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Me when Ryan is alive, in a thousand versions of herself, removed from her body and replicated, the seed that has started a civilization of violent manipulators that are lying to themself that they aren't:
At some point in the future there will be someone who reads Revelator before they listen to LITWTC and upon seeing the title The Eulogy of Bobby Sugarbones they'll think "Like the character from My Books?"
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Art by Billiam William, Story written by Steven Ross
Warning: This story contains drug usage, necrosis, multiple eyes, failed/implied suicide, hallucinagenics, enclosed space, body horror.
This story was inspired by Revelator, written by Chris Dunne
[Smith's Apartment; Time 3:74 ZM]
I wake up with a cold sweat like usual. According to Dr. Zvictor, it's natural with my mental diagnosis. Today doesn't feel different. Everyday feels the same. I keep myself away from the world because the thought of change always makes my already decaying skin crawl.
I limp my way to the bathroom to wash up. "Just another normal day." I say as I stare at the head tumor in my cranium, fully aware that this. is. different. "What am I saying? Today's different now that I've got one week left." I stare at my cold beaded forehead, tracing the sweat down to my eyes. This is different. I. am different.
My tumor, which I've given the name Carlos, has been with me since I dropped out of college. He's like that one friend you hate whilst changing your life for however you want to view it. Dr. Zvic believes Carlos is more of a parasite, like a tapeworm or protozoa. It makes me anxious just thinking about it.
"Fucking pills." I say as I open the mirror cabinet, desperately grabbing my Xanax and the MM120 I bought from MediMartOnline. I know I shouldn't by drugs from strangers, but it seems to work. Anything to be at peace.
I take deep breaths as I wait for the drugs to set in. I look up back at my reflection, ready to see the carefree, ignorant man I once was. But this time I didn't see him. No. I saw fate. At this point, I assume MM120 wasn't the lysergic drug I took.
The dirty walls around me close in as they start to ooze the black tar reminiscent to whatever Carlos may be.
My flesh and muscle decay faster, revealing my boney interior. The beading sweat in my sockets become countless, bloodshot eyeballs. Marrow dripping from my temporal bone caused by my failed exit from whatever I deny to become. Teeth rotting, bones cracking. You name it, I've got it.
"I've had enough!" I shout at my reflection that no longer looks like my own. I jam my hand into my head cavity where Carlos resides, yanking him out.
The pain doesn't stop. Of course not. I tie Carlos like a rope and manage to attach him to the nearest hook in this coffin of an apartment. He wants me dead by the end of the week? I'll let him take this stupid idiot now. Lights out, finally at peace.
Author's Note:
This is my first story, so I'm open for constructive criticism. I plan to do more stories like this.
Do note that I've never taken any lysergic drug. Everything here is was made at 12 in the morning with research on parasites and LSD.
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1 No bones
2 No tattletales
3 No girls allowed
4 No boys allowed
5 They/thems only
6 No they/thems, we lied to you, it was a trick, you're all dead now
5 No takebacks
6 There are two rule #5s
2nd 5 No shirts, no shoes, no service
7 No fatties
8 If the bands are rockin', don't come a knockin'
9 WATCH OUT !!!
10 Keep your head on a fucking swivel
11 Don't forget to relax exactly
12 Don't take it-uh- just take it one day at a time
14 Have fun 😐
15 Always stay one step ahead of of of the people who stopped listening at rule 15
Rule 15 is a red herring for the emotionally weak
Dramatic pause
The point is to not have too much fun actually because then you'll lose the duel
0 ❄︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ■︎□︎ ❒︎◆︎●︎♏︎⬧︎
17 There are no rules, but there are rules
18 Be careful about people who tell you about rule 0 and that one you can't trust
19 Don't trust rule 18
20 Have fun
21 Don't touch it
23 Don't lose the duel
25 This is a show about the apocalypse and we're psychic and these are the kind of questions we're answering
105 You're gonna fuck puppets, you don't have to talk about it because that's not what they're for
101 Stop talking about fucking puppets
102 Stop talking about fucking puppets
103 Stop talking about fucking puppets
104 Stop talking about fucking puppets
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