Ah...we await Beastie's return from her dark, chilly lair, which is located in the murky gloom of a faraway swamp in a kingdom she rules herself, with a gloved claw upon her scepter of mouse-skulls...
And the lair itself has a carpet of fine Persian make, with intricate swirling patterns, bright and mysterious, with monkey traps cleverly laid across the floor...
Beastie is probably dining on Chango Frito y jalapenos y bebe frito y George Bush y Laura Bush y Dick Cheney frito...
Accompanied by vintage claret reddened with the blood of a tigress.
Anyways, that's what Beastie is likely doing (along with basking in the son and devouring any poodles who are stupid enough to come her way)...this is going to be one long week awaiting Beastie's return.
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