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00110111 00111000 00100000 00110010 00110000

Do you have the time to listen to me whine?

Alright.

I know what you fuckers are playing at. "Let's move Ridley over half a continent and cut off his access to the Road, ho ho ho, it is to laugh. Stupid nigger."

Well here's one for you. After skinning the motel manager alive and sodomizing his cat, I proceeded to rob a liquor store, shooting six people and making off with as much fine alcohol as I could stuff into that guy's Corvette. The police will find your boy Leroy's prints all over the location and be suitably puzzled. In case you were wondering, he went missing because OBLIVION moved him and he stayed missing because he ran into me. Since CAPSALOT seems to have become your lapdog, you might have known that but I thought I'd provide a more credible source.

Hmm, I wonder what happened to that shipment that was supposed to reach the Ark seven years ago?

Since I now had a free motel room to stay at, and more alcohol than I could possibly drink myself, I decided to throw myself a party. So I cruised down to the local middle school and picked up some chickadees to bring on back. They were a little shy at first but they eventually got into it. Too bad they're now decorations. I made a lot of noise, and may have shot up a few of the other guests on way out, so the police should be dutifully informed. They'll also find buddy Leroy's prints all over the room along with his company ID card, some internal company documents and a not insignificant amount of coke. The docs might be from another reality so won't release anything informative, but I'm sure you'll have fun cleaning up the mess anyhow.

Stupid fucks.

And I forget just why I taste Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile

I thought so.

It's been what, six fucking years. At least I think so, it gets hard to tell sometimes.

Everybody's dead. Stupid weak fuckers. Even these dumb snot-nosed kids popping up after I left. Dead and gone. At least gone. For the best anyway, ain't nobody motherclucking interested in them. Whiny emo-ass little pricks. Only regret I have is that I wasn't the one that offed em myself.

Guess you all just couldn't handle life, buncha pussies. But guess who's still alive and kickin' it? That's right, bitches.

Don't listen to that Jaluha ass. He's a piece of shit. For ball's sakes he ain't even a human frickin' being. I'd take him off this blog, but he's a dick, changing things around on MY blog while I was away, somehow making it so I can't mess with his account. Dillhole. I should sic Big Daddy Google on him.

Oh, you're all wondering where the hell I've been? I know you are. Too damn bad, I don't owe you punk-ass roof-dwellers anything. But we'll probably get around to all that sooner or later. Probably later. And if not, I don't give a shit.

But you all might as well know the gist of things. I don't run with that faceless hobo anymore. He was a bitch. But don't think I'm a scared little pussy like you lot, running and hiding with my cajones between my ass cheeks. Uncle Riddles don't play that game. Just another proof of how weak and unimaginative you are. I'm a free-ass man, ain't got no strings on me. That's right, I stopped working for tall dark and faceless and he just leaves me alone. 'Cause I'm a pimp like that. So what am I doing now? Same thing I was doing before, obviously. I liked the job, but the constant oversight was getting stifling.

Not to mention with the bureaucrats gone I wasn't getting paid to stick around anymore. They were good for something after all.

Anyhow, I'm starting to get bored with this typing, so Imma finish this and go do something else. I might be back, I might not, we'll see. Just maybe I'll try to get that ass with the wig off of my blog for good, especially if he's planning on bringing CAPTAIN CAPSALOT and those color-texted fags to the party. I have no use for any of them.

Stay frosty fuckers, we're still out there.

Encounters

Damn you all. I've seen him.

I left my meeting with OBLIVION, the bastard; he says I let Ridley notice me listening in on them so that I could be captured and get away from Blackwelder. What even kind of sense does that make? At any rate, Blackwelder has taken more security measures against me. OBLIVION merely enjoys making me squirm, the fucker; he would still be sealed inside that coffee can if I hadn't let him out. I own the bastard and this is how he repays me!

They gave me a new meatsuit manufactured to resemble David's old form so that I'd be able to move about in public. As if I have any desire to interact with humans.

I left the meeting with OBLIVION, intending to take the quickest route back to the apartment block; this involved taking a short-cut through an alley behind the plant. That's where he was. He's taken on an old form, the one he used when the old man and Ridley first encountered him after Lucifer's return. Humanoid, but with a gold orb for a head. It was staring at me just like OBLIVION had done, not looking at the meatsuit but at me, my very non-existence, the core of my non-being.

This time I didn't break though. Fuck OBLIVION, he knows nothing. I stared back at it, into it, just the way he was staring into me. I saw him. Whatever Ridley or the old man claimed, they're wrong. That wasn't the Slender Man that was released from the Temple in Germany, it was him, it was this, the Beast. He sometimes makes himself to look like the Slender Man, but it's not him.

I stared into him and heard the hum of electricity growing louder. Some leaves blew across the pavement, though there was no wind. Black leaves. Or were they merely ashes? Then the sun went out. A faint glow from the golden orb illuminated the alley in a pale light. It continued peering into me, not reacting to the darkness or the now deafening hum. Then he appeared. Twelve feet tall at least, standing behind the fence by river, his suit of the darkest pitch, blacker than the darkness of the sunless night around him. The red of his tie and the white of his shirt bright and clear though there was no light to illumine them; and that featureless face.

Then the Beast whipped around, no longer staring at me but behind it at the Tall One. Gold orb started to back away when its orb suddenly started shrinking and deforming until it had what resembled a normal human head with a black domino mask on. It spoke, its voice rough and guttural and sloshing:

"Eighteen forty-two. The entrails of a rabbit. Three men gather around and Your gods the dresser drawer." It turned to face me, "Bartholomew will have you yet."

The Tall One had had only two limbs when he appeared, normal arms that split off into the branches of a tree; now they separated at the root, grew less distinct, stretching and slithering. One lunged out and grabbed the Beast around the waist, picked it up and slammed it through the brick back wall of the plant. I looked into the hole, saw the sun shining through a cloud in the blue sky on the other side. There was a strong wind, the black leaves and ashes whipped across the pavement at my feet and in the distance the mournful howling of a wolf.

I turned back to the figure behind the fence. No longer writhing tentacles or tangled limbs it had only two long arms with a normal human hand at end of each, stretched out, beckoning me come to him. I resisted, turned to run, fell hard against the asphalt, my feet stuck firm in the ground. I would have to abandon the body, he wasn't getting hold of me again, But the back door of the plant opened and the old man walked out, dressed in his dark blue suit, his grey hair tied in a tight ponytail behind his head. He looked down at me and leaned against the wall, reaching into his coat as he did so and removing a pack of cigarettes. He removed one, returned the pack to his coat and lit up, taking a long drag before blowing a thick cloud of smoke. He stood there in silence, the thin smoke trails from his cigarette ascending lazily, the red hot flame blinding in the dark.

Finally he turned back to me, "Lucifer has Glorianna, but it won't make a difference. There are two of them now and Ridley won't be able to enter Foxcroft."

I heard footsteps behind me.

"Would like me to show you your memories?"

The footsteps were getting closer and I tried to roll on my side to look back, only to fall off the bed, hitting hard against the plywood floor. Water-stained ceiling tiles above my head, pale sunlight streaming in through the cracked and dirtied window. I sniffed, felt the dust enter the lungs of this body. Back at the apartment block. I rose and walked to the window. Mid-morning, the sun just visible behind the thick clouds, a slight misting of rain. I checked my watch and saw that it was an hour since I'd left from watching Ridley's flunkies at the old tire shop.

There you fuckers. Hope you enjoy.

Clearance

This can never just go simply. I was doing my job, I was doing what you told me to do. Faggot bastard. I was following them when he interrupted me, swaggering in with that checkered suit and slicked-back hair. Did they give him a new body?

WE'VE MADE SOME... SYSTEM UPGRADES, SHALL WE SAY. YOU WON'T BE TRYING THAT AGAIN.

I hate the bastard.

I asked if Blackwelder had given him that meatsuit as a reward for turning on me. His response was, in effect, that he didn't need any incentive for that. As if it was my fault that our Slender friend got him. I only set him free, I didn't tell him he had to meddle so deeply.

I'm to keep an eye on Ridley. For what? That pyre off the exit? They could hardly permit the sheep's liver to inflame the volumes. Did they really think that seventeen pyramids? These are the shoals of afghan.

The Russian won't know what hit him.

The bastard turned back and stared into me with those black eyes.

DAVID DOESN'T EXIST. HE NEVER DID YOU KNOW.

Everything. And I am nothing. After I brought them back, they've robbed me, left me in this condition. You know, you believe. The water. Fill yourself gorge yourself full and feast as you were promised. The white doe escapes from the wrath of Pharaoh, curse of the Pharaohs, golden sands and the sky is red...

Oh.

Tiny monsters breed from the aborted currents. Revolution and genocide. She calls she calls the still the stiff green gallop. Consent and be still. A pan of fresh whiskey bread sits cooling on the sill of the window. I smell freshly baked fumes wafting on the breeze, carrying, carrying far and over the city. Do you hear it? You bastards, all of you. The soul of humanity is dead and behind this mask nothing. Still, she pines for that which was.
Carrying, falling, breaking. The scent fails as the winds carry it out and beyond. Everything is gone, my revenge. The bastard stares hard through me. Does he know? He will. She screams, plunging the knife again and again into the soft moist flesh, the blood flows freely, no more the screams falling to the ground with a plop and a splat, dripping, spilling, the crimson liquid puddles together and flows downward, the ground sloped, into the cracks of the tile into the drain. She stands, a grin revealing her teeth stained red with blood not her own. The other woman on the table on the floor here now there and everywhere. She has missed the taste of human flesh her palate now sated she reaches into the still warm carcass ripping off slabs of meat she tears she rips she shreds the juice dribbling from her mouth as she chews greedily you bastard what have you done

RAVAGED AND PLUNDERED AND RIPPED HER AND BIT HER

He stands gazing out the window into the night, ignoring the scene behind him. His thoughts are heavy. Has he forgotten something? The last time that they met Ridley said something to him, something important. He could not remember. He turned, kicked over the nearest desk and looked at her hunched over on the floor with a chunk of arm between her teeth. He strode over to her and kneed her in the face, knocking away her meal. She frantically scrambled to retrieve another piece but fell, her wrist slipping on the wet floor. He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her to her feet, forced her face to his, the iron taste of blood on his tongue as it into her mouth. She struggled but a moment before there was one hand. It cut the curtain smooth as the gravel in the parking lot outside.

Ridley? They had tried to take him before, at the warehouse. He had been ready for their ambush, but they had anticipated the likelihood of that. Hired guns frozen from the concrete placenta, your gods brighter than a thousand exploding suns all going off at once. Can you taste the formaldehyde? Ridley let his guard down and she took him; he was disarmed and pinned, a dagger to his throat when the Sgt. entered.

"Well now, here we all are again," he crooned, a grin positively shit-eating plastered across his pale face. "One big happy family."

The girl smiled too and whispered sweet nothings into Ridley's ear. He of course was his usual self, making with the wise-cracks, the smart-ass remarks. But in good company. The Sgt. swore profusely, telling our intrepid gangbanger just how he was going to pay him back for leaving him behind in Indiana. Ridley laughed.

OH, I FORGOT TO MENTION THE NEW SECURITY FEATURES.

"You two dumb fucks, here's a little secret for you."

We anticipated the arrival at this point. On the train, Conner knocked over the crates onto us as the forest burned outside, blazing red shadows filtering through the glass, unfazed by the gleaming fluorescents above our heads. The sound of wood scraping against metal and a crash, splintering, wood and bone, cutting through flesh, streaks of blood along the grating. The princess screamed and the black prince, his many arms silhouetted against the inferno behind the glass, appears, the howl of a despairing wolf echoes through the car, through our minds. A single black rose. Fire.

Oh.

We tasted the autumn scent, burning leaves, the cold air caressing and dismembering, ashes strewn about the pavement. Somebody's stolen the car and you can hear the footsteps, the faces in the plaster, the hum of the electricity. Fire. He can taste the flesh she was chewing and throws her to the floor. Thick soot coating the interior, steam pouring out through the holes. Something is missing, something he forgot. Pencils and papers scattered over the floor, fallen from the small desk he kicked over, soaking in the blood still spreading, covering all, filling the cracks in the tile. Something catches his eye. He turns back to her.

"Clean your damn self up."

A spiral bound notebook, its cover pink and silver glitter, lies among the rest of the scattered papers, ashes and filth. He turns away from her, back to the notebook, stares intently at it. He winces, a sharp pain suddenly arising at the base of his skull. The sound of the sink running on full and her wet, stained clothes hitting the floor. He closes his eyes, his head pounding. You bastard, does it hurt? Remind you of lying still in the brush, in mud mixed from blood, your own and that of your comrades? The caw of a raven from somewhere amongst the trees. Does it remind you of the knife between your ribs, the feel of club striking against your skull, of your body smacking against stone steps again and again as you tumble down from the temple?

He picks up the notebook and flips the pages, quickly skimming the short simple sentences and arithmetic in scrawled handwriting. His head was pounding louder; the sound of water splashing out of the sink, onto the floor, the walls, mixing with the blood as she wipes her skin. Grammar exercises share the page with drawings, then the drawings are the only thing on the pages, and they become more complex. A tall, shadowy figure with a blank face. A marionette with long hair and grinning face. A skull draped in colored robes, beads and flowers. A figure in a hoody and gas mask. A plague doctor. A Pharaoh. And there-

She jumped when she heard him scream followed by another desk flying across the room and smashing against the cabinet, sending more paper and random objects sprawling over the floor.  Witness the dark stand, your full accompaniment in the glass. There it appears, the man in the mask all of us wearing masks and they look at him from out of the glass. He can see their mocking false faces may the gods be quick with death and greed. Your soul is tainted even as mine. Working against the pawns that Ridley moved against them.

Full-bodied and serene as the wanton destruction, scattered school supplies mingled with the blood and meat of the professor your checkmate temporary and unintentional. There was no Nazi witch-doctor. Flesh and bone and blood, consume and be made whole. A person not a man of mere flesh and filth, arise in spirit; purity. The sound of the cold steel slicing through tainted meat fills the afternoon air. Screams and sweet flesh, the god of Apollo, raping and devouring.

DO YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT'S INSIDE THIS WATCH?

Ripping and tearing, chewing, vomiting, kill and eat like animals you salad lapping dogs. Forks in warm flesh. The flood is the life is the meat of artificial light, the heat of the fluorescent bulb against your skull. Schwarzwald. He is outside; no eyes follow you as you go about your work. Hands stained red smudge the page as they write line after line after. Outside a truck puts on its brakes. Jerusalem Black. He remembers what he did. He remembers how he allowed it in, allowed it to consume him and it wasn't the Tall One, something more, something far more.

He cannot remember what he said to him at the warehouse.

If Eternity should fail, if the night watchman is allowed to reach the broad of the road. The water rolls down her skin in droplets as she walks to the cabinet, moves away the remains of the desk, and begins looking for something to put on. Across the room he is hunched on all fours over the notebook, breathing heavily. He tears the last two pages out and stuffs them in his pocket, then stands and straightens his outfit. He walks to the door.

"I said to get yourself cleaned up. Get something on and let's get out of here," he yells at her. She's already put on a coat and followed him to the door.

"We'll go to the next place, see if Glory went there."





You're right, damn you. David never existed.

Dead Ridleys are the enemy. We don't like dead Ridleys.

Well alright, maybe just a few. If you insist. It ain't like I can't spare some. But only a few. I've learned how easy it is to just let those fuckers pile up and then we'd be in real trouble.

Listen nigger, I'm number one, you do what I tell you. No, I don't care whether you like it. Don't you dare compare me to that cuck; unlike him, I will kill you with the lava lamp if you don't shape up.

Excuse me. Get the others out looking for Glorianna right the fuck now; she's the only one who knows where the other Fi ran off to and I don't want the priest or goddamn Sgt. John S. Lucifer finding her before I do.

Hold on, I think someone's listening in on us...

this is the end

beautiful friend the end

my only friend the end

our elaborate plans the end

of everything that stands the end

no safety or surprise the end

ill never look into your eyes again

this is the end







 


i remember now
there was a priest with the old mans memories
and a proxie who wanted a soul
and a little girl who could see things
they broke in from the outside and shattered old howes utopia
well
no i cant blame them for that
that was already done when sophia discovered the --
okay then what if i gave -- no
cooper had taken my memories from me 
the only thing hed left me was the watch
oh i got it back from those couriers in the end
hah
he wanted me to take care of the gardens
it was my grandfathers watch as i recall
hed taken me from prison and then taken my memories
brought it with him from the old country
to watch and care for the flowers in the garden
the old man had known about the place and so that meant the priest knew
i kept that watch for time and times


my only friend

this is