Tinkling rivulets of light rolled off the solid carapace. Grandpa Mac looked through his round glasses- two wrinkled old raisins, the sugar crusting at their edges, looking out from behind perfect polished glass plates rimmed in a delicate gold.
My Grandpa Mac is a turtle and I feed him red bell peppers that my mother chops up for me. He is a box turtle.
He is a beautiful little pebble among a sea of rocks. Rocks waiting to slide over each other and crush him, his stony shell suddenly a brittle robin's egg.
Oh jesus, what if he was crushed;
On Moonlight
Solid, quivering chunks of light broke up the pitch between the pines, the snow a spectral white sheet giving way to even a fleet fox's step. Trevor hums, "aleftarightaleftaright…” cutting the crisp brittle linen to ribbons, crossing over from pitch to silver shafts of moonlight without losing momentum.
Heaving up rough-hewn chunks of snow, a soundless snowmobile tramps through the fragile medium. Saturated in a heavy dripping blue, a bare figure goads its mute steed on; catching up, and unburdening Trevor of his head.
LOP!
Clean off (his head), Trevor's body continues to glide, leaving a neat trail downhill.
Heaving up rough-hewn chunks of snow, a soundless snowmobile tramps through the fragile medium. Saturated in a heavy dripping blue, a bare figure goads its mute steed on; catching up, and unburdening Trevor of his head.
LOP!
Clean off (his head), Trevor's body continues to glide, leaving a neat trail downhill.
On Animal Bondage
Solid, dual hued exterior, warm, dark, cushioned interior; the perfect prison.
Some muffled yelling and the bars give way to blinding cold light and a crisp breeze; "PIKACHU I CHOOSE YOU!"
"You fucking cocksucker, not this again," is what Pikachu would have said, but, as always, it came out "Pika-pika-PIKACHU!"
Some muffled yelling and the bars give way to blinding cold light and a crisp breeze; "PIKACHU I CHOOSE YOU!"
"You fucking cocksucker, not this again," is what Pikachu would have said, but, as always, it came out "Pika-pika-PIKACHU!"
On Contacting Beings of Dark Power
The floor was a writhing carpet of mice, bulging and throbbing to some lunatic beat. Watching the mad mouse orgy, Jud wiped the last flecks of vomit from his finely combed beard, simultaneously feeling his neatly waxed mustache for stray traces.
Reflecting, he decided that attempting to ring up an elder god of the abyss with the assistance of his twelve year old cousin and a flimsy twice-read novel had been a poor idea.
How the fuck could he explain why Jimmy now hung wetly limp, still dripping gore (probably) with his spine unnaturally coiled around a sign reading "I-36W".
Reflecting, he decided that attempting to ring up an elder god of the abyss with the assistance of his twelve year old cousin and a flimsy twice-read novel had been a poor idea.
How the fuck could he explain why Jimmy now hung wetly limp, still dripping gore (probably) with his spine unnaturally coiled around a sign reading "I-36W".
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