Vermilioncore
I always fail in this life
- Joined
- Oct 17, 2019
- Posts
- 62,343
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The Puppet
I awoke in my bed of many wonderful memories. A mattress topper made sure my nights were full of unbroken slumber and peaceful dreams. Semen and blood stained the sheets from when I lost my virginity to an Angel sent to my from Heaven. I hop out of bed and smile. A smile that is not an effect of anything in particular — a smile that is not even a sign of things to come. Simply a smile.
I walk down to the Puppet floor. The stairs creak with a harmonious, archaic and achromatic tinker. Any would betoken. I look around the room and marvel at all my puppets. All of which harken back to fantastic and nostalgic memories. But, one puppet in particular tickles my fancy. @Thompsonz hangs from the wall — smeared with shit and piss. He wears his torment like a rose wear’s it’s colour. Oh, the many nights I spent laughing with gourds of wine while watching the puppet dance, sing, and act like an absolute buffoon. He’s quite a smelly puppet, as well!
I take the little cuck from the wall and toss him in the sink and soak him with water and soap. Scrub -a-dub-dub. I wash away all the filth he has accumulated over the years. Washing away his filth was therapeutic in a way. It was like washing a conscious that was stained in sin as black as pitch. Something we all wish to do, right?
I bring him to the garden. @ropemax sits there proudly gazing at me. His eyes sparkle with fondness.
“Where’s your little pal @Sphinx ?” He asks, taking a puff from his pipe.
“Fucking.”
“Fucking whom” he replies, curiously.
“Your whore mother.”
Suddenly I hear a squeak from the puppet @Thompsonz
The little bastard laughed!
“Looks like it’s going to be a good day,” @ropemax says as he chuckles, shaking his head and continuing about his gardening.
I awoke in my bed of many wonderful memories. A mattress topper made sure my nights were full of unbroken slumber and peaceful dreams. Semen and blood stained the sheets from when I lost my virginity to an Angel sent to my from Heaven. I hop out of bed and smile. A smile that is not an effect of anything in particular — a smile that is not even a sign of things to come. Simply a smile.
I walk down to the Puppet floor. The stairs creak with a harmonious, archaic and achromatic tinker. Any would betoken. I look around the room and marvel at all my puppets. All of which harken back to fantastic and nostalgic memories. But, one puppet in particular tickles my fancy. @Thompsonz hangs from the wall — smeared with shit and piss. He wears his torment like a rose wear’s it’s colour. Oh, the many nights I spent laughing with gourds of wine while watching the puppet dance, sing, and act like an absolute buffoon. He’s quite a smelly puppet, as well!
I take the little cuck from the wall and toss him in the sink and soak him with water and soap. Scrub -a-dub-dub. I wash away all the filth he has accumulated over the years. Washing away his filth was therapeutic in a way. It was like washing a conscious that was stained in sin as black as pitch. Something we all wish to do, right?
I bring him to the garden. @ropemax sits there proudly gazing at me. His eyes sparkle with fondness.
“Where’s your little pal @Sphinx ?” He asks, taking a puff from his pipe.
“Fucking.”
“Fucking whom” he replies, curiously.
“Your whore mother.”
Suddenly I hear a squeak from the puppet @Thompsonz
The little bastard laughed!
“Looks like it’s going to be a good day,” @ropemax says as he chuckles, shaking his head and continuing about his gardening.
