The Hunting Party Chapter 21: War, a star fox fanfic

Chapter 21: War

So I'm supposed to make a self portrait without using my face

...

WTF

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Duh duh duh duh da do-do da

One, two, one-two fuck you!

"When you think about it, we really are terrible people."

Part 1: The Cave

The door slid open, and Krystal stepped into the Great Fox's brig, followed closely by a nervous Phoenix. The brig was lined with four empty cells along the inside wall, each of which was cordoned off with thick iron bars running from floor to ceiling. A light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a dim, sickly-colored light over the containment cells. As Krystal and Phoenix walked across the brig, the jail bars and the shadows they cast began to move and criss-cross like skeletal rib cages... or hundreds of marching legs.

Falco paced back and forth in the center of the room, storming in front of a cheep fold-up chair. Seated and bound to the chair with layer upon layer of duck-tape was a uniform-clad canine. The brown-furred boxer sat with his head hung low, almost hiding the blood and bruises that covered his face, but not quite.

Upon hearing Krystal and Phoenix enter the room, Falco dealt the dog one last blow, then turned to meet them both.

"I worked him over for almost an hour, but nothing seemed to get results. You could try reading his mind again, or I could—"

"Leave us." Krystal's voice was deathly low.

Falco wiped the sweat from his face with a wing. "Look, Krystal, you don't have to kill him. We can just drop him off at—"

"I said leave us."

Reluctantly, Falco slipped his flight jacket on over his bare arms before exiting through the door. He stopped, turning to give the vulpines one last look, then closed the door with a hiss behind him.

Krystal hopped up onto a desk beside the prisoner, while Phoenix grabbed another fold-up chair and sat on it across from her. The canine showed no sign of having noticed them. Instead, he kept his head down and his mouth shut.

Krystal drew one of her Berettas from its holster and held it in her palms. She admired the way the dim light from the ceiling reflected off its silver surface, highlighting the Cerinian figures carved into it.

"Phoenix..." the vixen began in a hoarse voice. "Do you believe there are some things children should never see?"

The vulpine gave a slow nod, but said nothing.

"And for adults... do you believe the same rule applies? There are some things we shouldn't see—sights we shouldn't be exposed to?"

"Of course. There's some stuff no one should have to see. Ever."

"Yet it exists all the same," Krystal went on. "It's all around us, every day. You can try your best to avoid it, but you're bound to run into it sooner or later. It's what changes people. What makes them different. It's not your species, where you were born, what religion you follow, what your income is, your social status; it's how much shit you've seen."

"I... I accept that horrible experiences can change people," Phoenix hesitantly admitted. "But you can react to those experiences in very different ways. Ultimately, it's how you let those experiences affect you."

"In my book, nothing's bigger than the yawning gap between the naïve and the scarred—the innocent and the guilty. Once you've seen something, it can't be unseen. Once you do something, it can't be undone. Once she's had her first bit of fun, a girl can never go back to being a virgin. Heh, you're still a virgin, right, Phi?"

Phoenix smirked.

"That first experience you have," Krystal continued, "That first act of blood lust you commit, it's like throwing yourself over the brink into a deep cave. If you've done it once—even a single time—you can never undo it. You can never climb back out of the cave. Steep walls on every side, trapping you in, suffocating you... Once you're inside, what choice do you have? Where do you go? Do you keep trying to climb back out of the pit you fell into, even though you'll never make it? Do you just plop down and sit there, attempting to stay where you are and never go deeper—never to kill or harm again? It's inevitable, though. Something's bound to come along and push you even further down, and you'll just fall into the next hole in the pit. Or..."

She cocked her gun, a loud click echoing through the brig.

"Do you go deeper into the cave? Do you get lost in the maze, hoping to find another way out beneath the stone and bedrock? Will the walls open up to let you breath again? Will you find something at the bottom of the cave? Or will you give up, when the exit is only just around the next bend, or just beneath the next hole? Of course, if the cave is truly bottomless, you're just digging yourself a deeper grave, burying yourself beneath miles upon miles of bedrock, lost behind thousands of twisting passages and tunnels you'll never find your way through again in a million years."

Krystal leaned forwards, staring down the sights of her pistol at the motionless canine.

"Maybe... maybe God has us all on this torturous treadmill sorta thing. Just watching us run for the exit when there is none. At the current pace we're going, we'll never reach the end. We'll never reach the bottom of the cave; the other side of the maze; the top of the infinite staircase. But... if you go fast enough, maybe... just maybe you might reach the end."

Without warning, Krystal flipped the gun in her hand. She tossed it to Phoenix, then drew her second pistol as he caught it.

"Are you ready?" she asked. "Will you follow me further down the cave? We'll see how far it goes, you and I. And if it never ends... we'll go faster and faster, and see how deep we can get before we die. So... will you follow me?"

Phoenix looked up from the gun in his hands. He met Krystal's eyes, and breathed deeply.

"Anywhere."

They raised their guns, aiming at the helpless prisoner.

Part 2: The Labyrinth

He cooked eggs better than you.

She just sat there, looking at him. Plate covered in bacon and eggs. The eggs were cold. The bacon was likewise. The ice in her orange juice had melted. Fork and knife untouched. Just sat there, staring at him. Her mouth frowned, and her piercing aqua eyes wouldn't leave him alone for even a second. Like a hunter looking over her prey, but judging it to be too small for even a mouthful. Defenseless, yet not worth the kill. She didn't want it to be easy. She seemed to want a good fight—a run for her money—but knew she would never find one here.

It was the look of disappointment.

In the kitchen area, Phoenix hovered over the stove, cooking more eggs in an iron skillet... but he could see Krystal's stare out of the corner of his eye. The eggs in the skillet were far past overcooked. They were black. No telling how long it had been that way, or how long Krystal's stare fell on him. But he knew that look. Disappointment.

Phoenix stared back down at the eggs in the skillet, nearly as black as the cast iron itself. The skillet still conducted a good amount of heat, causing what remained of the eggs to burn and pop. He bet if he placed his paw on the skillet he could burn it. He could fry it good. What would it feel like?

Phoenix's room was nearly pitch dark, except for the faint red glow of his door lock. He lay still in bed, covers pulled down from his chest, half curled in a fetal position. His arms reached across the bed, but it was empty. His fingers closed and grasped at nothing, his arms capturing only air and empty sheets. He wanted to hold Kitty again. She was soft and warm; even in the midst of the chilling snow she felt like a sun. So small and helpless, dependent on him for everything. He had killed for her—killed with his own grasping hands for the very first time. But for some reason, she wasn't there beside him. He had killed for nothing—just empty space in his arms. There was no child to protect, no child to tell him how much he was needed. And he had failed her. In the end, they had both died together on that planet, in that snow, in each others arms. Was he in bed with a zombie—a ghost? Or were they both ghosts who had no business living again? He couldn't feel anything there.

Still, Phoenix's arms grasped for anything. He wanted Krystal. He wanted to hold her and tell her everything was all right. He wanted stop her nightmares, he wanted to shield her from her dreams and pain and everything that continued to haunt her. He wanted to take the nightmares upon himself, and the pain with them. He wanted to hold her and tell her that none of it mattered, and that she didn't have to fight and kill anymore; that it wasn't too late for her to change. That he could be who she wanted him to be. That he could change.

He wanted to save her from everything, yet he was powerless. He was paralyzed in his own bed, frozen, unable to move. And outside the Great Fox, a looming presence bore down on the ship. A giant block, immovable and invincible. Faceless, yet composed of everything and everyone. They threatened to crush his teammates and friends, but he couldn't do anything. Why did he have to be so

powerless?

Krystal lay in her bathtub, up to her midriff in water. It was cold. It had gone cold hours ago. She lay, mouth hanging open, eyes empty, staring at a corner of the bathroom ceiling. It felt like it could go on forever. Mind blank, void of thoughts and feelings, emotions and worries. Alone, as she had been from the day her world fell out from beneath her feet, crumbling into dust, blown away on astral winds.

She couldn't help but wonder what she looked like. She must look disgusting, pitiful. Sick.

Phoenix awoke in a cold sweat.

At first, he felt frozen in place in his bed. His shirt clung to his chest, an icy cold blanket. He couldn't move.

The room was still dark, black except for the blinking panel next to his cabin's door. The light flickered green every so often, and—to his horror—the door was open. Further down the hallway outside his room, there was a faint blue glow.

A distant, haunting clicking noise echoed down the corridor—a sound that made Phoenix's fur stand on end. There was a monster down there; he knew it. He tried to get up and out of his bed to shut the door, but he couldn't move. He tried to pull his covers over his head, but his arms and hands were frozen in place. Was it his imagination, or were the insect-like sounds getting closer?

A short, white figure appeared in his doorway. Phoenix's eyes flashed to the creature, but his heart rate began to slow again once he realized who it was.

It was only Kitty.

The small feline stood just inside his room, the door lock casting a green light across her white fur and dress every few seconds. She held out her paw.

"Come. Don't you want to see what it is?"

Phoenix tried to shake his head, but his muscles wouldn't obey. Instead, his body rose unbidden, and followed the kitten out of his room. The hallway outside was still lit with the same ghostly blue light, reflecting off the sides of steal pipes and panels. Slowly, Kitty lead him across the corridor and down a flight of stairs into the next set of cabins. With each step the pair took, the monster's clicks became louder, and they could even hear it writhing and crashing about in its compartment.

They halted at the door leading to a room marked "21". Phoenix had never seen the number in the Great Fox before.

The beast's tantrum had reached a crescendo, and Phoenix was deathly afraid of what might lay on the other side of the door. He wouldn't know what to do if Kitty...

Kitty looked up at him with curious eyes. "Are you ready?"

"N-no," he managed to choke out.

But the young cat smiled back and took his hand in hers. A stream of warmth flooded from her paw into Phoenix's, reassuring him with her touch. "It's okay. You know what's in there. Just follow me."

Phoenix swallowed as Kitty pressed the button to open the door, and the hatch slid sideways to let them through. He looked around. It was a bedroom—a familiar one, even. A sea of glass lay strewn around the room, but a clear path lead to another door in the wall on the right. It was to this door that Kitty lead him. Was it... a closet? A bathroom?

The pair halted in front of the pitch black rectangle. Phoenix couldn't see inside, but he felt the hot breath of the monster on his face. Its clicks quieted until it merely hissed at him, but the creature still managed to strike fear into his heart.

"You have to make the right choice, Phoenix," Kitty whispered, looking back at him with pleading eyes. "When the time comes, you can't throw it all away."

"What do you mean?" Phoenix stammered.

The monster's head appeared from the bathroom—the head of a centipede, robbed of its antennae. Maneuvering on its countless legs and pressing its face against the door frame, it fixed Phoenix with a single, black eye; an eye he had never noticed before.

The vulpine was overcome with the urge to turn and run, but something about the eye began to hypnotize him. In his current state, the hideous creature could eat him if it wanted to. Kitty looked up again, frowning for once in her lifetime. Then, with her free paw, she reached out and stroked the centipede's shell-encased head—gently, slowly, with a hand as soft as a feather.

"You can't run, Phoenix. You can't give in, either. There's only one right choice... and you must make the choice alone."

Phoenix's stomach was filled with bile. He couldn't stand a creature as innocent and pure as Kitty touching a monster as vile as that. Yet she stood between them both, one hand holding Phoenix's, the other paw placed on the monster's oily shell.

She looked back at him again. "It's not too late. You can still change this. You can still turn back."

Finally, Phoenix regained control over his own body. His paw slipped out of Kitty's hand, and he stumbled backwards, shaking his head.

"No, no I can't. I-it's too late. I can't go back. I—"

"You have one foot in each world," Kitty explained, as if it meant something. "You must let go of one. I know what you want for Krystal. But if you can't change your own life, how will you ever change someone else's?"

Suddenly, with his last backwards step, his foot met empty air. Phoenix fell backwards, plummeting into an endless pit, the walls of which rose up all around him for miles and miles. Kitty, the monster, and the dark room were gone.

Part 3: The Chains

Phoenix felt sick.

Throwing the covers off his body, he staggered into the bathroom, crashing against the door frame and using it for temporary support. Finally, and not a moment too soon, he reached his bathroom's white porcelain sink and grasped its edges. Keeling over the basin, he opened his muzzle and disgorged the contents of his stomach.

It started with the meals he had that day. Partly digested rice and beans splattered against the sink, followed by stiff ramen noodles and... blackened eggs and cold bacon. Onyx black eggs. A burnt paw. Aquamarine eyes fell down after the rest, but they bounced and swayed halfway down, still hanging by thin optical nerves that lead into his throat. Choking, he grabbed the fragile nerves and yanked them from his mouth, much like one would pull a tooth. The eyes dropped to the sink, rolling to a stop above the polished metal drain. He paused, staring at the sickening mess he had just disgorged into the sink.

The eyes stared back up at him, at the same time disgusting and disgusted.

Disappointed.

His stomach convulsed again—this time his entire back arched forwards and his gut flattened completely as he threw up. Into the sink, he vomited a red spray of blood—but it wasn't his own. He knew that. It was blood he had stolen, stolen from the people who needed it most. The retching didn't stop there. Pandas and white kittens fell out; the panda grinning and holding his knife, the kitten naked and drained of blood, skinny and shivering.

A stuffed arctic fox followed, starring up at him with eyes that reflected betrayal. A guard he had shot at some point in time. A second white cat that smiled evilly at him. All of them white. All of them stained and soaking in a basin of blood that filled his sink.

A pair of razor blades and a broken piece of mirror plopped into the red liquid, sliding to the metal drain at the bottom. An azure-colored fox lay with them, staring up and past him. At nothing but the corner of the room.

Phoenix choked as the next object fought to escape his mouth; thousands of tiny, pointed legs clawed their way up his throat, and an over-sized centipede crawled out of his maw, spilling into the

Krystal let her towel drop to the floor. She walked over to her bathroom's mirror and stared into it. God knew how long ago it had first been fogged up with condensation. Now, only a blanket of wet droplets covered the mirror, and she could plainly see her reflection through the beads of water.

It sickened her—what she had become.

She stared at her naked body in the mirror, frail and thinner than she had ever been. She looked like a zombie—or a ghost. How was she even alive? What kept her going? She didn't deserve to be breathing. She deserved death over a thousand times, yet she couldn't believe it. It was all her fault; she had no one to blame but herself for the creature she had become. Everyone around her feared her, quaked in their shoes and wet their pants when they saw her. She didn't want to, but she had to become this thing to survive. Was it reawhydidshehhavesomanylegs?lly worth it? She killed for fun, she felt nothing but anger and hatred, and a slowly numbing pain that whittled down her nervous system and her ability to feel anything. Soon, even the pain and the hate would be gone, and she'd be an object, a dumb animal, a body without a soul. A part of the ship.

With shaking, bony hands, she clutched at her naked frame, wrapping her arms around her chest and shivering in the cold air of her bathroom.

Love separated sapient beings from the dumb animals, yet she was incapable of feeling it. The only alternative was hate; even Andross knew that. Was that the only thing he could hold onto to make himself feel like a living being? That he was any different from a wild animal? It was the same escape for both of them. They had lost the ability to love, and the ability to create anything that didn't also destroy. To keep from being a dumb animal, Krystal only had one alternative. Animals never hated. Animals never killed for fun. Animals never hurt themselves for pleasure. Animals never chose self-destruction.

Growling, she lashed out at her mirror and slammed it with her paws. She tore at her own image, and the stupid glass that reflected it. With one last smash, she shattered the mirror completely, and cracks appeared along its silver surface. Ignoring the cuts the shards inflicted on her fingers, she continued scraping pieces off until nearly none remained.

She was gone. The pathetic vixen was no longer there.

Phoenix straitened up, chest heaving from exertion. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, panting.

He didn't deserve any of this. Trapped in a stupid life to grow up to a job he hated, escaping that life only to be constantly shot at and just plain shot, shot by the people he hated and the people he loved and the people he didn't give a shit about, murdering others to save his own skin or other murderers who had probably killed far more, and even when he saved himself he was saving a murderer because that's what he was... but he was forced to, wasn't he?

But now he had no one, not even Krystal; she was so fucked up—so fucked up that she couldn't even allow herself any help. She was slowly killing herself, dissolving herself into little pieces to slip through hands and down metal drains and drown in bathtubs and pools of red. She killed and took hundreds of lives for the pleasure of it, but it was only because she was so messed up. She couldn't help it, could she? Her planet was gone, her family taken away from her, forced to grow up on her own without another soul in the world, raised by wild animals and fed by their flesh, killing and hunting at an early age just to stay alive and kill longer. And when she finally found someone to take care of her and absorb her sins and carry the weight of her life, he was just as quickly taken away from her as well, like the rest of her childhood. There was no telling what the Cornerians put her through when she was in prison, but whatever it was, it had fucked her up beyond saving. She couldn't love anyone anymore; the only pleasure she could feel was pain, and the only pleasure she could give others—including him—was pain; it was the only thing she understood.

"What's the matter?" Krystal breathed, leaning over Phoenix. "Are you scared? Are you scared like all the rest of them?"

The vixen had him pinned on his bed, seated on his abdomen with her legs folded on either side of his waist.

"Krystal, don't..."

She leaned down closer to the vulpine, smirking as her breasts brushed against his bare chest. "Are you really going to stop me? Do you think you would have the power to do it? Do you think you could ever make me happy? Ever be who he was? You're so powerless, Phoenix. You're such a disappointment. But I now you want it; I know you want to fuck me. I can read minds, remember?"

"You're lying! You know that's not what I want!"

"You have a crush on me, don't you? A weak little flame of passion that you call love." She began swaying back and forth on his waist, gasping as she did so. She leaned in closer, biting his ear and whispering.

"But you want more, don't you? You love it all; the pain, the nightmares, the killing. You're just like me, aren't you? You love the fear that freezes your heart and makes it sink. You love my fucked up smile, you love how messed up I am, you love all of it!"

In a fit of desperation, she lay against him and tried to slip her arms between his back and the bed to embrace him. "You love me, right?" she cried. "You love how completely fucked up I am, and you want to get fucked up as well! Please! It's the only way! Please, Fox! You can do it, too!"

frowning, his finger hovered over the backspace key

In the mirror, a golden-furred vulpine stared back at him. It was more than just his reflection, but still... he felt as if he had seen it before—maybe from a vision.

Fox McCloud stared back at him.

"You..." Phoenix whispered. His rage boiled up inside him. He clenched his fists. "You..." he spat again.

"It's all because of you. It's your fault that Krystal ended up this way. Through your empty sacrifice, you left her like this. You came, you found her, you built her back up and gave her a false sense of hope, then you left her. She can't trust anyone else because of you. She can never hope or believe in anything ever again."

He pointed at himself furiously. "Look at this! Look at what you've left on my shoulders! You think anyone besides yourself could satisfy her? Well you're wrong. I can't do this. I'll never be able to live up to you. And you know what? I don't think I'd want to if I could. All the good you've done ended up putting Corneria on it's invincible throne of power, and now look who dares to challenge it? Look how the System turned out. And when you died and left Krystal alone... do you really think it was for the best? That it would be worth living without you? Well, it's not.

"It's not fair!" Phoenix screamed at his mirror. But his wrath was directed at another. "It's all your fault! You allowed Krystal to become this way! You allowed her mind to be broken and her heart shattered beyond repair! You did all of this! You created the world, but you also filled it with evil, because you're just as messed up as everyone else! How could you do this to me? To us? I may screw up and hurt some people—I'm sorry God, I killed a few—but when you fuck up, how many people do you hurt? You hurt everyone! There's a pile of bodies dissolving into the earth over millions of years of time! You've killed billions of people, you've made them suffer! Why would you do this to me!? Why would you do this to Krystal!?"

The young vulpine fell against the mirror, weeping. Then, his fists clenched in rage, and he glared back at his own reflection. "You know what? Fuck you."

He had never been so angry with anyone in his life. He rarely swore, much less at people, and never at God. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't do it anymore. He had slowly been drifting away, only holding onto his beliefs by habit. How empty they were, and how blind he had been to how much he had truly fallen away. They couldn't save him anymore. He was on the other side. He was trapped in the cave.

Raising his fist, Phoenix extended his middle finger to the ceiling. "I don't care anymore. I just don't care."

He held the gesture for some time, boiling and seething with rage. He sat down on the toilet seat, sorrowful and wrath-filled thoughts swirling in his head.

"As long as I live and breathe, I will never put this finger down. I'm done. It's over. Do you know what this is? It's a declaration of war. Are you listening to me? This means war."

And slowly, God became god.

how can you declare a war against two ghosts she laughed it seems rather one-sided

Impulsively, he placed his paw on a part of the skillet not covered by the blackened eggs. It stung like fire. The acidic scent of burning fur and skin reached his nostrils.

Krystal pulled Phoenix into her room, closing and locking the door behind them.

The lithe vixen made her way to the bathroom, the door of which was a rectangle of white light in an otherwise dark room. As she went, she blazed a trail through the carpet of bottles and trash by kicking them out of the way.

"Loosen up; make yourself at home. I'll be right out."

After she disappeared behind the door frame, Phoenix waded through the debris in her room to her bedside. A month ago, he had slept in the arm chair next to her bed. This time, however...

Heart beating and pulse racing, he awkwardly set about removing his shirt. Next, he kicked off his shoes and socks, but for some reason he stopped there. Were they really going to do it?

A minute later, Krystal's black silhouette appeared in the rectangle of glowing light from the bathroom. After focusing on her features for a second, he noted that she had stripped down to her panties and bra. But for some reason, her paw loosely gripped a razor blade.

Glancing back and forth between Phoenix and the bed, Krystal grinned, sheepishly. "Oh, I think I'm in the mood for something a little bit darker." She raised a paw and curled a digit towards herself, gesturing for Phoenix to follow her into the bathroom.

Curious, he left the bed and tiptoed after her. Upon entering the bathroom, he blinked at the bright light fixtures illuminating the white tiling on the floor and walls. Krystal sat down on the floor, crossing her legs underneath her and placing a clear glass bowl between herself and Phoenix. The male vulpine took the hint and sat down opposite her, wondering what she had in mind.

Krystal produced the razor blade she had been holding. She lifted it up between them, studying the glinting silver rectangle in the light. Then, breathing deeply, she lowered the blade and stretched out her arm over the bowl.

"Trust me," she said. "It feels pretty good."

no o onononononono

With her arms finally displayed, Phoenix noticed a pattern of scarred stripes across the vixen's wrists, hidden from eyesight beneath her fur—unless anyone took the time to search for them.

In the space of a few seconds, all of Phoenix's desire vanished. He stared at the metal blade in Krystal's hand, noting the sharp edge; his tail curled at the thought of it breaking skin.

Are we doing this? Are we really doing this?

Krystal smiled apologetically. Then, as her smile disappeared, she slowly lowered the blade to her arm.

"Wait," Phoenix said, reaching out and grabbing her hand. "I... I'll go first."

The vixen shrugged, though she reluctantly handed over the razor. "Fine by me."

With his pulse once again skyrocketing, and his heart thumping in his ears, he extended his own left arm and placed the razor against it. His hand shook. To hide it, he set his jaw and deftly drew the blade across his skin.

It stung. Red dripped into bowl, splashing against the glass side with each drop.

With the incision made, he looked up and locked eyes with Krystal. He released a pent-up breath.

Giving Phoenix a look that said "My turn", Krystal took the blade from him and placed it against her own arm.

Two red streams now poured into the bowl.

They took turns making incisions in their remaining wrists, then placed their hands on the edges of the basin, letting their blood pool at the bottom.

"Funny, isn't it," Krystal muttered, "How pain can feel good."

"It's like developing a taste, right? Like for alcohol?" Phoenix asked.

"Wrong. It's like numbing your taste. After so many drinks, your tongue gets worn down. You get bored. You can't taste the same stuff you could when you were a child. So you drink soda, then when you get numbed to that and need something harder, you drink beer. After that, the percentage of alcohol you need to taste anything or even addle your mind gradually increases. If your liver hadn't given out and killed you years before, you would eventually be drinking pure alcohol, I'd bet. That's my theory, at least. Same with sour candy and spicy food. Same with the shows you watch, and the books you read, and the sins you commit. It's all meant to hurt you—to take you further down that cave. It's funny how people love pain. They love hurting themselves once they can't feel anything soft. That Kitty brat you love? You would have gotten bored of her, eventually."

"Don't talk about her like that," Phoenix warned with gritted teeth. "Leave her out of this."

"Oh come on. If you had it to do over again, you would have definitely fucked that little girl. But over time you would have gotten bored of her; you'd need someone rougher, who can hurt you back. I would fit that job description. You'd love the pain; you'd love getting hurt. You love this."

Phoenix looked up at her from the bloody basin, silently broiling with anger. "And what happens if I get bored of you, too?"

Krystal laughed. "That's the great part. You'd never get bored of me. We're on the same track, you and I. We'll develop our tastes at the same rate, gradually wanting more and more pain. It only stops when the alcohol finally kills you, when you've drained every last drop of blood, when the pain finally ends your life.

"Doesn't it look like... doesn't it feel like everything could just... end... here?"

Phoenix followed her eyes to the pool of ruby-red blood filling up the bowl. His arms felt weak. His stomach was queasy, and his forehead felt icy cold. He was losing blood, and the way Krystal was struggling to talk, he knew she was, too.

"This is where it'll all end," the vixen continued, the red circle reflecting in the centers of her teal eyes, hypnotizing them. "Who knows. Maybe this is the end. Why wait for more pain? Why not end it now? It's just like, The Hunting Party,

The End

"I can't imagine it getting any better from here on out. It can only get worse. We can only go deeper and darker. It'll never return to the way it was before. Can't you feel it? The feeling that it's all going to be over? If we bleed just a little more, it'll all just end..."

The centipede came for him

Part 4: The Key

Fox was gone. It was just him now—just his own reflection.

"You're not weak..." his voice felt small and timid in the empty bathroom.

"You're not powerless.

"You can do this.

"You just have to try.

He smiled.

"Remember all the good you've done? All the brave acts you pulled off? How many people actually stand up and sacrifice themselves for the rest of their class? Will just anyone take a bullet to the leg? Do you know anyone else back on Corneria who would even attempt flying a space fighter? Sargasso would be gone if it wasn't for you. You're surrounded by hot chicks. You saved a young girl's life by killing for her... and she loved you enough to give her own life in return. You stood up to that monster before it killed Krystal... do you still think you're so powerless?"

"That's right," Phoenix said, raising his voice. "I'm actually pretty awesome. I'm not some wimp. I can hold a gun, I can kill anything and anyone, I can hold my own out here. I'm one in a million. I... I bet I'm even better than Fox McCloud at this age. I'm the best. I'm the bomb. I-I'm the shit."

The shit. He liked the sound of that.

He repeated it again. "That's right. I'm the shit."

He paused. Lightning didn't strike him.

"I'm the shit."

Each team he repeated the phrase, a weight seemed to fall from his shoulders.

"I'm the shit... I'm the shit... I'm the shit..."

Over and over again, he began repeating the ridiculous mantra.

I'm the shit

Oh yeah, I'm the shit

I'm the shit

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'm the shit

I'm the shit

I can do this shit all day

I'm the shit

Hahahahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahaaaahahahahahahaaahahaha

I'm the shit

I'm the

I'm the shit

I'm the shit ⅂

I'm the shit |

I'm the shit | — Legend

I'm the shit | — 10 shits=3,666,200 mi

I'm the shit | — Accurate to the nearest shit

I'm the shit |

I'm the shit ⅃

I'm the shit

(O) Don't look at this shit; it's too bright

I'm the shit

I can do this shit all week

I'm the shit

. Mercury

I'm the shit

I can do this shit all year

I'm the shit

o Venus

I'm the shit

o. Earth — Your shit's here

I'm the shit

9,800 shits to Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

When I say "shit", everybody shit

I'm the shit

o Mars. Only robots live here. Robots don't shit.

I'm the shit

I'm the siht

I'm the shit

I'm teh shit

I'm the shit

9,400 shits to Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

.`: . The Asteroid Field. Lots of little shits here.

I'm the shit

I'm the shit.

I'm the shit

I gotta take a shit

I'm the shit

Oh-oh, shit-break

Shit's back

I'm the shit

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I'm the shit

I'm the shit

9,000 shits to Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

O Jupiter—That's some big shit

I'm the shit

Oh sh-t, the censor's back.

I'm the sh-t

There; got rid of the little shit

I'm the shit

"Hi, welcome to Bob's Big Bang Burger Bar. My name's Stacy. How may I help you?"

The Great Fox was docked alongside a small asteroid, built into which was a brightly-colored fast-food establishment complete with a neon "OPEN" sign and several drive thru windows. The Hunting Party's dreadnought dwarfed the floating space rock by more than twice its size. To fit in the drive-thru, Phoenix had to inch the ship's bridge carefully next to the radio box that took customer's orders.

The vulpine leaned over the Great Fox's control panel, flipping the communications switch. "Yes, thank you, I'd like two Quadruple-B burgers with no pickles, and a Heat Death Icee. Oh, and a kid's meal. Don't ask..."

Phoenix switched off the mic, waiting for a response.

"Would you like fries with that?"

He scratched his chin. "Uh, yes please."

"Anything else?"

Phoenix glanced at Krystal, who sat next to him in the bridge. "Uh, what did you want again?"

"Just a diet Cosmic Cola."

"Uh, one Cosmic Cola," Phoenix said into the communications system.

"All right, your total is 10.27 credits. Please pull up to the next window."

"Wait, no!" Krystal jumped out of her chair and hailed the restaurant with their radio, but the employee didn't respond. Sighing, the vixen slumped back down in her chair and crossed her arms, looking out the bridge window away from Phoenix.

As he brought the Great Fox forward to the next window, the tod's ears drooped. "Are... are you mad at me? For not getting it diet?"

When Krystal didn't answer, he continued, "Because, you know, you look mad."

"I'm not mad!" Krystal growled.

"Well, I'm getting the feeling you're upset. You know, if you're upset, feel free to talk about—"

"No! NO!" Krystal shouted, slamming her fists on the control panel. "I'm not upset! I'm NOT!"

She gestured with her arms in a wide arc at the glowing stars that twinkled outside the bridge window. "This solar system is upset! With absurd prices!"

Krystal leapt to her feet, pointing furiously at the restaurant's menu. "Five dollars for a meal at Bob's Big Bang Burgers? I need more goddamn meat in my diet!"

She fell back into her chair, causing it to squeal in protest. "I look around and I just see stupid! Quit complaining about religion! No one cares! Oompa-loompas are murdering themselves in space!"

"Holy shit!" Phoenix threw up his hands to shield himself as an orange-skinned creature bounced off the windshield.

But Krystal's tirade went on: "Oh boo hoo, you're gay, you're lesbian, you're straight... My vagina doesn't work!"

Silence fell over the flight deck, during which both foxes avoided speaking to or looking at each other.

Eventually, the drive-thru window in front of them opened up. "Thank you for visiting Bob's Big Bang Burger Bar. Have a nice day!"

A white paper sack and two drinks were tossed out the window, floating aimlessly in space. Both vulpines watched their meal slowly drift past the Great Fox's window.

"You wanted to take the drive-thru," Krystal sighed.

"Of course I did," Phoenix answered. He pointed to himself, "I'm the

shit

I'm the shit

(o) Saturn—Now that's some pretty shit

I'm the shit

7,500 shits to Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

STAR WARS

...

It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships,

striking from a hidden base, have won their

first victory against the evil Galactic Empire.

During the battle, Rebel spies managed to

steal secret plans to the Empire's ultimate

weapon, the DEATH STAR, an armored space

station with enough power to destroy an

entire planet.

...

Pursued by the Empire's sinister agents, Princess

Leia races home aboard her starship, custodian of

the stolen plans that can save her people and

restore freedom to the galaxy….

I'm the shit

STAR WARS

...

Episode V

THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK

It is a dark time for the Rebellion.

Although the Death Star has been

destroyed, Imperial troops have driven

the Rebel forces from their hidden base

and pursued them across the galaxy.

...

Evading the dreaded Imperial Starfleet,

a group of freedom fighters led by Luke

Skywalker has established a new secret

base on the remote ice world of Hoth.

...

The evil lord Darth Vader, obsessed with

finding young Skywalker, has dispatched

thousands of remote probes into the far

reaches of space...

I'm the shit

STAR WARS

...

Episode VI

REVENGE OF THE JEDI

Luke Skywalker has returned to his home planet

of Tatooine in an attempt to rescue his friend

Han Solo from the clutches of the vile gangster

Jabba the Hutt.

...

Little does Luke know that the GALACTIC EMPIRE

has secretly begun construction on a new

armored space station even more powerful

than the first dreaded Death Star.

...

When completed, this ultimate weapon will

spell certain doom for the small band of rebels

struggling to restore freedom to the galaxy...

I'm the shit

Entry number seventeen

Dark darker yet darker

The darkness keeps growing

The shadows cutting deeper

Photon readings negative

This next experiment seems

Very

Interesting

...

What do you two think?

...

BEWARE THE MAN WHO SPEAKS THROUGH HANDS

I'm the shit

Outer space is full of shit

I'm the shit

0 The shit comes out of Uranus... he he

I'm the shit

"Cheers."

Phoenix and Slippy clacked their coconut shells together, then drank out of the fuzzy cups. Phoenix was surprised how delicious the piña colada tasted against his tongue, though the experience of drinking the tropical beverage was heightened by the coconut containing it.

Vulpine and amphibian sat reclining on similar beach chairs, feet in the sand and ridiculous sunglasses shading their eyes. Both of them wore extremely loud Hawaiian shirts, patterned with all manner of palm trees, flowers, and tropical birds. Their beach chairs were grounded in a small floating island covered in sand. All around the isle flowed a sparkling nebula—a cloud of cosmic dust that glowed a pale blue. Though the island floated in deep space, the sky field that faced the island from all sides was a dark azure color, dotted with billions upon billions of glittering stars. Anchored to the island by a thick cable, and floating a hundred feet above it loomed the Great Fox, floating like a sleeping whale.

"Ah... this is the life," Slippy said as he kicked back and folded his arms behind his head. "Ain't it, Elvfish Pikely?"

In a third seat beside Phoenix and Slippy's lay a spotted fish, dressed in an slick black pompadour wig and awkwardly propped up against the back of the chair. Its golden eye looked confusedly around the beach, and its jaw silently flapped.

Slippy nodded in agreement. "You sure have a way with words, Elvfish."

Phoenix set down his coconut shell in the sand beneath his chair. Laying his hands upon the armrests, he simply basked in the dull glow emitted by the nebula. The trio stared in silent wonder at the center of the cosmic cloud, which glowed like a pale moon or star. Stretched from planet to planet were the segments of an impossibly long invertebrate; its body must have been longer than the entirety of the solar system. The majority of its billions of legs wiggled aimlessly while only a few of its segments were actually anchored on solid objects, wrapped several times around the floating planets. A long centipede that connected all the planets in the system. A long centipede made out of... shit.

"Do you know where the center of the universe is, Phoenix?"

The vulpine shrugged, and answered lazily, as if he were half-awake. "Dunno. I guess where the Big Bang started, right? Since everything originated from that point."

"Oh, I guess you're right," Slippy admitted, finishing off his Bob's Big Bang Burger Bar kids meal.

When the mechanic trailed off, Phoenix prodded him on. "Did you have something else in mind?"

Slippy swallowed his mouthful of food and crossed his legs, staring out at the field of stars. "Well, yeah. I was just thinking... there's a theory that the universe is spherical. I don't mean like a planet or a beach ball or anything like that, but a fourth-dimensional sphere."

Phoenix scratched his head. "How would that work, exactly?"

"Oh, it's just that anywhere you go you'll end up back where you started. Like, if you were to leave this island and go through the center of that nebula—" Here Slippy raised his arm and pointed through the glowing cloud as if his hand were a gun. "—and keep going for billions of light-years, you'd end up right back here. Like that centipede, for instance. It could stretch across the whole universe and meet its tale. Maybe even devour itself in a never-ending cycle."

"Hmm..." Phoenix sat up, pointing through the gaseous cloud as well. "So, if you got a telescope powerful enough, and looked through it, you would see the back of your head? You'd see yourself looking through the telescope?"

"Exactly," Slippy affirmed. "And you know what that means, right?"

Phoenix gave the amphibian a blank stare through his sunglasses.

"It means

you

are the center of the universe."

"Huh," Phoenix mused as he sank back into his seat. "That's pretty amazing, actually."

"Yup. No matter where you are in the universe, you're technically at it's center because it's one big circle." After taking another sip from his piña colada, Slippy chuckled. "'Course, that also means that this island is the center of the universe, or that I'm the center of the universe, or that Elvfish Pikely is the center of the universe, or that random shit twenty shits above us is the center. By that logic, every atom is at the center of the universe as well. Maybe there isn't even a real center, then, and everything's just worthless."

The spotted fish beside them flapped its mouth some more.

"Yeah, you're right, Elvfish," Slippy agreed. "It is more fun to assume you are the center of the universe. Certainly does a lot for your self-esteem. Everyone else is at the center of their own little universe as well. So, if everyone's really import, you should treat them like it. Would certainly make the world a better place."

The blue nebula pulsated and swirled before them.

"Hey, Slip, hand me that bag, will ya?" Phoenix asked.

"Sure." Slippy picked up the small paper sack from Bob's Big Bang Burger Bar and tossed it to Phoenix. "Why do you want it?"

"I want to test your theory." The vulpine reached in and pulled out a small plastic bag, which he tore open to reveal a small kids meal toy. It was a plastic spyglass, made to look like one that classic pirates used. Scooting to the edge of his beach chair, Phoenix leaned forward, closed one eye, and placed the spyglass against his open one.

As the clouds of cosmic dust dissipated, he was able to see the back of the small island after all. Twisting the plastic lens, he zoomed in further, focusing on his own back.

A blue vixen came into focus, leaning against his back and blocking the rest of him from view. She looked peaceful, chest rising and falling as she gently breathed in a restful sleep.

Phoenix lowered the spyglass.

"You're right. It works."

I'm the shit

5,000 shits to Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

Donald Trump lives here. With the rest of this shit.

I'm the shit

In the third month, when the members of the Hunting Party were gone forth out of the land of Lylat, the same day came they into the void of The Solar System.

For they were departed from the Lylat, and were come to the void between Uranus and Neptune, and had pitched in the void; and there the Hunting Party camped before the mount.

And Elarix went up unto Shigeru Miyamoto, and the Lord of Games called unto him out of the space mountain, saying, Thus shalt thou say to the house of The Star Fox Archive, and tell the children of Fanfiction dot Net;

Ye have seen what I did unto Star Fox: Adventures, and how I bear you on arwings' wings, and brought you unto myself.

Now therefore, if ye will obey my voice indeed, and keep my covenant, then ye shall be a peculiar treasure unto me above all people: for all the internet is mine:

And ye shall be unto me a kingdom of gamers, and an holy nation. These are the words which thou shalt speak unto the children of Fanfiction dot Net.

And he gave unto Elarix, when he had made an end of communing with him upon the space mountain, two tables of testimony, tables of stone, written with the finger of Shigeru Miyamoto himself.

And Elarix descended the space mountain, carrying with him the stone tablets, and he read them aloud to the children of Fanfiction dot Net:

Thou shalt not give your site login and password information to any 3rd party

Thou shalt not put sensitive info on your profile page

Thou shalt not fill your profile up with "copy and paste this onto your profile" blurbs

Though shalt not list thy favorite parings

Thou shalt not list thy favorite music, shows, games, or books on your profile

Thou shalt not use fanfiction to get into a girl's pants—use it to get into her head

Though shalt not permit fanfiction dot net to censor website addresses by deleting periods

Thou shalt not misspell "Thou" as "Though" an inordinate amount of times

Thou shalt not forget to spell chekc your stories

Thanks Chrome, I see the red squiggly line.

Thou shalt not leave flames

Thou shalt not use the word "interesting" in your reviews. my art teacher could do better than that staring at a black cnavas

THOUGH SHALT NOT WRITE YOUR STORY NAME, PENAME, OR STORY DESCRPTION IN ALL CAPS

Thou shalt not delete my two reviews spaced a year apart where I go to the trouble of translating them into Spanish for you just because I politely ask you to change the letter case in your story title and description

Thou shalt not write stories that are merely lists, bloopers, polls, previews, challenges, author notes, one or two liners, comments inserted in between the flow of a copied story like Cinemasins' Everything Wrong With series, stories with non-historical and non-fictional characters, any form of interactive entry, choose your adventure, second person/you based, Q&As, chat/script format and keyboard dialogue based entries

Thou shalt not copy and paste morla laws from other religions or terms and agreements forms into your own religious code of laws or terms and agreemnts

Thou shalt not post multiple entries of the same story with just a few name changes

Thou shalt not make your story description a higher rating than a K

Thou shalt not post adult or provocative images

Thou shalt not cliam the Confederate Flag is a provocative image

Thou shalt not claim Rick Sanchez culturally appropriated his sombrero from mexicans. The mexicans culturally appropirated sombreros from aliens. Note the shocking resemblance to flying saucers.

Thou shalt not post images with solid blocks of bright, neon colors

Thou shalt not miss the line in Star Wars Episode VII where Finn asks why the color of the droid should matter lol

Thou shalt not write repetitive generic stories

Thou shalt not excessively censor language in your story when the rest of the adult content is worse

Thou shalt not kill off the main character in a fandom to replace them with your own OC

Thou shalt never piar your OC with the lead female or male

Thou shalt not write humans meet Star Fox stories

Thou shalt not write WolfxFox or FalcoxLeon stories. That's disgusting.

KrystalxKatt or any similar pairing is perfectly acceptable.

Thou shalt nod hold double standards

Thou shalt not put authors on ridiculous pedestals—no matter how great they are or were.

Cpt Fox? Just a writer.

Foxmerc? Just a writer.

Feuerstoss? Just a writer.

Kit-Karamak? Just a writer.

Katalicious? Just a writer.

Vexed? Just a writer.

chaos_leader? Just a writer.

Snake of the Rose? Just a writer.

Tobias Umbra? Just a writer.

SyxxFox? Just a writer.

Zythxx? Just a writer.

SkullFox? Just a writer.

Chimerical Knave? Just a writer.

Irish Redd? Just a writer.

Did I miss anyone? If so, they;re writers

Though shalt not "blame Elarix"

Thou shalt not make fun of Kylo Ren for being an emo pussy. It makes him a better character.

Thou shalt not compare Phoenix to Kylo Ren, nor to Reyf or that matter

Thou shalt not ask Phoenix's last name. He doesn't have one.

Thou shalt not misspell my last name three different ways on my high school award plaques. It's two r's, one t, ya fucking idoits

Thou shalt not make fun of Christian private schools for never talking about sex. Make fun of them for talking about it too much

Thou shalt not press CTRL plus F and count how many times the word "shit" appears in this chapter. It's not some special number, I prosmise

Thou shalt not scroll past Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

Thou shalt not press "END" to skip to the bottom of this page

Thou shalt not make up rules just because you've run out of rules to break

Thou shalt not artificially inflate the word length of your story with LITERAL SHIT

Thou shalt not rip off of multpile obscure songs without at least disclosing them in an author's note

Thou shalt not speed up any random song by 25 percent and call it "nightcore".

Thou shalt not make amvs of the "big four" anime.

Thou shalt not make amvs using the songs "Monster", "Hero", "Bring Me to Life", "This is War", "Ultranumb", "In the End", "What I've Done", "Numb", "Breaking the Habit", "Bodies," "Animal I have Become", or "My Demons". Somehow, you all managed to turn rock into over-played radio pop.

Thou shalt not change thy YouTube account name if it is inextricably linked to your Google plus account with your real name

Thou shalt not autocorrect "google" to "Google" just because Android wants you to

Thou shalt not autocorredt "kkk" to "mom"

Though shalt not ask why I was typing "kkk" in the first place

Thou shalt not let Kyocera Hydro and Vibe users wait four FIVE FUCKINGmontsh with a shitty update to Google Play Services that causes none of Google's apps to work including YouTube, Google Play Music, Doc Manager, and Drive without giving them a single fix or patch update. Five fuckinbg months now. Fuck you, Kyocera.

Thou shalt not judge America by Donald Trump

Thou shalt not judge Britain by David Cameron

Judge the 50 percents of their respective conservative parties

Thou shalt not claim you've played and loved video games since a young age when you were caught on camera years earlier saying you hate games and never played them

Thou shalt not add the words "Mic drop," "Awesomesauce," "SJW," "Mansplaining," "Manspreading," "Brain Fart," "Pwned," "Butt-dial," "Bruh," or "Microaggression" to the Oxford English dictionary.

Thou shalt not place commas inside quotation marks if you are quoting something without a comma at the end

Thou shalt not make the characters Ford Prefect, Nancy Drew, Roland Deschain, Grover Underwood, or races of elves and vikings black for the sake of diversity. Make them black because SAMUEL L. JACKSON HELL YEAH

There is no saving Avatar: the Last Airbender film

Thou shalt not name Miss Piggy "Feminist of the Year". If you think about it, though, it really fits.

Thou shalt not name Caitlyn Jenner the "Woman of the Year"; she's still got a penis

Thou shalt not excessively label things as sexist:

Science? Sexist

STEM? Sexist

Peer reviews? Sexist

Mars colonies? Sexist

Meritocracy? Sexist

History? Sexist

Chivalry? Sexist, says new study

World Wars? Sexist

National anthems? All of them, sexist

Money? Every bill!

Our attitudes? Sexist

Rape culture? No shit

Monogamy? Sexist

Fatherhood? Turns men into misogynists!

Every word containing "man" or "men"

Your bookshelf? Sexist

Art galleries? Sexist

Video games? Don't get me started

The video game industry? Sexist

Magic: the Gathering? Sexist

Warhammer? Sexist

Toys? Sexist

Chess? Sexist

Women's soccer commentators? Sexist

Boxing? Sexist

Head injuries? Sexist

Safety measures? Sexist

HIV transmission? Sexist

Climate change? Seriously, WTF

Police? Sexist

The Oxford English Dictionary? Sexist

The beer industry? Sexist, too

Amanda Marcotte's goddamn laundry basket is sexist

Air conditioning? Loves men!

Seagulls? They target women, the filthy misogynists

Self service aisles at the grocery store? Sexist

Miss Universe? Sexist

Miss Nude Australia? Surprisingly not, idk y

Hot guys? Sexist

Hugs? Sexist

Dr. Taylor's shirt? Sexist!

Ties? Sexist

School dress codes? Sexist

Poverty? Sexist

Criticizing Hilary Clinton? Sexist, according to my hero Bernie Sanders, you know, you really let me down this time Bernie, hopefully you were just misquoted

Barack Obama? Sexist

ObamaCare? Sexist

Barclays Bank? Sexist

Clickbait? Sexist

Hollywood? Sexist and racist!

Television? Sexist and... ageist? Is that really a thing? Oh my fucking...

Scottish law? Sexist

Society at large? Sexist

Life expectancy? Sexist, even though women tend to live longer...

Rioting? Sexist

Not rioting? Also sexist

Feminists' fantasies? Sexist

The Bedschdel test? Sexist

Feminism? Sexist

The Dalai Lama? Sexist

The Catholic Church? Sexist

Judaism? Sexist

Christianity? Sexist

Islam? ...

...

oF COURSE ISLAM ISNT' SEXIST YOU MORONS

Thou shalt not use the excuse, "It's 2016" as an excuse for getting whatever you want. For instance:

"Let's replace John Oliver from "Last Week Tonight" with a woman, because it's 2016, people."

"Let's bomb the shit out of Russia, because it's 2016"

"Let's commit genocide against Muslims, because it's 2016."

"Let's ban games like Grand Theft Auto, because it's 2016."

"Let's segregate universities into black and white safe spaces, because it's 2016."

etc.

Thou shalt think for yourselves

...

But

...

Above all

...

Thou shalt always remember

...

I'm the shit

Good Lord, it's a cheeseburger

I'm the shit

A double cheeseburger

I'm the shit

The secrets of the universe are between the buns

I'm the shit

*bun 1*
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
it's bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
bullshit
*bun 2*

I'm the shit

Nope: apparently just diabetus

I'm the shit

Another Station; Another Mile was just updated. Here's an excerpt: "S.H.E.P.P.A.R.D.I.S.G.A.Y."

I'm the shit

You know what's really shit? Here's some shit:

Oh whoa, oh whoa, oh whoa
You know you love me, I know you care
Just shout whenever, and I'll be there
You are my love, you are my heart
And we would never ever ever be apart
Are we an item? Girl, quit playing
We're just friends, what are you saying?
Say there's another and look right in my eyes
My first love broke my heart for the first time
And I was like...
Baby, baby, baby oooh
Like baby, baby, baby nooo
Like baby, baby, baby oooh
I thought you'd always be mine (mine)
Baby, baby, baby oooh
Like baby, baby, baby nooo
Like baby, baby, baby oooh
I thought you'd always be mine (mine)
Oh, for you I would have done whatever
And I just can't believe we ain't together
And I wanna play it cool, but I'm losin' you
I'll buy you anything, I'll buy you any ring
And I'm in pieces, baby fix me
And just shake me 'til you wake me from this bad dream
I'm going down, down, down, down
And I just can't believe my first love won't be around
And I'm like
Baby, baby, baby oooh
Like baby, baby, baby nooo
Like baby, baby, baby oooh
I thought you'd always be mine (mine)
Baby, baby, baby oooh
Like baby, baby, baby nooo
Like baby, baby, baby oooh
I thought you'd always be mine (mine)
[Ludacris:]
Luda! When I was 13, I had my first love,
There was nobody that compared to my baby
And nobody came between us or could ever come above
She had me going crazy, oh, I was star-struck,
She woke me up daily, don't need no Starbucks.
She made my heart pound, it skipped a beat when I see her in the street and
At school on the playground but I really wanna see her on the weekend.
She knows she got me dazing cause she was so amazing
And now my heart is breaking but I just keep on saying...
Baby, baby, baby oooh
Like baby, baby, baby nooo
Like baby, baby, baby oooh
I thought you'd always be mine (mine)
Baby, baby, baby oooh
Like baby, baby, baby nooo
Like baby, baby, baby oooh
I thought you'd always be mine (mine)
I'm gone (Yeah Yeah Yeah, Yeah Yeah Yeah)
Now I'm all gone (Yeah Yeah Yeah, Yeah Yeah Yeah)
Now I'm all gone (Yeah Yeah Yeah, Yeah Yeah Yeah)
Now I'm all gone (gone, gone, gone...)
I'm gone

Now for some real shit

I'm the shit

Thou shalt not paste lyrics into your stories

I'm the shit

All this shit doesn't even crash Fanfiction dot net

I'm the shit

Unless you're on mobile... which is shit...

I'm the shit

Have I reached the chapter max word limit yet? No? Well shit

I'm the shit

O Neptune—That's some far out shit. I'm still the shit, tho

I'm the shit

2430 shits to Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

[Radio static] I'm not going back in. No, I won't do it. Seriously, no, I'm not going back in. It's-it's done, cut. [Silence] Can, maybe... someone put me back in the Kubrick? [Breath] I want to go back in the Kubrick. Like, someone can, maybe, take me to the room where I become the old man and watch myself die? Yeah? It's fine, like, you don't even need to give me the whole space baby thing. I'll go without the space baby. [Static] Okay, fine I'll take the space baby—

I'm the shit

Shit... the final frontier...

I'm the shit

Hello?

I'm the shit

Is anybody out there?

I'm the shit

It's lonely out here

I'm the shit

Sometimes I feel like shit

I'm the shit

You don't need anybody else; you're the shit

I'm the shit

Oh, that's right; I'm the shit

I'm the shit

While I'm overjoyed that you like Faulkner's technique, it is incredibly rare for any post-Faulkner writers to pull off the same technique.

While your "stream of consciousness" in the steam vegetable is more admirable than the "I am the shit" section, you have not read enough of Faulkner or studied modernist prose writing enough to completely capture the craft.

These 2 attempts to be like Faulkner and this "visual use of text" has a complete oppose effect of what you as a writer intended. Your intention for this "effect" was obvious from the beginning in the first draft. However, it is unsuccessful still because it is showing the following assumptions about the craft of creative writing:

1) The conceit that creative writing is easy & as superficially constructed as the repetition of one single line (even if it is "typed"). As if anyone can do it if they just repeated any old phrase enough and "hid" something as the obvious outlier to show some type of "edgy" change, because writing is so effortless and easy, like painting or flash art.

2) The fact that this essay is still very entitled to dwelling in its "emotional ambivalence & apathy" without fully showing a "scene" beyond the narrator's internal self-reflection, completely fails the overall attempt to make again any reader to connect or "sympathize" with the product.

3) If the reader is supposed to feel sympathy or the same type of "intense apathy" as the narrator/writer, this essay does not do this successful. Instead this essay ends on a series of clichés and superficial contempt and opposition of any creative nonfiction writing technique.

4) If anything, this final essay & letter still is incredibly disrespectful to ALL writer and reader in their stages of learning the craft. It is showing a flagrant disregard for any type of attempts to do any creative writing craft, whether it is "creative nonfiction" or not. If anything, this essay is displaying incredible resistance and disregard to learn any real writing techniques.

All in all, this essay shows the writer has not read enough, experienced enough, and written enough to be ready to start creative writing.

There is incredible entitlement & egocentric thinking as this writing is laboring under the false conception that any reader would possibly want to indulge the writer in such conceit as "an Easter egg hunt."

What is the larger argument or point of this essay? If anything, this essay is a complete exposure of a writer who is insecure & uncertain about the scope himself. But this idea is not constructed in any unique manner where the reader can fully sympathize with the writer or want to understand him better. If anything the egocentric conceit does the reverse: that the writer does not deserve any attention or emotion from the beyond, because of this blatant arrogance and "self-indulgent" exposition.

If writing was so easy, why is it a dying art? Perhaps the answer has something to do with this exact thought process that is being displayed in this letter (in addition to this essay): the average person thinks they can publish something trite & superficial if the ideas were dressed up as something "edgy" because it is their "personal fan-fiction" way of pushing the envelope. In truth, this is lazy and a sign of complete lack of understanding (and lack of desire to learn).

A/N: Lol, misses the point entirely. Why can't you understand

I'm the shit

500 shits to Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

200 shits to Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

100 shits to Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

. Pluto's still a planet. He's the shit, too.

I'm the shit

75 shits to Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

50 shits to Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

20 shits to Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

You have just passed Aunt Sally's Pecan Pralines

I'm the shit

Man, fuck this shit.

I'm the shi

I'm the sh

I'm the s

I'm the

I'm th

I'm t

I'm

She gasped as Phoenix grabbed onto her bleeding wrists. Her blood soaked through his fingers a bit, but for the most part the flow was halted. He had stopped her bleeding, but at the same time, he allowed his own wrists to continue pouring out.

"Ph-Phoenix?" Krystal whimpered.

The vulpine slowly exhaled, the world beginning to dip and spin around him. He felt faint, but he still kept an iron tight grip on her wrists, staunching her blood flow. He managed to look up into her eyes, staring back at her. He would fight it. He wasn't weak. He wasn't powerless. He was the strongest, most powerful man alive in the history of the universe. He grinned.

And he would win this war