I did not always bear the mantel of Sir Cucumber, and my brother was not always a creepy drunken loudmouthed crackpot- or so I'm told.
During the day shift we still assume our stuffy, soporofic 9-5 alter-egos (Doomeru keeps telling me we could quit the act and make enough to keep him steeped in Old Grand Dad simply by turning on Google Adwords, but we're about the bile, not the Benjamins).
It's hard to imagine that only one year ago this shuffling, fluorescent-lit wage slave existence was all we ever knew. Back before I harnessed the power of rock, paper, scissors to rescue Princess Tomato from an overzealous Monsanto employee, and Doomeru started proselytizing apocalypse to dystopian Bladerunner knockoffs. Back before we became heroes.
Hey, even Captain N had to start somewhere.
Thank you all so much for sticking with us. I hope we can hold out another year.
