Extrapolation

In the hotel bathroom, the first droplets of shower water since a time long ago pattered across the surface of my skin. It felt fantastic, especially since I could luxuriate and let that beautiful juice of life permeate through fully, let it flood away the pores choked with sweat and dirt and stress, let it relieve the tension to the fullest extent it could, without costing me more than the el-cheapo $34 buck one-night room fee. Honestly, water bills do terrible things to your personal health. Always forcing yourself to take cold showers that barely pass the minute mark so that the bills can be sufficiently met takes a steep psychological toll to alleviate an economic one, and sometimes it isn't worth the fee. You just don't get a chance to just drop the weight of your own problems off your back for a few glorious minutes and bask in the invigorating steam, or catch every stray note of the transparent plops trickling to the bath-tub's surface, if you're always stuck in the 9-5, "toil-until-I-drop" mind state. I would advise you all to avoid such a catastrophic bathing pattern, but you probably already smell like shit if you're running from a super-duper scary monster of some sort. Or running towards it, like this guy!

Speaking of that, let's get to the meat of the post: I'm going to be away for a couple of days after I finish typing this out, and I'd just like to explain (and discuss) some events going on in my world and in the big ol' blogosphere at large.

To start, we'll hit off on the issue of that Shelby chick, and oh-ho-ho did that situation blossom perfectly into the greatest shit storm of our time! And SOMEBODY, I dunno who, managed to catch it all live before la chica deleted the blog and revved up a new one. To those who've got my little gifts, I hope you treasure the memories forever, and keep it close to heart when dealing with others of the same intellectual caliber. Oh, and some important players came back for damage control or somethin', I dunno much about that. But yeah, hilarious way to waste a night! I adored it.

Second, let's move on to my follower count. Holy shit, 12 people! Although it got a bit bolstered by Frap and Joce splitting their accounts, but that's besides the point. Sabrina, I dunno who you are but you randomly taking interest in this while also being involved with some of the bigger players like Spender (dunno his name exactly, taking a shot in the dark here) over on the Slender side, and dealing with issues in Ireland to boot, flatters me greatly. I appreciate your support. Yggdrasil, you seem like a lost dude. Don't get too giddy while assisting Big S, aight? To kill yourself at this point would be horrible, but to become something worse would be bad too. Zed, I've never seen you post here but thanks for tuning in to this low-frequency station and giving your support. Liam, from what you've posted you guys are quite the cool little crew. Don't fuck up just before the metaphorical dawn-light rises. Isabel, Alexander, Ron, and John, thanks for your endorsement. And Frap and Joce, you know what I'd say. Look out for yourselves, and don't do anything stupid.

Welp, now it's time for the main event, huh? Marley Manhide, who I mentioned in passing yesterday before I zoomed off to my car to begin the long haul. I'm sure he wormed his way into this tale hurriedly, and a bit bluntly to boot. I'm here to elaborate on that, and to elaborate on why that comment (the one that talks about slaughterhouses and grinders) is so damn important right now in this context that I'm forced to hop onto I-90 W and zoom on over to San Francisco to check up on his condition. Which, I'm optimistically guessing, won't be anything near debilitating.

Me and Marl got to know each other growing up in a fond little neighborhood resting in the midst of All Possible Monetary Incomes, America. No, this location will not be revealed in any other entries, past, present, or future. I do not need to endanger myself any more than necessary. Suffice to say that the spectrum of visibility in our town did not mark off by colors, like the physical laws shared by the rest of the world, but by economic strati; the sun's light merely served as a telescope to magnify the area's discrepancies. One ray would shine into the bourgeoisie districts, and there the radiant, crisp whites and yellows and purples and reds would proudly puff out their chests and salute to the heavens which blessed them; another ray would crawl through the dilapidated, marshy back streets of the nearly Appalachian backwoods, barely bringing out the dull, murky tints of swamp-grass blue, bile green and dingus-stained brown. We sort of lazed our days away in between these extremities, at one moment strolling through the crowded shopping malls with Ring Pops and Nerf guns in hand, looking like cartoonish N.W.A. imitators thrown into Beverly Hills without the luxury of a tour guide, at the next instant trudging through polluted mire in search of hidden treasure, our rough-and-tumble jeans loosely clutching our waists and our high-caliber BB guns slung around our backs in case we encountered some horrifying monster lurking in the deep, ready to snatch us to its penumbral, dank lair beneath the waters, if it could even be classified as that substance.

But one day, in a lull between these epic wilderness excursions, Marl stomped into our tree house, located at the Big Oak overlooking the entire low-lying neighborhood from its sturdily secured perch, and told me about his newly drafted novel idea. At that moment my head discontinued its bobbing motion in tune to Redman's "Can't Wait", and I turned to him with a startled look. He went on frantically to detail the work's purpose and plot, sputtering as if all the breaths taken into his body before that moment served only as fuel for his torrid explanation, but that isn't what stuck with me. What stuck with me was the first passage he wrote while brainstorming the idea. I'll retype it out for you new folks to the blog, so that you won't need to scrounge the archives to find the reference. The passage served as the beginning of a monologue involving the main antagonist, Cindy Bauker, who speaks to one of the sentient cows aiding in running the farm (the piece is somewhat derivative of Animal Farm) before throwing it, alive and kicking, into a meat grinder:

"HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR STEAKS: RARE OR WELL-DONE? I PREFER A TAD BIT OF BOTH ON EITHER SIDE OF MY MEALS. IT'S TIME TO BRING IT THE HARVEST, BOTH PLANT AND ANIMAL; THE SLAUGHTERHOUSES ARE PRIMED AND WHIRLING, MADE TO GUARANTEE THE BEST RIBS FOR ALL CONSUMERS. HOWEVER, OUR PRIZED CHATTEL DOES DESERVE THE GREATEST OF PRAISE FOR MAKING IT THROUGH THIS ORDEAL IN ONE PIECE...FOR NOW." 

She then goes on to detail some things about how it'll chop the cow up into nice, segmented cubes, for the most effortless consumption. But Marl made perfectly clear, abundantly clear, that he would get that quote to me, somehow, if he was ever forced to scramble with something for his life. And why? Well, that's something too personal to share here just yet. I know, secrets suddenly abound, but when referring to this incident I am forced to squish my lips together and forbid caravans of words called explanations from departing the juicy, gum-coated land containing them. Also, gotta remember to restrain my fingers, too. They just keep tapping away during those moments when I forget their presence.

Welp, now I'm off to see the Wizard! Or the, uhh, the Conjurer. Yeah, Marl always saw himself as an individual suited for summoning things - whether they be thoughts, objects, or people like me. I guess I'm just sticking to the past, huh?

Good night, and good luck (for now),

Snore-de-Bliss

Addednum: By the time this post goes through, I'll already be on the road. I did that so nothing else could delay me, like that Shelby incident did. Lost so much time with Microsoft Paint, but it was totally worth the expenditure!

ADDEDNUM: SHH, KEEP THIS ON THE DOWN-LOW, BUT I DON'T THINK YOUR FRIEND IS IN THE BEST STATE OF MIND TO BE DOING ANYTHING AT ALL AT THIS POINT. CONCISE, ON ALL FRONTS.