Vain scribblings about the general failure of mankind, time and space traveling to old porch lemonade days on the farm, and how Big Brother would be watching me if only I were doing something interesting.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Sylvia
Whenever Sylvia caught a worm she would overfeed it until it was so fat it could hardly move. Then she would get crushed under its weight and escape by zapping it with a laser gun repeatedly in one area until it burned a hole just big enough to crawl out of. This was to say nothing however of the layers of lard and filth that marred her once flawless skin on the way out, leaving her a little less like a girl and a little more like the worm itself each time.
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