How about a story? The Artsy Llama who got a job.

See, I'm bored right now. So I shall entertain everyone with a story I will make up as I type along. Then I'll add pictures.

Here we go;

Once upon a time, in the distant distant future, there was a llama.

The llama was secretly a con artist at night, and street artist in the morning.

He loved art, you see. He majored in Art when we went to LALAU. Los Angeles Llama Art University.

One day, while he was drawing a sock on the beach, a snorkle came along and snorted, "Hello, llama. I have a dilemma. You see, my mama... is ill. And she needs you to draw her before she dies-ma. I'm willing to pay you 6 shillings. 3 in the form of baby organs, and 4 in chapstick caps, and -1 in airbags."

The llama was excited, for he's running low on chapstick caps. And chapstick caps are a delicacy in the land of the Bigglelog. Any found are usually eaten on sight.

"All right, Mr..."

"You may call me Drowning."

"All right, Mr. Drowning, the snorkle. I shall assist you in your mother's dilemma."

"I shall see you at 13 o clock."

This was a problem for the llama. He is a con artist at 12 o' clock. He is in dire need of a solution to suppress his urge to become a con artist by 4 o' clock, for it is two hours to 12, and seven to 13.

He goes to the local pub, in hopes of finding a witch who specializes in llama con artist suppressants.

He sees a shady looking old pig near the corner with the wax figs.

"Are you a witch who can distinguish me need to become a con artist by 13 o' clock?"

"Yes, why yes I am. Are you in need of a suppressant potion, my dear Dissociative identity disordered llama?"

"Yes! Yes, I am! What might I do to be able to obtain one from you?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. Perhaps you can ask one of the figs."

So the llama, with no other choice turned his attention to a rather plump fig.

"Dearest Fig, do you know how I might be able restrain my alter ego?"

The fig spat, and said with a lisp,"See here, llamas always have this suppressing situation. So, I send them some soft served ice cream. Something in the soothing softness of the ice cream seems to summon a superhero whom I know will suppress your con artist needs."

The llama returned home and waited for the delivery fish.

DONG DING. DONG DING!

Alas! The fishy delivery man. The llama opens the door and signs for the ice cream.

In a puff of smoke, the superhero comes out.

"By Jove! You must be the llama I was expecting! Let us fix this problem of yours, why don't we?"

"Yes! Yes! We shall! How do we start?"

"With one full minute of intense anti con artist therapy. No more, no less."

The llama happily agrees.

However, the super hero is minute intolerant. And he found out, not so long ago, while in the home of a perplexing llama. So they went on with the therapy... for one second longer.

The superhero blows up, but the llama is cured.

At 13 o clock, he arrives at the snorkle, Mr. Drowning's house.

"I'm terribly sorry, my dear artistically artsy llama. My mother seems to have passed, thus making her invisible."