Ahh, isn’t that adorable?

The Flea Co. is still parked in her gar-tudio, spraying flea fodder like confetti at a dog’s birthday party that nobody asked for.

Instead of “getting on the road” at 9:30 like the big plan, they were live-streaming with none other than Dicky Lickman, professional throat-clearer and part-time legal fanfic writer.

What happened to the midnight rendezvous to scoop up Goober?

Will the red-carpet plans still happen?

Or did the Warden tell her to park that majestic azz and come collect him at 8 AM, as it said on the court papers?

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Remember, folks: just a few days ago she swore she called the jail and warned them that shady minions might show up for Goober’s release, so she needed security and secrecy!

(Peak spy-thriller energy.)

Then the flea admitted right out of the flea-gate that “she wasn’t on her way there,” and Bootylicker helpfully spat out a “yet” from behind the flea like a well-trained echo.

When she finally breaks the news to her Warriors, she slowly and methodically explains, “I received a call FROM THE WARDEN,” gurgling it up from somewhere south of her diaphragm while giving every word the dramatic weight of a soap-opera reveal.

“And um, I will be heading over there to get Goober. However, it…I’m, we’re not leaving yet.” Fleasa informed her Swallowers and Wallowers.

Her vocals get choppier than a woodchipper on a bad day, like she’s chewing every syllable and finding it tastes like leftover chicken skin.
She claims the Warden told her it was “for safety reasons” and that’s why the sacred phone call happened.
Fleasa continues, “They will not be leaving till… till, later, later. So, I am going to get a little bit of sleep.”
“So I’m not going to be on that long,” she warns her listeners.

(Indeed, she kept it short: the stream clocked in at a crisp 1:20:37. She pulled the plug around 11:30 PM instead of the usual 1 a.m. endurance test.)

“However, when I do go over, I will start a live, but it’s going to be very late,” she said, priming the flock with her signature goopy Flea-ear-grease.

“Um, so if you guys are early…So, if you guys are here, that’d be great. You could always watch the replay, um, but we’re gonna, um, go on and talk about, um, I’m really excited; it’s still at 12:01 a.m.
He’s He’s He’s free.”

(Well, here’s the thing: while the flea is insisting he’ll still be free at 12:01 a.m., the anti-flea-fodder alarm starts screaming. Florida doesn’t just shove an inmate out the gate at that hour without a designated pick-up person anymore. Liability and safety, you know. They stopped the old “kick ’em out on their own buttinski” policy for a reason.)

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The flea tries once more to yank the fleazy-fleece over her groupies’ eyes, once again shifting the Goober dance to “later” and pivoting to the real main event of the night: Lipzy LaRue.

And who better to assist with the legal ramblings than Dicky Lickman of Disbarville?

Dicky does, to his credit, deliver a more coherent reading than Fleasa could manage on her best day. But it’s still Lickman, so we all know how this ends before he even clears his throat.

He makes point after point about how “all Lipzy has to do” is file another dismissal motion, and it somehow isn’t a win for Jeremy.

He soon plays the full recording of the hearing from “his trusted source” and proceeds to analyze it in what feels like a masterclass in backstabbing-with-a-smile gaslighting.

He pauses the audio to inform Fleasa’s listeners that “Randy is just trying to be slick.”
The flea gurgles back from her mucus-lined command center, “Oh, just like usual.”

Dicky starts reading Lipzy’s motions that were filed a mere few hours earlier.
Fleasa bobs her head in solemn agreement and lights another cigarette off her trusty Bic like she’s performing a sacred ritual.

Later, Gatorstink wanders into the gar-tudio and joins the stream like it’s his natural habitat, still radiating the same reptile musk he tries (and fails) to hide under that tiny, tiny hat.

p-u

Around the 50-minute mark, the flea starts bubbling up from her thick craw and launches into Megan, and how Megan received this motion, and so did Shochet.

“So, you know, uh, um, so they all know, and Megan still kept her stupid little, you know, thumbnail saying we won,” the flea growls under hot, thick breath that somehow smells like boiled cabbage, cigarettes, and unpaid parking tickets.

Her voice slides into full vitriol as she whines that Megan was basically chanting “We won, we won.”

The flea-whines as spittle pours out onto her quivering chin, “They are all gloating about this.”

(Ahhh, not only are “they all laughing at you,” now we’re officially “gloating at you” too. Progress!)

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Her hatred then does a clean pivot to our friend Mr. Coop.

gasp

The flea complains he was on his “Freaking show today trying to go over this and this guy is such a, a, uhh, I don’t even know what to call this guy, but um, he was describing Lipzy’s ‘mootion’ as 21 pages of nonsense.”

She keeps relaying Coop’s take while Dicky Lickman begins to squirm in his chair like something unpleasant is migrating north.

The Lickman launches into full facial-contortion mode as the flea complains that Coop called it a “nuclear bomb drop on the anti claiming Germ whooped the anti’s arse.”

Fleasa scans her notes and drones on in that signature monotone, slowly sputtering whatever one of her Wallowers fed her.

Then her voice suddenly accelerates to the speed of a runaway turtle on five-hour energy drinks: “Apparently ‘Mark Vanfeltz’ in comments said he’s been served by an email today but believes it’s fake.”

She scans the room and asks, “Uh, who served this guy? Anyone know that…does anyone know that?”

Without missing a beat, she adds, “It sure as hell wasn’t me…um, but um…”

Gatorstench stirs from his corner and hisses, “You can’t be served by email.”

The flea looks even more confused than baseline and admits she doesn’t even know who Mark is talking about. “Who served him?” she giggles from her nasty throne.
She giggles again and makes sure everyone hears, “If he’s trying to say it’s me, that’s a freaking lie.”

(Uh oh, Mark. Just who served you? Hopefully it arrived on a silver platter. You deserve the presentation.)

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The flea slithers back to her notes and starts reading again. She whines and groans about other streamers painting poor Lipzy LaRue as less than fluent in her own “mootions.”
When she mentions that these low-life streamers think Lipzy and Chipzy should face severe sanctions, old Gatorstench lets out a heartfelt “OH GOD” from the shadows.

The flea gets animated while setting the record straight: “Lipzy is totally on top of what goes on; Lipzy is 100% prepared all the time.”

(People, evil people 🎶)

eye roll

She adjusts her substantial booty deeper into the crusty chair and speaks from the heart: “It’s a matter of whether that judge is going to let her speak, you know, and I believe Shochet got 8 minutes to talk and Lipzy only got 2.”

This finally wakes the disbarred sidekick. He cuts her off: “Well, here’s what the issue is, though.”

He goes on to wonder whether this judge is “over her head in this case,” noting that she walked in saying, “we have like 30 motions on for the day.”

He explains that when a judge has that many items on the docket, she wants to move. “So, this was a technical procedural issue; a lot of times what a judge does is what they call reserve decisions.”

Dicky then carefully explains “reserve decisions” to the groupies as if they’re ten years old and still working on basic bathroom skills. Slowly. Very slowly. He notes that unlike the usual cut-and-dried matters, this one wasn’t simple, so maybe the judge wanted to reserve the decision until she was off the bench and back in chambers.

Of course, after this helpful civics lesson, the Flea pipes up and whines that “this is the second time that this judge walked into a hearing with Lipzy and didn’t know what was going on.”

eye roll

As Fleasa complains further and growls deeper, Dicky gets agitated again (thong migration alert). His face contorts, and he cuts her off in defense of the judge and her 30-case circus: “Come on, that’s what happened…this is state court; it’s, it’s, it’s a zoo. It’s not federal court where they are on the ball.”

Fleasa quietly offers a half-hearted “yeah, yeah,” like she’s only 40% convinced.

While Dicky continues his analogy, the Flea cuts him off at the knees: “Isn’t she also new to this division or this, uh, department?”

Dicky, wisely choosing not to poke the flea, nods and agrees she’s fairly new to the division. “So who knows?” he adds.

Then Dicky starts flapping about how “the ‘polymop’ situation can explode.”

The flea frantically flips through her notes and repeats things that were said minutes earlier.

Over and over she reads until she lands on “D Spills The Poop” and how she asked Coop “if Megan, Tug, Germ, and George could actually become creditors since Lipz and Chipz are neck-deep in their own BK adventure.”

She soon mentions Stacy-Nat and the comment that Lipzy “is just looking for 30 minutes of fame.”

Those words apparently sting even more coming from Stacy, a former confidant and good friend.

Fleasa digs deep into the flea-craw and gurgles out with fresh distaste: “This gossip queen needs to shut a trap because, uh, wouldn’t that sound familiar?” [sic] “Calling the kettle black.”

She keeps marching down the long list of Swallower and Wallower notes, recycling more already-spoken words.

yawn

As she starts wrapping the notes, she tells Gatorstench to pay attention because Coop even said she was “attacking Hale$ because it’s revenge from being removed as a MOD and because of the ‘hoarder house’.”

Right on cue, Gatorstench, still permeating like a bad decision, slowly declares, “Oh my God!”

The flea lifts her chin (revealing small chunks of something still clinging to the chin hairs) and speaks directly into the mic at Mr. Coop: “You really need to go back and vet your chit, or better yet, go watch some of my actual shows, and you’ll find out that is 10,000% not true.”

She begins seething from somewhere deep in her own undergarments and hisses, “I removed myself as a MOD and, um, I said nothing regarding the hoarder house.” She clarifies further: “This was all about when he attacked Guano!!!”

She continues the Germ warfare: it was about “Germy claiming he was always a ‘victim’ and THEN we learned that there was a child involved.”

Lorty bee

“So Coop, you really need to start vetting your chit and stop bull-chiiting people because what I have today is a clip of you stating as fact. And I hate to say this, but you could find yourself in the same chit that Megan’s in…although Megan doesn’t know it.”

(OMG, NOT the SAME CHIT AS MEGAN?)

gasp-blink-giggle

The panel keeps dissecting this and that and what Lipzy and Chipzy should/will file next, but by then I grow weary and start to tune out. I need coffee and a mental bleach rinse to scrub this particular batch of flea fodder out of my Tuesday.

The flea begins winding down and announces she’ll be LIVE tonight at 9 PM. She tells Dicky he’s welcome to climb aboard the panel along with Gatorstench, Bootylicker, Kim, and perhaps Mo and 9Chins. “But most importantly, Goober will be here.”

(Dicky looks about as thrilled with that line-up as a man who just sat in something wet. But I’ll bet a shot of Sriracha that if he does join, his own chat will be lighting up like a Christmas tree on fire.)

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Fleasa promises Tuesday’s show “will be very exciting, and Goober has a lot to say.”

oh-joy

Welpers…
Toodles Poodles ❤️
1:14:28 / 1:20:37