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Messages - Richter

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Having had a stretch of far too much "nice" the past few months my subconscious decided I needed a bit of a wake up call.  Here are the highlights

1.  It's a dream about a Texan frackign magnate, gone to Russian to peddle his trade without pesky environmentalists interfering.  In a bid to prove the safety of his company's action he vows to live on only local water and produce.  It backfires, and he gets an aggressive form of flesh-eating cancer.  In a bout of obscure bargaiing behaviour, he donates all his money to the local baptist stadium church (that he imported), and hauls his rotting ass up every Sunday to be contrite and talk about what's happening to him.  (While the frack goes on).
For the first couple months, he's just sort of pink and a bit streamlined.  Then the serious amputations need to be done.  By the end, he's just a pink torso, hobbling in across the beige plush carpet on his stubs, pausing for the nurse to hose out a cavity with saline before he says his piece.

2.  Active role in this one - I'm heading the cleanup crew.  The ones that won't scream until we're off the job and leveling some podunk bar because HOW ELSE do we deal?  The project we're breaking in to was started by some turn of the 1900's "Exceptionalism" and "Mind over matter" nuts who were convinced that in a properly dire situation a well disciplined individual could put themselves into long - term hibernation.  To this end they've given a family of four the whitewashed details and sealed them into a makeshift funeral vault.  They've got a week's worth of food to "prepare", as they're supposed to work themselves into the proper calm mindstate, then they all lie down dressed in their Sunday best to be awoken peacefully when the test is over - in three months. 

It's two weeks in.  The jackoffs responsible are hauled off to be beaten and dumped in the river.  We get to open the vault, and make the snap judgement about if whatever is left inside needs to be "helped" or "liquidated".

We crack it - only the children are left.  Sharp-toothed and feral, they're been eating whatever they can.  Mercifully, theses are just brown dried husks on the beds now.  The whole place, done up like one of the nice parts of "The King in Yellow", is coated with a fine, even layer of horrible shit.  The kids lunge for us, and we can't talk them calm.  It's workaday watching yourself and you can't blink as you have to get five men and boot on the head of each to keep them down.  You're yelling, hoping to communicate while calling for the docs and the drugs (for who?), and just closing your eyes to stop seeing this seems like a GREAT idea, but you're working (and your eyelids AREN'T - treacherous fucks), and kind of on auto now so you just keep seeing it. 

Things are looking up, looking down.  -R

Well....there's the compremisis skit TGRR saw coming 5 years ahead of time.

A Food Babe shirt. :crankey: He deserves what's coming to him. Not to even MENTION socks and sandals.

Yes.  It smacks of pedophilia.  And the socks/sandals shit...   :madbanana:

I am actually straining in my seat to read the next bit  :lulz:

I don't think that will be until Tuesday, because I have a thing with Jenn.

I'll pass the time.  Need to carry out a contract on the wild hair off "Off-gridder" cousin, and survive a family wedding.  If anything goes south Leln will fill in details.

I am actually straining in my seat to read the next bit  :lulz:

"Like" a hero?


I won't tell them where you kept the sunglasses.  It would ruin the magic.

Shit blowing up behind you, theme music playing, the whole fuckin' bit.

I know I'm awful.  When people tell me I'm awful I support them.  I am a Holy Man TM, and supporting the useful delusions of other is page 1 shit.  I show them more awful too. 

Hence why I have some damn quiet and good company.  Only the RIGHT kind hang out around an awful person.

In the Netherlands there is a tradition of boys sticking their fingers into things to prevent the land from flooding. 

These young lads stand their stoically, even as the unclean inhabitants of the deep knaw off their digits and go off to thank mother hydra for the human mcnuggets.

LMNO on the other hand, is specifically asked NOT to do anything should he find such holes.  There are references to him plugging one such leak with a nontraditional member, and traumatizing the deep ones.  There was also the time that he chose to bung up the hole with the trousers, and strut away like a hero.

He waxed his balls for that.

Surly waiters deserve whatever they get.  Like a tray of food spilled down their shorts and assurances that the establishment will cover it.

..and why in HELL is everything a BAR now?  Wine bars, steak bars, oyster bars - If I wanted everything shoveled at my face from a two dimesional frontage I'd go a wholesaler fer fucksake

Still really enjoying - replie when my head is not full of icepicks, adhered by naproxen and rum

"NeeChees Biscuits - the Crunch of the UberMensch"

Definitely gone funny in young college lady's head.  I think there's also a strain of getting spooked by encountering actual grit there.  It's one thing to see the idea of it on a screen, very different animal to meet in person.

Yeah, its been made clear to me that most young people these days have never seen a proper horrible beating.

I can see how it might leave an impression.  And I wasn't doing it to hero, I was doing it for reasons of my own.

Still.   :lol:

Reasons are irrelevant, it was a display of the horrible for something OTHER than sex/resource/prestige.  You showed her someone being more idea than human.  Kind of terrifying to those not prepped for it :lol:

Definitely gone funny in young college lady's head.  I think there's also a strain of getting spooked by encountering actual grit there.  It's one thing to see the idea of it on a screen, very different animal to meet in person. 

He once met something NICE, loved by all, coming out of a pub late one eve.  He was drunk, of course.  He was off duty.  He was still the consumate professional.  He hurled into Johnathan Coulton's lap in his shiny convertible.


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