Category: Words Words Words

We found a mosquito in amber. We sampled the blood it contained. We used all our knowledge to clone that DNA and now we’re proud to announce:

DROP OF BLOOD PARK!

[2 days later]

Good lord, the drop of blood got loose!

had that nightmare again where I was supposed to be “studying the blade” while everyone else did cool stuff but I hadn’t ever taken my sword out of the box and I’m at sword-finals and I’m gonna fail

while your teeth were falling out and you were at school with no clothes on, I was (supposed to be) studying the blade

Gentlemen’s Swash! Pirate Parry, sneaky! Pirate Parry, bold! The Ol’ Razzmatazz! Big Swing-a-rooni! Thrust-o! Stabby! L’il stabby! Huz-ZAH!

The Pope’s Left-Hander! Ha! Elliot’s Sword Wiggle! Overhand Broccoli Bash! Underhand Twinkle Block! (please, please let one of these be right, I’m in so much sword-debt)

60 years ago it was possible for a single income household to afford a small starter home mounted on giant chicken legs that would roam through the forest

and today my real estate agent says I can only afford a wooden raft mounted on a blanket of worms

It’s Friday and we all know what that means! We pile up all our tools from the work week and fling them out into the dark waters of the quarry. For the coming weekend, the bubbles stop rising up as whatever lives down there starts its own work, deepening the pit, lowering the water, and we can float near the water’s edge in peace until the work week starts again and our tools resurface, acrid but still sharp.

Don’t be ridiculous. There’s not a giant beating heart in the middle of the town square, suspended by strange ropy red cabling, powering the dark forces that have swept through the village. That’s ridiculous. How would that even work?

It’s obviously a metaphor. As such, it can be wrestled with symbolically, perhaps with wheat paste posters, but you absolutely shouldn’t fire a rocket launcher at it over the heads of the vampire lords who’ve replaced the local government.

1. Can of soda – Hold can of soda out front of you, don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself behind the soda can

2. Sheet – Crawl under a sheet. Don’t come out ’til November.

3. Frankenstein – Allow your breast to swell with unimaginable hubris. Truly believe that any you create puts you on par with the Creator, whom you intend to surpass.

4. Dracula – Bite someone. After being invited, of course.

The sound of a circus in the kitchen. A big top underneath the table. Ducking between the legs of grown-ups, towards the smell of sawdust and cotton candy.

Three rings down there, somehow. Eye contact with the ring leader who sends an assistant to take your hand, lead you to a spotlighted door.

Through the door and it latches behind with a click, a final click, and you’re in the Clown Room. The infinite space they dwell in until some reckless fool opens a clown car door.

Dracula [flipping through the letters he asked me to write home, as he intends to mail them over a period of days and thereby hide the fact that he’s holding me hostage]: Why do each of these end with the “Like, Comment, and Subscribe” above your signature?

Me [eating a fly]: Algorithms, man.

twitter version:
I’ve signed this dumb ghost up for, like, at least three different Twitter accounts so far, but no, it prefers to write in blood on my wall.

I CAN’T RETWEET A BLOOD WALL, DUDE

mastodon version:

I’ve signed this dumb ghost up for, like, at least three different Mastodon accounts so far, but no, it prefers to write in blood on my wall.

No one can follow your blood wall, dude. It’s just me and a growing pile of blood-soaked paper towels.

Shout out to the sponsors of our illuminated manuscripts, Knights on Snailback. If you’ve got chivalric problems and you aren’t in any sort of hurry: Knights on Snailback can help! Enter discount code SLOW15 for 15% off on checkout. Okay, back to the manuscript!