c7_assassin
3rd Level Black Feather
- Joined
- Jun 24, 2007
- Messages
- 8,722
- Points
- 0
I awoke in a pool of sweat and other bodily secretions. So much that it couldn't possibly all be mine...I struggled to remember the things I had done in the last few days. Surely there was some rational explanation for all these used condoms, broken needles, and animal carcasses. And god, was that a bullet wound in my shoulder? Why did everything smell of bear spray? What the hell had happened here?
---
The girl at Tim Hortons had not understood my words.
"Sir, if you're not going to order a coffee, you'll have to leave."
"Database error. Database error!"
"I don't know what that means."
"Means...means! Database error. Feathers and pants."
I was rudely interrupted by two heavyset gentlemen whom I can only assume were security. I could smell their hate. Like cheap leather from inside a clown car.
"Database error?"
---
I am in a shoe store. Which is ironic, since actually it's my shirt that's in tatters. The shopgirl eyes me nervously. They should really make these girls work barefoot. That way the customer feels better about having shoes once he's made his purchase. Also, for other reasons which I cannot help mumbling to myself as I watch the girl shift nervously in front of me.
"Can I...help you?" Never have I heard the word 'help' sound so sexy. And I am a man who enjoys that word. Uh oh, now I have an erection.
"Shoes. I am in the market for shoes." This is the correct thing to say.
"Umm...what's your size?"
"Eleven inches. Ba-zing! Ha ha, just kidding. Except not. No, I do actually have an enormous wang. Touch me?"
You know it's true what they say: Mace hurts like hell. Not the spray, mind you. She actually hit me with a mace. I don't even know where that came from.
---
"John?"
This name I remember. Am I being threatened? No, a friend is speaking. The Snail Dancer. One from the Before.
"Are you...are you eating a stray cat?"
"The claws tickle my insides."
He nods, but his posture gives him away. He does not understand.
"That's... super. So, are you still coming to dinner on Sunday? Maggie and I were looking forward to seeing you."
"Stocks. Restraints. I must to have! But...impossible now. Error still? Error!"
"Umm...yeah. So the thing is, we were hoping you'd bring some kind of potato dish, like mashed potatoes or some kind of potato salad even?"
"I bring armpit?"
"No, please don't bring an armpit. In fact, actually I just remembered we're both very sick, I don't think we'll be doing Christmas dinner this year."
"Why run? Armpit! Feet! Knees? Database error!"
---
I am in the centre of a crowd of shouting people. Lots of anger. On closer inspection, it seems they are shouting at me. Crazy accusations and promises of vengeance. Apparently I exposed myself to a high school cheerleading squad. I may or may not have also raped the football mascot.
Dammit, why do my blackouts always end in rape accusations?
Police trying to arrest me now. Such fools, to send only two. I suck on the female's toes while her partner flees. Somebody's pulled a fire alarm. I try to tell them that the only fire here is in my pants, but through the toes all that comes out is "Frrrrm grrrrgh hhmmhh iiispht mmmmgh ghnnngh!" Ha ha, women look so much like racoons when they cry. And now I'm sporting another erection.
---
I am running through the woods, which worries me for a moment because there are no woods where I live. Also, I am nude. In each hand I am carrying a fistful of nylon stockings. The unnatural clarity of my vision tells me that I am chasing something. Whatever it is, it should have learned to scream quieter or run a lot faster. Oh, it was a nun. I probably could have guessed it.
---
Why? Oh god, what have I done? I'll never be able to clean this up. There's too much fluid. There's... too... much... fluid!!!
---
The girl at Tim Hortons had not understood my words.
"Sir, if you're not going to order a coffee, you'll have to leave."
"Database error. Database error!"
"I don't know what that means."
"Means...means! Database error. Feathers and pants."
I was rudely interrupted by two heavyset gentlemen whom I can only assume were security. I could smell their hate. Like cheap leather from inside a clown car.
"Database error?"
---
I am in a shoe store. Which is ironic, since actually it's my shirt that's in tatters. The shopgirl eyes me nervously. They should really make these girls work barefoot. That way the customer feels better about having shoes once he's made his purchase. Also, for other reasons which I cannot help mumbling to myself as I watch the girl shift nervously in front of me.
"Can I...help you?" Never have I heard the word 'help' sound so sexy. And I am a man who enjoys that word. Uh oh, now I have an erection.
"Shoes. I am in the market for shoes." This is the correct thing to say.
"Umm...what's your size?"
"Eleven inches. Ba-zing! Ha ha, just kidding. Except not. No, I do actually have an enormous wang. Touch me?"
You know it's true what they say: Mace hurts like hell. Not the spray, mind you. She actually hit me with a mace. I don't even know where that came from.
---
"John?"
This name I remember. Am I being threatened? No, a friend is speaking. The Snail Dancer. One from the Before.
"Are you...are you eating a stray cat?"
"The claws tickle my insides."
He nods, but his posture gives him away. He does not understand.
"That's... super. So, are you still coming to dinner on Sunday? Maggie and I were looking forward to seeing you."
"Stocks. Restraints. I must to have! But...impossible now. Error still? Error!"
"Umm...yeah. So the thing is, we were hoping you'd bring some kind of potato dish, like mashed potatoes or some kind of potato salad even?"
"I bring armpit?"
"No, please don't bring an armpit. In fact, actually I just remembered we're both very sick, I don't think we'll be doing Christmas dinner this year."
"Why run? Armpit! Feet! Knees? Database error!"
---
I am in the centre of a crowd of shouting people. Lots of anger. On closer inspection, it seems they are shouting at me. Crazy accusations and promises of vengeance. Apparently I exposed myself to a high school cheerleading squad. I may or may not have also raped the football mascot.
Dammit, why do my blackouts always end in rape accusations?
Police trying to arrest me now. Such fools, to send only two. I suck on the female's toes while her partner flees. Somebody's pulled a fire alarm. I try to tell them that the only fire here is in my pants, but through the toes all that comes out is "Frrrrm grrrrgh hhmmhh iiispht mmmmgh ghnnngh!" Ha ha, women look so much like racoons when they cry. And now I'm sporting another erection.
---
I am running through the woods, which worries me for a moment because there are no woods where I live. Also, I am nude. In each hand I am carrying a fistful of nylon stockings. The unnatural clarity of my vision tells me that I am chasing something. Whatever it is, it should have learned to scream quieter or run a lot faster. Oh, it was a nun. I probably could have guessed it.
---
Why? Oh god, what have I done? I'll never be able to clean this up. There's too much fluid. There's... too... much... fluid!!!
