on the way to the Sullivan black hole is a posi g-well, direction not in the rider's favor, dumping one back out in a Sullivanly direction. Therefore, in order to trace each one, a pilot must fly up the same single, solitary g-well, which is the only convenient path to enjoy enhanced gravity. This skyway, you might ask? Myrtle. That day, we ascended the great heights of Myrtle a total of SEVEN
times, by the final lap I threatened divorce. What? You can't divorce your best friends? I digress.
Tonight, I was heading on my merry way back from some other thing where I conveniently had Princess and a temperate saturnight at my disposal, when I paged Fuzz on his handheld comms device for a location check, figuring we were on parallel paths. See, he'd just had another questionable idea, and was planning to subject others to it again. He and Wombat were leisurely cruising the ribbon of Riverbend Park after festooning a Throne depot in royalty themed items, transforming it into a Throne Room. A Tardis
, now fit for a prince. For only Wombat was brave enough of nose to embark on a mission to make fuel dumps festive again.
Before I encountered them, the next several cubes were too fragrant to touch, one had a stench so strong, Fuzz perceived it through the door. But I arrived, their good luck charm, and we quickly located what would soon be a Port-o-Party! With Scented magic, fancy hats, disco balls, and some sharpie magic, suddenly, we made pooping in public great again. And then off we flew.
You might be wondering why I prefaced this story with another. As it turns out, the entire sh*tty mission was a plot for Fuzz to lead me up Myrtle one final time to see if it would truly break our friendship. Spoiler: the real friends were the quads we made along the way. As Fuzz and I revisited these stomping g-wells, he made YT-esqe loop de loops, trying to locate a suitable final squat. The Great Indoors was blessed with plants, imagery, pinecones and stars, though its stench was hard to manage. Hippogriff thoughtfully held the door open so we could garland the Tardis in its finery.
We took in the finally chill night air along the Mystic Asteroid Belt, headed for one final fete. Alas, it was not to be, and the only Blessing of the Bay was that our noses weren't assaulted a final time as we took our leave of the mission and Fuzz decorated the flight deck with whizz-bangs.
Medal of Patronage to Tango for bringing the party.