Sunday, 25 September 2011

We’re Gonna Die And Stuff.

So word has it that this comet thingie is gonna be in alignment with the earth and sun and cause a humongous earthquake that’s gonna send us all in tiny little fireworks of our own blood and flesh setting Katy Perry's prophecy true and ‘skyrocketing’ her career into a ‘blockbuster.’

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I’m so goddamn happy. :’D We’re all gonna die! That’s so awesome! I threw a huge fit of walking around the house making up scenarios of how I’d like it to end and of the world beyond and my dad now believes I’m officially nuts.

First of all, I want the trumpets to rock and roll, not the boring screechy lullabies, but something more like Tech N9ne meet Schubert with a touch of Axel Rose, and I wanna stage dive at the heavenly gates and the tiny little angels keep bouncing me up and down like a hero, without groping any of my packages, because they’re angels and stuff. And I want an endless supply of Coffee and chocolate, and I get to keep microcosmic clones of the people I like and do all sort of shit to/with them. Nobody sleeps so I won’t get bored and everybody’s everywhere at the same time so there’s not trouble commuting or traffic jams. And they have a 24-hour showing of the last hour as people scream and scurry all over the place and hide under cockroaches thinking they’ll be as protective against comets as they are against nuclear explosions with popcorns that I can eat with both chocolate sauce and ketchup that promise to give me eternal life from the first crunch. I don’t even need 3D glasses because I’ve already lived the 5D experience, and I get an unlimited internet connection and phone credits that will last me lifetimes, literally. I get to have an army that consists of clones of my dad that are just as cute and awesome 24/7. I party everyday, and I get a special sighting of the face of the minister of education as he realizes that I never lived to continue the medieval torture that is sanaweyya 3amma and died at the glorious score of 98%. Everybody is intelligent, because if near death experiences enlighten you then death activates your Einstein spores. I get jetpacks built in to my physique. And speaking about physique, I get to be the tallest and they’d all be short and I’d step on them and remind them everyday of how short they miserably are and will forever be. And I get to meet George Carlin and tell him that he’s my one and only. Erik Satie would compose for me and I get to pick on Debussy for being a bald good-for-nothing lard-ass with all my might. I get to tell everybody how much I love them by haunting the fuck out of them because they’re all dead too and we’d all be running after each other in dimensions but they’d be short so I’d always outrun them and hunt them done and kill them with cupcakes.

GIVE ME ALL YOU GOT! EARTHQUAKE MY ASS! COMET MY SHMOOZLE! BECAUSE I’M AWESOME AND I’M GONNA BE ONE HELL OF A HOT CORPSE! HA!

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