I got the notice that Roger had arrived, but when I checked my doorstep, it was empty. I looked the 1/8 mile up to the mailbox and saw the box hanging out.
I got dressed, put shoes on, brushed my hair, grabbed my phone in case I fell down and needed help, and began my hike out to the front 40.
Not used to trudging further than to the kitchen, I walked. Rested. Walked. Rested. Cursing Roger the whole way. If there was an Uber that could have picked him up to bring his too-hungover-to-walk-to-the-house-himself Funko, I would have called one. Instead, I had to go pick the yummy idol up m’self (my bad British accent there).
Finally in my arms, Roger’s box (haha, as opposed to allllll the other of Roger’s “boxes“) tucked under my arm, I hiked back to the homestead, again in fits and starts. Again, cussing at Roger for not being sober enough to walk his own ass to his new home.
Roger Finally Joins the Queen Funko Team
Once I caught my breath in the house, the journey became irrelevant as I scissored the box open, opened the Funko box, and tipped Roger out of the clear, hard plastic into my hands.
Do you see his hooded eyelids? He even looks hungover! If I had sunglasses, I would put them on him because I’m sure the light is a tad much for his brain at the moment.
My Own Funk-Y World
Above, you get to see how my bizarre mind works. I should put these mental shenanigans on paper and make some cash out of it.
Watch Roger’s amazing live performance of his song “I’m in Love With My Car.” It’s the second song in this medley starting with “Killer Queen.”
It’s gloriously fantastic!
Navelgazing Writer 