The next chapter in my riveting adventure is still being worked on and thus will not be posted until next week. But I have received more reader mail (again, names have been changed to protect the idiotic):
Scuba, why do you keep sweating Shelly? She's not real. - "Hasty Harry"
You just don't know her well enough. I assure you, she's one of the most down-to-earth crustaceans I've ever met.
Dear Scuba Owl, don't you realize that Shelly is just a shell with some lips painted on? - "Archie B."
We here at ScubaCorp. do not tolerate the objectification of females. Shelly is more than just a pretty face.
Dude! Shelly is an inanimate object! - "Don Francisco"
Look, if you want to go flailing around like a telenovela that's up to you. Shelly should not be criticized for her more subtle/less animated manner of expressing emotion.
Now, to cleanse your palate of today's below-average reader submissions I'd like to share an oldie but goodie. Recently I received a request for more content relating to certain wars that happened quite a while ago in a neighborhood far, far away. I've also been asked how Whomper and I first met. So let's kill two birds (we need a better saying, people) with one stone:
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