soliek, this one tiem they went to the zoo, i think. and, naturally, georgie boy was v. curious. it was the elephant exhibit which drew his fancy, and through the trees he scampered & disappeared. nows, teh man in teh yellow hat needed his fix, so he went into teh baffrooms fer a whiel & various noises were heard, clicks & rustles & wutnot, & it turns out he was never heard of again.
but anymufins, that is another storreh fer 'nother audyunce wot'as moar 'ppreciation of teh coloured shackles wot we is weers.
soliek! george was v. curious & he snuggled up at teh oolifien, hidyins in teh trees fer to snuggul hisself rather'n directly snuggul coz he was teh type liek that. *squirmsquirm* & to his pleasure teh oolifien was exposed in various manners & committing acts of his desire.
this pleased george, so greatly that he lost his head & fell from his delicate perch into teh awful fray. teh oolifien, caught in teh act, tumbled 'bouts in a panic, nevur 'asin seen a georgehtyep befores, and certainly not expectyins 'ims at that specific tiems.
*hopshops!* of course, george was trampled & his thoughts crushed out in a fractional second of pressure unimaginable.
but, in teh surge of electrical activity as his brain war squishled & flattened liek a pancaek, georgie boy experienced a random assortment of precious & inappropriate moments which, thanks to the very same satellites imaging your brains THIS VERY INSTANT, teh digital videh ofs is 'vailybuls on teh innerwebs
i am not giving you my credentials but perhaps i will relay some of them to you P:
newai, teh electrical pressure shifted his thoughts in a manner which is only somewhat dependent on its charge/tiems curves as well as those which relate the relative physical positions of each of his neurons & thought centres to one another & tiems, among others,
and so he was brought back to africa, to the good old days before the man in yellow purchased him for $.03 worth of gunpowder.
& in fact teh first tiems wot 'e saws oolifienfuck.
'ewus innis tree 'eetsin' 'nana, 's 'ewus proen2does as teh type unoes wotiistalksovur. nehows&
'stree ovurlewkid teh arid plains, & teh oolifien wot didn't usualleh comes by teh forest so'swot 'ecud see's'em propur (cozfer teh jaggyar & snaaaaaaake & wutnot!), in a senseless fit of lust rambled along teh inevitable path, her plehin' coys wiff'im & 'ims tryina sticks'er.
course, they wus privy to starts is wot broughts'em so cloes, & afturward georgeh would sit in teh trees & daydream & pray, pray to the monkey god wot maed 'nana comes from teh tree, ismeens, lolwut 'nanatree? 'swud be's 'eaven if'n fer's teh jaggyurs&wutnot, daemons of teh lush utopia.
wen 'e wus lils, uisnoes, 'eis saw'd mommeh gets aets,
liek bambeh lils but 's copyriet'd n wutnot so liek if you walked in on your parents inopportunely, but more in a devouring sense & that feeling of loss deep inside of you much more present & worrysome & not simply buried pouring innumerable disorders as your numbers count down.
yosso, teh jaggyuars is aets 'is mommeh, sheiswus! sheiswus jussis tryins 'tecties teh lil puddins but ;-;
too cloes teh jaggyur dens iswus they pleh, n for that, for the sake of georgeh & his brother wot got aet latur & his sister wot wiff 'e maedwiffs repeatedly afterwards, which he honestly never made peace with himself for and, though it provided him the temporary relief wot he so strongly desired from his feelings of inadequacy & shame, only served to cement the experience in his mind.
so's georgeh sat innis lil tree, wot wiff 'nana's & big dreams, oolifiendreams, inwot 'e wus too scaered's &shaemlieds ferto's leafs effin to indulge himself, & teh oolifien they caem's & wents, mostly nevar wiffinis siets, but 'is mem'ries stood clear & he made with what he could get.
& so went the first .00137 seconds of georgie's hedpancaekin.
the nightmare which followed consisted of random bits & pieces of the sub-weekly "visits" to the "special room"; bits of fur all jumbled up with flesh & tails wot didn't knows where they'd belong if they were ever meant to be there in the first place. the man's yellow colour & his own brown, the smell of the man after a hard day maintaining his various prospects, the feel of linen as he yearned for the comfort and protection of his cold steel cage, and above all the sharp, uncomfortable pains, which hardly faded once they would stop.
these .00032 seconds convinced the fading processes which comprised georgie that he had come to be in hell, for monkies are unaware of such things as tentacles & as such retain beliefs liek heaven and hell, in ignorant defiance of Octopus, our Lord and Saviour.
this would in fact set the stage for the remaining .2791 seconds of georgie boy's lief. whether this be from his failing responses to the thoughts forced upon him or those thoughts themselves and the relative importance of the nature of one's death on the input in this delicate moment are still a matter of debate. however, one can be sure that his hell mirrored his life & person.
had he lived a good monkey life, surely he would have perceived himself saved, as has shown to be the trend.
but, as it were, his poor monkey brain did indeed feed him tiny fractions of these experiences at random intervals until such time as he was unable to perceive, freed from his mortal shell.
*squirmytentacles* praise be to Octopus.
teh events following his arrival in teh Americas were well documented in his memory, being one of his few pleasurable lief experiences and his favourite to reminisce ovur during the long hours he spent alone, locked in his cage. this resulted in his decided timeline of the events of that day being dumped sequentially during the next 0.08403 seconds. of course, it was in his nature that that this swell of happiness be interspersed and largely tainted with random thoughts of the man in the yellow hat's abuse and his lifelong struggle with shame and guilt. the pleasures of the day came to escalate instead as those painful climaxes, hidden as they were behind uncomfortable doors in an uncomfortable room, indeed in an uncomfortable place.
the man in the yellow hat wiped the sweat from his face with a handkerchief and lifted george up, placing him upon the very hat he would come to first desire and then scorn, the bane & drive of his existence; his tormentor.
he gazed in the direction of the man's outstretched hand to see the skyline breached by a pointed construct, growing rapidly, being forced upon him as his excitement was rapidly replaced by fear and discomfort.
he scurried the deck in anticipation, stopping only to peer over the bulwark at the approaching foreign structure. the ship continued to lumber across the sea, rocking back and forth ever so gently. george's mind panicked through this eternity as the object presented itself in its own right: a stationary giant peering back at him over the edge of the ship, looming.
the man in the yellow hat was nowhere to be found whilst the dismal and rumbling sky signaled the end of the world to the little monkey, bits and pieces of whose sanity had begun to fleck off into the void.
*squirmsquirm* the boat docked itself gently, personally. approaching the pier, he could observe bulky creatures dragging themselves & their burdens to and fro along indiscernible paths.
=^_^;= the networked pathways stretched indefinitely, intersecting innumerable vessels, inconceivably purposed-interesting, indeed; a field of daisies wilting under an unwanted sun. her highness, the sentinel, observed.
the silence which entrenched harbour and vessel alike sheared as the man in the yellow hat tore from within, a daemon screeching obscene nonsense muddied with repetitive cries in george's direction:
'J0reJ'
he fled the God, with her monster nipping at his heels, the death of his mother whirling about the base of his skull. it dripped out his spine, pausing for a moment before slipping through the cracks; he could not even consider.
turning at a whim, he made for the mass of land, but the cage was upon him. the demon, incessantly shrieking, paraded him about as they continued inland.
as the number and nature of the creatures increased, they began to crowd around the man in the yellow hat and his captive, their rhythmic chanting growing louder until he could no longer bear it and began to fling himself against the walls of his prison until his world went black.
he awoke in silence and agony. upon standing up, the pain shot him back down. likewise, every attempt to explore his environment was immediately returned with a shear of pain straight up his spine. through the darkness he could make out only walls and entryways.
the wonderful truth was that the man in the yellow hat had severed george's colon from his rectum and nailed it to the floorboards.
*squirmsquirm*
george, being a monkey, understood only that he was tethered in place by his pain, and as such he laid down and tried his best to be still. he quickly dozed off, still exhausted from his journey and now the excessive assblood loss.
when he awoke again, the pain was gone. his room and the adjacent cells were dim with sunlight from the opened window directly in front of him.
moving cautiously, with only a bit of discomfort, which he for the time being put aside in the hopes of an escape, he approached the window and looked out upon the endless mess of metal, concrete and glass. the radiance of the sun from the east reminded him of his home, and for a single moment he wished fondly for the comfort of his banana tree.
the man with the yellow hat emerged from his hiding spot in the closet and snatched george up in his arms, holding him tightly. he spoke, from which george could only make out his monkey name, and dove out the window, clutching his little georgie for dear life.
george, being a monkey as it were, was filled instantly with a frantic panic over his clearly impending death via freefall, desperate glances cast to all angles, to be greeted only with sheer wall, distant nonsense. he was, in fact, still looking for something safe to cling to, still caught in this horrified version of hope, despair, when his intestines pulled taught, tearing out his internal organs and killing him instantly.