The Curious Dreamlife of Marshmallow Addie - Volume 9
The Spineless Porpentine gazed fondly at Marshmallow Addie. He dreamt of cohabitation. Sometimes dreams do come true.
He was an old fixture in Addie's life, popping in and out like a boring homosexual butterfly. It was a match made in hell... or atleast a very, very warm and dark corner of heaven. The Spineless Porpentine was a severely limited human being and more often than not, lost sense of self. Infact, the times he actually did gain sense of self were so few and far between that verbal diarrhea became his ground state. His mouth raced several knots faster than his thought process - which resembled a termite colony under a spitball attack at the best of times. Most times though, it involved a lethargic fly searching for oxygen inside a vapid cranial cavity.
So yes, the Spineless Porpentine was back. And he was meaner and more anti-intellectual than ever. He peered from one dream into an other and made his usual grandiose pronouncement of being King. His solipsistic bubble now had a cold steel coating to it and gave off an evil glint which startled the common observer.
His universe was simple: women were more attractive even when they weren't, food tasted better when it didn't and everything was devoid of complication to the point of being laughably linear. His dissociated vortex of infinitely subjective perception was incapable of comprehending gentleness, pain and hurt in others and most crucially, subtlety and aesthetics. He was King of his world -- he had to be. No one else wanted a part of it.
And he dreamt of cohabitation. Addie dreamed him back.
The Spineless Porpentine gazed fondly at Marshmallow Addie. He dreamt of cohabitation. Sometimes dreams do come true.
He was an old fixture in Addie's life, popping in and out like a boring homosexual butterfly. It was a match made in hell... or atleast a very, very warm and dark corner of heaven. The Spineless Porpentine was a severely limited human being and more often than not, lost sense of self. Infact, the times he actually did gain sense of self were so few and far between that verbal diarrhea became his ground state. His mouth raced several knots faster than his thought process - which resembled a termite colony under a spitball attack at the best of times. Most times though, it involved a lethargic fly searching for oxygen inside a vapid cranial cavity.
So yes, the Spineless Porpentine was back. And he was meaner and more anti-intellectual than ever. He peered from one dream into an other and made his usual grandiose pronouncement of being King. His solipsistic bubble now had a cold steel coating to it and gave off an evil glint which startled the common observer.
His universe was simple: women were more attractive even when they weren't, food tasted better when it didn't and everything was devoid of complication to the point of being laughably linear. His dissociated vortex of infinitely subjective perception was incapable of comprehending gentleness, pain and hurt in others and most crucially, subtlety and aesthetics. He was King of his world -- he had to be. No one else wanted a part of it.
And he dreamt of cohabitation. Addie dreamed him back.
