Ariss
A tumbleweed drifts stately across the plain. Charred remains of shrubberies pose little resistance.
It was a tuesday. It's always a tuesday when these things happen, not because tuesdays are special or anything, but simply because that is what tuesdays are for. A man approached the dreamer, as men are sometimes wont to do, but this one said only, "You smell."
"Of course I smell," the dreamer replied. "Doesn't everyone? That is what we have noses for, after all. Silly."
Taken aback, the man frowned. "No, I mean you smell."
The dreamer smiled. None of it mattered anyway. For all she knew, none of it was even real, but if the man would go to the bother of approaching her about this, chances were he was onto something, real or otherwise. So be it; still didn't matter. Instead of replying, she kicked the dirt and looked up, up to the sky, the clouds, the stars, the sun and moons, and cast her arm skyward, as if tossing something invisible to catch the firmament.
"Brilliant."
You feel you have a ten-foot pole
"I feel it. We are close... so close. It feels... close."
But insane telephones do have problems. She's climbing the wall again, nevermind all the playground equipment behind her. It's like having a baby... Hot dog... Gas tank... Abstraction is the art of making assumptions. The other levels are not managed by idiots. The entire thing does comprise a whole. There is a point to all this... there is a point, right? But coming out alive is a far cry from coming out unscathed. I know the story, you see. I'm writing it all down for you. Soit'll be remembered. Luggage... Jellybean...
As for the problems themselves, well... Memo... Operating system... Are you clear on just how excrutiatingly painful my powers can be?! That's the worst thing that can happen. There are only three colours. All others are simulacra rendered of the three; natural wavelengths are impossible to simulate. At least... Extension cord... Toaster... Two by two. Everyone has a match, a mate, a doppler. I love you.
I hereby declare war on the laws of physics.
Say what you squish
I could describe a true horror for you, you know. Hi, I'm looking to hire an exterminator. I have some bats in my belfry. Queer... Driptray... There's a downstairs in everybody. Humor is like reverse jenga, played using CAT scanners. You know what they say. But what about it is it, really, that they fear? If you can read this, you are too close. There are diesel engines too silly to describe... Air conditioner... Diode... Hub cap... If you've ever needed a compass to tell which way the wind shines, then you are already well informed about nonsense. Dog house... When the sinners fall, what are left? Sin is relative. Figurative. Figures of speech, all any of it is.
If I am a dog house, then tell me, what are you? Guacamole... We all need someone who will let us hold their bug. Able-bodied spiderman gimp train... Kitten... In what dark places do your toasters reside, on what horrible neurotoxins do you silently sit... Squid... Pork chop... Amv... Cuteness solves everything. Dishrag... Needle... I don't conveniently forget anything. I just forget everything. Gleaming, gleaming, as the shadows stir, joy in the fissile uranium, utter, unadulterated fear in the fissile uranium? There is no scroll here, no plot closure... Don't go towards the light! You'll fall and break your hip! Chromosome...
- Some of this text is randomly generated. We take no responsibility for the nonsequences.