BigJimsWornOutTires
Kraken
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Everywhere I turn, those gaddam fucking gnats. And I'm an immaculate man. But I wasn't always one...
Henbury 42, 2008 - Bridge City-Ronaville, Wismoo
I was doing my thing, drinking papa's milk. And it was the potent shit! Some folks get knocked on their butts after one sip. Ugh. It'll take a bucket to coldcock my ass. I had just lost my route with Davy's Dye Balls Snack Express. Davy discovered I was sleeping with his mother-wives. Spit, the twenty years to my senor, his prime giver was the one that initiated the love barrel. And I remember what she said as she unfastened my overalls.
"He doesn't love any of us, Big Jim! I couldn't tell you the last time he touched me. So I say the heck with him!" By that time, her hand fully embraced my toodle. Ugh. Forgive the profanity. I imagine younger ones aren't used to such foul mouth. So I'll replace that word with a more family-orientated one—my man stick. So she began stroking my man stick and hollered to the hallway vicinity to my east, "Sister-wife, come quick! I got a different man here, and you wouldn't believe what's in my hand right now!"
"Is it a man stick!" Wadney, the third-eye blonde, yelled from a room down the hallway. She manifested immediately and rushed to the thinking dome where we were. Then, quickly, she joined and got on her knees.
Ugh. It was a beautiful moment, but it didn't take long before the gnats locked in on my location. And they came swarming in, smashing through all the windows to the home for they knew I was....was.....WOP-WOP-WOP-WOP.....was.....WOP-WOP-WOP-WOP.....was....WOP-WOP-WOP....
The vortex pull had commenced. Big Jim tried staying in that world, but the power was too overwhelming for the big guy. He struggled against the gravity force as that world's memories were sucked dry from his dense dark matter conscience. A spiral of stars swirl in a vortex. He resumed but paused again, "was the-" he recognized the world had changed. "the?" he tried recalling what he was saying, but those thoughts were gone. "Ugh, fuck muffins. Back on this shithole." And so he knew he was back on shithole Earth. He smacks his upper right bicep swiftly. It was a gnat that barely escaped its finale. The insect flew away. "Those gaddam fucking gnats."
Oh, boogers, can it be? Could he have remembered that world? That gnat!
"Yeah, I remember. I'm the Gnat King."
Oh, snap. Big Jim has changed his identity again, which means-
"Nah. Fuck that shit, nigga. This cracka ain't changing. Gnat King my balls!"
And so Big Jim ridiculed his author, me. But if you think about it, we are the same. Or we not? Hmm.
And it was at that moment the author began questioning his reality. He'd thought he was creating these creepy strange autistic erotica when, in fact, he was another character titled the author. But sometimes, I wonder if I, too, be a character. Interesting...
And it was at that moment the author of the author and Big Jim were characters. And I'm not about to open my can of worms, so I'll stop right now before I begin feeling...oh shit.
It was at that moment the author of the author of the author and Big Jim were all characters in this strange clusterfuck universe called Vagina. And yet I'm suspicious there's an infinite ladder of authors behind me, but what stories they tell or narrating presently, I'm excluded from that first-person view. But is it correct to question a universe that allows us to examine it? If I were the designer of Earth's galaxy, that author, and it depressed my characters, living beings, to question what-ifs, I would've installed a block for that significantly ponder. So they never ask about the possibilities. That world would be of peace and pure joy. No one would have anything to fight about or challenge. There would be no debates, for there is no questioning—everything in bliss.
Therefore, how we question the impossibility is of deliberate invention. But what if my main character is authoring me?
Ugh. Shocka-shocka-boom-boom.
Henbury 42, 2008 - Bridge City-Ronaville, Wismoo
I was doing my thing, drinking papa's milk. And it was the potent shit! Some folks get knocked on their butts after one sip. Ugh. It'll take a bucket to coldcock my ass. I had just lost my route with Davy's Dye Balls Snack Express. Davy discovered I was sleeping with his mother-wives. Spit, the twenty years to my senor, his prime giver was the one that initiated the love barrel. And I remember what she said as she unfastened my overalls.
"He doesn't love any of us, Big Jim! I couldn't tell you the last time he touched me. So I say the heck with him!" By that time, her hand fully embraced my toodle. Ugh. Forgive the profanity. I imagine younger ones aren't used to such foul mouth. So I'll replace that word with a more family-orientated one—my man stick. So she began stroking my man stick and hollered to the hallway vicinity to my east, "Sister-wife, come quick! I got a different man here, and you wouldn't believe what's in my hand right now!"
"Is it a man stick!" Wadney, the third-eye blonde, yelled from a room down the hallway. She manifested immediately and rushed to the thinking dome where we were. Then, quickly, she joined and got on her knees.
Ugh. It was a beautiful moment, but it didn't take long before the gnats locked in on my location. And they came swarming in, smashing through all the windows to the home for they knew I was....was.....WOP-WOP-WOP-WOP.....was.....WOP-WOP-WOP-WOP.....was....WOP-WOP-WOP....
The vortex pull had commenced. Big Jim tried staying in that world, but the power was too overwhelming for the big guy. He struggled against the gravity force as that world's memories were sucked dry from his dense dark matter conscience. A spiral of stars swirl in a vortex. He resumed but paused again, "was the-" he recognized the world had changed. "the?" he tried recalling what he was saying, but those thoughts were gone. "Ugh, fuck muffins. Back on this shithole." And so he knew he was back on shithole Earth. He smacks his upper right bicep swiftly. It was a gnat that barely escaped its finale. The insect flew away. "Those gaddam fucking gnats."
Oh, boogers, can it be? Could he have remembered that world? That gnat!
"Yeah, I remember. I'm the Gnat King."
Oh, snap. Big Jim has changed his identity again, which means-
"Nah. Fuck that shit, nigga. This cracka ain't changing. Gnat King my balls!"
And so Big Jim ridiculed his author, me. But if you think about it, we are the same. Or we not? Hmm.
And it was at that moment the author began questioning his reality. He'd thought he was creating these creepy strange autistic erotica when, in fact, he was another character titled the author. But sometimes, I wonder if I, too, be a character. Interesting...
And it was at that moment the author of the author and Big Jim were characters. And I'm not about to open my can of worms, so I'll stop right now before I begin feeling...oh shit.
It was at that moment the author of the author of the author and Big Jim were all characters in this strange clusterfuck universe called Vagina. And yet I'm suspicious there's an infinite ladder of authors behind me, but what stories they tell or narrating presently, I'm excluded from that first-person view. But is it correct to question a universe that allows us to examine it? If I were the designer of Earth's galaxy, that author, and it depressed my characters, living beings, to question what-ifs, I would've installed a block for that significantly ponder. So they never ask about the possibilities. That world would be of peace and pure joy. No one would have anything to fight about or challenge. There would be no debates, for there is no questioning—everything in bliss.
Therefore, how we question the impossibility is of deliberate invention. But what if my main character is authoring me?
Ugh. Shocka-shocka-boom-boom.