Old Unreliable

So folks may or may not have noticed I've been sort of drifting in and out of scenes like some ghost lately. Perhaps the most noticiable being Purnima's excitement about a birthday party, and then no more posts about it.

Muffy, my grandmother's cat, is very ill and is dieing. She's a mixbreed Maine Coon at the ripe old age of ninteen years. So no one can argue that she hasn't had a good run. But it's upsetting all the same. Especially for my Grandmother, and I practically grew up beside that cat. Cantankerous prideful thing that she is, as cat are, I love her and I'll miss her. Loosing a pet is always hard, and loosing anyone is taxing through a long procees like this.

Anyway, getting back on track here. I've been busy taking care of an invalid Muffy and helping my Grandmother through the process of saying goodbye. So a lot of the time, I'm either suddenly too busy or just in no mood to write. Perhaps the feelings it dredges up are of the decline and death of my dear dog Sammy nearly half a year ago. I've lost pets before, but that one hurt. She was my baby.

But forgive my meangerings. In short: I've been busy, not feeling like writing, and I'm throwing this up 'cuz it's my darn blog and maybe it'll give me a little closure for Sammy's death.


PS,

Oh right. The flooding in the basement has been fixed now as well. Tree roots getting in the sewer lines in hot weather like its been, looking for water. Carpet has been thoroughly shampooed, thank you Rug Doctor. Now to get everything back together.

Swamp Livin'

Well, my basement appears to have flooded. It's not supposed to do that. The basement is carpeted. The flood seems to have orgininated from a faulty air conditioner, and the flood started because some dirt clogged the drain that's there in case something like this happens. Today shall be a slipper day.

Le Sigh.

Circle

All Slappy's arm can do is delay the inevitable, as Alice shredded it like a buzz saw. All the while her mouth opened ever wider.

But then the buzzing sound stops, as the last of Slappy's arm is destroyed.

Alice's Eldritch maw creaks to a final stop.

All Slappy can do is look.

 :siren: WARNING: DISTURBING, UN-NUNLIKE BEHAVIOR AHEAD :siren:

It is to his great relief to see absolutely nothing.

Well not nothing. Well, yes...but not nothing, like say...the dark, or something you can't see. It's nothing that's not there.

Slappy's eyebrows screw together in irritation as it tries to relate what its seeing into some form of coherency.

And that's all it took. Sometimes you stare into the void. Sometimes it stares back.

The walls suddenly got a lot farther away, or Alice's maw got a lot closer. And bigger. But that was only a passing thought in the back of its mind as it stared into the nothing encroaching through the floor, the walls. The nothing creeped over it all. Then the bar was nothing. The city was nothing. The state was nothing. The continent was nothing. And then the world was nothing.

Slappy found himself in floating in the void of space, with no discernible landmarks as the solar system faded around him. But then he realized.

He wasn't seeing nothing. He was seeing everything.

He could see forever. Past suns, moons, galaxies, sight keeping with the ever expanding universe.

And he was so small.

He could see things living out there beyond time and space. Old, and new Gods and Aberrations. He was little more than a speck in their eye. And then there were the things they were buts specks in the eyes of. And so on. And so on. And so on. And so on. And so on. And so on. And so on And so on And so on And so onAndsoonAndsoonAndsoonAndsoonAndsoonAndsoonAndsoonAndsoonAndsoonandsooonandsoonand

Existence stopped. The universe's expansion ground to a halt.

And then existence started retracting in on itself.

And he could see it all.

Alien civilizations collapsing as their native planets were ground into nothing more than handfuls of dust. Their technology useless. Their magic useless. Heroic act after heroic act meaningless. Heroes and cowards tried to change their fate. They failed. Mothers threw themselves over children, to use their own bodies as shields. They failed. So they turned to their Gods as the stars extinguished around them. And so the Gods took a stand. And they died, even they impotent against nothing. And with them, the souls of their followers spilled out from their respective sanctuaries and dissolved into nothing. Or didn't. And then the sanctuary collapsed into nothing, taking the souls it contained with it into non-existence.

And then the cycle repeated in the next galaxy. And repeated. And repeated. And repeated. Andrepeatedandrepeatedandrepeatedadnreapeatedandrepeatedandrepeatedandrepeatedandrepeatedand

He was back in his solar system. Just in time to see Pluto collapse into a grain of ice. Neptune dissolved into a tears worth of mist. Uransus crushed smaller than a soda can top. Saturn decimated. Even the remains of Jupiter would have fit in a teaspoon.

And then there was Earth. And then the Earth became nothing.

And everyone who could have known or known of Slappy ceased to exist. Everywhere Slappy had been or could have been ceased to exist. And all of Slappy's mark on the world ceased to exist.

Because there was no Earth. And then the Sun drizzled out into darkness.

But the universe kept folding in on itself. It pressed and pressed and pressed and pressed together until there was no universe anymore.

Slappy's actions don't matter. You don't matter. Anything you could with meager amount of time you have before you die is meaningless. In two generations you would be a memory. In three generations no one would know who you really were. Paintings and books fade. Statues crack. The internet was nothing to begin with, and merely returns back to it.

In the end, there can be only nothing.

And he can still see everything that is nothing even thought there is no light and he wants to tear out his eyes to just make it at all stop and he matters he matters but he can't do anything because he has no hands and he must scream but he has no mouth and

Bye, Slappy.

Condemned to a fate beyond the imagination of the most twisted individual., Slappy became nothing. Except his conscious. Which was now condemned to roam and be the only tiny grain of something in an eternity of nothing with no foreseeable end in sight.

He would grow mad. And then go all the way through back to sane again. Only to fall to insanity once more.

And repeat.

The kind of lines often cut from WALL!!'s dialogue

Ann boggled at WALL!! for a few seconds, before-

"Pffft hahaha, WALL!!! What the heck?!" Ann laughed, putting a hand over her eyes and shaking her head while doing so.


"Hey, say what you want, but I know why those marines are so angry."


--Take Three--

"I just want to stick my face in there and blblblblblblblblblblblbe."


--Take Four--

"Blblblblblblblblblblblblblblblblblb-"


--Take Five--

"Vampires like it windy."


--Take Eight--

"She's been dead for a while, so you know they're nice and firm."


--Take Twelve--

"Hey, if I were a coffin I'd let her inside me."


--Take Twenty Six--

"Hey, if i were a blood tap I'd let her suck me."


--Take Seventy Two--

"I'd tap that ventricle."


--Take Four Hundred Thirteen--

"Having sex with a vampire is a lot like an Easter egg hunt. There are often small animals involved."

Excuse me while I cross off Erebus' characters from my "Purnima Pisses People Off" List.

Aleeeeex! Come back! We need your warm and sweet characters!

Good lord, I hereby solemnly swear to lay off the sads for a bit, so the bar can recover before I sink it into the horrid depths of Grimdark. This is why I never, and should never, touch the My Little Pony characters, The Muppets, Sarah, Lotta, Tut-Tut, and Kirby.

Because it'll become horrible Grimdark. HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE GRIMDARK!

*puts on half-opera mask and proceeds to play organ music*

A GREAT FICTIONAL MAN HAS DIED TODAY

Manju Verma "The Unbreakable Blade"

1960-199x

Warrior, Butler, and Friend with no equal


"Death had to come to him with his body smashed, his eyes blinded, and his limbs broken or there would have been a fight."-Emperor A. A. A. Rashama

Manju Verma of the long standing Verma family that have served the royal family faithfully for countless generations, has died to today. Known for his valor in various border skirmeshes, and lauded for all but single-handedly holding Kāpa Pass from invaders. He is perhaps most remembered for his staunch devotion to the Lady Purnima, even in her exile.

"His funeral shall mark the first time in twelve years that all the Emporer's children will be present at the palace, in order to pay their respects."-Acharya Chhavi

It is assumed that the Lady Purnima's exile will be waived for the duration of the funeral, according to this statement.


Article by Stan Ligature, ZooNews




I grew oddly attached to to the character of Manju, and I'm kinda sad to seem him go. Well, that's one charater off my ever expanding roster.

M Sheep Headspace Shareholders Meeting

The man at the end of the table finished adjusting the sheep helmet over his head before leaning forward in his chair, gloved fingers steepled under his fake ceramic muzzle. "Well, lets bring this meeting to a start then. Thank you all for meeting me here under such short notice. No doubt your wondering just why I called you all here." He took this moment to dramatically look slowly around all those gathered, taking great pains to make his glasses and the painted M on the sheep helmet's forhead to glare menacingly under the  harsh light.

"Dude, where's the cake. I was told there would be cake."

"What? No, I never said-"

"If he gets cake, I'd better get some fucking booze! How else am I going to drown out your whining horseshit."

"...I do not whine!"

"And why are these lights so Goddamn bright?!! Tun them the fuck down, damnit!!"

The author sheepishly twiddled his fingers. "I-I thought they were kind of cool. It'd make this meeting seem all mysterious and sinister-Wait." He sprang forward in his chair to point towards Sister Alice accusingly. "You're blind! How can you even-"

A dour baritone voice cut him off with even tones that still managed to convey a sense of finality. "While I disagree with Sister Alice's language, I must agree that the lighting in here is bordering on ridiculous."

"Et tu, Father Squid?"

"Urm. I'm afraid so, this is really hurting my eyes." The cephalopodic priest rumbled under a visor splayed hand.

The author's muffled sigh was still audible. He slouched over the table in deafeat. "Fine. Your totally ruining the dramatic tension, I'll have you know!"

"We appreciate your sacrifice."

The harsh bearing lights above them abruptly switched off, plunging the room into darkness for a few moments before the room was filled with a soft light from identifyable source revealing a rather standard block shaped room.

"Really? This all you could come up with?"

"Well, I didn't think I was going to have to show the room so I just went with the first thing that popped into my head...It's not like you guys gave me any time to fancy it up a bit."

"Yes, you are rather slow, aren't you?"

"......Does anyone have anything to say that isn't a personal attack on my person?......Just..just put your hand down, February."

"I couldn't help but notice you seem to be having a little trouble staying in control here, mostly because I've been busy stifling my own laughter, and thought I might be able to give you a hand-"

"OOOH NO! OH FUCKING NO. You sit down and shut the fuck up. Goddamn vultures, I'm not out of the city for a week and they start coming out of the woodwork."

The shade faded out until it was only a light stain in the air in visible discomfort, and maybe a little fear of, Alice. "I didn't mean to step on any toes, madam-"

"Don't give me that bullshit while your getting your filthy juju hands all over my city! I know how your type operates you two faced smug sonuvabitch! You think you can pull one over on ME!! I CAN GODDMAN SEE YOU! I've been putting your kind back where they belong before you were even jizzed out of some demon's barbed COCK!! I'M GOING TO RIP YOUR SMUG SKULL OUT OUT OF THAT MASSIVE SHIT YOU CALL A FACE  AND BEAT YOU TO DEATH WITH IT!!!"

*Bzzt*"Oh God! Get in the Alice handlers in here NOW!!"

--ROUGHLY TEN MINUTES LATER--

A notably disheveled author, a large crack running down his sheep mask, addresses those around the table who remain. "A-alright then, I think we're ready to reconvene now...The, uh, Professor has opted to skip out on the rest of the meeting, and Alice is currently in Time Out in the most secure container available. and, oh, all my papers are messed up now. Does anyone know where we left off?"

"You lost control of the meeting before we could even get that far." Dr. Albrecht elected to pipe in. "So I would like to get to examing the scripts, as you call them, for this season."

"T-that actually seems reasonable. Proceed, by all means."

"The short of it is that your behind on everything. Your all over the place and can't stick to one storyline so now they've ended up all over the place. Did we even ever find out what happened to that thing in the junkyard that ended up with some of Jonesy's blood?  What ever happened to the magical items stolen  during the church fire? And I'm sure Meatboy's phone number is sitting around somewhere...Regardles, your idiocy is normally tolerable, but now it's causing delays in my own work. Do your job."

"And there's that infamous Albrecht bedside manner. I think you'll find I'm leading up to something."

"Really, because I'm rapidly coming round to the opinion that your just making it up as you go along."

"I..UNF....YOU!....GAH! How dare you-"

"Baa.", the sheep seated at the author's left noted between a mouthfull of paper.

"What? No. I mean, I know you've been kind of been swept to the sidelines lately but-"

"Whoa. We have scripts?"

"Hmm, that's the question, isn't it?"

"Dr. Albrecht, that's quite enough. You've already voiced your..concerns over this season's script. Let's give the man a moment to answer, hm?"

"I^IIIIII I#IIIIIIII"

"See, now Mr. Blik has the right idea. Let's just-"

"IIII wwwwwaaannnnnnnnt aaa zzzzzzzzzztorrrrrrryyyyyllinnnnnnnne too!"

"Ugh. Go back to your corner, Beelzebub. Nobody likes you."

"Aaaaaaawww."

"And what about us, eh? You talked the boys up something fierce, but so far you've just left us to twist in the wind."

"Oh come on! You don't even have a text color yet!"

"Man, Squidface, how can you tolerate this three ring circus?"

"Patience, Mr. Fox, and my faith in God's plan. And the occasional cold one."

"I knew I shouldn't have agreed to this. This whole thing has been a giant waste of my time."

"I^IIIII III>#IIIIIIII"

"Ah! Sheep, please don't eat the script!"

"I appeared in one scene last season."

"Wow, uh, yea, Mr. Desmond really hasn't had more than one scene."

"TRULY ABOMINABLE!! THIS SCRIPT IS BARELY FIT TO WIPE MINE HINDQUARTERS WITH! NEVER HAVE I SEEEEEEEEEEEN SUCH A TRULY HACK JOB!! HOMER ROOOOOOOOOLLS IN HIS GRAAAVE!!!!"

"Inside voices, Dr. Grendel.."

"I APOLOGISE!! MY EMBARESSMENT IS TRULY IMMENSE!! I HAVE BROUGHT DISHONOUR TO THE HOSPITAL AND MY FELLOW DOCTORS, BOTH!!! OOOH, THE SHAAAAAAAAME!!!

"This is theatening to make me redundant."

The man a the end of the table clears his throat audibly, causing a deafening, tense silence to fall almost instantaneously. He adjusts his straw hat with great, casual silence before he speaks.

"Now, I'm sure Mr M. here has written a wonderful script. And I have great faith you folks can bring it to life. You guys'll do great. Last season was good, this one will be better. Okay? Now I'm going to turn thefloor back over to Mr. M"

"You are? I MEAN  thank you, sir."

The man tugs his hat with a suntanned smile in response. The donkey standing beside him twitches an ear.

"Well, uh, with those enheartening words, I bring this meeting to a close." The author bangs his gavel. Only to promptly throw it high into the air. "HAPPY NEW SEASON, EVERYONE!"