Birds
If I could fly above everyone and be more aware of my surroundings, I think that would make me a little more aware of myself.
But when birds fly by in big groups, it makes me feel really scared and lonely.
If I flew with those birds, do you think they would see me as an equal? Or would they peck away at me until there's nothing left?
It's kind of hard to get a read on birds, isn't it?
Are they good or bad? Personality-wise, I mean.
Yeah, they sing pretty songs but they also shit on a lot of people.
On second thought, I don't want to fly. People would think I'm pretentious.
Log #1
Only love can close The Rift.
That’s the only way we can save ourselves. The Rift opened because of hate and now love is our only hope.
We’re doomed.
My colleagues and I have been attempting to create love artificially, using A.I. programs. Each one has failed.
Has it really come to this?
Every day The Rift releases a new monster into our world and we are one step closer to total annihilation. I am hiding within a bunker, the structure of which I hope will hold out long enough.
We can all hear the beasts clawing at the door, whether or not we choose to admit it.
Morning Star
"Morning Star! Where are you Morning Star? WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU MORNING STAR?!"
He tipitty taps down the hall, blow torch in hand. When he finds Morning Star, there will be fire and flames.
"Morning Star, you're making it very hard for me not to burn a hole in your heart."
Morning Star died 4 years ago but George never really moved on. The fact of the matter is that he's not sure she ever really existed in the first place, and that really frustrates him. George has always viewed the mind as a place of solitude and safety, but that hasn't been easy for him. His mind is a place of corruption, it is a place that taunts him with its chaotic nature.
"Morning Star, please...I can't keep this up if you don't give me something."
Morning Star says nothing.
A Romantic Evening 2
A dark and stormy night. I'm in the bar, drinking a Bloogis. A sweet drink, from the caverns of Glumpt. I spot her.
She's literally red. She's painted fully red. Why? I don't know but the mysteriosity of it all is sexy.
I buy her a drink, we talk about my Aunt Graywad. In what seems like a matter of moments, we're back at my apartment getting shlisky.
She takes off my Tumblers, I remove her Spear Rack. She smelled like eggs, like eggs from the King's rabbit. The King's fucking rabbit. Brittle did I know, her Yxmin was toxic. Oh dear God, what have I gotten into? I remember the Checkie at the bar. That dirty little Checkie was bonding with me and now I can't forget her. But I'm with Stebelja now, pouring my Crunt into her stinky, toxic Yxmin.
"Rev it!" She moans.
I fear her loud moan groans have drawn the attention of the local Foilers. We continue anyway. My Papus Monk Oils are being produced at an accelerated rate now, a sign of pure Love Intoxication. I crack her Tywall as she rubs against my Reelver, I'm literally about to Kroll it.
"Bump that shit!" She screams.
But I can't bump it. Her toxic Yxmin has begun to consume my Heevis, I yell in pain. I call out for the Foilers and they bust into my apartment to save my life, immediately dousing me with Cunch Liquor. The Cunch numbs the pain but my Sneevlis is as good as gone, despite what's left of my Heevis still groveling for more. I Spinch my Grutter with one final Mongus and the dirty little deed is done.
She spends the night. The next day I'm already back at it again. Beeplin her Scunchguard and Power Truvving her Molkfert, it's the best Relt I've ever had. I throw on some smooth Jazz played by my favorite brand, "The Croaters." My Heevis doesn't work quite like it used to, but it's okay because this is true love. I don't need to be great at Hulshing her Brulo or Fevering her Derf, the same way I don't care if she can give me a real good Floash. Love is about looking past each other's Triloids and Grimmies and seeing what truly matters: your innermost Rexcons.