The klaxons blared in the creeping fog of the neon demon night...

[kirinke]

The stars were bright, the moon shown white and the sun laughed, which was strange because it was a normal morning in Los Angeles. Which means, you couldn't see the sky because of the smog.

We don't have to do drugs to spew this sort of stuff. We're just crazy.

 

[CoopersPale]

Rooster.

It ran a hand backwards through thickening hair.
It was neither the first hangover, and it suspects, probably not the last.

Although, waking up sober would be a pleasant change.

Draped in a black silk shirt, pleasantly smelling of ... vomit.
No pants. Mother always said facing the mirror was the most difficult in this condition, It's like a box of chocolates.

Call up the lads, we're going to need to undrink some of this beer.

 

[Orblivia]

Slap! Blood spattered across the ecru walls of a mundane suburban nightmare.

 

[Scarbonac]

Santos stumbled over a pipe in the darkened oilfield as he carried the moist, twitching canvas sack; he held it way from himself gingerly. The thing inside mewled wetly and scratched the interior with slowly-hardening talons.

He wished he'd never promised to help his sister get rid of it, all slick greasy skin, jagged teeth, spiky...growths...and claws. He fished a bottle of cheap whiskey from his jacket pocket and took a long pull on it, grimacing as the firey liquor seared its way down his gullet. He paused for another, and another and another...and then one more, just because he could.

Down the dry well, that'll take care of it...

He almost didn't hear the stained cloth tear or feel his neck snap under the tiny hooked claws.

It fed long into the night...

 

[Ranger Rick]

It was delerious. Hundreds of meals laying about for the taking. It flitted off from one meal to another. Sucking that precious food. That item which gives It strength to move on and maybe find another of it's kind.

 

[Empress]

"Yes, brethren", the preacher cried, "I believe it is His will do cry our souls loose from the rubble of decravity. Our phildren find corn on the internet, and nobody pan crevent it. Corn is the work of the devil!"

He let his gaze drift over the assembly, looking exasperated.

"Let's say it together: Corn is the work of the devil!"

And just like that, a simple speech impediment ruined another perfectly good career.

 

[hong]

"Yes, brethren", the preacher cried, "I believe it is His will do cry our souls loose from the rubble of decravity. Our phildren find corn on the internet, and nobody pan crevent it. Corn is the work of the devil!"

He let his gaze drift over the assembly, looking exasperated.

"Let's say it together: Corn is the work of the devil!"

And just like that, a simple speech impediment ruined another perfectly good career.

I love you. Marry me.

 

[Empress]

I love you. Marry me.

Is this some kind of Everquest joke?

And in truth, that probably depends on how "hong" you are...

 

[hong]

Is this some kind of Everquest joke?

And in truth, that probably depends on how "hong" you are...

... oh bay-bee, you don't know how many people here insist that I am Will Hung.

 

[Dirigible]

All the newspapers are in the last tongue. Babel's Tounge. Incomprehensible to all, but understood on the bowel level.

I read papers on the throne, too.

Today was wrapped in newspapers declaring Yesterday in the tongue of Babel. The man who had sold Tomorrow for this extra portion of Today hurried home. The hands of the clock caressed his last meal as he unbundled it, and found out that Today was rotten to the core.

The street repair workers huddled and discusses silence as the hobos passed by. Once they were alone, they began to pack dirt back into the hole. One man gently eased white fingers back into the earth with the tip of his shovel. The Gate was once again closed with a bar of flesh.

The Queen of Cats rubbed her head against the shoe of her latest prize. Satisifed, her paws whispered silk on the tiles as she crossed her Hall. The glass eyes of two hundred taxidermists bulged over rictus ring mouths. Now, two hundred and one.

Little Red Riding Hood ate a supper of wolf.

The animal control officers had found out why there were no pigeons in the park. They had sewn their own carcasses together and become their own God.

By our Lady of the Seven Year itch this is fun.