Housecleaning

Oh, and I do mean housecleaning. Mr. Atown-Liker used to claim this house we use as our beachhead against this dreary city is more than 150 years old. It is unlikely that a broom has been scraped across its filthy floors in all of that time.

But yesterday's spasm of activity has transformed this place into a shining example of what can be accomplished when one puts one's mind to something. Rest assured, dear friends, when I am through, we shall say the same thing about this now-decrepit city as we toast my successes with a brace of bellinis.

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(As a side note, I would be remiss in not mentioning that

Karl has been a revelation. Despite my initial skepticism, this gentle giant is a wonder. When it comes to gardening, wielding nothing but his little Keyser blade as he calls it, he can do the work of a team of landscapers with a shedful of exotic tools. And frankly he is much more cost-effective than some others who shall remain unidentified. The man seems to subsist on Spam and pommes frites. )

When Team Marge arrived to liberate these headquarters, as it were, I was appalled to find an army of cats living within its garishly painted walls. My first order of business was to turn the vermin out of the house and into nature, where they were meant to be. Now they are happily foraging about, living free. I also ordered Karl to lace the grounds with poison.

Yes, those walls. They were an assortment of yellows, and turquoise, and gold, and blue, and green .... I am becoming rather nauseated from simply thinking about them. I immediately had them all colored in beige. Now you could stand quietly in a tan outfit and be quite invisible to others in the room. I do this frequently.

The place was also filled with a dubious collection of knickknacks extolling the virtues of imbibing alcoholic beverages, principally beer. This, I'm sure, comes as a surprise to no one who had ever met the man, whose lowbrow sensibilities were well known about the town. I promptly had Karl pack up this dusty collection of junk and move it into one of the horrid third-floor chambers of this abode, provided he can find any space to put it. I shall endeavor to find someone to appraise the entire lot in the unlikely event there is something of value hidden among the debris.

The aforementioned wooden floors are now gloriously covered with a wall-to-wall carpet fashioned from snow-white polar bear hides and the effect is quite stunning. I also had the musty old antiques that littered the building carried to the curb and replaced with rough-hewn Paul Bunyan-style furniture. The effect, in concert with the polar bear heads that stud the floor, is quite commanding.

In the weeks and months to come I shall lay out my plan to destroy this city so that it, too, may be reborn and I shall use these headquarters as a model.

Since I haven't actually seen any of the city yet -- Team Marge was whisked here in a private ambulance in the dead of night and I have yet to venture outside -- a brief tour shall be on my agenda sometime within the next several days.

Oh my. It is time for my injections already. I must go.

In Marge we trust! Ho ho!