Tuesday May 31st, 2016
8:32 am (6 1/4 hours of sleep)
Jingling in the pocket of a clown, I sat wondering how I had gotten there. Gary Lamar ate nothing but cigarette butts for a week upon which he decided it to be a poor dietary choice. The tobacco companies would miss his patronage. Where for art the artists? When might they be returning? What has happened to the people of Swintch that they would be nothing more than a bad jolly boy in the prime of his life?
Sweden left nothing up to the imagination when they became the harbinger of the end times. Where might these end times be? You silly bungalo! I just told you! Sweden! Time and again the times of another being is sometimes too much for a Trembalo to manage. These creatures know nothing of managing ones own time. So they make it their business to steal other people's. What life might have been like without them constantly stealing the time from the rest of us.
Some people like to donk up their lives with the intent to never undonk it. These people usually like to try and donk other lives once theirs has been properly donked. These people should be taught proper undonking procedures to help with their lives.
"When will the Vibromanx be ready for production?"
"When we have the patents available."
"What would we need to do to see this thing through?"
"Think happy thoughts for at least two hours daily."
"See, I thought it took more than that these days."
"Naw, man. That's about all their is to it."
"Well I hope production goes well for you."
"As with you, my bartifelinx trantoriss."
"Shalom"
"Shalom"
"Guuuuuuurl, you be seeing things in hypermax 3D again haven't cha?"
"No I have not my good man. No I have not."
Twirling for the glory of the space needle was nothing to scoff at. Killing time was.
"Lame excuses for a third eye wearing manx loving hug feeling fairy mongering twit!" yelled the butcher to his best customer Mrs O'Donovan. Mrs O'Donovan used to be in the anti alien league on Dorovish Prime. So she understood the sacrifices it took to truly be racist against off-worlders.
"Fantasy football has nothing to do with dragons!" yelled little Billy Ponix at his mother. She had only asked whether he wanted steak or slime for dinner and truly didn't know her son. Billy would grow up to be the head coach of the first professional football team to eat the other during the game. This was due to the fact that he had fielded only dragons. Turns out their are no official rules in football against fielding mythical creatures.
Showing posts with label time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label time. Show all posts
Tuesday, 31 May 2016
Monday, 30 May 2016
Pt 15: The Panel
Monday May 30th, 2016
8:26 am (7 hours of sleep)
Tumbling through forever, I found I couldn't speak. I had found myself along passages of time and space long since forgotten by the children of the infinite. What seemed like eons and millenia adrift along corridors and passages, I came upon a door labeled "maintenance". How I managed to open said door I cannot say but I know one thing is for certain. I should never have crossed the mantle of that ill fated room.
It seemed like a natural boiler room. All except the far end had a large panel with all sorts of buttons, dials, levers, and many colored blinking lights. All of these seemed to be labeled with some function of the universe from causing rain to fall to creating planets and other celestial bodies. I would have had to exhibit a level of self control I knew in my wanderings of the infinite, I had long since lost.
I approached the panel all aglow with thoughts and ideas of what this might mean for reality. Did I, at this very moment, have the power to create and destroy the very fabric of what we had ever known? I inspected this panel of creation and realized there had been someone here long before my own admittance to this back room of reality. Some switches had what looked like a layer of dust on them while yet others seemed newly installed and shiny.
As I inspected the panel I noticed some buttons and levers were pushing and pulling themselves. One button labeled "birth" kept pressing itself with a speed no mortal man would be able to track. another labeled "death" seemed to be attempting to keep up with it's counterpart. All the buttons and levers each having there own distinct purpose clearly labeled was fascinating enough, though through my inspections I became transfixed with one particular lever the color of cobalt. Not because I knew what would occur should I use it for it's designated purpose but because I didn't know it's purpose. It was ancient in design with a layer of dust showing it's neglect but what interested me most was the fact of it being unlabeled. Something of it's mystery was so enticing that I had to interact with it.
I found my hands upon that mysteriously beautiful piece of cobalt equipment That now I wish I had never laid eyes on and with almost no force at all had flipped it. What came next is hard to describe. The senses of a physical being like myself don't seem to e acute enough to take all that I witnessed in. Several colors and hues that don't exist upon any known spectrum appeared to come from within the machine and swallowed all other colors from the room. My senses overcome and failing me, I started to question my sanity as a deafening sound akin to the chaotic roaring of a battlefield though not like any field of battle I have witnessed. As the sound grew in crescendo all emotions of awe or wonderment seemed to have been absorbed by the panel only to be replaced by dread and a sense of impending death. Not my own death but the death of everything. The death of reality. I fought with the switch attempting to will the thing to it's previous position. However, nothing I did nor any number of profanities forced the object of my previous fascination to it's starting position.
As the cacophonous roar grew ever more I saw upon the floor printed as plain as you are reading this right now, a sign which read, "Caution: interfering with the workings of this panel may cause an imbalance and subsequent total collapse of reality. Have a pleasant day". The reading of the sign was the last thing I experienced as the hallways and backrooms of reality collapsed into nothing.
8:26 am (7 hours of sleep)
Tumbling through forever, I found I couldn't speak. I had found myself along passages of time and space long since forgotten by the children of the infinite. What seemed like eons and millenia adrift along corridors and passages, I came upon a door labeled "maintenance". How I managed to open said door I cannot say but I know one thing is for certain. I should never have crossed the mantle of that ill fated room.
It seemed like a natural boiler room. All except the far end had a large panel with all sorts of buttons, dials, levers, and many colored blinking lights. All of these seemed to be labeled with some function of the universe from causing rain to fall to creating planets and other celestial bodies. I would have had to exhibit a level of self control I knew in my wanderings of the infinite, I had long since lost.
I approached the panel all aglow with thoughts and ideas of what this might mean for reality. Did I, at this very moment, have the power to create and destroy the very fabric of what we had ever known? I inspected this panel of creation and realized there had been someone here long before my own admittance to this back room of reality. Some switches had what looked like a layer of dust on them while yet others seemed newly installed and shiny.
As I inspected the panel I noticed some buttons and levers were pushing and pulling themselves. One button labeled "birth" kept pressing itself with a speed no mortal man would be able to track. another labeled "death" seemed to be attempting to keep up with it's counterpart. All the buttons and levers each having there own distinct purpose clearly labeled was fascinating enough, though through my inspections I became transfixed with one particular lever the color of cobalt. Not because I knew what would occur should I use it for it's designated purpose but because I didn't know it's purpose. It was ancient in design with a layer of dust showing it's neglect but what interested me most was the fact of it being unlabeled. Something of it's mystery was so enticing that I had to interact with it.
I found my hands upon that mysteriously beautiful piece of cobalt equipment That now I wish I had never laid eyes on and with almost no force at all had flipped it. What came next is hard to describe. The senses of a physical being like myself don't seem to e acute enough to take all that I witnessed in. Several colors and hues that don't exist upon any known spectrum appeared to come from within the machine and swallowed all other colors from the room. My senses overcome and failing me, I started to question my sanity as a deafening sound akin to the chaotic roaring of a battlefield though not like any field of battle I have witnessed. As the sound grew in crescendo all emotions of awe or wonderment seemed to have been absorbed by the panel only to be replaced by dread and a sense of impending death. Not my own death but the death of everything. The death of reality. I fought with the switch attempting to will the thing to it's previous position. However, nothing I did nor any number of profanities forced the object of my previous fascination to it's starting position.
As the cacophonous roar grew ever more I saw upon the floor printed as plain as you are reading this right now, a sign which read, "Caution: interfering with the workings of this panel may cause an imbalance and subsequent total collapse of reality. Have a pleasant day". The reading of the sign was the last thing I experienced as the hallways and backrooms of reality collapsed into nothing.
Thursday, 26 May 2016
Pt 11: Time and Again
Thursday May 26th, 2016
10:06 am (7 hours of sleep)
Fighting hollowly on, our hero, after many eons of struggling forward, seemed to have been giving up.
"How much longer must I go? How many more must I slay? When will it be enough?" she pondered.
Like an answer to prayer, a great shaznarl beast lumbered from out of nowhere scooped up our hero and popping her in it's mouth chewed her up into many tiny pieces. Now normally being masticated instills fear in an individual but not our hero. She looks at it as the next great adventure. Letting her consciousness slip away, she found herself emerging into the arms of a strangely clad man wearing a robe, gloves, a little cloth hat, and a mask all the color green. After a short appraisal of the situation, she realized she seemed to be significantly smaller.
"How long was I out?" she attempted to say but nothing but gurgles erupted from her mouth.
She instinctively reached for her sword but to her dismay it was not there. Not only that, but she had what felt like a fleshy rope attached to her middle. After a shoot of pain the rope was severed and she was bundled in a blanket and passed from the strangely clad man to another giant of a man and a teary eyed woman.
To what levels of adventure she would be having, she was unsure. What she was sure about was the fact that this was all very frustrating.
Fred and Balinda had always wanted a baby girl and the way this one fidgeted and squirmed suggested she was going to be a hand full. They cleaned her up, thanked the doctors, and after a brief stay in the hospital, started home.
Traffic through mid-town was particularly dreadful this time of day. Which when coupled with the struggles of the baby made for an aggravating time. Finally upon returning home it hit the couple that life would continue just as it had but with one special difficult package added.
As time passed, our hero realized the boring monotony of living in this time and place. She realized she didn't belong here Give her monsters and fighting, royalty to rescue, or ancient deities to barter with. However, this place, this life had none of these things she had been familiar with.
As she grew, she fought. She fought with anyone and everyone. Labeled 'trouble child' by most, she found violence and vigilantism her greatest fantasies and her biggest outlets. In her previous existence she had been a hero, a warrior, a legend. In this reality she found herself in, she was just another angry nobody, just another angry teen. Then just another angry adult.
She was eventually put to death by lethal injection. Having succumbed to her fantasies of vigilantism, she had beaten a few muggers to death and caught, quite literally, red handed.
As the injectors emptied their contents into her veins, she felt herself slipping away, her consciousness drifting a bit only to be swallowed by nothingness.
And then, she awoke once more.
10:06 am (7 hours of sleep)
Fighting hollowly on, our hero, after many eons of struggling forward, seemed to have been giving up.
"How much longer must I go? How many more must I slay? When will it be enough?" she pondered.
Like an answer to prayer, a great shaznarl beast lumbered from out of nowhere scooped up our hero and popping her in it's mouth chewed her up into many tiny pieces. Now normally being masticated instills fear in an individual but not our hero. She looks at it as the next great adventure. Letting her consciousness slip away, she found herself emerging into the arms of a strangely clad man wearing a robe, gloves, a little cloth hat, and a mask all the color green. After a short appraisal of the situation, she realized she seemed to be significantly smaller.
"How long was I out?" she attempted to say but nothing but gurgles erupted from her mouth.
She instinctively reached for her sword but to her dismay it was not there. Not only that, but she had what felt like a fleshy rope attached to her middle. After a shoot of pain the rope was severed and she was bundled in a blanket and passed from the strangely clad man to another giant of a man and a teary eyed woman.
To what levels of adventure she would be having, she was unsure. What she was sure about was the fact that this was all very frustrating.
Fred and Balinda had always wanted a baby girl and the way this one fidgeted and squirmed suggested she was going to be a hand full. They cleaned her up, thanked the doctors, and after a brief stay in the hospital, started home.
Traffic through mid-town was particularly dreadful this time of day. Which when coupled with the struggles of the baby made for an aggravating time. Finally upon returning home it hit the couple that life would continue just as it had but with one special difficult package added.
As time passed, our hero realized the boring monotony of living in this time and place. She realized she didn't belong here Give her monsters and fighting, royalty to rescue, or ancient deities to barter with. However, this place, this life had none of these things she had been familiar with.
As she grew, she fought. She fought with anyone and everyone. Labeled 'trouble child' by most, she found violence and vigilantism her greatest fantasies and her biggest outlets. In her previous existence she had been a hero, a warrior, a legend. In this reality she found herself in, she was just another angry nobody, just another angry teen. Then just another angry adult.
She was eventually put to death by lethal injection. Having succumbed to her fantasies of vigilantism, she had beaten a few muggers to death and caught, quite literally, red handed.
As the injectors emptied their contents into her veins, she felt herself slipping away, her consciousness drifting a bit only to be swallowed by nothingness.
And then, she awoke once more.
Thursday, 19 May 2016
Pt 4: Space-Jelly
Thursday May 19th, 2016
8:02am (6 1/2 hours of sleep)
"Terrible events are afoot" said the Marquise of Much Prestidigitation. Manxsome foes are the hardest types of foes. Cheesy butter leaves much to be desired. Windows to the soul are much like a watercress sandwich. Tiger balm sounds beautifully explosive. When shattered realms come up for air, so then will my theremin be located and held at bay. The fridge sometimes on very rare occasions will go ahead and force feed you dates in your sleep.
Triglen Fae never knew his parents. Being left on the stoop of the Sha of Jasswua left him with many questions. How great must the feeling of Barry Kramer's left hook be, after the triumphant supplanting of the Duke o' Taffy. How many people does it take to make an eighty foot wondrous cave of wondrous befuddlement? "About two really inquisitive snails".
8:02am (6 1/2 hours of sleep)
"Terrible events are afoot" said the Marquise of Much Prestidigitation. Manxsome foes are the hardest types of foes. Cheesy butter leaves much to be desired. Windows to the soul are much like a watercress sandwich. Tiger balm sounds beautifully explosive. When shattered realms come up for air, so then will my theremin be located and held at bay. The fridge sometimes on very rare occasions will go ahead and force feed you dates in your sleep.
Triglen Fae never knew his parents. Being left on the stoop of the Sha of Jasswua left him with many questions. How great must the feeling of Barry Kramer's left hook be, after the triumphant supplanting of the Duke o' Taffy. How many people does it take to make an eighty foot wondrous cave of wondrous befuddlement? "About two really inquisitive snails".
Put forth upon the rock of time,
Held by pewter magazines,
I finally found what was mine,
Not before I had to drag a bean.
Hopelessly and wonderfully lost I found myself wondering if I would ever once again see the light of day. I had misplaced myself once again and didn't know which way was up. The Shanderseen had taken all my knowledge of it's realm and bottled it up.
Kimono clad komodo dragons have learned the secrets of space-time in the islands of Sthuewoity. What they're going to do with it is anyone's guess. However, I heard jellyfish come in many poultry shapes. This would make sense as poultry has eaten logs and logs of taffy rolls. Figs knew the answers to the questions to the ponderings of the elite turtle dove whistlers. Once in a while I felt a big claw give me the well placed and much deserved fish of the depths of wheels.
Time can be replaced by jelly. If only you believe in the space-jelly theory. Tim Sanderson thinks the space-jelly theory would leave us all perpetually sticky and sweet. One's disposition of positions has posited itself against the supposition of depositions. Plague monkeys feel nothing for society and it's selfish norms. Although water buffaloes have great compassion towards the lost, they have absolutely none for a wayward borogove.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)