A Return To Basics

Yes, that's what's important.
What I want to do.
What. I. Want.


"We can destroy what we have written, but we cannot unwrite it."

I tire so much of the back and forth, dear brothers. I really do.
I've viddied enough horrorshow to know when enough is enough. My gulliver is quite full of bolnoy cal.
Do you have the keeshkas to swallow this drivel?
Can you cheest your glazzies and see through the crypt?

Welly, welly, welly, well. Choodesny, my droogs.

You did well bratty, covered your tracks. You forget the plug holes, though. Left them wide open.
Maggots fester in the plott, there.
You'd do well to scrub harder.

Lord Malignance.
Such an oomny koshka.
There are a few things beyond even you, shoot. Deny, deny, deny.
You put the shiya out for the nohz, expect nadmenny bratchnys to shive.
Remember that Google eats your longwinded comments? Remember the accusations?
Still no appypolly loggy.
Tis a platching dook.
Erase, hide, deny what you can.
You talked of trust of honor, but where is it?
Where in that gulliver is locked the polezny bits?
Not a prestoopnik, clean those otchkies. I'm beyond that now.
Maliggy's favorite pischa? Crow.
"Better wrong than appear weak", right?
Wrong.
Better right to appear strong.
With intelligence.
That sink in? It get all comfy in that smushy spongey mozg?

There is no war here.
This is no 'slap fight'.

From the front, as is your tactic.
Not even a Gentleman's Duel.

There are no characters here.
This is not META.
This is not fiction.

"But where I itty now, O my brothers, is all on my oddy knocky, where you cannot go. Tomorrow is all like sweet flowers and the turning vonny earth and the stars and the old Luna up there. ... And all that cal."

Put the pyahnitsa scoteena to pasture and step front, evil odin.
Cast aside that shlem, privodeet BEtter things.

Skolliwoll oobivat, hen-khorm.
Some dhomy devotchka got you hound-and-horny?
How was the zheena? How sammy were they?
Just how bugatty are they?
Merzky sods? Lies, I bet. As usual with METARDS.
Merzky rots full of em. All they can mounch.

Oddy-knocky that lot. Dwell in the mud for too long, you take on it's character.

"Eat this sweetish segment or spit it out. You are free."

Not going to sit and stew in me platties, Maliggy. Not a tear on this end.
Villainy, grazzy wasteland that it is, will continue to do as it pleases.
These villains will do that.
The new and the old.
There are no rules. Never have been.
It roils and changes shape, it morphs and breaks molds.
It will always be this way. Always.
Each new goloss is a new view, a new way. Their way.
Not mine. Not yours.
Theirs.
Guide as you might, lead by example as you might.
Some chafe. Some sway.
Always plotting.
Always their own.
Their methods their own.
Their tactics their own.
Not all gentlemenly or cordial.

Always, as it wishes.

-aw