Do you remember what it was like to read?
Do you?
I've heard it come up, now and then, about certain apes not particularly enjoying reading. Well, that's just a kick in the teeth, isn't it? You know, the ironic part is that I 'heard' this over on the FacebÜks. You know, a place where 99.9% of anything that goes on over there is.. written.
Mmm, typed.
You get where I'm going?
No, you probably don't.
You saw the link (granted you aren't ear-deep in your colon) and didn't bother. Read? Read?!? Pfft, I'd rather put my penis in a garbage disposal! <---This is conjecture. I don't have a penis.
Try to keep up.
Hey look, I can't help that this comes across chaotic. Perhaps if you spent less time making sandwiches and giving away blankets and more time educating yourself on the temporal displacement of spacial anomalies in polydimensional -- lost you?
sigh
Since we are not going to be communicating.. much of ANYTHING.. this will be my final attempt to dissuade you in your chosen course of action.
It may very well be you are heading to a fateful encounter.
If you persist..
it may very well
end up
fatal.
Head Shot!
Showing posts with label Cancer is all too real. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cancer is all too real. Show all posts
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Monday, November 28, 2011
Reality, Ponies, and Cannibalism?
Greetings.
It's been a while since I've done something like this, but I feel it should be done.
By the time you get through this sentence, you will have no idea what you are in for.
Let the madness begin.
I'm going to fuck your shit up.
Breaking molds is the game now, ladies and gents. Breaching the 4th wall, revealing the fruits of the previous game (see: BETRAYAL) and flaying precious assholes a new one (re: TREACHERY).
Chaos for chaos' sake?
Pfft.
For too long have you sat in your darkened basements, drunk off the trolling and seduction, seeking to tear down and ridicule those who stand a chance against the coming horde of STUPIDITY.
I'm going to burn it ALL down.
I don't seek to tear the world asunder, just tear the HUMANS from it!
But that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun before, while, and/or after we do it!
What things really boil down to.. when you get that EVIL REDUCTION SAUCE going..
It's all about ME.
I make an ugly, ugly pony.
Somewhere in the multiverse is a living breathing AGENT, capable of entertaining conversations and compliments, most likely helping the homeless or PASTA-forbid-it, BREEDING!
Ponies are sad, sad, misguided creatures. Adorned with false hope on their backsides and tufts of silky, lustrous hair.. I.. uh.. what?
Anywho.
In reality (even the one I deign to acknowledge), capes catch on a great number of things, arrows can puncture the skin (especially from rooftops), Cancer is deadly, alcohol is poison, and justice?
Justice is best served when you catch it, kill it, skin it, and cook it yourself.
It tastes better that way.
Mmmm.
Makes me hungry.
Off to find minions,
Agent Wraith
p.s. Agent Wraith does not, nor ever will, endorse the consumption of HUMAN flesh.
Minion or not.
p.p.s. General Zoi! Thank you for your hard work to make such Ponies Possible! More importantly (because ponies are the providence of HEROES), thank you for your work on Sims2 and Maxis coded product. Inspiration, convenience, and imagination! There is a digital world of Villain Sims under my control now! It's the perfect practice for when my mastery of Puppetry is complete.
It's been a while since I've done something like this, but I feel it should be done.
By the time you get through this sentence, you will have no idea what you are in for.
Let the madness begin.
I'm going to fuck your shit up.
Breaking molds is the game now, ladies and gents. Breaching the 4th wall, revealing the fruits of the previous game (see: BETRAYAL) and flaying precious assholes a new one (re: TREACHERY).
Chaos for chaos' sake?
Pfft.
For too long have you sat in your darkened basements, drunk off the trolling and seduction, seeking to tear down and ridicule those who stand a chance against the coming horde of STUPIDITY.
I'm going to burn it ALL down.
I don't seek to tear the world asunder, just tear the HUMANS from it!
But that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun before, while, and/or after we do it!
What things really boil down to.. when you get that EVIL REDUCTION SAUCE going..
It's all about ME.
I make an ugly, ugly pony.
Hairless, this is mah sad face.
Somewhere in the multiverse is a living breathing AGENT, capable of entertaining conversations and compliments, most likely helping the homeless or PASTA-forbid-it, BREEDING!
Ponies are sad, sad, misguided creatures. Adorned with false hope on their backsides and tufts of silky, lustrous hair.. I.. uh.. what?
Anywho.
In reality (even the one I deign to acknowledge), capes catch on a great number of things, arrows can puncture the skin (especially from rooftops), Cancer is deadly, alcohol is poison, and justice?
Justice is best served when you catch it, kill it, skin it, and cook it yourself.
It tastes better that way.
Mmmm.
Makes me hungry.
Off to find minions,
Agent Wraith
p.s. Agent Wraith does not, nor ever will, endorse the consumption of HUMAN flesh.
Minion or not.
p.p.s. General Zoi! Thank you for your hard work to make such Ponies Possible! More importantly (because ponies are the providence of HEROES), thank you for your work on Sims2 and Maxis coded product. Inspiration, convenience, and imagination! There is a digital world of Villain Sims under my control now! It's the perfect practice for when my mastery of Puppetry is complete.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
The Day of the Machete!
The following took place on April 14, 2011:
4:15 am
Henchman 22 stirs and discovers leak in level 23..
I am paged out of my slumber.
Yes, I said paged.
She assures me there is nothing to worry about and I should go about my normal routine, but I cannot.
I am restless with concern.
4:45 am
Rail car transportation inspected, stocked with essentials, and detailed. We are set to depart many times, then delayed by various Henchmen and their woes.
Note: Franklin cannot have more than one carry-on.
Who brings 5 suitcases in the middle of a flood?
4:59 am
First aftershock.
3.2
Not bad enough to do any damage, but just enough to let you know what it is.
And slightly increased flooding in level 23.
22 is still not rushing, trying to convince us there is nothing to worry over.
5:30 am
Departure from station, Henchmen in tow.
Another aftershock (lost count by this point) makes everything worse.
Transportation is quick, but fails to move fast enough. Tunnels destabilize and prevent return. 22 is struck by debris, complains, then returns to the calm composure we know so well. Even with a machete half in her guts.
5:52 am
Arrival at destination. 22 is rushed to the Infirmary, we all fear the worst.
The machete is making everything worse and as she is put on the gurney, the rail car pulls away.
5:56 am
Rail car explodes.
We barely escape alive.
Note: Do not allow Franklin to drive.
5:59 am
I arrive at the Infirmary to find 22 in shock, the machete on a table nearby, and the doctors telling her she's going to be fine. The machete is still, wiped clean of 22's blood, and quiet. It is taken away and the room falls into a black pall.
6:30 am
After no word, ill or good, the machete is brought to 22. It reminds us of how frail we all once were.
She brandishes it strongly, vowing to never let anyone wrench it from her living hands.
7:00 am
On pain meds, 22 tells me that Los Sauces finally feels like home and she is comfortable with becoming its caretaker. She understands the Meeting of Resolution (March 21) and nods silently.
I nod back as she falls asleep.
7:55 am
Henchman 22 stirs briefly.
9:01 am
A few of the Henchmen, including Franklin, bring 22 food. She doesn't enjoy the food they have prepared and nearly kills them all.
The machete is almost lost amongst their bodies, until Franklin points it out.
9:20 am
Franklin completes the Henchmen clean up. I take it upon myself to find something palatable for 22 and take one henchman with me. If I fail, at least I won't lose an entire team.
10:17 am
I return, food in hand. Henchman 22 is pleased and no one else has to die.
10:52 am
Full, everyone falls asleep.
12:04 pm
Upon awakening, we find the machete is missing.
Henchman 22's rampage is soon evident.
2:08 pm
Several Henchmen are strangled, mangled, slaughtered, and crushed. 22 is distraught; suicidal.
Several more Henchmen meet their doom before her storm subsides.
The machete is brought to her, apologies are ignored, and messengers are killed.
3:00 pm
Lunch.
Cheese ravioli with a light sauce, steamed broccoli, crackers, and juice.
22 opts for a carbonated beverage against medical advice.
The Infirmary loses another staff member before she gets her soda.
4:00 pm
Franklin and I go for a walk away from the medical complex.
He tells me he is worried about 22 and how insane she has been acting lately.
I try to tell him that it's just the machete that makes her feel like that.
He worries some more, eats a coyote, and we head back.
6:00 pm
There is a 'general' alarm sounding, alerting the compound to another attack.
The USPS keeps trying to deliver official documents and the boys at the gate keep telling them to 'Get lost!'
I admire their tenacity, but paratroopers only make matter worse.
For a moment, we feared a War @ Los Sauces.
But, thanks to Franklin, 5, 00, 28, and 22, the tide turns and the gunfire ceases.
7:59 pm
I send Franklin to herd the rest of the Henchmen away and off to his quarters for the night. He is tired and weary, a good night's sleep will refresh him.
22 remarks that he is progressing wonderfully for a mutilated zombie/corpse thing and we laugh.
It's been a long while since we've done that.
8:40 pm
Dinner.
I have to turn service away at the door (ravioli again?) and inform 22 dinner will be late.
It doesn't take long to find a replacement host or meal and I bring them both to her.
She enjoys the stuffed roast and mashed potatoes.
Enough she loosens her grip enough so I can breathe.
Note: Resurrection and possession are not easy tasks. One should never perform them on an empty stomach.
9:30 pm
Host body craves nicotine, so 22 and I watch the clouds cover the moon as I smoke.
We make plans to celebrate this auspicious and eventful day in the future.
I chuckle as I mash out the rest of a cigarette, comment on how this body won't even make it that far, and we head inside.
11:09 pm
Host body craves nicotine again, so I head back out.
Alone (save the laptop) and in the dark, I reach out to the world and see what's going on in villainy.
Same as usual.
Youngsters, amongst us, egotistical and flawed, dance from out of the woodwork in a big 'I'm-doing-this-for-the-thrill' and infecting various social sites with their drivel.
Seasoned veterans, up in arms about this-or-that, RLSH or RCMP, and giving tirades.
Note: Lord Malignance's social commentary 'One, Villain' in Better Lairs and Gardens was phenomenally better than mine.
I begin work on 'Day of the Machete' post.
12:06 am
The body I inhabit collapses from exhaustion at the lap top and I am dragged back to my quarters.
I am tossed unceremoniously through the doors and crash spectacularly onto the floor.
And then I die.
4:15 am
Henchman 22 stirs and discovers leak in level 23..
I am paged out of my slumber.
Yes, I said paged.
She assures me there is nothing to worry about and I should go about my normal routine, but I cannot.
I am restless with concern.
4:45 am
Rail car transportation inspected, stocked with essentials, and detailed. We are set to depart many times, then delayed by various Henchmen and their woes.
Note: Franklin cannot have more than one carry-on.
Who brings 5 suitcases in the middle of a flood?
4:59 am
First aftershock.
3.2
Not bad enough to do any damage, but just enough to let you know what it is.
And slightly increased flooding in level 23.
22 is still not rushing, trying to convince us there is nothing to worry over.
5:30 am
Departure from station, Henchmen in tow.
Another aftershock (lost count by this point) makes everything worse.
Transportation is quick, but fails to move fast enough. Tunnels destabilize and prevent return. 22 is struck by debris, complains, then returns to the calm composure we know so well. Even with a machete half in her guts.
5:52 am
Arrival at destination. 22 is rushed to the Infirmary, we all fear the worst.
The machete is making everything worse and as she is put on the gurney, the rail car pulls away.
5:56 am
Rail car explodes.
We barely escape alive.
Note: Do not allow Franklin to drive.
5:59 am
I arrive at the Infirmary to find 22 in shock, the machete on a table nearby, and the doctors telling her she's going to be fine. The machete is still, wiped clean of 22's blood, and quiet. It is taken away and the room falls into a black pall.
6:30 am
After no word, ill or good, the machete is brought to 22. It reminds us of how frail we all once were.
She brandishes it strongly, vowing to never let anyone wrench it from her living hands.
7:00 am
On pain meds, 22 tells me that Los Sauces finally feels like home and she is comfortable with becoming its caretaker. She understands the Meeting of Resolution (March 21) and nods silently.
I nod back as she falls asleep.
7:55 am
Henchman 22 stirs briefly.
9:01 am
A few of the Henchmen, including Franklin, bring 22 food. She doesn't enjoy the food they have prepared and nearly kills them all.
The machete is almost lost amongst their bodies, until Franklin points it out.
9:20 am
Franklin completes the Henchmen clean up. I take it upon myself to find something palatable for 22 and take one henchman with me. If I fail, at least I won't lose an entire team.
10:17 am
I return, food in hand. Henchman 22 is pleased and no one else has to die.
10:52 am
Full, everyone falls asleep.
12:04 pm
Upon awakening, we find the machete is missing.
Henchman 22's rampage is soon evident.
2:08 pm
Several Henchmen are strangled, mangled, slaughtered, and crushed. 22 is distraught; suicidal.
Several more Henchmen meet their doom before her storm subsides.
The machete is brought to her, apologies are ignored, and messengers are killed.
3:00 pm
Lunch.
Cheese ravioli with a light sauce, steamed broccoli, crackers, and juice.
22 opts for a carbonated beverage against medical advice.
The Infirmary loses another staff member before she gets her soda.
4:00 pm
Franklin and I go for a walk away from the medical complex.
He tells me he is worried about 22 and how insane she has been acting lately.
I try to tell him that it's just the machete that makes her feel like that.
He worries some more, eats a coyote, and we head back.
6:00 pm
There is a 'general' alarm sounding, alerting the compound to another attack.
The USPS keeps trying to deliver official documents and the boys at the gate keep telling them to 'Get lost!'
I admire their tenacity, but paratroopers only make matter worse.
For a moment, we feared a War @ Los Sauces.
But, thanks to Franklin, 5, 00, 28, and 22, the tide turns and the gunfire ceases.
7:59 pm
I send Franklin to herd the rest of the Henchmen away and off to his quarters for the night. He is tired and weary, a good night's sleep will refresh him.
22 remarks that he is progressing wonderfully for a mutilated zombie/corpse thing and we laugh.
It's been a long while since we've done that.
8:40 pm
Dinner.
I have to turn service away at the door (ravioli again?) and inform 22 dinner will be late.
It doesn't take long to find a replacement host or meal and I bring them both to her.
She enjoys the stuffed roast and mashed potatoes.
Enough she loosens her grip enough so I can breathe.
Note: Resurrection and possession are not easy tasks. One should never perform them on an empty stomach.
9:30 pm
Host body craves nicotine, so 22 and I watch the clouds cover the moon as I smoke.
We make plans to celebrate this auspicious and eventful day in the future.
I chuckle as I mash out the rest of a cigarette, comment on how this body won't even make it that far, and we head inside.
11:09 pm
Host body craves nicotine again, so I head back out.
Alone (save the laptop) and in the dark, I reach out to the world and see what's going on in villainy.
Same as usual.
Youngsters, amongst us, egotistical and flawed, dance from out of the woodwork in a big 'I'm-doing-this-for-the-thrill' and infecting various social sites with their drivel.
Seasoned veterans, up in arms about this-or-that, RLSH or RCMP, and giving tirades.
Note: Lord Malignance's social commentary 'One, Villain' in Better Lairs and Gardens was phenomenally better than mine.
I begin work on 'Day of the Machete' post.
12:06 am
The body I inhabit collapses from exhaustion at the lap top and I am dragged back to my quarters.
I am tossed unceremoniously through the doors and crash spectacularly onto the floor.
And then I die.
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