My ex-girlfriend called me Rybabe. My friends in Oakland call me Starbaby. My sister and her friends call me King Baby.

Somehow I have acquired the nickname “Daddy” at work. I went to pick up my tips today and found this:

A few years ago back in Oakland I was an unlicensed detective. My friends Rachel and Amanda hired me on to solve the mysterious death of their beloved duck Frolf. It had been beheaded and gutted in the night.

I showed up about an hour after the murder had taken place. It was a chilly October night and I was ripped out of my head on acid. I interviewed all their roommates, including their rabbit Bananas (who I mistakenly killed about two weeks later in a freak firewood accident (I bought them a new rabbit named Four Little Secrets, who immediately ran away (it’s a long story))).

Anyway: Next day we took some dramatized photos of the investigation. They were never released for some reason . . . probably because the case was ongoing.

Hell, the case is still open. Never did solve it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying either.

(Rachel later “paid” me by giving me a haircut in that very backyard—and just a few feet away from the scene of the crime! Though really, let’s be honest, she was performing a public service. Yeesh! That awful hair.)

((The duck’s head is in that plastic container. Rachel let the flesh rot off and then kept the skull. I guess she grew up in rural Pennsylvania and was into taxidermy and stuff like that??))

Here you go, dudes:

Oh, I went with them to get two new ducks. The new ducks were cool:

austin, some time ago