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1/26/2015

The Mouth



  I'm heading down a dark tunnel. Fear fills my tiny blue body. I know there is no escape yet I still press on. Why am I condemned to this eternal damnation. Why must I move through this shadowy maze of death? Escape seems impossible. I see him in my peripheral vision. He looks so hungry. He's like a big, fat, yellow shark. I can not reason with this monster. So I run.


   I take a right. I can hear him running after me. His breathing is raspy. I can barely catch my breath. My entire being begs me to stop but I press on. If I stop he finds me. If I stop I die. Sweat is dripping into my eyes. I close them tightly as I run. I don't want to see the nightmare around me. I imagine waking up somewhere far away but when my eyes open the darkness still surrounds me. A little orange fruit is at my feet. I kick it to the side and take a left turn. A wave of relief washes over me as I see three blue figures huddled together less than twenty feet away.


  Any minute now the tables will turn and we will have our vengeance. I run to rejoin the group. The nightmare is nearly over. Suddenly my foot slips. I fall flat on my back. I hear the crunch of my leg as it breaks. I should be in incredible pain but the fear and the adrenaline act as cruel anesthetic. He's slowly approaching. The others have scattered. I know there is no way out.

  When that smile is no more than a foot away from me it chuckles. My body shakes. I close my eyes  tightly and then something makes me open them. I look into that big hungry mouth. I know soon I will be nothing. The mouth closes around me. The Pac-man has won.





The World Needs a Salad Fingers




 Throughout history there have been oddities and freak shows which have captured the imaginations of both normies and interesting people alike. In the modern the modern age of Viagra and sexting this grand tradition of freakishness continues. Perhaps nothing embodies the spirit and the art of the strange and the unusual more so than Salad fingers. Salad Fingers is a charming single man who enjoys things in life such as rusty spoons, fingers puppets and watching the red water come out.

Salad Fingers is a cartoon creation of the beautifully fracked up mind of David Firth. It's set in what appears to be some sort of apocalyptic wasteland and focuses on the title character of Salad Fingers. We watch as his weak since of sanity decays and he struggles to find love, fame and rusty spoons. Salad Fingers is produced on the web and is not at all the same sort of thing as most televised  cartoons. It's a creation of the darkened void and it infiltrates our homes like a computer virus infecting our brains and making us embrace the insanity which we love.

We need Salad Fingers in much same way as we need Santa Claus. He's an improbable and odd fellow who is exist in a twisted reflection of this reality. Without things like him the war against the boring and the mundane would have lost long ago. Hail Salad Fingers! Hail rusty spoons!

 

1/14/2015

Brony: Friendship is Murder

I apologize to anyone who may have been expecting a new posts since the New Year. I've been busy with school, debate and health issues among other things. To tell you the truth I know I've had time to put something together for you and I'm sorry for not having done so.                                                                                                            
    In the hopes of winning you beautiful people back I would like to share with you something I wrote earlier today. It's about a unicorna and it's somewhat dark so it may not necessarily be to your liking. If you're a brony please do not take offense.                                                                                                                                                                  Pain. It's such a short word. Isn't it? It's just four letters. It's like love or hope. It's really a very tiny word but somehow as the gears grind and thick drops of my blood drip onto the white carpeting pain feels so big.                                                                                                                      The room is empty save for myself, the mechsnisms of my agony and a dusty heart shaped mirror hanging on the wall. Written in the dust are the words friendship is magic. The man who wrote those words has been no friend to me. I wish now that I could drive my horn through that fat bastard's skull.                                                                                                                                                         I can remember the leaves rustling in the trees and the cold night air as I stepped out into the light. I tried to run but the car was too fast. When I woke up I was here in this room.I miss nature and the sun and moon. I miss mud and running. Mostly I miss my freedom. Not a second goes by that I do not want to escape. Still I suppose all unicorns are captured in the end.                                                                                                                               I will probably write some more of this story soon. I hope to have an interview with a lovely cosplayer posted very soon. I promise to work on writing posts more frequently. Have a lovely day.