a sandwich, with words???

In the last few weeks of the dissertation process, I pretty much lost contact with the universe. I didn’t really do anything or go anywhere or talk to anyone (with a few notable exceptions); mostly I just worked. My freelancing gig at Modern Primate was one of the first extra-curriculars to go, as my brain simply didn’t have enough space or time to deviate from trollshit. This was a bummer because variety, they say it is good for one. But as the 50 year-old ex-addict returning high school kids would say, now I’m back in skoo! Hence my newest Santorum Slashfic — I’ll be ratcheting up the slash schedule, probably will be writing about two a week, depending on things like gaffes and gay sex scandals and whatnot. Setup: Rick Santorum has been hired as Mitt Romney’s family dog. Hijinks ensue!

The first day Ricky Santorum moved in with Matt Roomby, he got a leather collar and a new name. It took Matt Roomby a while to decide what to call him, but finally he settled on Jeff Gordon, which according to one of Matt’s butlers is the name of a famous NASCAR driver. “I love NASCAR,” Matt said, wiping his forehead with a twenty-dollar bill.

That was two months ago, and they have been the best two months of Ricky’s whole life! Most of the time Ricky stays home with the blonde lady, but sometimes Matt takes Ricky on day trips to that one crowded place filled with drunk people where Ricky used to play senator. The crowded place reminds Ricky of when he was a baby and spent all day nursing, and that makes him miss his mommy a little, even though she’s mean. But when that happens Matt gives Ricky a biscuit, and tells him to go poop in all kinds of funny places, like Al Franken’s espresso machine. It’s hard to stay sad when you’re pooping!

For the thrilling conclusion, go to here!