Genkora
Frog blast the vent core!
- Reaction score
- 92
This is a story about corn.
There's this maze, right? It's made from some kind of stone, like the stuff you would see a medieval castle made from. There's ivy and moss and shit growing on it, lichens too. There are tiles on the floor, but a lot are missing, there's patches of dirt and grass and more moss growing between them. Also it's foggy, like there's mist and dew everywhere, which would explain all the ivy and moss.
This thing, it's in the maze. It's big, really big, or colossal rather, you know how they teach you to use words other than big or some bullshit. Maybe it isn't big, maybe I just think it's big, maybe I'm small. I mean, who the hell am I, Einstein?
There was a point in my life where I would just run around making random connections with stuff. It's funny how I write point, when in truth it's a line. No, fuck that, no way, not ever. It's not a line, it's not even a plane, it's a god damn four dimensional hyperspace. This deal casts a three dimensional shadow, like you're sitting down with your family watching TV, minding your own business, and all of the sudden, this translucent blob of shadow appears in front of the tube. This is some linear algebraic stuff man, this is the stuff those scientists talk about.
Anyway, this point in my life was bullshit. There's a bull, you dig? And it's taking a dump, dropping a steamer right in the middle of the room. But no one notices it, I mean, everyone notices it, how could they not? Everyone just pretends not to notice it; as long as they don't see it, it isn't their problem, right? Right. Of course, everyone takes notice to not take notice of a 1700 pound bull, because let's face it, fecal matter is just gross.
I'm in the maze. Actually, we are all in the maze. You, me, and papa bear, the whole family, the gang's all here. Seven billion peas in a pod. You get the picture. I'm in this maze, and it's pissing me off. Like, what the fuck man? There's this thing I heard, I think it was in some standup or something. If you're lost in a forest, build a house. But shit, I don't have any wood. Just moss and crap.
This thing, it's like, shit I don't even know. It's a thing and it's here. It's a big deal, the real deal. The deal of a lifetime, act now and we'll throw in two for the price of shit because it's all made from corn anyway. That's how they make it all for the same price, 19.95, it's all made from corn. Your slapchops? Corn. Your snuggies? Corn. Your Oxyclean? It's all made from fucking corn. When I eat corn, I'm eating vacuum cleaners and space bags and retarded stupid ass 'I don't know how to use a fucking god damn spatula because I have down syndrome from being dropped on my head too many times by my crystal addicted mother' folding frying pan that makes flipping pancakes hassle free! And don't tell me that you can't get down syndrome from being dropped on your head, because I don't give a shit.
In the end, I don't really know what this thing is. It's a thing, it's here in this maze with all of us, it may or may not be big, and none of it matters because I'm typing on corn anyways.
This is the result of having no idea whatsoever what I was going to write about before I wrote it. I'm somewhat pleased.
There's this maze, right? It's made from some kind of stone, like the stuff you would see a medieval castle made from. There's ivy and moss and shit growing on it, lichens too. There are tiles on the floor, but a lot are missing, there's patches of dirt and grass and more moss growing between them. Also it's foggy, like there's mist and dew everywhere, which would explain all the ivy and moss.
This thing, it's in the maze. It's big, really big, or colossal rather, you know how they teach you to use words other than big or some bullshit. Maybe it isn't big, maybe I just think it's big, maybe I'm small. I mean, who the hell am I, Einstein?
There was a point in my life where I would just run around making random connections with stuff. It's funny how I write point, when in truth it's a line. No, fuck that, no way, not ever. It's not a line, it's not even a plane, it's a god damn four dimensional hyperspace. This deal casts a three dimensional shadow, like you're sitting down with your family watching TV, minding your own business, and all of the sudden, this translucent blob of shadow appears in front of the tube. This is some linear algebraic stuff man, this is the stuff those scientists talk about.
Anyway, this point in my life was bullshit. There's a bull, you dig? And it's taking a dump, dropping a steamer right in the middle of the room. But no one notices it, I mean, everyone notices it, how could they not? Everyone just pretends not to notice it; as long as they don't see it, it isn't their problem, right? Right. Of course, everyone takes notice to not take notice of a 1700 pound bull, because let's face it, fecal matter is just gross.
I'm in the maze. Actually, we are all in the maze. You, me, and papa bear, the whole family, the gang's all here. Seven billion peas in a pod. You get the picture. I'm in this maze, and it's pissing me off. Like, what the fuck man? There's this thing I heard, I think it was in some standup or something. If you're lost in a forest, build a house. But shit, I don't have any wood. Just moss and crap.
This thing, it's like, shit I don't even know. It's a thing and it's here. It's a big deal, the real deal. The deal of a lifetime, act now and we'll throw in two for the price of shit because it's all made from corn anyway. That's how they make it all for the same price, 19.95, it's all made from corn. Your slapchops? Corn. Your snuggies? Corn. Your Oxyclean? It's all made from fucking corn. When I eat corn, I'm eating vacuum cleaners and space bags and retarded stupid ass 'I don't know how to use a fucking god damn spatula because I have down syndrome from being dropped on my head too many times by my crystal addicted mother' folding frying pan that makes flipping pancakes hassle free! And don't tell me that you can't get down syndrome from being dropped on your head, because I don't give a shit.
In the end, I don't really know what this thing is. It's a thing, it's here in this maze with all of us, it may or may not be big, and none of it matters because I'm typing on corn anyways.
This is the result of having no idea whatsoever what I was going to write about before I wrote it. I'm somewhat pleased.
