Tuesday, April 17

nice to meet me

we thought it might be kind of fun, you know, to update you on our travels together. seeing as one angryspaceman is so great, having two is gonna be, at least, twice as amazing.

that's fucking stupid... at least make it exponentially better. twice as good? might as well fucking give up now.

fuck off... that was my sentence to write, and i'll write it any cunting way i want to write it.

useless shit, i don't know why i asked you to help me.

if you don't know, how the fuck should i know...

god damn it. just stop talking into it.

i'll talk if i fuknggmmmmcccchhhhhhhhaaaaaa.........

shhh... shhh.... go to sleep.

so alt.me is not such a terrible person as i might suspect. we have a lot of similarities.

he's broke.
he's unhealthy.
he drinks too much.
he likes to steal things.
he 'works,' and when he's at 'work,' his 'work' 'ethic' isn't very 'good.'
he had his own religion going on, only his was the 'shack of unrelenting physical violence' instead of the 'shack of beration.' apparently people over here aren't as fond of being yelled at, but really like to get the shit kicked out of them. this means that my alt.me has one very large arm, and one normal one.

or at least that's what he tells me. he might be a chronic masturbator. which, if i know me, which i do, is  probably the case.

hmmmm... what else?

oh... this flapjack appears to be identical to the other one. skip seems to be the same.

pokey was nowhere to be found. they hadn't heard anything about a robot covered fracking-fluid, electrical burns, and blood.

the tourists here were the same. everything seemed to be pretty much normal.

then i asked them about the simp.

'what, exactly, did you hear?' i asked myself...

i replied... 'ssssssssiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmmpppppppppppppp.'

this, apparently, did not make me happy.

'you fucking brought it back, didn't you?' i accused myself.

'ease up, chief... what's the problem?' i wasn't happy with my tone.

'you motherfucker. you fucking brought it back.' i was shouting.

'who the fuck do you think we are? don't think i have any metaphysical problem with kicking my own ass'

i was not going to take this shit. not from me.

'yer sure? it went "ssssssssiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmmpppppppppppppp?"' i inquired.

'yes yes fucking yes "ssssssssiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmmpppppppppppppp" an awful, insidious, consuming sound. it felt like someone shitting on your mother, right in front of you. it felt like someone wearing your father's skin as a suit...'

i finished my own sentence: "... dancing about debasing himself."

'you know it?'

'oh i fucking know it. getting it out of the station and into the void was the hardest fucking thing i've ever done... you know, except for being friends with flapjack.'

'of course, goes without saying. so what the fuck was it?'

i looked myself, right in the eyes...

'let's go to zargle's. yer going to want to be drunk for this...'

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