What the hell is THIS!? I don't even remember writing this! It's rather scary.....Oh well, here's a little bit of....something I found lurking in my documents folder. Maybe it grew on it's own....
My God, is all my stuff this demented? It's scary when you're on the outside looking in....dear God have mercy on my soul.....
Larva stood grinning to himself for a few more minutes in pure blind demented euphoria, then suddenly stopped as the black void of unimaginably agonizing sorrow swallowed it up.
"What's that about, huh Miyu? Why do I have a bl-" He halted as he realized the reason for his sorrow. "MEEEEEEE-YUUUU! THAT'S what I've been missing! Duh-HAR" Larva's gaping jaw and crossed eyes did little to spoil his beauty. That's what being abnormally handsome will do to you.
(I just figured out I could type faster if I took all my rings off. Der be a lot o' dem.)
One stiff hand rose of it's own accord and jabbed him in the eye. "OWWWW!" He shook his head absently. 'What the hell was THAT?'. He then regained the scraps of his sanity and faded out of Miyu's realm, into the world of those ugly wrinkled human things. He searched the surrounding landscape with his eyes, not finding Miyu, but still determined to die trying. He sought out the one point of reality he could pinpoint using only his Shinma senses (sorta like Spidaman, eh?), and teleported to the Tori gate, standing atop it to cup his hands around his mouth and scream Miyu's name for a few minutes, to see if that would help.
Carlua twitched jerkily on the floor of the Outback, which seemed determined to hold her in place with it's layers of copious black bile left to ferment over the years. Later it would be scraped up and used to dip the famous Bloomin' Onions in, once one of the lettuce boys had been sacrificed to give the sauce it's distinctive color. It was a little known fact that steak houses rarely stayed open unless their dippings were flavored with a human soul. Which was completely beside the point. The point being Carlua's left breast, lying exposed to the cold air of Outback and slowly inching it's way down her ribcage in order to make sweet mammary love to the floor. She moaned in protest, whereas her breast obediently popped back into it's cup. Which just happened to be occupied by Spartoi's hand.
"AUUUUGH! It BIT me!"
Pazusu apathetically raised his head from under the table, where he had been resting it on the seat and trying to find solace in the set of endearing little eyes a wad of gum had sprouted. "What did?"
"Carlua's....er, you know. Feminine thingies."
"Her bra *bit* you?" Pazusu rolled his eyes into the back of his head and tried counting to ten.
"Naw, stupid, not THAT, her breasties."
Pazusu tried counting to 23,560.
"Master?"
Minutes of silence save for the muted mutterings of a number somewhere in the nineties.
"Master?" Sparoi's cowlick drooped. "MAAAAAAAAAAASSS-TTUUUUUURRRRRRRR!"
One of the cooks stomped out of the kitchen with a meat cleaver clutched in his fist.
"MASSSSSSSSTUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"
"AAAAAAUUUUUGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" With a cry of incredible frustration, both work-related and sexual, Master let fly his meat cleaver fly, catching Amy on the back of the head. Amy died soon after from blood loss.
"Oops. Tee hee." Master had the voice of a five-year old girl, which was slightly odd to say the least.
Fifteen minutes passed in relative silence.
"NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"
Pazusu jerked awake, his eyes going to the horror-stricken look on Spartoi's face. "What the hell is it?!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY-MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Pazusu glanced over, uninterested by the growing pool of blood around Amy's head as he lay face-first in his own mucus, as he had earlier gotten the brilliant idea of pushing the cleaver from the inside out, using his finger and a nostril. He had yet to reach deep enough.
Pantyhose
I don't know why the word 'pantyhose' is lurking at the bottom of this thing. I seriously don't remember writing this....well, it IS chapter thirteen, after all. It's entirely plausible it DID grow on it's own....
Or I'm just retarded. Brutally retarded
My God, is all my stuff this demented? It's scary when you're on the outside looking in....dear God have mercy on my soul.....
Larva stood grinning to himself for a few more minutes in pure blind demented euphoria, then suddenly stopped as the black void of unimaginably agonizing sorrow swallowed it up.
"What's that about, huh Miyu? Why do I have a bl-" He halted as he realized the reason for his sorrow. "MEEEEEEE-YUUUU! THAT'S what I've been missing! Duh-HAR" Larva's gaping jaw and crossed eyes did little to spoil his beauty. That's what being abnormally handsome will do to you.
(I just figured out I could type faster if I took all my rings off. Der be a lot o' dem.)
One stiff hand rose of it's own accord and jabbed him in the eye. "OWWWW!" He shook his head absently. 'What the hell was THAT?'. He then regained the scraps of his sanity and faded out of Miyu's realm, into the world of those ugly wrinkled human things. He searched the surrounding landscape with his eyes, not finding Miyu, but still determined to die trying. He sought out the one point of reality he could pinpoint using only his Shinma senses (sorta like Spidaman, eh?), and teleported to the Tori gate, standing atop it to cup his hands around his mouth and scream Miyu's name for a few minutes, to see if that would help.
Carlua twitched jerkily on the floor of the Outback, which seemed determined to hold her in place with it's layers of copious black bile left to ferment over the years. Later it would be scraped up and used to dip the famous Bloomin' Onions in, once one of the lettuce boys had been sacrificed to give the sauce it's distinctive color. It was a little known fact that steak houses rarely stayed open unless their dippings were flavored with a human soul. Which was completely beside the point. The point being Carlua's left breast, lying exposed to the cold air of Outback and slowly inching it's way down her ribcage in order to make sweet mammary love to the floor. She moaned in protest, whereas her breast obediently popped back into it's cup. Which just happened to be occupied by Spartoi's hand.
"AUUUUGH! It BIT me!"
Pazusu apathetically raised his head from under the table, where he had been resting it on the seat and trying to find solace in the set of endearing little eyes a wad of gum had sprouted. "What did?"
"Carlua's....er, you know. Feminine thingies."
"Her bra *bit* you?" Pazusu rolled his eyes into the back of his head and tried counting to ten.
"Naw, stupid, not THAT, her breasties."
Pazusu tried counting to 23,560.
"Master?"
Minutes of silence save for the muted mutterings of a number somewhere in the nineties.
"Master?" Sparoi's cowlick drooped. "MAAAAAAAAAAASSS-TTUUUUUURRRRRRRR!"
One of the cooks stomped out of the kitchen with a meat cleaver clutched in his fist.
"MASSSSSSSSTUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"
"AAAAAAUUUUUGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" With a cry of incredible frustration, both work-related and sexual, Master let fly his meat cleaver fly, catching Amy on the back of the head. Amy died soon after from blood loss.
"Oops. Tee hee." Master had the voice of a five-year old girl, which was slightly odd to say the least.
Fifteen minutes passed in relative silence.
"NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"
Pazusu jerked awake, his eyes going to the horror-stricken look on Spartoi's face. "What the hell is it?!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY-MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Pazusu glanced over, uninterested by the growing pool of blood around Amy's head as he lay face-first in his own mucus, as he had earlier gotten the brilliant idea of pushing the cleaver from the inside out, using his finger and a nostril. He had yet to reach deep enough.
Pantyhose
I don't know why the word 'pantyhose' is lurking at the bottom of this thing. I seriously don't remember writing this....well, it IS chapter thirteen, after all. It's entirely plausible it DID grow on it's own....
Or I'm just retarded. Brutally retarded