Some amulets protect from poison damage. Other amulets radiate absolutely massive poison damage. That’s just the way amulets go, my friend.
Falcon hears falconer just fine. Falcon possesses perfect hearing. Falconer forgets birthday. Falcon deserves bird party.
Your one-time passcode is laying its eggs in the spiraling canyons of your fingertips. It will expire after ten minutes.
These ARE my clowns. This IS my circus. There is much for which I must atone.
David Byrne timidly exits a waterlogged suit and scuttles across the sizzling sand. Until he locates an improbably larger suit, he will be left vulnerable to seagulls and other hungry predators. At last, salvation: He finds an abandoned gray suit in a tide pool and crawls into his spacious new home.
I propose we free the piñata and follow the beast across the barrens, where it may lead us to its herd. Imagine the candy then, my friends. Imagine our spoils. Our reward.
The dentist pulls a tiny book wedged between a couple of molars and my ribs swing open to reveal a torchlit staircase.
Chartreuse? We all thought you said shark truce. I believed the war was finally over. The waters run red and you dare speak of green-yellow?
A little cuckoo bird should pop out of the doomsday clock. Have some fun with it.
So we beat on, boats against the current, riding monster waves, catching sick air, ceaselessly impressing bodacious babes.
IF YOU ARE STILL IN LINE TO VOTE, STAY IN LINE. I AM INSIDE YOUR HOME. I AM CARESSING YOUR PHOTOGRAPHS. YOUR CLOTHES FIT PERFECTLY. YOUR FAMILY PREPARES A PLACE FOR ME AT THE HEAD OF THIS TABLE.
When you see scary things in the news, look for the Helpers. Watch out for the Helpers and their long, contorting limbs ambling over the rubble. Remain vigilant and still, for their vision is based on movement.
Your email finds me chained deep within the catacombs, my insatiable lust for Amontillado deployed against me.
"Rise and grind.” The amulet grows heavier. "Let's make that bread." Its string singes the nape of my neck. “Grindset mindset ‘til sunset.” I lose widening swaths of time, awaken in the woods.
Suddenly looking up from the old fashioned milkshake we share to rigidly murmur “we shouldn’t be here; no living thing should” and your straw loudly slurps in the empty glass
I am essential to the quest and cannot be killed, although I may be downed for a brief time
If you make Charon laugh, you get to sip from the river Styx. I hear it tastes like what peace feels like. One sip and all your questions find answers in a moment of perfect bliss. If you try to make him laugh and fail, you have to drink from The Hell Bucket (liquified teeth).
Politely nodding at the other druid as we slowly drag our menhirs in opposite directions across the moor.
Seeing plenty of cicada slander on the timeline this year. This is a pro-cicada account. My sleepy screaming darlings of the dusk are safe here.
One must approach horses with a flat, open palm because paper beats rock and hooves are always rock. Do NOT let a horse see you with scissors.
There is a ghost in your home and it loves you. It gazes longingly from the doorway, yearning to know what you’re thinking. When you walk through it, the ghost tastes your freshest thoughts. They’re always delicious. This is why you don’t remember why you walked into the kitchen.
inventing various unstoppable martial arts styles, but wisely keeping them to myself as they are too dangerous for the world at large. sipping the nectar of a peach. these and similar such behaviors occupy my time of late
Missed Connection: Your hand brushed against mine as we reached to rip the robotic police dog's battery from its cold chassis.
A fungus encases the deceased hiker’s throat and replicates its hollow shape dozens of times over in every direction. As wind moves through the cones, a sound mimicking a human groan rings across the forest. This attracts the next hiker. We have to fix this or Park Ranger Prom will be cancelled.