We've bought a sea creature. Truthfully we hardly know her yet. Aside from the discovery on a northern shore and poking around in her guts a bit. She's been belly up on the cold hard ground for a couple years, and we won't get a feel for her personality until she slips into the salty green ocean.
We're so excited! We're terrified! Will she like us? Will we like her? After we bought her the first thing we did was saw her rusty tail off, which doesn't sound like love, but believe us, she needed it. "Baby girl", we said, patting her rudderly rump, "if we don't make you a new tail toute suite yours is going to fall right off." She didn't respond, because she's still severed from her life source. Hopefully she won't remember the brutal (but affectionate) surgery.
She's no spring sea chicken, but her bones are solid and her shape is fair. She cost us a hard-scraped penny, but around here we're in the habit of calling pennies 'freedom chips', so we figure it's worth it. A mountain of pennies for freedom and an eternal horizon? Okay fine. Twist our arms 'round our backs and put some ropes in 'em. Lines, excuse me. Lines, not ropes.
Next up, this girl's got some bottom problems. No evil blisters in the fibers, thank goodness, but her belly needs a good rubdown and half a dozen gallons of barrier butter before we try dipping her into warmer waters someday. She's not even going to know who she IS when she wakes up! It'd be like if I had a snooze some afternoon while C secretly brushed my hair and put clothes on me that weren't covered in paint. I'd wake up and need to call my mother to make sure I was still me. Also, can you tell that is sandpaper in the drawing? It is supposed to be sandpaper.
Here you have it. If, in spite of all your achievements and success, life has left you unfulfilled with a deep yearning to observe the life of two quixotic numbskulls making their dreams come true with imagination and an inadequate bank account, boy oh boy, you hit the jackpot. Welcome.