*MELTING*

I mean, seriously. We’re on Bugg drawing number … what? 700? Something like that — and that’s just the comparatively recent ones! I’m pretty sure Mrs Bugg already loves him to pieces. She wouldn’t do all that stuff with him if she didn’t.

She’s wooed, Mr Bugg. She’s wooed.

That’s the day Loki and I got married! I have to say, though … we might not have gone through with it if there had been a roller coaster nearby.

And by “happily”, I mean, “happily I am still employed and not bankrupt and homeless, because that would suck more than my job, which sucks quite a lot, but from which I am taking steps to distance myself, not least of which is building up our candy shop in the hopes that it will help significantly with our financial security.”

Also: Thanks for your support, Buggs!

I think that was when I was going through my fairly-awful, ended-up-in-the-hospital, so-dehydrated-they-gave-me-four-liters-of-fluids-in-five-hours-holy-crap gastroenteritis episode.

It was not a happy time, but goddamn, the toast was good, and now I know why.

Seriously, you guys, THE JUMPING.

I mean, look at how joyous they look! How can that fail to make one happy? I shall tell you: IT CANNOT.

It’s amazing, the happiness a jumping bugg gives me.

Also, at a buck a bottle, that plum blossom soap was a smoking deal.

Are they helping? Or “helping”?

Transcript:

Mr Bugg is standing in front of a sink full of dishes, be-aproned and scrubbing a plate as though to the scullery born. Mrs Bugg, meanwhile, is wearing a scarf and ironing something.

The text reads: “The Buggs are trying to clean up more to make you feel better.”

Everyone’s a winner!

Transcript:

Mr and Mrs Bugg are holding hands. Hearts are spewing from their heads in a literal display of their love. Mr Bugg is wearing quite a nice jacket.

The text reads: “Febuggary 28, 2014: It worked. Mrs Bugg is in love with Mr Bugg, he didn’t get eaten, and he got the coat back.”

OK, listen, I wasn’t bullying, I was just painfully shy, and not very good at meeting people, especially cute boys. It was meant to be a compliment on his jacket, not an actual threat, jeez.

Transcript:

This is totally not the way it happened, but whatever: Mr Bugg is leaning over, tears pouring from his face, as Mrs Bugg triumphantly holds up a really nice jacket.

The text reads, in a blatant attempt to rewrite history, but whatever, “Febuggary 28, 1990: In a cruel display of bullying, Mrs Bugg takes Mr Bugg’s coat and lunch money by threatening to eat him at school. Mr Bugg has his revenge, first with an earthquake, then making her love him.”