Who?

Awesomeshirts!

I needs one!

Awake

This show looks mindblowing:


I've had dreams a little like this, where I felt I knew something wasn't right, but could not communicate this concept to those who needed to know.

Of course, if it's really good, it'll be cancelled after 4 episodes.

Nylecargssim!

I've not updated in some time, and refuse to acknowledge this fact.

Instead, how are things with you?

Oh, all right.

So this one time, Greg and Periwinkle St. Flammisham were kite-boarding off the coast of St. Tropez when a huge gust of of wind snatched them both up and carried them far away.

They slept on fluffy clouds, sipped the morning dew, and supped on sweat meats brought to them by the birds. The world was far below, and at night shined like a thousand lightning bugs in a summer's wood.

Zephyr strummed his aeolian harp, and they drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, they awoke to find themselves upon a mountaintop. Warm furs were laid out for their clothes, and a breakfast of fried cakes and wine was set before them.

They feasted in wonder at their surroundings, and spoke excitedly to each other.

"Holy balls!" Greg said. "What happened? Where are we?"

"I don't know." Periwinkle replied. "But you are eating bugs."

Greg glanced around. The world slowly fell apart.

When things settled down, Greg was sitting on a rock on the coast of St. Tropez. His mouth was full of bugs and he was covered in blood and bruises.

"That was a hell of a dream." He choked, before passing out once again.

Premakes!

How amazing is this?

All credit, of course, to the genius creator.

Story Title.

"So, anyway," quoth the slithy Bringe, "Everything was on fire, except the oven, so we hid in there until the ship was done crashing into the planet."

Once again, the Bringe was exaggerating at length to an intoxicated audience of space slugs and derelicts in Goe's Space Tavern. This time, he was recounting the time the Good Millennium Blump bloopered into the atmosphere of Boogoo 9.

The much traveled Bringe had stowed away on everything from freighters to race ships, and being locked up in solitude for vast amounts of time bottled everything up inside, and like a fizzy drink, his thoughts exploded all over innocent bystanders as soon as he had a chance to open up.

The actual events as they occurred, became all mixed up and amplified inside his pink little brain, and so the adventures became colored by his imagination to the point where they appeared impossibly unlikely, though hugely entertaining.

As a result, he commanded large audiences of enthralled space refuse in various hotspots across the galaxy with his outrageous tales of adventure and derring do.

This particular story was one of his favorites, he had read it off the back of a cereal box packed in a crate, and memorized it over the several years it took to travel the length of Perseus 6.5.

Judicious application of spirits prompted the appropriate embellishments, and soon, the entire Tavern was hanging on his every word.