#rhetpasses

The second indication, of course, was the muffled "fwump" that accompanied the freshly-dead corpse hitting the freshly-trimmed lawn after being dumped off of the third floor.

Living Stone Estate was, for all intents and purposes, a crazy old folks' home. Of course, they didn't call it that; it was a "geriatric care ward for the psychiatrically impaired," but everyone who lived within gossipping distance of Living Stone knew that it was the place that disaffected families dumped their grandparents when they started shitting themselves and proclaiming that the aliens were changing their television channels by beaming nuclear lasers into the Jewish cable networks for mind control purposes.

Living Stone was, however, also a popular location for crazy old folks whose families were *especially* fond of them. So fond of them, in fact, that they couldn't bear the thought of ever having to say goodbye. And at Living Stone, they never had to, because at Living Stone, nobody ever died of natural causes.

That wasn't to say that Grandma couldn't get sick. Far from it. Most of the invalids kept behind the exquisite Victorian architecture of Living Stone Estate were horribly wracked with advanced forms of cancer, organ failure, tuberculosis, and alternating opioid addictions and withdrawals. They just couldn't die.

So, on the Living Stone Estate, flies were only sometimes the first indication that someone had died. More often than not, they simply swarmed any elderly patient who managed to wheel themselves outside into the sunlight that made their century-old gooey skin ooze a strange teal pus that smelled of elderberries. And then, with the last strength they had in their physical forms, they dumped themselves over the railing on the third floor.

You have to reconcile your plot/lore/story needs with your gross self-fanservice needs.

me: Okay, so characters A and B were business partners, had a falling out, and now they detest one another.

my brain: So they make out.

me: What? No. That doesn’t make any sense. They’re going to have this one crucial argument where the crux of it is how hurt they are over past faults and-- my brain: --AND THEN THEY KISS--

me: N O

my brain:

Download Dunc’s Algomusic MkIIIb here. It’s a text-to-midi program that takes any word or phrase (case sensitive) and turns it into a simple song. 

Go here to generate a random word, or here to get a random name.

Plug that shit into the text-to-midi, and use the result to draw the character associated with that word/name and the generated song.