Decipher This!

Awhile ago, on my old Vox blog, the theme of the day was “desperation,” so I posted this:

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Today, I received an alert that the following comment had been left, months after the fact:

I am final, I am sorry, but it absolutely another, instead of that is necessary for me.

I challenge any of you to explain what is meant by this.  And away!

Family Frames

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You’ve seen frames like this, right?  They make them for grandparents, sisters, cousins, babies, other babies, you name it, and they all have treacly inspirational sayings, like, “Grandchildren are something something something there are 8 billion fucking people on this planet.”

(Ooh, that’s a good one, too.)

Anyway, I’ve been thinking of starting my own line of these frames that say things like:

“Grandparents are the parents of your parents.”

or

“Children are what happens when a man ejaculates inside a woman.”

or, for parents who adopt:

“Those crackheads made a cute baby!”

Coming soon to a Hallmark near you.

Paragraphs without Context #2

“I don’t enjoy torture,” Carlysle said as he twirled the stilleto in his his hand.  “I just happen to be really good at it.”  He stood in front of Harry and bounced the flat of the blade softly upon his captive’s head.  He crouched down.  “I can go all night, eat some breakfast, nap for half an hour and go all the next day.  I don’t want to, Mr. Innes, but you’re making it necessary, do you understand?  I’m not angry—not angry, merely disappointed.  I don’t like taking these tools out of storage.”  He gestured towards the workbench and the implements of cruelty arrayed there.  “I’d much prefer for them to be getting rusty in their locker, but you—more to the point, people like you…just insist on making me take them out again and again.”  Carlysle shook his head in bewilderment.  “It just boggles the fucking mind, don’t you think?”

Harry gathered bloody spit in his mouth and decorated Carlysle’s face.  “Do your worst, you prat.”

Carlysle didn’t flinch.  He didn’t wipe the spit away.  He stared into Harry’s eyes and set his jaw.  “No, Mr. Innes.  I won’t do my worst.  I’ll do my best.  And by the time I’m finished, you’ll tell me where Cynthia is sure enough, but you’ll also spill every rancid little secret your mind has ever harbored.  And before you die—and you will die—you will be shocked to learn the depths to which you’ll sink to make the pain stop.  That’s a promise.”  He swiped a hand down his face and wiped it on Harry’s thigh.  “Shall we begin?”

Paragraphs without Context #1

“I’m sorry, Bryon.  It’s over.”

Bryon’s shoulders sagged.  His fingers played nervously in the pockets of his lab coat.  “But…we were so close.”

Dr. Hunsaker shook his head.  “You’re the only one who thinks so.  Dedee and Sam agree with me.  You’re the last believer in this project.”  He put his hand on Bryon’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry.  We’re closing down the division.  We’re putting your files in storage and asking that you cease all work on Project Jack-o-lantern.”

Bryon nodded sadly.  “What about…the specimens?”

Dr. Hunsaker turned his head and regarded the row of dead experiments, floating in their jars, with distaste.  “They’ll be disposed of discreetly.”  He cleared his throat, then looked again down at Bryon.  “Honestly, Bryon…I don’t know how you conned the management into funding this research.  You’re not even a scientist.”

“True, Dr. Hunsaker…I’m not.”  Bryon walked over to the jars, and put his hand against one of them with a wistful look on his face.  “I’m just a man with a dream…a dream of creating the world’s first viable animal/vegetable hybrid.  And as God is my witness, the pumpig will exist in my lifetime!”

Blind Poem

Hello there
I’m glad you answered my personal ad

In the newspaper
Not a lot of people read the newspaper
And my friends all said I was stupid
To put an ad
In the newspaper

They said Craigslist is where it’s at
But I’m not looking for
A tranny that fucks hamsters

No, I’m looking for somebody
That likes pina coladas
And getting lost in the rain
And other cheesy 70’s soft-rock numbers

But I’m glad you answered
And this is gonna be epic
More epic than a hobbit movie

Because this motherfuckin’ date
Is gonna change your life
Because after this dinner
I’m gonna drive you to the country
Where I will not murder you
Because I am not a murderer

But you might get stabbed
By which I mean with my penis
Because I’m a lover, not a killer
And when this night is over
You’re gonna feel right loved
You’re gonna feel so loved
Like a truck just drove up in there

And now you’re standing up
And collecting your things
And walking for the exit

But maybe you’ll turn around
Just one last time
And see me playing air-guitar
And think, “Maybe that guy—”

No, you walked out of the restaurant.

Yes, I would like fresh ground pepper, thank you.

Okay, I Admit It...

…my tumblr is boring as fuck.  Not as far as content is concerned, necessarily, but it is wearisome to the eyes to even look at.  I’m having a rough time finding a theme I like, and I don’t possess the HTML skills to build my own from ground up.  I’d ask for help, but who has the time to do that shit?

Furthermore: blech.