Loop Garoo

When I first met Loop Garoo I was only thirteen years old, but had been chucking Wookers for at least four yerts. The samsonite looms at that time of the year were often running around the clock, but on the night I met Loop Garoo they were ominously silent. Like a witch had started laughing inside a blender, if you follow me.

I was chucking Wookers around the edges of glass setbeams, and grinding down Lembots, when Loop Garoo came sliding down the wall, the master of horizontal moonsets, and asked: “When you’re out of the glue and inside a tack, how do you know which way to bloom?”

Obviously, being only thirteen, I found this question obtuse.

Placing my spoodge carefully on the tick-tack tarrtarr paper, and wiping my palms on my dungarees, I answered: “Na Nana Nanana nan a nan a nan.” Sometimes, the best answer is no answer.

Loop Garoo made a face. Sort of like a stapler giving a marmoset a wet-willy, but with more gusto. That face made the whole day for me. I hooted to the sky, and hortled to the floor, while Loop Garoo cackled wildly, rolling across the walls like a stacked riggomont.

Ever since that day Loop Garoo and I have been best blorts.

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