Kid who I played hockey with. Shot. Murdered two days ago. No one knows who did it yet.
Not even kidding. Kid was 19.
No sarcasm or wit here tonight.

...just do me a favor and hug someone tonight, even if it's yourself.
Life's too short not to.

Take care.

-Pencil.

While I have concerns, this is also...kinda nice?
Anyway, I know my last piece was lacking in bodily fluids and distressing violence, and my apologies on that. So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to let you assholes decide what I put up next. I have a few options, so choose wisely.

-A story Skittletits wrote and I helped with that is so beautifully autistic I cry happy tears.
-A thing I've been writing when drunk on and off for a month that involves fluttershy.

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A thing that makes me money.

Money allows me to drink.

Drinking allows me to...to...give less shits I guess. And it allows me to write poorly.

So, in summation, work enables me to write shit for you guys. So I gotta do it, and it's being a pain and eating my free time right now. Sorry. I will have some new shit up shortly though. And I promise you, it will be alcohol-induced as ever and may or may not involve vomiting. Well, if it doesn't, I'll just drink till I throw up. Sound good?

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So, recently, a friend of mine who we call 'Skittletits' decided to try her hand at drunkwriting with me for pony stuff. I basically gave her tips, egged her on, and supplied the alcohol, then edited her language and spelling errors some. Because...come on. Drunkwriting. The resulting two stories are some of the most supremely edgy, horrifying, terrible, disgusting, confusing, and rage-inducing things I have ever read.

So...of course I've got to post them.

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I mean...holy hell that thing was Featured. Her Most Faithful Servant. Featured. I mean...really? There wasn't even any vomit in it, come on now!

Speaking of vomit, I'll be putting up a new story today or tomorrow. Back to the usual fare, you lucky things you.
Thanks for reading and stuff.

EDIT: Lo, it is done.

Yeah, I wish I could say I'm ashamed.

Over the last month or so, I've been writing a colab with Flutterpriest. It involves BDSM, it involves Celestia, and it's actually...kinda...
romantic and stuff in the long run.

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So hi new folks. I'm concerned for your mental health, but I suppose I'm glad you're here. The puns being left on my stories are downright terrible and I love every last one of them. I mean...jesus, fuck guys where are you getting this crap? It's turdtastic gold. So if more of you means more of that, I'll toast to it.

No new story today. Maybe tonight. Definitely tomorrow.
Depends on how much scotch there's left at home, I've forgotten.

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So, my stories continue to show up in popular, and there's 43 of you now. 43. What is even happening here. Who are you people!? While this concerns me, it also means that one or two of you fuckers might actually be at Bronycon. I'll be there with Flutterpriest and perhaps (hopefully) a few others.

So if you're there...I dunno, come see me so I can look upon the face of one who would actually follow me after reading my stuff.

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Letting the wine breathe and hole in one are both in popular right now.

WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME!?
WHAT Is WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE????

GYAAAAAH
And thanks and stuff.

And also get drunk now, you'll be in good company. Happy fathers day and shit motherfuckers. Go call your pops.

-Pencil

So my first story went up on this lovely website the other day, Sea of Troubles. As is to be expected, given its nature, it was hated. A lot. It got the illustrious notoriety of being one of the 10 most disliked stories of the day. Considering the other stories in that top (bottom?) 10, that's saying something.
Believe me, I know. I read those other ones.
Yeesh.

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