Nematoda Immortalis

Nematoda Immortalis

   Four two inch fangs splayed themselves out right in front of me. It's funny to think that they once were part of a live leopard. Not now, though, just part of a stuffed one.

“A leopard cannot change its spots. No animal can,” Ruby suddenly muttered, making me a jump a bit. Neither of us had spoken in several minutes.

“And yet man still tries to.” She smirked and puffed on her cigar. The smoke lingered, thick and heavy. It eventually drifted off into the other rooms of the museum; nobody had bothered to call her out on it, we were basically the only ones there.

“I gave up on that a long time ago.”

   I remained silent; I wasn't sure what else there was to do. I was never sure what else to do around Ruby, she was just one of those women. The fact that she was a vampire didn't lessen how intimidating she was.

“It's a parasite,” she said. It took me awhile to figure out she was talking about her state of being. One of Ruby's favorite past times was switching conversation topics without warning; her train of thought waited for no man.

“It's called Nematoda immortalis. Latin for Immortal Worm. Ever heard of Turritopsis nutricula?”

“Uh, no.”

“It's a jellyfish that, in situations of peril, can revert back to its larval form. It's basically immortal, as long as nothing tears it apart or eats it. Nematoda immortalis basically does the same thing. Except, unlike Turritopsis nutricula, Nematoda immortalis has a brain, and knows how to use it.”

   She took a long drag and looked deep into the stuffed leopard's mouth as she exhaled. The smoke made me want to cough, but I didn't dare.

“I'm getting tired of all this Latin,” she said. “From here on out I'll just call it The Vampire Worm. That's what it's really called anyway.”

I nodded slightly, showing compliance just as a precaution.

“Anyway, as I said, the Vampire Worm is a clever little bastard. Some have called it 'the perfect parasite'. If you've got it, the only way you can kick it is if you get shot or burned, anything unnatural. It has something to do with the way the worm tweaks with your genes. The worm itself is the opposite. The worm can't die by anything external; only dies of age. But, it's got that larval revert thing that the jelly has, so it only truly dies if it slips up and forgets.”

   A quick little laugh escaped from her lips.

“And believe me, it never forgets.”

   She sauntered across the room with her back to me, her heels clicking against the floor. It sounded almost painful, the footsteps of someone with no mercy.

“And then of course there's the blood. I guess that's sort of the main thing.”

She turned back around to face me, her red scarf billowing slightly. It occurred to me that she looked rather attractive for someone with a life-changing illness. Her face was sharp and angular, which created a nice juxtaposition with her long black hair It was so fluid that, when caught moving, bore a bizarre resemblance to a river.

   “Being immortal has it's prices. Namely, nutritional prices. That's why the worm needs blood. Lots of it. Human is kind of preferred. It has all of the necessary nutrients in one place, though you can very easily go with a varied assortment of other animals.”

   I coughed into my sleeve. I was getting sort of uncomfortable. She laughed, cold and sharp.

“Don't worry, I prefer animals.”

“Well, that really makes me feel better.”

   I smiled. I was getting more comfortable around her; so comfortable in fact that I asked this question:

“So wait, what's the point of keeping you immortal? I mean, why not just spread the eggs and kill you off?”

She took another drag off of the cigar and then slowly blew the smoke out, moving her head to make sure the dark gray rising was evenly dispersed.

   “Look at it this way: Imagine you live in a house, a house made of...bread. Now, in this house there's a fridge that magically restocks itself whenever you need it to. However, if you start to eat the bread the house is made of, the fridge stops being magic. The worm is in the same situation, where I'm basically the fridge and my body is the house. If I'm immortal, I'm the best goddamned host possible.”

I nodded.

“And the eggs?” I asked.

“Oh, they pop up every six months or so. They can only grow up in humans, so I'm just careful about what I eat around that time.”

   She laughed again. It made me uncomfortable; I'd never known her to laugh unless she was about to pull the proverbial rug from beneath someone's feet.

“What?” I asked.
“Oh nothing. It's just that...instincts are a funny thing, you know?”

   She walked back over to the stuffed leopard, staring intently at its spots.
“They're just very hard to control, especially when you're feeding an immortal two.”

I backed away slowly.

“Ha, what do you mean?”

“I mean I'm not going to pretend that my spots aren't cast.”

Four two inch fangs. These ones were live.

The Party (an Adventure Time creepypasta)

   I'm a pretty huge Adventure Time fan. I watch it every Monday, even spent the money on those ridiculously expensive hoodies and shirts they have for it at Hot Topic. So you can imagine my dismay when my family decided to have a little reunion one Monday night, meaning I would have to miss Adventure Time. “Oh well,” I thought, “There are a lot of sites that put up the episodes for free.” So I trudged along at the reunion that night, waiting until everybody had left. It was pretty late by the time they had all gone. Thankfully, school was off the next day, so I sat down at my computer and hoped that someone had streamed it already.

I quickly Googled “Free Adventure Time episodes” and got a lot of results. I checked the Cartoon Network website first. Not there yet. Went back to the results page. Most things were unrelated. Finally, on the 3^rd page, I found something that looked promising. Shmowzow.com. Underneath the URL it said “free adventure time episodes”. I clicked it. Smowzow.com was made of incredibly basic HTML, white with a green play button in the middle. Above the play button it said, “this weeks episode the party”.

   “Yes!” I said, a little bit too loudly. It had to have been the new episode, as there hadn't been one called The Party before. I clicked the play button, excitedly.

  The classic Adventure Time intro started, and got to the part where there's a loud smack and you see Finn and Jake. That's normally when the music starts. This time, however, it lead straight to the title screen for the episode.

“That's weird,” I thought. “Maybe they don't have much bandwidth and they had to cut that out to host the video.”

   The episode title screen was a white screen, just like Shmowzow.com with the words “the party” written small and messily. It stayed on this screen for what felt like a very long time; certainly longer than title screens of episodes past. It finally faded to black and the episode started.

   Finn and Jake were sparring in the living room when their phone rang. Jake picked it up.

“Hello?” he said. The screen was split in half, with Jake on one of the halves. On the other half was the face of Tree Trunks, poorly lit and smiling widely.

“Hi there, Jake,” she said in her innocent old lady-esque voice.

“Oh, hi Tree Trunks! What's up, baby?” I laughed a bit. The way Jake conversed with other characters always amused me.

“Oh, I'm just throwing a little party over here in my trailer. Do ya'll want to come over?”

“Sure, Tree Trunks! We'll see you there.”

“Hahaha, alright.”

Jake put down the phone, and the entire screen was given back to him.

“Hey dude,” he said to Finn. “Tree Trunks is having a party. I told her we'd go.”

“Ew, why? Tree Trunks is...kind of creepy.”

“I know, I know, but we'll probably disappoint her if we don't go. Being a hero includes the little things to, you know.”

“Alright, buddy, let's go.”

They went downstairs and Finn reached for his sword.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Jake asked.

“We never know when evil might strike, Jake.”

Finn suddenly turned to the camera, his face dark and serious.

“Never.”

Things returned to normal and Jake grabbed Finn's sword and set it down on the ground.

“Dude, we're going to a party in Tree Trunks' trailer. I don't think much evil's gonna be lurking around there.”

Finn looked longingly at his sword.

“Okay,” he said, and opened the door and walked through it, Jake behind.

   The scene cut to them in front of Tree Trunks' trailer. The door to it was slightly ajar, being pushed back slightly as Finn knocked on it.

“Tree Trunks?” he yelled, looking around.

“She's probably sleeping or something inside, dude. Let's just go in.”

Finn shrugged and pulled open the door, heading inside.

Inside, there was absolutely nothing, not even the stove or any of Tree Trunks' other furniture. The walls and the floor were painted stainless white, and the windows were all barred.

“Tree Trunks?” Finn called out, sweat dripping from his forehead. No answer.

“Man, I don't know about this. Maybe Tree Trunks snapped again.”

“Well, maybe she's just out getting someth--”

The floor beneath them fell through and they started screaming. I started taking screenshots at this point. It was all just too unnatural, not anything like Pendleton Ward would write.

   It suddenly switched to Finn's point of view, and that's when things got really messed up. The art style completely changed. I'm not sure how to describe it, really. I guess the best way to put it is that everything was incredibly detailed, the opposite of the lovable simplistic style of the show. They were falling down what looked like a cobblestone shaft. Finn looked over at Jake. What showed on the screen made me jump out of my chair.

   Jake had turned into a disgusting caricature of a bulldog, slobber dripping from his giant mouth with a huge overbite. His eyes were hidden under a thick layer of fat on his forehead. He was still Jake's classic yellow, though, which freaked me out even more. Finn looked down at his hands. Rough and bleeding, with the nails bitten and chewed. They finally landed, and I swear to god I could almost feel it in my own chair. I was screencapping like mad at this point. They were caught in a cage that was carved out of the rock, metal bars in front of them preventing their escape.

   The only source of light in the room was a large fire in the middle that was huddled around by a bunch of small shadows. One of them turned around. It was Tree Trunks. She was terrifying in the new art style, toothless gums dripping with pus and blood and massive bunions and unsightly cankles on her legs. Her trunk was covered in tiny hairs, waving against her sickly green skin.

“Glad you could make it,” she said, her grin growing wider. Her voice had not changed with the art style at all.

“Now the fun can begin.”

   She opened up the cage and grabbed Jake with her trunk. He began screaming. His voice stayed the same as well. In his struggle, the layer of fat that covered his eyes flipped up, and the screen zoomed in on them. They were splotchy gray and hideously bloodshot, and opened wide with alarm. The shot stayed on his eyes for well over 3 minutes as you could hear him being dragged by Tree Trunks, screaming all the way. The shot widened to reveal that Tree Trunks was dragging Jake to the large fire in the middle. The small shadows were less dim now, and they were disgusting versions of all the princesses. Tree Trunks called them over to her, and with a heave they threw him into the fire. Jake's fur was quickly burned away, followed by his flesh. He began to laugh. A hearty, good old laugh that Jake would make. Not one of those insane laughs where it's clear whoever's laughing has lost their sanity. No, it was as if he had just made a great joke and was laughing at it.

    The Slime Princess, who had become a mass of organs and phlegm, moved over to Finn. She melted his clothes away, leaving him naked on the floor, writhing in pain. It cut back to his point of view. Through the dim light of the fire you could still see Jake's burning corpse laughing and twitching, and the mob of princesses, lead by Tree Trunks, coming ever closer. Tree Trunks broke away from the pack and sprinted for Finn. He tried to get away, but his body wouldn't let him. He couldn't move. It was as if I had taken control of his body, as I could hear every thought and feel every moment of pain as if I were him. Tree Trunks, mouth agape, leaped for him as it cut to black.
The outro began.

“Come along with me, through the butterflies and bees. We can wander through the forest, and we can do so as we please.”

Square One

   A lot of people have, throughout the years, have been in situations that can be described as “going back to square one”. Someone might lose the respected job they've kept for 20 years, or maybe even moving back in with your parents. I'm afraid, however, that none of them can compare to the situation I'm in right now. In fact, in all of human history, I'm pretty sure no one has ever gone as far back to square one as I have. Basically, I became a protozoa.

   It's hard to explain. One minute I was hunched over my desk, putting the last touches on some blueprints for the new civic center. Not to boast, but I'm pretty respected as an architect. Well, I was, before I became a primordial blob. Suddenly, everything changed, particularly my senses. I had lost all of them. It was very bizarre. I immediately understood what had happened, for some reason. Though I had no sight, or any feeling, I could very easily “see” and “feel” everything. It's really quite indescribable. Anyway, as I said, I knew where I was and what I was: still on my desk chair and a protozoa. I was a very stylish protozoa, if I do say so myself. Long and shapely, with a nice amount of girth. All of my memory past this point is in the bizarre feelingless-but-not state, so please bear with me. My thoughts, though impossible for a protozoa to even have, still ran, almost as if nothing had happened.

“Well,” I thought.

“Here I am. This is quite bizarre, isn't it?”

   Just as I thought that, another microscopic being came close to me. A little bit bigger than me, but not too much. I'd reckon it an amoeba or something of the like. Sadly, I'm not an expert on the subject, though that would have certainly helped in this situation. I wiggled a bit as a welcoming gesture. The amoeba slid past. I suppose I did not impress it. Or maybe it just didn't notice. It occurs to me now that it probably couldn't notice; not every microscopic organism is actually a well-respected architect.

“So this is a pretty unique predicament,” I thought.

“I'm...I'm not entirely sure what to do.”

It was true; I didn't. I figured it would take days to move a foot, at the very minimum. I sat around for a bit, thinking of where to begin my journey, and to where, if at all. Then, I heard a loud stomping. “The cat. If I can get onto the cat, and somehow get him to get out of the house, I could go anywhere.”

   So, I had a plan. The means, however, were less in my grasp. When would the cat come to this area of the house, let alone get on the chair? I could certainly try to get down from the chair, but a big problem was that I did not know my lifespan in this state. Days? Weeks? Years? Again, a place where a knowledge of microscopic organisms such as myself would've helped immensely.

“Can I jump in this state?” I tried to hop, somehow.

It didn't work.

   The only way to get down was to slowly edge downward on one of the legs of the chair. I started, when I “saw” the cat. Don't ask. I just...I knew he was there. A protozoa's intuition, if you will. It was almost like he was looking at me. Like he knew everything that had happened to me. He jumped up, paws out. He missed the chair by a half of an inch and fell on his back. He got right back up and tried it again; he really wanted to get on that chair. With a magnificent push of his hind legs, he leaped through the air and landed perfectly on the chair. I found myself under one of his paws. I crawled as quickly as I could to get on top of it; it took awhile. He proceeded to lie down on the chair and flick his tail carelessly. I guess he couldn't notice me after all, he just wanted the nice sunny spot that was the chair. I kept crawling, waiting for him to move. I quickly realized I was waiting for a cat to stop lounging around. I laughed in my mind, which was the best I could do. I began thinking of ways to get him to move. I suddenly remembered something I had read about a genus of fungus called Cordyceps. Each species of Cordyceps is specialized to live in a certain species of insect. As they grow, their roots grow into the brains of the insects, actually gaining control of them.

“If a mindless fungus can control an insect's mind, surely a skilled architect can control a cat's. Besides, a brain really isn't very much different than a building. It's all just connections.” I wiggled ever closer to the cat's ear. Despite my wiggling, I did not get much closer. It seemed like a world away. I got about a quarter way along his body when I noticed it was night and that he had fallen asleep. My cat has been notable for being something of a night owl, keeping me up late at night, so I figured it must be quite late for him to have lost consciousness. I noticed I was not tired, not even in the slightest. I then realized I mostly likely wouldn't be able to be tired, at least not as a protozoa. I continued further with even more fervor in my wiggle, knowing I could most likely find his brain by tomorrow. Soon, it was daylight. I was halfway there. He went about his normal business of the day, had gone to the litter-box, chased a mouse, what have you. By sundown I was at the enormous cavern of his ear. I made better progress than I had thought. He jumped up on the chair again to enjoy the last drops of the day's light.

   “Goodbye, outside world. I'm moving to better places now. Namely, cat brains.” I wiggled into the massive hole that was his ear, a canyon of flesh. No longer square one. I'd say about square two or three. Still had to get to that end space, though.

   After a fairly short trek through the ear canal, I finally found what I was looking for: his brain. It was even more beautiful than I had imagined, each crevice an endless possibility of synapse. I wiggled over to the center, observing everything in as much detailed as I could. I put my bottom-left tip down into a groove to see what would happened. Suddenly, I connected to the optical part of the cat's brain. His eyes snapped open, and I saw right through them, with his vision. Ah, true sight. It was something I had missed in my time with one cell. I stuck my upper-right tip into another groove. This time, it was the ears.

“Hearing. That's good.”

   Finally, I put my bottom-right tip into what would be the last groove I would need. The cat stood up. I thought about moving a leg. It happened. If I had a mouth, I would've smiled; I would've smiled wide.

“This,” I thought. “This is what I need.”

   I had my feline suit of armor jump down from the chair. Through the cat-door, into the yard, right up to the fence. I hit his face on it.

“Ugh, need to get a better handle on this.”

I had him look up. The fence was pretty high, but nothing I couldn't handle. It'd just take some concentration is all. I took my upper-right tip and put it into the motor-skills groove. I wouldn't need hearing for this. I pushed. I pushed with all of my might.

   As I said, nothing I couldn't handle. I was over on the other side of the fence, free to explore the world. Although, admittedly, a cat was not the ideal host. I decided if I really wanted to get to the end space, I needed something that would allow me to get back on track as an architect. I needed a human.

“Should be easy,” I thought. “Someone will eventually take me in, I get close and BAM! Back in a human body.” I suddenly took into account exactly what I was saying.

“Wait...I'm talking about taking over another person's body. I'd...I'd be stealing their identity. Is it really worth that?”

   I started walking down the moonlit street, unsure.

   I decided to wait until morning to try to get picked up by a potential host. Nobody takes home a stray cat at night. Making sure to get out of the road, I took all of my tips out of the grooves, sending little kitty to sleep again. I spent all night thinking about what to do.

   Several hours later, the cat finally woke up. I quickly put my tips in their respective grooves so he wouldn't run anywhere I didn't want him to. I began my walking down the streets when I heard a little jingle. I remembered I had kept a small identification tag on my cat with my phone number in case he ever got lost on his collar.

“Perfect. Very few people would pick up a stray cat, but a lost cat...I'm definitely a shoe-in.”

I figured the best strategy would be to just go up to a door and begin pawing at it until it opened. There was a fairly large house in front of me, so I figured it was a good place to start. I started the pawing routine and quickly realized it wouldn't work, considering the pawing was incredibly soft. I removed my tip from the sight groove and tried to find a meowing groove. I performed quite a few embarrassing actions (most of which I would rather not repeat) but eventually found it. I meowed rather loudly. I was mildly impressed.

“This is more like it.”

   Finally, I heard the door open. I plugged my tip back into the sight groove. In front of me was a tall, handsome man, who honestly reminded me a bit of myself pre-protozoa-fied. He looked at me with pity, picked me up and brought me into the house. I was getting so close I could taste it. He set me down and picked up his phone. He looked at the tag on my collar and dialed the number on it. All he got was a message. Another one of those would-be smile moments arose. I walked over to...I mean, I controlled the cat to walk over to him. I put the cat's head in his lap.

“As long as he doesn't move for just a little bit longer, I should be fine.”

   I began crawling out of the cat's left ear canal, which I was hoping would be as short as the other one. I wiggled faster than I ever had before.

  “This is my last chance,” I thought. “Mess this up and I'm done. Bye-bye, PhD in architecture. Bye-bye, my life's work.” It was the biggest risk I had ever taken. In a span of a few short minutes, I had made it out of the cat's ear. I took one last wiggle, and found myself on the seam of his pants. I was heading in for the kill.

   I shouldn't word it like that. It makes me feel guilty. I was...honing in on the goal. That sounds much prettier, doesn't it? Anyway, I began a slow but determined wiggle across this man's pants. I looked over to notice he was reading a book. The Metamorphosis, by Kafka. I stared at it for awhile and realized how similar my story is. Except George at least had it easier than I did. He was at least able to move like it wasn't a massive adventure. I tore myself away from his book; I was going to enter his brain, and I was going to do it fast. It would probably take days, even at my fastest speeds. Then again, I underestimated my speed when traveling across my cat. Hopefully I was underestimating myself yet again. Suddenly, the miraculous happened. He bent all the way over, I assume to stretch out for a bit. This was my chance. He had doubled over, allowing me direct access to his shoulder. God, did I wiggle. I was likely the most determined protozoa in the history of the known universe. I made it just in time, for as I reached his shoulder he went back to his original position. After a few short minutes, I had made it to the opening of his ear. This felt much grander than my cat's ear. There was an air of triumph, a song of victory blasted by glorious trumpets as I approached. This was it. This was the end space. The last square. And as I wiggled, a thought popped up into my non-existent mind.

“Why?”

I paused.

“Why would I take this man's identity, his very life, essentially, just to allow me to live?”

I thought about it for a little bit, and replied to myself, picking out each word as carefully as I could.

“I think...I think why is quite a funny word. Mostly considering...well...Why...Why is that which floats everlastingly on the last breeze of thought, and brings such a sweet taste of satisfaction to those who only inquire it skin deep. But if you look truly into the heart of Why...You will find that Why is the question whose answers we seek the most, and elude us most persistently.”

   And without another word, I plunged into the great canyon of flesh.

The Last Tube of Toothpaste

The very last tube of toothpaste

lying there gathering dust.

Doing nothing but going to waste,

Does it feel lonely?

It must.

The single last tube of toothpaste

Great age it attains

From it's former glory disgraced

and emptied out, mostly,

except for the few globs it contains

The simply last tube of toothpaste

How did it come to its fate?

Perhaps everyone left

to leave it bereft

and forever to wait.

The completely last tube of toothpaste

sitting there, in a hush

Looks to its side

and is joyed to confide

that next to it

is the very last toothbrush.

Blank Pages

Blank Pages

by Ian Laughbaum

   I didn't like books very much as a kid--they just wouldn't ever go fast enough for me. It never helped that I was lowest in my grade, and my reading level was pathetic compared to the other students in the class, either. But there was this one book. I remember it quite fondly. Well, at least I used to.

   It was called Super Quest. It was a cliché little story about a kid named Johnny who travels backwards and forwards in time to defeat this evil emperor guy named Malforce in different time periods. In retrospect, it was a pretty ridiculous story, but you don't notice those things when you're a kid. I tried to read other books after it, but none of them caught me quite like Super Quest did. Every time I read it, it felt like it was a bit different each time. I guess that's what caught me on it.

   I was feeling nostalgic a few days ago in my room, and I noticed Super Quest sitting alone on my shelf. It was the only book there besides a few game guides. I figured since I had nothing to do, I might as well read it. After all, if it was the only book I liked before, it couldn't be half bad. I picked it up off the shelf and started reading. It was fun, but something seemed a little off. The book seemed shorter and a little less exciting, as if it had changed from back when I used to read it. The main character, Johnny, seemed less naïve, more savvy of his surroundings. Occasionally he would make a grim remark about death or suffering or something of the like. I was a very cheery and gullible kid, so I didn't know why that didn't affect me back then. I finished the book in a few hours and stumbled upon a lot of blank pages. A little over 20, to be precise. I flipped through them and noticed at the very bottom of the last page in incredibly tiny print were the words “We've had enough.”

   Enough of what, I wondered. In fact, why put those words there in the first place? What kind of cryptic message was the author conveying? And why in a kid's book like that one? These questions racked my brain for awhile, but I put it off to either just not remembering or noticing these things when I was younger. You don't have an eye for that stuff when you're a kid.

I went to sleep, but all these questions still nagged at the back of my mind. I kept telling myself “You just didn't catch it back then.” or “You just didn't remember it, it's fine.”, but I couldn't quite convince myself.

   I woke up the next morning feeling completely unrested. I guess that I spent more time thinking about Super Quest that night than I thought. Though I felt a tad ridiculous doing it, I picked up Super Questand began reading again, just to assure myself. That was a horrible decision.

   The book was different. I was sure of it. It definitely was even shorter this time. This was mostly caused by the fact that almost all of the mistakes Johnny made in the book before were carefully avoided. Johnny constantly broke the fourth wall and was gloomier than ever. He also showed no mercy at all to Malforce or any of his minions, destroying his kind nature, which was what made his character likable to begin with. Over the half the pages were blank. On the back page of the book was another message, though this time in much bigger print. “We've had enough” had changed to “It hurts. Stop it.”

   I threw the book at the wall. “This isn't real,” I thought out loud. “It's just a dream. IT'S JUST A DREAM!” I caught my breath as I realized that I had literally just screamed to the world about this book. I slapped myself to wake up. It didn't work. I went to the bathroom, turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water on my face. I sat down on my bed and put my head in my hands.

“Okay, so this isn't a dream. I can handle that. I'm going to read this book, and it's going to be no different than when I just read it.” I got up and walked over to the wall where the book had landed. My hand trembled as I picked it up. Slowly, I peeled the back cover and looked through the book to see how many pages were blank. All of them had no ink whatsoever except the first one. I sighed, and with great trepidation, began to read the solitary page.

   “Hey, listen, I don't think you understand what's going on here. We're not just toys for you to see what happens when somebody has to relive their life over and over again. Just imagine, knowingexactly how you're going to die. Exactly who you're going to meet in life. Exactly what challenges you're going to face in life. It's not fun. At all. And it's not just me. It's everybody here. Malforce, Sally, Turrok. We're all tired of it. All we want you to do is close the book and walk away. Never open it again. Just let us die. It's all we want. This is hell. No, it's worse than hell. It's some kind of deformed limbo. I'm going to plead with you, one more time, close the book. Then burn it, bury it, tear it apart, do whatever you want. But get rid of it. We've lived our lives much more than anyone should ever have to. If you don't stop, we'll take matters into our own hands. Signed, Johnny.”

   I closed the book and lightly put it back on the shelf. I stared at it for what seemed like hours. After awhile, I finally opened it again. The only words on the front page were “Johnny hung himself.” The rest of the pages were blank. I closed the book and put it in my lap. I stared at it again. I opened it one last time.

   All the pages were blank.

Blargh first post

Why start off a blog with what it's actually about but instead make an annoying "this is my first post lol" first post?

Because butts.

Anyway, for a little insight, the most common thing on this blog will be short stories.

And pretty much just that.

Go enjoy some higher on the page