Iwt xii

[donteatpoop]

Alright, leaning toward betrayal.

[donteatpoop]

Officially updated now. Betrayal.

[Vesnic]

So we're talking a betrayal that happens in the course of the story, right?

[donteatpoop]

Yes. Updated main description to clarify this point.

[mizal]

I'm not even going to pretend like I'm ever going to get around to writing a story for this stupid shitty contest this year.

Even if betrayal is a better theme for me than random horror stuff.

Still not entering, fuck you all.

[donteatpoop]

If history teaches us anything, mizal does exactly the opposite of what she says... So we should get a story this year.

[Vesnic]

Still not entering, fuck you all.

Mizal, girl, you seem to be going through some real unhappy shit in your life and I hope things get better for you soon.

[mizal]

No offense intended, 'fuck you all' is just how I say goodbye. When ending a post on a forum, leaving work for the day, or family gatherings, church, etc.

[donteatpoop]

You should just make it your sig.

[Vesnic]

Boy I sure wish someone had something interesting to say. Anyone about anything. Just...interesting, engaging, something that convinces me I'm not in fact in a vegetative coma.

[End Master]

Aren't you over in Germany right now? I heard the people are having riots about not wanting to pay off the huge Greek debt which the German government is claiming it's really for reparations for WW2.

[Vesnic]

At the moment, Germany is slightly more preoccupied with the small matter of an airplane that never made it home. I'm slightly preoccupied with the fact that fashion-disaster Merkel took to slapping everyone on the wrist just hours after the crash, reproaching us about jumping to conclusions or starting to surmise too much or, by extension, asking too many pertinent questions. A journalist who dared to ask if this guy had been radicalized in any way was shamed out of town, because Germany just wants to continue being a shining beacon of complete pussification and pay off all their reparations to ... the Greeks? Because obviously they were the worst victims of the Third Reich. Germans are now militant pacifists, just like they were militant warlords seventy years ago. The basic nature never changes. They're not nearly as intelligent as they think they are. While they're busy demobilizing their army down to a lone brass bunker in the Rhineland, little Lithy (that's Lithuania, not Lithium) is reinstating conscription because, um, Russia. I made a marvelous trip to Vilnius a few weeks ago. It would be so very sad to see Little Lithy get squashed. Again. It would be sadder than a sad panda. Fucking serious shit, in other words.



We'll never know the truth about anything because there just aren't any ways to hear it anymore and no more functioning systems for democratic dissemination of information. It's been a long, slow, tortuous descent, sort of like those poor souls in that Germanwings plane had to endure. I'd say we're just about at that point now where we could hop out the nearest airlock and have ourselves a swell skiing holiday in la-la land.

Is anyone else feeling downright insectoid these days? I'm just debating to myself as I spin in circles whether it'll be the swatter, the nerve gas, the starvation or maybe just the smelly foot of the Almighty.

[dreamshell]

Just a thought, Vessie, but maybe you should, I don't know, get the fuck out of Germany. While the getting's good, ja? At least sometime between the mysterious disappearances in the night and when the swanky mandatory armbands start getting passed around.

But where to go, dreamypoo? you ask. Where in this whole, wide, wicked world is there left to go to find some fucking peace and quiet and sense of fucking CIVILITY?

Nowhere.

I mean! Uh. Well... Becoming a creepy hermit somewhere in the mountains could always work, I guess. What do you want from me? SOLVE YOUR OWN PROBLEMS!

(ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

*end scene*

[Vesnic]

Thank you kindly, dreamypoo, for that lovely Chekhovian interlude. You have no idea, or perhaps you do, just how darn close I am to becoming a creepy mountain hermit, complete with a grown-out beard teeming with newly mutated flora and fauna and a burgeoning fascination with the artistic potential of my own poo. Coprophilia. It's what's for breakfast.

My German mover man proposed to me somewhere between the eighth cardboard box and the descent of the toaster from atop the fridge. Like all the rest of you boys, he boiled my troubles down to my own extreme intractability.

dreamypoo, I see you lurking and lurking and smirking and twerking and maybe even jerking so I ask you, nay I beg you: entertain me. Entertain us all. For god's sake PLEASE, there has got to be something left to create just the tiniest bit of fascination. Do it here. Do it now. Create your own thread! The world is so full of splendiferous possibilities, but I have run dry, dry as a hydrophobic dromedary.

Please. Please. Oh please...

[dreamshell]

...complete with a grown-out beard teeming with newly mutated flora and fauna...

Masterful. You've a way with words, Mlle. V. But if they don't put cash in your pocket, you might try selling some of the novel wildlife and vegetation cultivated in that fearsome barbe du coureur des bois.

...and a burgeoning fascination with the artistic potential of my own poo. Coprophilia. It's what's for breakfast.

If it was breakfast, it'd be coprophagy, but it is to be assumed one is required for the other. Unless it's, like, a bet or a Jackass stunt.

Like all the rest of you boys, he boiled my troubles down to my own extreme intractability.

Be as stubborn as you like, grrrl, but doesn't meant you can't see the world while you're doing it. If for no other reason than to have the smug sense of satisfaction knowing any bitter pessimism on the subject is justified because you've done your research firsthand!

dreamypoo, I see you lurking and lurking and smirking and twerking and maybe even jerking so I ask you, nay I beg you: entertain me. Entertain us all. For god's sake PLEASE, there has got to be something left to create just the tiniest bit of fascination. Do it here. Do it now. Create your own thread! The world is so full of splendiferous possibilities, but I have run dry, dry as a hydrophobic dromedary.

Please. Please. Oh please...

I twerk very little anymore after... the incident... but getting to be called "splendiferous" (and maybe even a dromedary) aside, there's not much incentive for me to start a thread. 'Cause then I'd have to... write things in it. And have... thoughts... that I want to... share with people. That's a lotta work. And we don't work, darling.

I am maybe, possibly, hypothetically, actually working on putting something together to finally, maybe, hopefully have something to enter early for the IWT contest this year, though. 'Cause I've never said I'd do that, before, nooo...