#moriohkills

         CANON DIALOGUE STARTER   ⇸   @moriohmurders

     “ You like it, yes? ” The man in blue purrs in his dialect-- deep, foreign. He approaches from behind, hands clasped behind his back. “I’ve seen you look at it more than once-- more than the other patrons. You appreciate the art where they do not. Tell me, what are your thoughts? ”

i WEEP I LOVE WHEN THEY MARATHON THEM FUCK 

HAMMER HORROR OWNS MY ENTIRE ASS

  FROZEN IN TIME, Marilyn is made FLESH again in a glass room: cold, clean cut lines that were HARSH as any winter; dreadfully out of place within the minimalist space; but not out of element. The world has become her OYSTER: she fears nothing, no one -- why should she, when the screens keep growing, when their eyes are GLUED to her? It’s as sure as dying, taxes, and WORK -- speaking of which --    Heels hover an inch off the ground, if only for dramatic effect; expression SYRUPY sweet and sickening. She wants something -- or rather, they want something. There’s no need for THEATRICS among her own kind; and yet, here she is, an overblown PIN-UP rendered 3D. “Mister Nine to Five.” Lashes flutter; her grin broad and shining. What toothpaste is Marilyn promoting now, and what SCHMUCK will kiss her for it? “For someone so in-tune with stocks and bonds, you’re bad for our business.”