Griff sightings have since become something of a myth. I think El Chupacabra has been seen more than our dear, violent wookie has in recent years.

So imagine my shock when this unshaven, sleeveless dude wearing hideous shoes starts yelling at me in the middle of Safeway.

No way. No. Way.

Way.

When my stupor subsided, I pounced on the elusive bastard and called him a motherfuckersonofabitch. He hugged me back, cackling madly–I knew in an instant that where ever life had taken Griff, he was still the man I loved…

…to torture.

Dear, dear, Griff. Now that you’ve come out of hiding, let the fucked up-ahem-good times roll again.

Welcome back, bro.

The other day, mom saw a strange car parked outside of my uncle’s studio. She thought it was my brother’s girlfriend’s, since she occasionally shows up driving her parent’s car.

This was not the case.

That same car was seen parked near the second gate, the temporary one dad had set up when we let those construction guys use our field to store some of their stuff. They drove away. Dad checked this gate and found that there was a way to bend the wire low enough for a car to drive over it. Sons of bitches drove their fucking car on to our goddamn property, and we did nothing because since the gates were still up we thought they were supposed to be there.

Well no more. Dad moved big honking rocks over to block the second gate so they can’t get in that way again. We are also thinking of augmenting our “NO TRESPASSING” signs with some visual deterrents. I suggested severed heads on sticks. Mom thought that was a great idea, especially if the heads were accompanied by a sign reading: “Trespassers will be decapitated.”

I love my mommy.