Written by Artyom in 2020–2021.
Work in progress.
See the list of inspirations.
[Scene: a PERSON of whatever sex you are attracted to is SITTING on a beige chair in an empty room.]
Person: [In airy voice] Ahh! My genitals are wet, such wet are they. [As if talking to a baby] No-no-no-no-no. My genitals are WET, ahhh, they are wet, — they must be dry-y-y. [Grabs a T-shirt from the laundry pile] Aren't you going to be dry now, yes you are.
First you neglected your mother. And God said "Aaaaaa".
Second you neglected your father. And God said "AaaaAAAaa aaaaa" and crossed his finger.
Third you neglected your unborn siblings, and you didn't bring them to Tesco like they always wanted. God didn't say anything, but wrote "My Learnings" in a notepad and double undersigned and then wrote for a long time.
Finally you lived some more and God spit in disgust and made a blog and a YouTube channel also, and that's where we are as of today.
A little fish crossed the river. Another fish said: god you're small. And your genitalion is small. Don't wave your genitalion at me. I will shoot it off, I swear to God I will. And then the second fish shot the first fishe's genitalion off and all the river was blood. The end.
submited for your evaluation, my majesty exam person. may your genitalion be wide
If I look at them, will they go away?
One woman wanted to be creative. She sat down and laid an egg with emeralds all over. She also read Foucault meanwhile, and did other nasty things.
The emeralds were so good and so many, and the egg had such a womanly shape, that certain people said "Alrighty then" and wrote an article about her in The Atlantic.
The woman got disturbed. "I don't want to be a thought object", she felt. So she tried really hard to hate The Atlantic and succeeded beyond any doubt. Everyone on Twitter got excited about the new vibe and agreed to hate The Atlantic.
She also got invited to be in a mental health startup, but that's another story.
IMAGINE that you have set out to make a very complicated thing, a living robot god. And you have little sheets of paper, one with heart in the top right corner, one with lungs, one with the left leg, one with the right leg, et cetera.
You work on lungs for a year and you are being very smart and knowledgeable. Then you take out your sheet of paper with lungs in the top right corner, and you write "lungs: done" on it, and also everything else that you should write down. Then you think "alright, now for the next thing" and work on the next thing.
Ten years later, you have done heart, lungs, the left leg, the right leg, et cetera. Then you take the sheets of paper, and do the thing where you bump them against the table, and clip them with a clip. And you say "alright, now the giant robot can be made" and give the sheets to someone.
And someone makes the robot and it all works without you, because you have written everything down.
One man was talking to a woman and thinking at her "You are not going to reproduce with an attitude like that, oh no you aren't".
Then he went outside and said "one bagel please" and paid for the bagel and ate it like an inconspicuous person and went back home and fell asleep.
Then he woke up and lived some more and went to sleep again. And so on and so forth.
In the end that man died without ever reproducing at all, but he sure got a lot of thinking done.
happiness smells like shit
I ate your plums
A boy likes a girl. Butterflies. Scared of her. Happy. She is often upset. He doesn't know what to do, but feels like he should do something.
A girl likes a boy. Butterflies. Scared of something. Happy. He is often confusing. She doesn't know how to be, but feels like she has to understand.
They move in together. They don't fight, but sometimes they get annoyed with each other. She feels like he doesn't try enough, or maybe at all. He feels like she is too demanding, like she needs him to be a different person and won't be happy until it happens — and also that he feels that she won't leave, but will just become more and more unhappy, more and more bitter.
Like astrologists, they are not even wrong.
They split up. Then they grow up. Or not.
There was once a big man in the city of Seville, always wearing a dark suit and a tie. And he went to an olives store to buy olives.
People saw him on the street and all thought "He surely doesn't look good naked", but, of course, said nothing. Some imagined even how his unpleasant skin must be sweating underneath the suit and the tie, and also said nothing.
The big man reached the olives store and said in a very tiny voice "Do you have olives with anchovies?!" and that's finally when everybody laughed and forgot about their divorces and such.
"Hullo", said Nelson in a very deep voice. "Hullo", said Nelson's wife in a very deep voice. "Hullo", said Nelson's children in a very deep voice.
"We brought a bottle of sherry", they said in unison, even though the children had no business saying anything because they didn't chip in.
"Please come in", said whoever the other person was. "Please come in. Thank you for the bottle of sherry, it's a lovely present; a lovely present indeed."
The bottle of sherry was promptly embarked into the trash bin, whereupon a trained cat discharged special vomit onto it.
"We won't be long", said Nelson in a very deep voice. "We only wanted to take your possessions".
Nelson took some possessions. Nelson's wife took some possessions. Nelson's children took two possessions each because ostensibly they didn't have the strength to carry more.
"Lovely visiting you. See you another time", said Nelson in a very deep voice and went home with his family to watch television.
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Gather round, I will tell you a little story. "Not again!", but it's a very special story. You must listen. It is a story you will tell your children, and they will tell their children, for generations and generations to come.
[raises finger] So every time you like someone, and have mischief, and later there is a baby, and the baby is older, and the baby is even older. That's when you will sit down and you will say: "I will now tell you a story for generations to come and so on". This is what you will do. [lowers finger]
Now listen carefully. There was a beautiful Negro named Antonio, and he married a beautiful white girl named Rihonna. [raises finger] But then, in a terrible car accident, God murdered them.
[falls asleep with the finger still raised]
[you sit quietly for a while, then tiptoe away]
Gather round, I will tell you a little story. "Not again!", but I will make pancakes afterwards. This is the price you must pay for the pancakes.
[raises finger] You don't have to like me, but wait till I die, and then do your funny looks and your twitters all day long. I won't know. I'll be dead. [lowers finger]
Now listen carefully. There was a girl named Aloe, and she scored high on male-coded traits. That girl was my daughter. I disowned her. That's the story.
And you are next, if you too score high on the wrong set of traits. I will disown you and report you to the tax agency in the relevant jurisdiction. I will do nasty things to you. I will do identity fraud. [raises finger] I am powerful. I am your nana.
[falls asleep with the finger still raised]
[you sit quietly for a while, too agitated to move]
Gather round, I will tell you a little story. "Not again!", but you're forgetting that I know a very interesting man, a man who ate all the marshmallows. He was super creepy. He touched girls all the way up there, and beyond. And when the police became ablaze with him, he knew all the routes, all the abandoned buildings, so he hid himself very well. There was nothing he couldn't hide. He once hid a pineapple in an empty box and nobody could find it for years even though it smelled. And then he ate all the marshmallows in the entire city and that was his great crime. He planned it for five years and did the logistics and everything. When I grow up I want to be like him but without the bad stuff, just the logistical ability. Wait, don't go away? please? please
Gather round, I will tell you a little story. Sure, you're welcome!
So I walk into that grocery store — and there's a girl there trying to choose a watermelon, you know, doing that slapping thing I never learned to do properly. I came up and asked "hey, can you teach me?" and we spent the next ten minutes just slapping all the watermelons in the store. It was actually super fun, we just kept talking about completely random things while annoying everyone else — and now I have her number, so I feel pretty good about myself :) Alright, and how was your day?
[you suspect your normal cousin is depressed, but also feel like people might actually become depressed if you expect them to be depressed, so you don't say anything]
[she sees that the story didn't land well, but doesn't say anything either]
[you both just sit there, doing nothing, saying nothing, feeling like something is wrong, but not wrong enough to talk about it, never wrong enough to talk about it, you smile and tell stories and feel more and more distant every time you see each other]
[you suddenly start crying]
Your dad doesn't tell stories, he just makes tea. Every evening, every evening, like clockwork. You feel like this is—was—the most reliable thing that anyone did for you in your life.
[you are wailing now, tears streaming down your face, screaming silently]
Judge Amul was known as the Judge of Justice. He stood closest to the Seat of Judgement, on the Seventh Day of Judgement.
He had a friend once.
The friend was once arrested for no crime. He was a very beautiful man, with a beautiful friend by his side. Everyone saw him and his friend and they too were arrested for nothing.
"The God of the Sky will bless you, my son", said Judge Amul to his friend.
The two friends spent the next few years in prison, but they made the most of it. They were released and they fell in love.
We'll have to start from afar but bear with me.
So how I'm thinking it all went down is that there was a long-haired guy named let's say Skubidu and he walked probably into a corner store to buy musical system. The store guy said there wasn't but Skubidu persevered and the guy said alright fine and that is how Skubidu acquired a musical system.
Skubidu went home and the musical system was working somewhat but Skubidu's ears started hurting and he developed the tinnitus disease in no time.
He thought enough is enough and no man is an island and many other such thoughts. Then he went onto internet and/or the newspaper and sold the musical system to your favorite band.
And oh boy. Big time inspiration for your favorite band, that was. Giant huge ball of inspiration, surety 100%. Not even a little doubt in my mind.
One woman once drove a small nail into one man's lower cock, and he died soon after.
That woman did something else once, and so Judge Amul or another judge sentenced her into seksual jail, which was very much like normal jail and we won't say any more about it.