My glorious return!
GLORIOUS I SAY!
That's right my dear non-existent readers, I'm back! Where did I go? Well, I'll tell you...
Antarctica is very white. Whiter than the northwest, since there weren't any natives to kill off here. Well, except polar bears, and they're white anyways.
Alas...
I was walking along when I met Bob. I found it odd, not because he only had a leg and a half, no, I've seen that before. It was because I haven't seen another human in 4 months, 8 hours, 9 minutes, and 6 seconds. And that was before I starting eating that guy, so technically it would be 1 day, 2 hours, 4 minutes, and 3 seconds, because that was when I finally worked up to eat that one, last piece (if YOU were starving you can be damn sure you would to).
Anywho, Bob spoke Canadian and I couldn't understand a damn word he was saying, having never been to Canada (it was apparent from the giant red pot leaf on his jacket that he was Canadian). You know what's funny? How people talk louder when you can't understand them. Bob did that a lot, then after he lost his breath from yelling at me (Canadians apparently hate everyone who doesn't speak Canadian). And then he started moving his hands really slowly. I'm not entirely sure what the hell he was trying to accomplish with that, but it just looks absolutely ridiculous. Which is why I started laughing, and the prick got all frustrated AGAIN! Fucking Christ, what do Canadians eat? Buckets of hate?
That was when he lunged at me. I'd heard tales that Canadians were good at hockey, which is really just an excuse for white people to beat the living shit out of each other (why they enjoy this I don't know; colored people are far more interesting to whale on), but Bob missed completely. I guess having one and a half legs makes you a pretty poor shot.
Anyways, I stabbed Bob in the back of the heat with a sharp piece of metal. He twitched a bit before biting the snow, which was hilarious because his leg stub was completely twigging out. You had to be there I guess, it's hard to describe the exact movements.
I figured out his name from his wallet, by the way, which I promptly took after stabbing him. Not for the money you dolt! What good is that in fucking Antarctica? It's not like you have to PAY the penguins for sexual favors, jeez...
So I've spent that last two months dragging the remains back to camp. I ate the rest of his half leg, and started on the left arm on the journey back. Right now I'm eating liver... Mmm... Liver.
That's right my dear non-existent readers, I'm back! Where did I go? Well, I'll tell you...
Antarctica is very white. Whiter than the northwest, since there weren't any natives to kill off here. Well, except polar bears, and they're white anyways.
Alas...
I was walking along when I met Bob. I found it odd, not because he only had a leg and a half, no, I've seen that before. It was because I haven't seen another human in 4 months, 8 hours, 9 minutes, and 6 seconds. And that was before I starting eating that guy, so technically it would be 1 day, 2 hours, 4 minutes, and 3 seconds, because that was when I finally worked up to eat that one, last piece (if YOU were starving you can be damn sure you would to).
Anywho, Bob spoke Canadian and I couldn't understand a damn word he was saying, having never been to Canada (it was apparent from the giant red pot leaf on his jacket that he was Canadian). You know what's funny? How people talk louder when you can't understand them. Bob did that a lot, then after he lost his breath from yelling at me (Canadians apparently hate everyone who doesn't speak Canadian). And then he started moving his hands really slowly. I'm not entirely sure what the hell he was trying to accomplish with that, but it just looks absolutely ridiculous. Which is why I started laughing, and the prick got all frustrated AGAIN! Fucking Christ, what do Canadians eat? Buckets of hate?
That was when he lunged at me. I'd heard tales that Canadians were good at hockey, which is really just an excuse for white people to beat the living shit out of each other (why they enjoy this I don't know; colored people are far more interesting to whale on), but Bob missed completely. I guess having one and a half legs makes you a pretty poor shot.
Anyways, I stabbed Bob in the back of the heat with a sharp piece of metal. He twitched a bit before biting the snow, which was hilarious because his leg stub was completely twigging out. You had to be there I guess, it's hard to describe the exact movements.
I figured out his name from his wallet, by the way, which I promptly took after stabbing him. Not for the money you dolt! What good is that in fucking Antarctica? It's not like you have to PAY the penguins for sexual favors, jeez...
So I've spent that last two months dragging the remains back to camp. I ate the rest of his half leg, and started on the left arm on the journey back. Right now I'm eating liver... Mmm... Liver.
posted by Berzerk at 3:27 AM
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