Friday, November 6, 2015
Statue enters multi-story car park on mechanical bull. Kick butt music. No one concerned yet.... I fucking love this game. Quick hard slam of a meaner yellow inflator, slow dramatic dismount still wearing soup of helmet fog. Soon the jokes will begin to tapestry a delicious rotting tragedy among the creepy onlookers' barking gut bacteria: in united pyramids, a body of acid wants you dead.... a recycling of sick home video wears its luxury torrent like fallout, dams in hangover resulting in collision.... So, in my real world, the maid cancelled Sonic the Hedgehog: "You will notice that I have concerns with the Doritos," she says. "Hey, perhaps I am not a very good shrek!" Through toxic waste I glimpse the room sized dream; the saddest apocalypse is still quite intrusive, culminates in neighborhood saturation wound. "Pal, you are." Gadget hits sister's baby, the sheer fucker atmosphere dehydrates the hot module ruining the virtual reality bees; anonymously, their dead can in some fashion keep themselves well numb.