neuroticrobotic

After the birth of greenie baby, the lady and lad of the house get down to business. Chop chop.

Also, widdle Burke is suddenly struck by the bewildering urge to boogie and maybe...

...grow up?

Burke: I'm a real boy!
Robo Gnome: I'm on a truck!

Here he is after his kidlet makeover. What a model son!

Now, I've come to realize that generation 2 has taken the "tough love" approach to parenting. You shall see why forthwith.

Erastus: Hows abouts a friendly father-son activity? Eh?

Waaaapow!

What about mommy dearest? Surely, she can play fair.

Owned. Pwnd. Pawn'd.
Seriously, those eyebrows couldn't be sneakier.

This is okay because they are still nice to puppies!
Also, generation 1 is still around in order to bestow warmth, affection, and er, the occasional meal?

Despite having been a distant mommy, Minnie makes an excellent granny.

Gum ball's ghost has taken to wandering around the backyard recently, but NOBODY has freaking noticed!
This is strange because the Twomblys have made a habit of picking up the newspaper at night, at the mausoleum, where every piece of shit is now delivered because front doors are sooooo last season.

Who doesn't love a good bath in one's own waste on a frosty morn?

Or a good night's sleep beneath the stars and a layer of fresh snow?

Who doesn't love nearly freezing to death while... oh, hell.
Okay, I made myself some EZ Mac, enjoyed it, and nearly killed a few things. Whatever. I admit when I'm wrong and loving EZ Mac is wrong. Maybe.

Oh lookie thar! It's the ever-sensitive Felix!

Felix: So, congratulations on killing our dog.
Erastus: *Plusplus!*

Oh! I also close my eyes and fantasize about fried eggs! Amazing!

Aaand it's toddler time for Lloyd! The buzz cut and the stripes reminded me of Pugsley, so they stayed.

And Gouda also grows up... to look basically exactly the same as he did when he was a pup.

Hark! This picture is not here to show you just how similar Lloyd's flesh is to the bathroom wall. (Minty!)
It is here to reveal a baby bump, because I seem to be missing a lot of pictures. I may have just lost my marbles and forgot to take them. Yet, I feel more comfortable blaming my screenshot program. Bad Fraps!

Erastus: Heyyyy O! I don't have to wear this freaking tie no more! What is up with this party hat pattern anyhow? Who wants a party hat tie? Not I!

Elanore: Heyyyy O! More important stuff (than ties)! Incoming!

The babe has landed. Her name is Lucy.

I hate to say it, but I love Lucy.

Gouda: See my snarl? What sicko decided to create the possibility of night shifts for dogs? Huh?! Answer me!

Lloyd: *rebels without a cause*

Seriously, I will effin uninstall ACR if you two keep this up.

Ya hear that? Huh? Hurry up and get insemination #4 over with so you can actually eat before you work. Doofus.

~ La la la - calming interlude ~

Suddenly, Lucy is a little tater tot!

Suddenly, Lloyd is... taking a bath!
God, how did I miss four birthdays in one update? *self-flagellates*

Uselessly artful post-makeover pic of Lloyd. Huzzah.

In the midst of flying fur, Lloyd is quick to denounce the cruel, cruel sport of dog fighting.

In the end, Gouda cowers before the almighty alpha Liquorice.

The Twombly boys are quick to soothe the wounds of their poor furry companions.

Gasp! Floatingcloudofdogfood... RETURNS.
Or perhaps, there's some sort of structural anomaly in this doggy bowl. This isn't Star Trek, so I am dismissing this idea and going with Dog food monster - the sequel.

Minnie: Upsy Daisy!
Stanley: Fuckin' xylophone, you don't stand a chance. I will crush you!

Lloyd: (inherits neat freak gene)

While all of this transpires, the heads of household are in the midst of blissful slumber.

Liquorice: *admonishes*
Elanore: I am pregnant and this is my couch. Don't go there.

She might not be so enraged if she took the time to leave the newspaper at the FRONT door in FRONT of the house, rather than at the graveyard in back. Sympathy? Denied!

Lloyd: Gee whiz, Ma. You are such a sore loser! Wah wah wah!

Lloyd: Oh wait, oh god, I am sooo packing up my toys and leaving. Right now. *plusplus*

Then, prior to even naming the new babe, Elanore is provided the age-old choice: chili or pancakes?
I bet you know what I picked.

Stanley: Mo Grandbabbies!
Lloyd: Oh. my. god. Did you not just see that?!

Lloyd: Cannibals. *shudder*

The new baby boy that narrowly escaped sudden death by post-preggy munchies is named Simon. Just so you know.

The 4th child sort of ruined Minnie's Grandmotherly streak. Enough is enough, I guess.

Minnie: *twitch*

Minnie: W T F? *twitch twitch*

This was the last straw. No one needs to see this after a night on the doggy bed. The freaking clowns her mother is painting are just the cherry on top.