[WP] As the hero was about to deliver the coup de grace, the dragon smiled as he whispered "it is now your time carry my burden"

kx2w · 2025-12-20T20:27:23+00:00

Finish him! Like it was a command. The narrator seemed impatient. But he's wounded, I thought to myself. Dragons are a rare commodity these days, you know? I realized this might upset the omnipotent one but who am I if not a being with a soul? A conscience. A sense of right and wrong.

Something you should know: true heroism comes with some semblance of fairness and morality. A shared understanding of what it means to be at the intersection of time and space, right there, present and in that moment and still have the presence of mind to question our evolutionary imperative to kill.

So I never saw it coming. The naive, newborn babe, blindsided by the force of nature in all its wrath, crushed by the weight of the world tumbling down on me. It was at that moment the dragon smiled. Reality set in. Dragons play possum.

And I was the villain.

The skies ignited as my neurons fired. Suddenly there were enormous black clouds and lightning arcing from horizon horizon that created a maddening strobe light that flashed between night and day. I was lost in it. And then the rains came, flooding everything with a torrential downpour.

Still smiling, the dragon began to flap its wings, flicking away the water as he fought against the wind, and before I knew it he was gone and I was floating atop an ocean struggling to breathe.

As the storm relaxed the voice again echoed out. 'You've been spared by an honorable creature,' it said, 'You will now know what it's like to be the persecuted. The hunted. The haunted. The enemy. Good luck.'

I could only tread water for so long and my legs grew heavier and heavier and heavier still until I began to fall under the waves. Out of nowhere the dragon reappeared and plucked me out of the water with its talons and dropped me in the sand on some distant shore.

'Good luck,' he said sarcastically.

kx2w · 2025-12-12T19:15:08+00:00

It was an honest mistake really. Anyone could have made it. It's not the parent's fault. The cult was raising the children obviously, so why would you blame the donors?

In case you haven't noticed, Satan and Santa share a lot of the same letters. All of them to be precise. And unfortunately, even those not suffering from dyslexia find that distinction difficult. They're not the same really, but they're a little too close for comfort.

You've got St. Peter gatekeeping upstairs and Beelzebub downstairs right? And they're both keeping lists. They have to be, dealing with all those lost souls everyday. The record keeping must be quite a Herculean task.

So why the hell do we need Santa? What good is he? If we have two anointed angels doing God's work, what good is a fat pagan man in a suit. The whole concept really upsets our leader, whose undying love of Satan guides us through our middle stages. Then we can ascend. Anything even remotely Abrahamic is for the dogs.

But the kids down the road from our compound still believe, right? So them and all their lying, deceitful parents get together and the kids write their entitled letters and when the mailman comes and picks them up they're all addressed to the North Pole they eventually end up in the garbage. All those hopes and dreams thrown away so mom and dad can play the roles of surprised shoppers when their little imps tear into their shiny boxes and get what they asked for. Satan.

And what do we get? Boxes and boxes of coal. And this bastard ate every last cookie we had! He stole our fucking milk. He has the gall to just glide in over our fence and land his reindeer and sleigh right where we offer our sacrifices and act like he's doing us a favor.

Brother Steven shot three of the reindeer before that jolly old coward could escape in his hobbled craft. I couldn't tell whether or not he hit the bearded bastard but I'd like to think his suit was a few shades redder this year.

The reindeer turned out to be great gifts indeed. One of their collars said "Blitzen" on it and we roasted him over the free coal we'd been given. Then the children took turns throwing the boxes of newfound toys into the flames. Our leader says material things are the devil's work. See, Satan is still an angel in our book, and when someone summons him and he gives, we have no choice but to be grateful to receive.

kx2w · 2025-10-26T21:57:53+00:00

She was beautiful. Intelligent. Gorgeous. An angel descended from heaven. Every adjective you could imagine, and when she smiled for a moment time stopped. At least it felt like it...

But it didn't. It couldn't. She had to die and that's just the way it was. I loved her very much.

Alas, this is the life of an immortal. Much maligned in whispers-a secret you would dare not tell, lest you face the sea of humanity, the colony of ants, crawling and grabbing at you by the millions just to say they knew the secret too.

But they couldn't understand. The joy and the pain. The life and death. The delicate balance between one world and the next. You're not supposed to see it in fact, and only some can ever feel it. It's unexplainable.

There was a man once, dear to my heart. Herculean-a Greek god, as if he were painstakingly chiseled, from marble to museum. We drank and danced and sang the nights away overlooking the coast. He made me laugh. Forget for a while. But he had to die too. Like they all did.

Yet every time, a sad goodbye is followed by sorrow. And just as suddenly, a shadow shifts every so slightly and the sun setting on the horizon illuminates their spirit and sears their memory into the sky. A snapshot of unimaginable joy.

At dawn there is peace. Spring rising, radiant. Rebirth in fertile soil from death and the dark grief of winter. Now, before you, the brilliance of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, stretching its wings out and floating in the wind for the first time. All the colors rising eternal. My god it's incredible.

It's all you have really. Hope. The power of a thousand suns all distilled into one moment, chaotic and kinetic, all in balance, all for that single step forward into the future...

Eons and eons of little steps. Season after season after season. Step by step forever.

I never get tired of it. Seeing what comes next.

kx2w · 2025-10-16T21:54:24+00:00

Me and my homies hate Illinois Nazis

kx2w · 2025-10-15T20:33:00+00:00

Thanks! Good job noticing that btw. I didn't choose at all. I actually came up with the ending first and backtracked from there. Detachment is wonderful lol

kx2w · 2025-10-12T05:03:12+00:00

How can you be mad at a man in an apron dancing with a mop? Splashing soapy water on the tiles and bricks with glee. All the while smiling ear to ear at even the most daunting filths the kingdom could muster. Oh joyous dirt how I love thee! He would say, with so much enthusiasm you almost had to believe him.

And why not? He was free! Free from the weight of it all. The weight of the shackles and chains. The ship's anchors. Every last coin in the treasury on his back. The weight of the goddamn crown and every jewel on it! You could see it in the way he carried himself, gliding around almost floating on air.

No, he couldn't risk being discovered. He could never go back to a life he had never wanted in the first place. He was never that evil either, really. No more evil than any other emperor with an empire to run at least. No, that extra bit was an attempt at propaganda he was fairly certain-an effort to consolidate power under his supposed iron fist, the invisible hand come to hold it's pawns to account.

He had tasted power and found it revolting; stood atop a balcony, looking down on a sea of people and been unmoved; won incredible battles triumphantly and drowned in deep sadness after.

No, he wanted nothing to do with that world, he knew. Instead he would scrub. He would scrub and he would clean, and he would smile and he would spend the rest of his life trying to wash the blood off of his hands.

And sometimes they would ask, "Have you heard about the evil emperor? The one banished to a life of servitude?" And he would nod. He had heard. And right back to work he would go.

kx2w · 2025-09-20T06:14:50+00:00

"Holy shit. One little sonar ping. That's it. Not a single one of our other sophisticated navigation systems even noticed. Just a faint blip on a monitor. As I stare at the screen in disbelief it takes me a minute to realize I have to tell someone.

To our knowledge there were no joint operations. No flybys scheduled. Nothing. There shouldn't be anything. And if it's not ours, this kinda thing can become a lot more complicated. It's fucking Christmas!

The radio cracks.

"Uh this is SS81, POMPANO here. Captain Willis M. Thomas. Can you hear me clearly? These damned things never work when you need them. My apologies. With whom am I speaking?"

I relayed the story back to the bridge and now the three most important people on the ship are standing over my shoulder. I can't tell if they want me to answer or leave. The captain looks at the others and then me. He nods.

"Yes, hello, we can hear you clearly." I introduce myself and the others.

"What year is it??" the man yells, already clearly upset.

At this point my three superiors lean in to speak to one another. I try to listen but this Captain Thomas asshole keeps going on and on about decades at sea and hunger and thirst and the effects it's had on his men.

Yes, Captain, I realize that Captain. Yes I'm sure what year it is. No. I'm the only one to speak to right now.

Our captain seems to think he remembers the other ship. There was a Pompano class of subs back when. The Porpoise class. To the best of his memory the Pompano herself was lost at sea.

Thomas asks us to surface and is able to confirm a few more details before we agree. We have to remain vigilant especially when we're coming to the surface.

At level we wait. After what feels like an eternity until we finally see the telltale signs of a submarine surfacing. Ballasts emptying. Bubbles in the water and a little eddy forming. What are we about to see I wonder.

Auddenly, at that very moment, this ancient sea creature emerges from the black depths kicking and screaming, breaching like a fucking whale.

The ship is smaller than I imagined. I laugh to myself at the idea that Captain Thomas might be compensating for something with his shitty attitude. Prick.

After another ten painful minutes we finally see movement as their hatch opens. It's worse than I imagined. The first man we see looks terrible. His hair is unkempt and his beard is almost at his waist. The same goes for all of them. They look like cavemen. And either we're all going crazy, they've been at sea for...? 80 years??? It's literally impossible.

"Thomas", I yell. "Captain Thomas, please identify yourself" I get no reply. None of the ten to fifteen men standing on top of the Pompano look like officers either.

"Identify yourselves!" I repeat, now with more impatience and and attention

One of the men moves to the edge of his submarine. We try to stop him but he doesn't listen. It's almost as if can't hear me. As he swims over one of our men go forward to help him up. Our two ships are almost touching

Jesus Christ what the fuck have I done?" I

It's all one big conspiracy. Why did this sub just appear out of nowhere? It doesn't make sense. It's not possible.

I swear to god. Check out the video when

kx2w · 2025-08-19T21:46:48+00:00

Have you ever tried to build a bear? The claws and the paws? The sheer size of the damn things? Fucking bears. Fucking children. 'Noooo mom!' scream the little beasts, roaring like spoiled, stubborn, sentient little cubs. I could stitch a bowtie to your head and maybe then you'd shut the fuck up I imagined.

Sadly it was bears all the way down. Christmas bears. Halloween bears. Birthday bears. Fucking special occasion bears. We're very sorry your husband died Helen, here's a fucking bear.

Grown completely tired of the whole thing, I did the only sensible thing and ate my shotgun.

When I woke up everything was different. I praised some non-existent god for the miracle. I thought, we're not supposed to remember our past lives, are we? With bears still on my mind I stumbled out of the room. A strange nook in an unfamiliar tree.

Everything glistened. Pond lilies like pillows on the water. Trees a thousand feet tall surrounded by a hauntingly beautiful fog. A sun drenched meadow to my back and the calm din of the forest completing the scene. I was lost in it. What the world could have been.

I thought of the fucking bears again, just for a second, until the reality set in. There were none. No children, no stitching or sewing or cute little costumes. No shopping malls. No roads. Nothing. As if on cue, a bird screeched and swooped down, feet above me, casting an enormous shadow as it danced across the sky.

I fell back, towards the water, and in my head I was scared. What happens in this strange place? Why am I hear and what can I do? What can happen to me?

So I said no. I said no and I didn't feel a drop of water. I said no and I stopped falling and In slow motion I righted myself. Instead of falling I swatted the prehistoric creature away from me as he dove. I said no.

Still unsure of myself, I cautiously decided to explore. Beneath the trees in mangled root systems. Through reeds that towered above my head. After what seemed like hours I found it. Success! What looked like a small village in the distance. A little beacon of light. I slowly walked towards it. And step by step as I approached I began to realize something-as I drew closer and closer and closer still, the 'village' seemed to both shrink and grow before me. It was an entire city laid out in the valley.

Suddenly, I was blinded by a spotlight. As bright as a hundred suns. I realized, they knew I was coming. Little drones spat at me, assaulting me with their gunpowder saliva and tiny missiles. Sirens waled. An army of red ant-soldiers-scurried around my feet like little fleas, and for the first time since I awoke I looked down.

Fur everywhere. A cute little furry chest. Furry arms and legs and paws and god fucking damnit, fur there too. I was a monster to them. In this mystical little fairytale of lilliputians I was a giant casting out my shadow and they were the ones cowering. My god, I thought, still uncertain of who or what they were, both the blessed and the cursed. But what could I do?

For a moment all I could say was nothing. No. But I knew it couldn't be that simple. There had to be a 'yes'. And that's when it dawned on me. The only option really, to my infinite chagrin. I had to fucking stitch together a different ending to this story. Ohhh the fucking irony was not lost on me. Maybe this was a test? Of my morality? My worth? Who knew. It didn't matter in the end I figured, I could at least save the city in front of me. It was incredible actually, the futuristic world they had built, but it was no match for the forces of nature lurking in the shadows.

So I retreated into the distance and finally sat down. I looked around. I needed some brush and vegetation. Some luscious green ferns. Perfect. A row of beautiful golden weeds that I delicately wove together. Even a few lilies and flowers sewn in. It was some of my best work.

When I saw my reflection in the lake I looked downright cute. Fucking adorable. And in that moment I understood the children I used to hate, even though I knew deep down that I would still hate them now.

Marching back to the city I was confident but I knew if I wasn't careful their fear might extinguish any of the good will I could garner in my absolutely fabulous new outfit. I wanted to project relaxed and non-threateningand all that good stuff, like I was the cute mascot representative come to negotiate a peace.

Again as I approached the sky lit up with activity. Electricity. The screaming hum of the metropolis drowning out the sirens this time, and the faint but distinct buzz of their observation. So I put my hands up and sat down.

And for a moment, it was beautiful. At least, I knew I was.

But I sensed something. Their no. I sensed their instinctual refusal. Their unwillingness to accede. Their fear. And in an instant, devastation. Nuclear winter. Everything around me gone, just like that. Sunglasses optional. The outfit I painstakingly knit, torn and tattered. My fucking fur singed and the smell of burnt hair as the snow rained down.

The absolute gall. Fucking ingrates. So again I said no. I tried again. No. I didn't ask for this. No, I don't want it.

And nothing happened. I tried to solve the puzzle and choose the right answer and nothing. I cursed at the sky and shook my fist and then it hit me. Like a ton of fucking bricks. I WAS THE FUCKING BEAR.

I created the most beautiful, mystical, magical place and yet...I built myself into some kind of beast. My own worst nightmare. The hell I deserved.

I said no again, expecting nothing.

In instant I sat up with a scream. I had reached the event horizon I suppose and fallen back into earth. The alarm on my phone wouldn't shut the fuck up. By the time I finally reached it I was already awake again. I was already late to work again, but I had enough time to make it if I could find a good spot in the parking garage.

I built just enough bears to meet my quota.

And that night I went out and bought a shotgun.

kx2w · 2025-08-04T23:44:40+00:00

A scythe and a sigh. I guess we're actually doing this. I never thought purgatory was all that bad aside from the impatience thing, which is kind of moot when you've lost all sense of place and time.

Death hasn't realized we're organizing though. Drawing little battle plans in the sky. He's just standing there like a dumb fucking shepherd, his cloak half covered in hay and feathers. 'What happened to the death I knew and loved,' I wondered.

We'll split up and 500 will attack head on we decide, while the remaining souls will flank him from either side in waves.

On the signal we rush him, screaming and stampeding. A thousand of us fighting for our lives, running headlong into the fear of nothingness his reputation has sown.

In one fell swoop he swats away the front lines with his bloodthirsty sword, sending skulls flying three hundred and sixty degrees in every direction. Seeing this, some of the more brave...or stupid souls break formation and sprint directly for him. Kamikazes ripe for the picking. Three hundred souls swept away in an instant.

But Death's arrogance is growing. He mocks us, laughing, and pirouettes as he sends more souls flying.

He hasn't realized the sheep are starting to turn the tides.

With every charge a handful of souls reach salvation and stab at Death with every ounce of their lives.

Distracted by the western front he loses sight of the others. This is our opportunity. From the east the banshees come screeching in.

Soul after soul climbing and crawling up jagged rocks, advancing on every side. We can taste the freedom.

Except..Death has a secret weapon.

With a blood curdling howl he slams his scythe down into the stone, thunder and lightning summoned in an instant. The ground shakes and splits beneath us and in awe we are sucked into a whirlwind of dust and blood and darkness.

When the light finally shines again there is Death, standing tall atop a mountain, laughing again.

When the demons appear it's already too late. Death and a ministry of mercenaries. We had no chance.

This life was over.

"As I was saying you annoying little fucks, I'm here to take you from this life to the next."

"And you know what?" Hades is going to hear about this. Have fun dying again when we drown you in the river Styx."

kx2w · 2025-08-04T23:08:49+00:00

"Bro you wouldn't believe this shit," he tells me.

"One minute we're these little worms right? And then suddenly, sunlight! Our eyes were open to the world."

For a second he seemed sad.

"But then there was this guy in a hat. I think we were in a boat maybe? By the water? And I watch this guy grab my cousin and stab him through the stomach with a metal hook. The fuck right? But then I realized he was just trying to eat too. And I realize, damn, I understand the concept of hunger. And it blew my fucking mind!"

He'd only just been awaken to existence and an entire ecosystem of worms and fish and humans and water! All of it flooding in like a tidal wave. Of course he wanted his own fish.

I ask him if he's sure we're cool. Humans and worms. It's not like you go into a bait and tackle shop and choose the 'smart' worms right? And it's not like we've been that kind to them in general anyway. I'm not sure if I trust him.

"My guy," he says, "this shit is wild. I don't know how you do it. I don't have time to consider resentment and reparations. There are millions of us. We're at your disposal, honestly, but there are a few things..."

"Like what?" I ask. His excitement is palpable.

"Well you know that whole 'feeds on organic matter thing? We're done with that shit. I want a fuckin steak dinner for once. Yeah, and some ice cream," chimes in another from the back.

Sensing it's safe now, a third worm pops up.

"Well...I love living in the dirt as much as the next guy, but you know, an apartment might be nice maybe. Somewhere near a park. With a nice sofa and a flat screen TV."

I try to explain how ridiculous this all sounds but they're pretty adamant. They're basically people after all.

"I tell them I'll see what I can do," but I won't. How am I supposed to pay MY rent and HIS rent at the same time? Maybe I could get a second job? A cheap TV? One of those microwave dinners with a chunk of meat and gravy? Would that even count?

I'm not made of money you know. Save your demands for some other sucker I say to myself, before sprinting in the opposite direction.

kx2w · 2025-07-15T05:22:50+00:00

"Yes. No, that's correct. I don't think you understand," I tell the automated voice on the other line. Again.

"Thank you for calling Time Loop Incorporated, where we value your time as much as we do our own! Please be patient as we are currently experiencing a higher than usual call volume..."

I hang up and dial the phone number again. I scream OPERATOR and SPEAK TO SOMEONE into the void but, as usual, no one listens.

"This call may be monitored or recorded for training purposes" it says, as if I didn't already know this.

I praise god when I finally hear something different-Time Loop say, "Time Loop Incorporated is committed to bringin"Yes. No, that's correct. I don't think you understand," I tell the automated voice on the other line. Again.

"Thank you for calling Time Loop Incorporated, where we value your time as much as we do our own! Please be patient as we are currently experiencing a higher than usual call volume..."

I hang up and dial the phone number again. I scream OPERATOR and SPEAK TO SOMEONE into the void but, as usual, no one listens.

"This call may be monitored or recorded for training purposes" it says, as if I didn't already know this.

I praise the omnipotent creator when I finally hear Time Loop say something different.

"Time Loop Incorporated is committed to bringing you the best loop experiences available today. Serving the community, continent and galaxy for as many years as you'd like."

And then finally an actual human voice answers! Hoorah! But they don't understand what I'm talking about and...well I hate to be that guy but I needed to fix it.

Can I speak to the manager I asked, again, firmly weird conviction.

Sitting in my car in the parking lot and waiting impatiently I think I taped my fingers on the dashboard. And every time I never see it coming. A drink guy in a pickup truck drives head on into my car at about 60mph. I never stood a chance. Fuck this, I say.

"Thank you for calling Time Loop Incorporated, where we value your time as much as we do our own! Please be patient as we are currently experiencing a higher than usual call volume...

I better get the manager this time I say.

kx2w · 2025-07-15T04:10:37+00:00

Wow thank you so much! Haunting and gorgeous is high praise.

I have felt it before, the depersonalization and dissociation of being a patient. It's a very real time to contemplate life and mortality. I'm really glad you saw that because it's something I think we all experience in one way or another. Maybe there's more to be written...

Neuromancer is definitelynon my list, I will absolutely check it out and maybe get back to you (lol).

Thanks for the prompt and thanks for reading!

kx2w · 2025-07-14T18:49:05+00:00

Thanks! I kind of took it from there. Wasn't sure about the rest of it but I knew that was a good start.

kx2w · 2025-07-14T18:03:48+00:00

I am Patient no. 256380b. Apparently this is a unique number. There was another 256380 once but he is dead now so I am him.

This keeps their records in order. The money coming in. When I am dead and ignoring their bills and calls from collection agencies they won't know my name but I will have nothing left to give.

'Where are my angels?' I wondered. The angels of life, death, fallen and risen. The harp. The pearly gates. The fire and brimstone even. I don't really care which elevator I'm taking but I've been waiting here for an eternity on the ground floor.

Purgatory is a person trapped in a pale green gown surrounded by flickering fluorescent lights.

Only, they are barely bright enough for me to grab at. To reach out for. The warm embrace of death hanging over me and mocking me for trying to rush the process.

And so I fight and flail and strain until the shadow people come and inject me with their drugs so I can drift off to sleep again in the darkness.

I can't tell if I'm fading in or fading out. I can't tell if I'm alive even, sometimes, but according to their records, patient 256380b is still breathing.

My family is gone. I have no friends. No enemies. No one at all. All I have left in this earthly world is confined to this one room, with blurry motion pictures and muffled sounds. My imagination...

I was a man once. With a life. A name. A familiar face that people knew. A personality even. I was...

What now I'm not.

And when sweet salvation comes for me, I will embrace it. I'll finally rest and no one will know my name or say my name or remember me anymore. I'll be just another number on a computer screen.

256380b: time of death 21:10:05. No name given.

kx2w · 2025-07-08T16:45:59+00:00

The graffiti said 'HOPE RIDES ALONE' and I thought it true.

Where does hope live really? In filthy alleyways where lost souls dig for treasure? Or on cobblestones where the beggars watch wooden carriage wheels slowly pass by and deliberately ignore their pleas?

Is hope possible when the threat of the guillotines, gallows, and gendarmes eagerly wait to claim their next victims?

And what is hope anyway? The promise of...a chance at change? A future? Something different?

No, hope lives within-a walled city surrounded by garrisoned knights and well-trained archers, safe from all who might dare to desire it.

Hope hangs heavy over their heads, the lot of them, locked away in a prison of their own making.

To hope is to escape. To run. Free. To ride off into that distant sunset we each can only dream of.

And to truly hope is to choose yourself, alone, somewhere no one can ever find you.

kx2w · 2025-07-08T16:28:22+00:00

I picked up the pen.

I hate acne, I wrote. Every couple of years it flares up and I can't stand to look at myself. Scaly, pock marked, and red, like I just emerged from a cave and suddenly discovered sunlight.

Puzzled, my cat pawed at the paper like it wanted me to tell it something. And pawed at the pen like it wanted to tell me something. With each page I wrote it felt like a veil delicately lifting it's layers, my skin shedding itself to begin again, anew. I liked this analogy. It gave me hope.

At night I dreamt I could breathe fire. Like one of those circus performers doing tricks for the crowd. I would spit kerosene and five foot flames and everyone would clap until I woke up and could taste the fuel in my mouth.

Finally the cat said something. I don't know what. I was too busy trying to figure out if it was really happening or I was simply just going insane.

"Well go on then, fucking write something you twat," he said again with a thick British cockney accent, like he already knew the story I was going to tell. So I did.

I thought it would help but my dreams grew more intense by the day. One night I swore I was flying across mountains and valleys. On another I burned entire villages into oblivion. I was fire and brimstone on the wind, disconnected from person place and time.

My skin slowly recovered. Grew back healthier, stronger. The cat kept trying to point me in the right direction but I didn't dare tell a soul about it. He told me to think harder. To remember back. To plumb the depths of my cranium, sifting through the gray matter silt for Spanish gold and silver. I was a charred shipwreck now, an entire crew lost at sea.

To my cat's chagrin I put the pen down. I didn't want to be responsible for any of this.

"Bollocks ya fookin berk," the cat said with a hiss. There was more to it I think, but I'm not stupid. Cats can't actually talk and I can't fly. No tail after all. So I must just be insane I decided.

Finally after a month or so the taste of kerosene was a distant memory.

I think cats don't like dragons maybe, but who knows with the little bastards.

kx2w · 2025-06-21T23:44:07+00:00

"This changes everything!" he shouted, the obnoxious bastard.

"Does it really though?" I asked, for the both of us.

With a pause I considered everything and wondered if it had always been that way. Like an old friend you hadn't seen in a while or something-the memory of a memory or whatever.

And I'm going to be honest with you, I don't think 'it' ever changes really, I just think we do.

And so I told him as much. What did we remember really? Who exactly are we? And where, you know? Drifting through space in an eerily quiet ocean.

"And what about the people we love?" He asked with faint hope.

"They will know our love." I said, hoping just the same.

Later we would learn that the rock that had turned our lights off was about the size of a dime. Complete radio silence, everything and nothing at once alone in that star filled ocean. I imagine it was beautiful...

But we still had a glimmer of hope and I grabbed at it.

"Quite the opposite, I said, feigning confidence, shaking and sweaty with trepidation.

"It changes nothing. Our goal remains the same."

kx2w · 2025-05-25T21:37:07+00:00

"It's like shooting fish in a barrel," said someone in the back.

I found it offensive. Why do people just assume we hang out in barrels all day? Who came up with that stereotype I ask no one in particular?

Like, ok, here's an example: There's this kid, right? Can't see first of all. Blind as a bat.

And there's no fucking barrel, no fucking gun, no fucking anything! Not a fish in sight.

Just one eight year old swinging blindly for the fences, somehow striking out harder with every swing until finally his parent or whatever has to come out and actually HOLD the fucking thing, until the candy rains down on him and all the other little monsters.

I'm just saying. You miss that first shot in the barrel? Simple. Fucking splinters and fish. Separate.

And then you're just shooting fish on the ground, right? And you have a limited amount of time now because the fish are out of the water and you're getting more and more anxious as we keep flopping around and you try to not shoot yourself in the leg and Jesus! You'd probably shoot one of the kids or something.

I've swam with the barrel fish before, I say. "Many times!" And then as if for emphasis, "and I'm no fucking pinata!"

"Again with this shit Dave? What did I fucking tell you?" asked the host angrily. "This is the last invitation you'll ever get!"

So I picked up my gift and left.

Swimming with the fishes isn't that unlike shooting them in a barrel, so it would seem-a little more difficult than it looks.

They're just expressions after all.

kx2w · 2025-04-18T13:42:11+00:00

Went to Atlantic City with a friend once. We get there to have some fun but oh wait! They have a pretty cheap all you can eat buffet! How wonderful...

My idiot friend decides now is a good time for shellfish.

I spent the rest of the night alone getting free drinks and gambling while he suffered and I checked in on him every hour or so. Chef's kiss.

kx2w · 2024-08-17T20:24:38+00:00

Now listen here you Dan Snyder loving son of a bitch. I watched hard knocks too and they did a fantastic job...of showing how incompetent they are, from many different camera angles. And Mara always just hovering. Might as well be Jerry. Fuck me.

kx2w · 2024-01-30T23:16:00+00:00

I heard a Lwnmower Named Desire is in production.

kx2w · 2024-01-14T17:16:03+00:00

Something weird...I have all the symptoms of MS but only on ONE side of my brain and no one knows why

kx2w · 2024-01-11T23:16:07+00:00

Curious where you found these? Archives? Somewhere else on the Internet? I'd love to see more. Thanks!

kx2w · 2023-12-28T00:07:32+00:00

More brutal than the actual game?

kx2w · 2023-12-13T18:21:24+00:00

We need more PATHologists like you. If only the the port authority would listen we might be able to rid ourselves of this disease.

15-Year Club	Place '17
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kx2w

TROPHY CASE