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IF YOU READ THIS, LEAVE A COMMENT, PEONS.
Under commission from one of the other typist-things, my own idiot typist-thing had to write a story. Due to . . . circumstances beyond her control, I took over the project.
Typist: Shhh. Don't tell him I'm linking to a picture of the actual Goodbye Kitty card. XD
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"Chuuuuu?" said the tiny white kitty with the ribbon on her head, sweetly, and looking the exact opposite of that horrible Goodbye Kitty card, which is to say, alive and healthy and the epitome of innocence and sweetness.
"Go away," demanded the fearsome and hideous Elder God Cthulhu, who did not and does not have a crush on Hello Kitty at all. He does not love her, or that stupid feline creature his moronic and severely incompetent typist-thing adopted for him, so stop saying that he does, because he doesn't. At all.
"Chuuuu?" said Hello Kitty again, tugging at a tentacle.
"I said, go away," said the fearsome and hideous Elder God Cthulhu again, pushing Hello Kitty away roughly, but not so roughly that she didn't get hurt. Merely enough to show the mighty might of his anger.
"Chuuu," said the kitty unhappily and sadly, turning and walking away in her deep sadness at being rejected by the creature she loved.
The fearsome and hideous Elder God Cthulhu didn't give her so much as a glance, because he doesn't care about her one little bit and instead returned his attention to his very important task, which was causing pain and misery for people.
Currently, he was aiming his plans at two people he particularly despised at the moment: Athena, who he was unfortunately headmates with and this made him very very angry at the typist-thing. More than he usually was, which was a hell of a lot. She had better watch out. And get rid of those stupid cards she's collecting. And he was also plotting the misery of that stupid mortal. He didn't know his name, because, well, he didn't. Also, the typist-thing and everyone else refused to tell him because, well, he didn't know why. He was very surprised that they wouldn't, even after threatening them with all his Cthulhu-might.
He rather suspected that it was possible that his stupid idiotic headmate was possibly more powerful than he was, a fact that only lended itself to his hatred towards her. When the time came to carry out his plan of VENGEANCE, she was going to be sorry. So very, very, very sorry, for this plan was a particularly nasty one that would cause a great deal of pain and misery and stuff. He relished the imaginings he came up with for it.
He was slaving away over his plans when the moronic typist-thing told him there needed to be oranges in this work of genius for some reason, which she also says to be sure to clarify that those are my words, not hers, though I really don't know why. This is a work of genius.
Therefore.
Oranges.
ORANGES.
ORANGES.
There. There are now oranges tarnishing this otherwise beautifully magnificent story.
Now to continue on with what I was saying before.
After coming very close to perfecting the plans, Hello Kitty returned from wherever it was that she'd gone to occupy herself and carried a pitcher of water over to the fearsome and hideous Elder God Cthulhu, which she offered to him with a sweet smile. The sweet and innocent kitty had been thoughtful enough to realize that since the fearsome and hideous Elder God Cthulhu was a cephalopod, he was forced to rely on water every once in a while to survive. He wasn't all that grateful for the gift but took it anyway, because as has been said, he needed it, though he wouldn't admit to it.
He drank the water quickly and shoved the pitcher back toward the hapless kitty, but again not roughly, and went back to his evil plotting. Oh yes. When he was positive that they were flawless, then he would unleash them and stand laughing as they writhed in the pain from the secret part of the plan that won't be detailed here because the moronic typist-thing might tell the other stupid typist-thing of the stupid mortal. And since the moronic-typist thing was vehement about not killing off the stupid mortal, she probably shouldn't know either. Because both moronic typist-things will be reading this.
As well as the fact that my dumb headmate is, like, all supernatural and stuff and will gladly flaunt that fact. As if I'm not supernatural either. Because I am. Because I am the Great Cthulhu!
Who doesn't love Hello Kitty at all, so shut up or I'll kill you.
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Typist: I'll write my own story when he's not around to be annoying, I promise. XD I'm so sorry about this.
Under commission from one of the other typist-things, my own idiot typist-thing had to write a story. Due to . . . circumstances beyond her control, I took over the project.
Typist: Shhh. Don't tell him I'm linking to a picture of the actual Goodbye Kitty card. XD
__________________________________________
"Chuuuuu?" said the tiny white kitty with the ribbon on her head, sweetly, and looking the exact opposite of that horrible Goodbye Kitty card, which is to say, alive and healthy and the epitome of innocence and sweetness.
"Go away," demanded the fearsome and hideous Elder God Cthulhu, who did not and does not have a crush on Hello Kitty at all. He does not love her, or that stupid feline creature his moronic and severely incompetent typist-thing adopted for him, so stop saying that he does, because he doesn't. At all.
"Chuuuu?" said Hello Kitty again, tugging at a tentacle.
"I said, go away," said the fearsome and hideous Elder God Cthulhu again, pushing Hello Kitty away roughly, but not so roughly that she didn't get hurt. Merely enough to show the mighty might of his anger.
"Chuuu," said the kitty unhappily and sadly, turning and walking away in her deep sadness at being rejected by the creature she loved.
The fearsome and hideous Elder God Cthulhu didn't give her so much as a glance, because he doesn't care about her one little bit and instead returned his attention to his very important task, which was causing pain and misery for people.
Currently, he was aiming his plans at two people he particularly despised at the moment: Athena, who he was unfortunately headmates with and this made him very very angry at the typist-thing. More than he usually was, which was a hell of a lot. She had better watch out. And get rid of those stupid cards she's collecting. And he was also plotting the misery of that stupid mortal. He didn't know his name, because, well, he didn't. Also, the typist-thing and everyone else refused to tell him because, well, he didn't know why. He was very surprised that they wouldn't, even after threatening them with all his Cthulhu-might.
He rather suspected that it was possible that his stupid idiotic headmate was possibly more powerful than he was, a fact that only lended itself to his hatred towards her. When the time came to carry out his plan of VENGEANCE, she was going to be sorry. So very, very, very sorry, for this plan was a particularly nasty one that would cause a great deal of pain and misery and stuff. He relished the imaginings he came up with for it.
He was slaving away over his plans when the moronic typist-thing told him there needed to be oranges in this work of genius for some reason, which she also says to be sure to clarify that those are my words, not hers, though I really don't know why. This is a work of genius.
Therefore.
Oranges.
ORANGES.
ORANGES.
There. There are now oranges tarnishing this otherwise beautifully magnificent story.
Now to continue on with what I was saying before.
After coming very close to perfecting the plans, Hello Kitty returned from wherever it was that she'd gone to occupy herself and carried a pitcher of water over to the fearsome and hideous Elder God Cthulhu, which she offered to him with a sweet smile. The sweet and innocent kitty had been thoughtful enough to realize that since the fearsome and hideous Elder God Cthulhu was a cephalopod, he was forced to rely on water every once in a while to survive. He wasn't all that grateful for the gift but took it anyway, because as has been said, he needed it, though he wouldn't admit to it.
He drank the water quickly and shoved the pitcher back toward the hapless kitty, but again not roughly, and went back to his evil plotting. Oh yes. When he was positive that they were flawless, then he would unleash them and stand laughing as they writhed in the pain from the secret part of the plan that won't be detailed here because the moronic typist-thing might tell the other stupid typist-thing of the stupid mortal. And since the moronic-typist thing was vehement about not killing off the stupid mortal, she probably shouldn't know either. Because both moronic typist-things will be reading this.
As well as the fact that my dumb headmate is, like, all supernatural and stuff and will gladly flaunt that fact. As if I'm not supernatural either. Because I am. Because I am the Great Cthulhu!
Who doesn't love Hello Kitty at all, so shut up or I'll kill you.
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Typist: I'll write my own story when he's not around to be annoying, I promise. XD I'm so sorry about this.