"The memo had gone out the beginning of the following week, and it was too little, too late. But I can hardly blame them, after all it takes quite a bit to make a whole neighborhood forget a thing like that. In fact it would take several bits, maybe thousands of bits, to make us forget. Unfortunately, that is way beyond the police budget.

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omfg I feel like I pissed off many people this year.

SOrry.

MY BAD.

IM DUMB.

SOOOOOORRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

EVERYTHING HAS BEEN DUMB.

In an effort to outsmart dumb situations I have strategically tried to be dumber than the situations, and I am actually not sure as to how it is working out. I'm still alive so like, it probably isn't actually that bad, but like, who knows?

I could be..........

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aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

It is hard hard hard to write a story from the point of view of an enchanted necklace.

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Ok, so, you have a body right?

Right. I assume that since you are capable of reading this, you possess a corporeal form.

Do you think, "I AM a body?" or do you think, "I HAVE a body?"

OK so, we can establish that you don't identify what you are as a person with your hands, or your torso.

Are you a brain? Do you think, "I AM a brain?" or do you think, "I HAVE a brain?"

Are you thoughts? Do you think, "I AM thoughts?" or "I HAVE thoughts?"

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yeah last year was.....uh.......well......

WE DON'T TALK ABOUT LAST YEAR.

MY GOD.

Babs is like the Eleusinian Mysteries for bronies.

For the fools, and the wise, alike.

Carbon 12 has 6 protons, 6 neutrons, and 6 electrons.

666

You are made of Carbon 12

You bear the mark of the beast.

I keep writing things and ALMOST FINISHING THEM.

Then I end up not finishing it because the thing that seemed to be going so well crashes and burns spectacularly.

Like seriously they go so well and then everything unravels at the end.

In this book, the one you're reading right now, there are numerous, perhaps even an infinity, of characters.

I shouldn't have to tell this to you after all, you know it very well.

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The sun beat down unto the concrete like overused phrases on stark white paper. A boy greedily stares at his ice cream cone, a tall tower of cream, with vanilla bleeding out unto his pudgy fingers, making them sticky. His eyes widen as he draws the delectable treat toward salivating jaws. For so long he had desired this prize, and now at long last, here it is, in his hand. So close now, so close, as his tongue slithered toward its prey, now but an inch away.

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