(no subject)
*There is a hatch somewhere in camp. On it’s top is not a number inscribed that someone amongst you used to win the lottery, only to suffer hardships and misery with your newfound wealth. It is not adorned with ancient, strange runic-looking seals or colourful crystals that mark it as the door that only The Chosen One can open in an orgasmic display of light effects. It doesn’t even come with an interesting, futuristic-looking thumb-printreader or numberpad. It is in fact just an ordinary metal hatch until it’s opened: then it becomes an ordinary metal hatch that a nine foot tall man in a white frock and a paper bag over his head is climbing out of, with a zombie that has a toucan sewed onto its head hanging onto his back. *
Greetings Camp Naughty Words Makes Earwax Grow! My name is Faust, and it seems I have been hired here against my will and knowledge as the ‘General Weirdness Surgeon’. I have not the faintest idea what that position entails, so here’s a zombie I managed to make intelligent and sentient by sewing a toucan to its head.
I call it ‘the zomboucan’.
… Ah, thank you. Nevermind, it turns out it was carrying my employment papers all along in… a place better left unmentioned. Now then, let’s see what the contract says… "Dear doctor Faust ehem ehem medical emergency yadda yadda help me Obi-Faust Kenobi you’re my only hope gombila gombila you’ve been lured here under the false auspices of an hitherto unrivaled viral outbreak in A Country, L State but in reality you’re trapped in a prison camp full of horny and slash or annoying and slash or too-goody-two-shoes-to-be-amusing children. Now get to curing the little shits of their genderswitches and bodyswitches and lethal, angst causing diseases and amazing idiocy and massive ‘ghei-levels’ or else."
…
… Is gombila even a word?
((Intropost with all it entails. There's a big chance I'll be slow until I settle into Faust's voice, so be forewarned.))
((Going to bed for now, may or may NOT be back tommorow to catch up with threads. Night all!))
Greetings Camp Naughty Words Makes Earwax Grow! My name is Faust, and it seems I have been hired here against my will and knowledge as the ‘General Weirdness Surgeon’. I have not the faintest idea what that position entails, so here’s a zombie I managed to make intelligent and sentient by sewing a toucan to its head.
I call it ‘the zomboucan’.
… Ah, thank you. Nevermind, it turns out it was carrying my employment papers all along in… a place better left unmentioned. Now then, let’s see what the contract says… "Dear doctor Faust ehem ehem medical emergency yadda yadda help me Obi-Faust Kenobi you’re my only hope gombila gombila you’ve been lured here under the false auspices of an hitherto unrivaled viral outbreak in A Country, L State but in reality you’re trapped in a prison camp full of horny and slash or annoying and slash or too-goody-two-shoes-to-be-amusing children. Now get to curing the little shits of their genderswitches and bodyswitches and lethal, angst causing diseases and amazing idiocy and massive ‘ghei-levels’ or else."
…
… Is gombila even a word?
((Intropost with all it entails. There's a big chance I'll be slow until I settle into Faust's voice, so be forewarned.))
((Going to bed for now, may or may NOT be back tommorow to catch up with threads. Night all!))