for wheat is wheat

getting on the treadmill at the gym and listening to bloodcurdling screams and scary noises and running as fast as i can screaming and crying and freaking out and looking behind me like someone's chasing me for like 30 minutes and then i immediately stop and leave like nothing happened

Bro don't forget to stretch

the rumors are true: i dont feel very good

ah sweet man-made gamers beneath my comprehension

we made a brain from scratch, put it in a simulation of hell and gave it a gun

sometimes people experiencing psychosis and/or mania will come up to you on the street and talk in confusing or upsetting ways. your job is to either have a regular human-to-human conversation with that person or politely leave. your job is not to call 911. do not call 911. you might kill that person if you call 911.

^ ^ ^

sex position: you, sitting on your throne. me, standing behind you, resting my arm on the back of your throne and sniling so sneetly at your ministers like i have any right to be there

let's all go to tumblr and order the deformed erotic visage. the look on the mod's face will be an ecstatic contortion

I need to make something really elaborate and cool (doesn't move

I'm in a little local cafe and the women behind the counter started griping to each other, "Oh Christ, Stephen's back again," "It's him, is it? I thought he'd stopped coming," "It's definitely him, look, it's bloody Stephen on a Thursday morning," "Do you want me to get rid of him or are you going to do it?" and so I was peering outside, trying to spot this nightmare customer, this pestilence of a person, this pox upon the cafe trade, and then one of the women from behind the counter ran outside, clapping two trays together loudly and yelling "GET OUT OF IT, STEPHEN!" and it turns out that Stephen is an absolutely gigantic fuck-off seagull who hangs around outside, menacing people for crumbs