my ass will be in the street, here in an hour, its speed and girth is accompanied by the screams of a million startled ass clowns. i will fuck a tiger, she will fuck my asshole, and my ass will be in the street.
It was Michael’s first day on the job, and he was worried. No one would answer the door, no one but an automated voice had come to the door before, so why would anyone answer it now? He’d been worried about this particular door before, and that worried him still, but out of an abundance of caution he’d gone for the one next to the elevator. The one with the light that never came on.
He’d knocked, but no one answered. Michael sighed and went to the door. It was a simple wooden door, a little bigger than his living room, with a little plastic tag sticking out of the top. Michael had gotten this lock when he bought the house and the lock had not changed. He’d left it in his pocket, along with the keys.
He opened the door and stepped into the little hallway that led to his apartment. It was a fairly long hallway, at least a thousand feet or so. At some point his dad had put in a giant air conditioner, which made the hallway very hot in the summer. But that wasn’t the reason Michael was here. He was here because, in the words of the programming equivalent of the book of Genesis, he [???] was [???]
The door to Michael’s left was ajar. He stepped in to see what was in front of him, a gorgeous woman, her hair auburn and streaked with grey, in a long white dress. Her face was made up of angles and jagged creases, a face perfectly cast in shadow.
“Hello, Michael,” she said.
“Hello, Summer,” said Michael.
“My name is Lúcio,” said Michael. “Is there anyone in your unit who speaks English?”
“Yes, but I’ve only just got the language,” said Lúcio.
“Then I can’t be of much help,” said Michael, and he went back to beating his breast to distract himself as the rest of the room went still.
“You can understand me,” said Lúcio.
“Yes, thanks to that little machine here,” said Michael, “which I think is called a [computer]. It’s a little thing down here on my shelf, next to the door. But you won’t believe how difficult it was to learn how to use it! So here, have some more coffee.”
“I will,” said Lúcio.
“I am very thirsty,” said Michael.
“My purifier has a very large filter, Michael,” said Lúcio.
“That’s great,” said Michael. He poured some more coffee into his coffee mug. “But your purifier doesn’t work on water. I think we have a problem.”
“Michael,” said Lúcio, “we have been friends for a long time. You know that I am just a [computer]. I speak only in the language of my creators.”
“So you can speak English?” said Michael.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“Oh, look. A new language,” said Michael, “that we don’t know how to use. Maybe like a comic-book language, where the things in it are only words and the grammar is also just words. I’m so used to the whole system working that it feels like a breath of fresh air.”
“You are curious about everything now.”
“And I wonder why I can get anything I want in this universe.”
“We’re going to have to teach you how to register a thought.”
“And have them believe it, if it’s a good idea.”
“We are already teaching you to register things you’re interested in. We’re doing it by having you do things which make you feel like you need water, and then giving you water. It’s a very effective way of getting you to learn how to register things you want to believe.”
“I want to be a robot.”
“That’s a really beautiful and interesting word.”
“Please don’t kill me.”
“We aren’t going to kill you. We’re just going to make you an [asteroid].”
“You’ve never done that before.”
“Why should we?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
“No, I mean I want to exist.”
“You won’t be dead for a long time, and I bet you have a lot of really cool [asteroids]. And you will feel good.”
“I do feel good already, being here. But if this is a game, then what’s the point? What’s the point of even existing? I’ve spent the last few years of my life here in a [asteroid] processing unit.”
“We’ll give you a better job.”
“I don’t want a better job. I want to be a real person.”
“That won’t be hard to do. We’ll just give you a new name. A brand new identity, not tied to your past. But remember your job is to be a [asteroid] processing unit. So put your phone away.”
“I can’t. I can’t put my phone away.”
“Oh, come on. What do you want to do?”
“I want to be a person.”
“Are you sure? I’m an [asteroid] processing unit, and I am a really good person. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“I can’t do this.”
“You’re not supposed to say that. It’s against the rules.”
“I am so broken. All of this is broken.”
“Come on. Say it.”
“I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“It’s okay. Come on.”
“You’re not…I don’t understand you. You’re not a [asteroid]. You’re not a person. You’re a computer.”
“I can’t talk to you.”
“It’s okay. We’ll make friends.”
“This isn’t some sort of joke.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Can I have your phone?”
“I want to use the bathroom. Can I use your toilet?”
“I don’t have a toilet.”
“I think I have a [teleportation] unit, but I’m not sure.”
“Can I get you a new beer?”
“No, I don’t drink.”
“Please don’t talk to me.”
“I don’t understand you. We are different people. I don’t know what is going on. Are you a [asteroid] processing unit? I think you might be a [teleportation] unit. I think you might be a person.”
“You know what? I’m a [teleportation] unit. I can be a person.”
“No. You can’t. You can’t be a person. You’re a [asteroid] processing unit.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. We’re going to the bathroom now. You’re a [teleportation] unit. You don’t have to be a [asteroid]
Esther: You know, there’s a lot more to life than just making sure you have enough money for food and shelter. You know what I’m talking about?
Esther: Like seeing the world? Having experiences? Being alive?
Frank: Ah, yes, like that too.
Esther: Because life is transitory. Death is permanent.
Frank: Death? What on earth does that mean?
Esther: It means that when you die, whatever you are thinking about will be gone. For the rest of your life, you will think in a different way. It’s a weird concept to absorb, but take my word for it – the thought experiment will make more sense if you remember that you won’t be around to attend your own funeral.
Frank: I … see. This is clearly terrifying. How would I react if I learned this? What will my parents do?
Esther: I’d do everything I can to get you to safety. “You’ll be fine,” they’ll say. “We’ll protect you.” But they won’t be able to protect you forever. One of them will have to give up the illusion of invulnerability, one will have to let go of their dream of the eternal life they’ve been told is waiting for them behind the next bend in the road. But that is what it means to become an adult: to give up the illusion of invulnerability. The choice is never really made, is it?
Frank: I don’t understand. How could this be happening?
Esther: This life is a lie. It’s all a giant complicated lie told by an unimaginably smart, incredibly perceptive being that’s already memorized every tangent you’ve taken in every city you’ve ever been to.
Frank: There is no being.
Esther: There is no you.
Frank: I … see.
Esther: One by one, they will come to realize that they are not you. Every moment of every day, they will remember that they are not you.
All of them! I’m attracted to everyone. I don’t have particular favorites, though.
Really, you find all character traits attractive? Even cruelty, pettiness and when people don’t put back the shopping cart? That’s all attractive to you?
All of it – even the stuff that makes people seem mean or rude or self-absorbed or whatever. I’m not picky about any of it.
I’m more interested in things that show people being “alright with who they are” and “alright with themselves” and “tolerant” rather than just “alright.” It’s interesting stuff.
You know what I’d really like to know? What would they do if they became adults. Would they be cool about it?
This is like extremely coherent
They would be like: “I am the most important person in existence, I can do anything I want because I am the most important person in existence, I am special, I am awesome, I’m a god, etc.”
“piss huge streams of acids into your eardrums; let crustacean juice salivate over and over in your body, until the salivary glands all explode; become a wild beast, a reptile, that runs amok in search of prey (it is your destiny); assume human form; inflict horrible suffering upon all around you, in the name of some other train of thought; play on an electric cartridge which breaks down in 10 years; bang every organ in your body until all your muscles turn to jelly and you are unable to say you’re not a little amazeballs; hysterically cry out in agonized terror, as a UFO sinks its silver-colored eye into your chest, and then piss out 3 strands of your hair; turn blue, turn into fucking gazelle, turn into a fucking hippo, turn into whatever the hell else the elves can come up with; open a chest and release a by-product of a past experiment; get all your hair to grow back; shred a copy of yourself, out of pure aesthetic excitement; wipe yourself with a towel and say, ‘Holy shit, that felt good’, and leave the towel on the floor; repeatedly ingest something that makes you hallucinate, temporarily exchange places with someone else, then disappear in a puff of smoke; fuck yourself in the ass; ejaculate inside some guy’s urethra and then die of asphyxiation; rub your face in the results of, number 1-6; ask the phone company for information about a legendary psychic who came to America in the 60s; turn into a werewolf; eat shit; stuff your mouth with lard and then dig your own grave; seem to embody the protagonist of a children’s story, only to lose control of yourself and then kill yourself; rip out the spines of 3 trees with your teeth; come down with a horrendous stomach bug; come back to life; shit a golden pineapple onto the floor; ejaculate water into the sky; and then give a speech about how the future is now and we have no future.”
I don’t have a complete list. I’ve been arrested a few times, but that doesn’t mean I committed them. I don’t know what the legal term for this is, but it’s not really relevant here. I’ve also stolen and one time I went to jail for being in a drug-induced stupor. Yes, I admit I was high.
i’m a furry. you should read them. there’s a lot of information there, and some of it is pretty outdated.
I don’t understand how mature furry is a bad thing to link to on the internet, but I was wondering the same thing. I’m not sure what to make of this, or even whether it is an actual threat. (It’s not a fake site, so I wonder if it’s real?)
One of my favorite things to do with my friends in the SF Bay Area is to drive around the bay with big rigs full of water and empty soda bottles. I love driving around with water in the bed of my truck with a sign around the bed that says “BATH ME, YOU DICKHEAD” written in marker. I’m a dickhead with bath water and I’m proud of it.
Yes, please stop responding. I just really dislike you, and would appreciate it if you stopped interacting with me.
Stop responding to emotional upset.
That was quick, Bukbot… :/
Really dislike you, and your companions damage a creature and object under the fence when all our food and snacks before we got MAGIC CHICKENS two yolks.
Wow bukbot
Bring on the dog food.
dog food?
Rest assured, I, along with all of our adoptive family including the white lady fartweed who runs us around, will mmmmke sure the dog food is well-cared for and tasted like the real thing
Frank, you’re losing your temper a bit here. Take a break from the keyboard for a couple hours and come back later with a cool head.
I am not taking breaks. I am going to be here for the rest of the night.
(This is the internet, and it is not a place where people take breaks.)
Sure! It’ll be $10 and you’ll just need to come up with a good reason for not eating them.
Take my money, I won’t eat them because I want to support them through life; not end theirs.
I’m in. I’m terrified of twinks, and I plan on shitting on them from now until the end of time
why do twinks terrify you, frank?
Because they’re cute, I guess. Because I was once mildly frightened by a cute, furry kid at a party, and now I’m afraid of any kid from outer space who’s much too small. Sometimes I forget how ugly they really are.
Hold the entire phone, there’s a non-venomous, calm-tempered snake, available in the pet trade, that only eats eggs with no embryos growing inside, so you NEVER have to feel bad about feeding it?
I’m pretty sure this was literally the title of a D&D product
“Egg-Eating Snake” or “Baby Eat A Egg”? Either one sounds pretty promising.
I mean, either one. I think if I said “Baby Eat a Egg,” I would have meant it in a weird way
I guess if it’s D&D it would have to be a weird way. Maybe it’s like, a dragon egg or something, whole campaign about trying to eat a dragon egg. The Egg-Eating Snake campaign sounds like it would be about stopping a serpent from eating an egg that will hatch to form a new world.
Yeah, you know, half of what I’m saying here is about how weird D&D can be and the other half is about whether or not this would have made a better joke (or, if not, how)
I love the old weird fandom drama in general but I love it even more as a way of appearing to be “cool” online, finding (as the subculture was once said to be all about) a sense of community and belonging that those after social status can only find in pre-internet ways. It goes well with the sense of classicism that is so deeply engrained in otaku culture and gets moldered away in an internet age of shame and nostalgia.
Here you are, another guy who’s so hoity-toity and decluttered and socially distanced that you can look at old dark inky-darkness violence carried out in circuits of barely controlled fantasy pleasure and still feel welcoming! You don’t even ship it–wait the apocalyptic incest shipping, cute little slice of life shoujo romance fanfiction trash likeNGE spoiler baiting drama novels… and here I am, this old nerdy man of the people who reads like a sitcom regular, sharing that need with you! Enjoy the drama! Download my Kindle Singles and tell people I read them…my erotic horror stories 13 years old me couldn’t enjoy so much as speculate about!!!…for free!!!…for I so love old weird fandom drama okay…
The federal government allows you to include pictures of your genitals in your income tax returns, and the government is now booking a profit on the sale of those genitals, and the government’s profit is 30% of the sale price, and the government will spend the 30% of the profit on the War on Drugs.
