I was a
giant scary staple monster gelatinous pink blob with post-traumatic stress disorder once, but then I took shortsightedness to the face and became a sweet potato with anxiety instead. Also, I'm either constantly imagining things or LSD just naturally occurs in my bloodstream. No! No no no! No no no no... *runs off into the distance*
Hope you're flattered. I've only done this one other time, and that was when I recalled Sir Gibbous Jetsam from retirement to lead my Holy Army of the Great Ground Parrot in Auckland, NZ. Back in '76, the Kiwis called in special forces with air support. Those particular ANZACs were no pussies, let me tell you. We only won the day through superior tactics. Exploding geese.
Rebel troops had breached the innermost mid to upper over-hanging outer walls with toothpaste and pine bark mulch attacks. Inhospitable locals had deprived them common courtesies, and persistently spoke only glossalalic in their presence. Many, if not most, were fast reaching the ends of their ropes. Getting a bit loopy. Somewhat bats in the belfry, so to speak. In short, they began an inevitable descent into madness that few had ever survived unhindered by permanent psychic damage.
Bermis, an ancient self hating Jew of tremendous stature and fitness, gathered 70 and 70 again, by two thirds and trebled, rebels who'd developed anti-rebellious leanings together in a secret room with a moose. They followed this dude with few questions and no answers whatsoever. Nothing would have given them greater pleasure than to turn on their fellow attackers of the Keep with their chainsaws and cut the simpering bastards to pieces.
- Torque Smackey strode into Invader Zim's laboratory with all the determination of an rabid armadillo trying to burrow through a steer. Catamounts and catamites prowled the moon's surface in a vain attempt to learn Hungarian. Their instructors, alas, had no space suits, and thus died of exposure to vacuum. In other news, a plateful of voles escaped and is running riot Paris. The army response has been stilted and jovial.
- A cat? Not another cat! I've seen enough cats today to last me nine lives. Stop with the cats, will you? They're driving me up the wall - literally. Chasing me everywhere, covering the floor in cat hair. And making me sneeze, to boot. Obviously I can't block you or anything, but for the love of radioactive apple pie, stop with the cats!!
Patch over one eye, horse over the other. Japanese sculptures ring the rosie, rumple the hump. Crack the windows, let some of that smoke out. Revive with Vivarin!
Volumes of onionized gases proliferate athematically from hither to yon. Egads!
- THE ADMINISTRATION HAS DEEMED THE FOLLOWING COMMENT TO BE HERETICAL, AND CONDEMN THE AUTHOR TO STATUS OF USER TIL DEATH
- Ahem! Excuse me? Is this thing on? OK, I know this is against policies, but I'm going to push my personal agenda anyway, since it's so important to get the word out. We need grass roots activism! We need people in the trenches! This movement will grow, and become as entry by troops! So, hesitate not to join the ranks of the true followers of...
Shazam! And the dirt is here... indefinitely.
Again with the cats? My wife has been bludgeoning me with the cats all morning, and I'm sick of it!
- Tongue got your cat?
- Discounts for insane people are available at the rear corner of the rhombus. All others need not apply.
- Thumb up to the fornicators.
I will kindly lead you back to your lighthouse for the reasonable price of twenty pounds. Well, it's an alright price if it's in pounds, anyway. If it was in kilograms, I would have really felt ripped off.
FOREVER AND EVER OOOH [cowbell noises]
Puppy got dem big ol' floppy ears.
- Never again will the blue treetops burn.
- Never again will the winding wind turn.
- Never again will the seventeenth urn
- Whittle the night away.
- One day in Blockland the reddish block said -
- 'I want a pillow to dirty my head
- I want a cat to put under my bed
- Might I have those someday?'
- Months became pies, cakes became years;
- A long time had passed when the purple block's fears
- Surfaced in green taking all of their ears
- Seventeen fiddles ago.
- Never again will the blockish blocks wail
- Never again will the soapy dog rail
- Never again will the twisted test fail
- While the blocked awning is low.
- Silence. Dusty silence. Silent silence. There is nobody on IRC but me and the air. The empty space. Negative space. The yellow dust fills the air and does not become bananas, or anything, and is not in fact yellow as I have so darkly said but rather colourless. Just sits there like a potato - but no, it is not even a potato, it is nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a block tower.
You did not just say that. You did not just say that! You like bold text, do you? And oranges? Oranges? Everyone knows oranges do not exist. They fell into the black hole in the year 1701 of our lord Fruit Fly. The yellow Bible says so. Do not listen to the blue Bible or the infidel orange vendors, or you will burn in foozle for all of fluffynuts!!!
- We love Morty, and we hope Morty love us.
Goobernutorial candidates for Governor of Legumes Pretending To Be Nuts must register their complaints by February 28 or they will be catapulted over a 12 foot wall and get CPR, administered by nuns.
Raunch is the haunch of the honcho, belittling his smarmy calumnies against the people.
You are the reprobate monkey. Don't grunt or give us the finger. You started it. Now smell this...
We've got someone else, and it turns out that the cat it not a lie. Cuz I haz de grammer. Burt Reynolds is at the deli again... damned guy puts mayonnaise on everything.
- The cat is a lie. But the cake is true. The cake will set you free, because it is the truth. Or maybe it's the other way round. The truth will set you free because it is the...cake? No, that's not right. The set will cake you free because it is the truth pie. No. Sorry, I really suck at this. Can't you get someone else? ...what? You can't? I'm the best at it?? What kind of huffed kitten is this, anyway? You have low standards...
Menke sat at the table, grokking borscht as only a false whale can. Images of dousing rods pulsing with earth power, fetid with the stink of corruption, of soil gone dank. It was probably a petit mal which distracted him for 42 seconds.
Right out of seizure, the malignant narcissist emerges. Judicious use of red and black with filigreed brass inlay spelled disaster for approximately 5.9 million people. The implications of additional dimensions to the three dribbled into the sights and sounds beheld by such of those as could see and hear.
The screams of the damned paled and were snuffed by a thing that surpasses cacophony by countless orders of magnitude. The words of men, like "magnitude" and "screams", rung hollow as the millions perished as one.
Triumphant, the Marxists scuttled from their foxholes and warrens, all the while masticating Orwellian tracts. Rent asunder or mortgage the future seemed to be the only choices present to Chum Briap Su. The viscous torment that indulged a Master smelled most foul and dank to the rest of us. Misnomer transhuffed kitten.
Prancing and mincing. It's the new black, I swear! So, this Butterscotch liqueur ain't bad.
- Shammy done fucked up this time
- by Sedentary Loquation
- Ill-conceived notions of scalawags' invention
- pour vigorously towards fruition,
- AR-15 pointed at their snouts.
- Surely set to three shot burst, no chance for fight or flight
- puts them in the mood to chat.
My diffs are bleeding. You must have tortured them. What have you done?
Sunshine and happy farts. That's how I feel when being violently tackled in a football game. And, like, there's this awful screeching, like stereo lemongrabs.
- Does this need to be archived yet?
Those of you so unfortunate as to be reading this ought to check out Adult Swim, an eight hour block of adult cartoons from 10:00pm to 6:00am, 7 days a week on the Cartoon Channel. You may not like everything they do. I like about 88% of their material. Oh, yeah...they do anime from midnight to 6:00am Saturday mornings. I personally dislike it, but my wife loves it. She especially enjoys watching Inuyasha when I'm making fun of it.
Anyway, this time of year, that ceramic tile is on sale. You know, the one you had your eye on?With the pattern based on the Cthulhu mythos? The one that will awaken that which is dead but cannot die? With the tentacles? Shit, I have to go, my ride is here. So tell Frankie to burn all that styrofoam.
- So it's come to this?
There is nothing. Nothing, that is, but...wait, I forgot. What was I saying? Where are you? Under the window? Yes, that's it, certainly. Everything is green.
Colourless green ideas sleep furiously. They would rather be awake, or perhaps blue. For blue is not green, and awake is not asleep, but black, on the other hand, is white, and indefinite blocks expire.
Yes, I really said that. Trouble is, they expire at infinity. You weren't expecting me to say that, were you? Aww, now you're going to cry. Stop crying. I hate it when you cry. You've got nothing to cry over, you hear? Nothing! You've lost nothing. Nothing of value, that is. You don't know what value is. I've been telling you that for years and you never listen. I suppose I can't blame you, though, seeing as you're nothing but a pair of scissors. Scissors don't have ears.
And they make terrible, terrible wiki editors. You just scrolled down to the bottom of this list of nonsense. But did you actually read it all? Or did you just get bored like I did?