herrstrauss:

​this isnt even a joke this is a canon interaction

(via olympicscovens)

stuckonloop:

superwhatevr:

As not to skip formalities I will present to you a working opener, excluding a portion of nomenclature, all the while keeping as close authenticity to reality as one can muster.  In introducing our character, I must reveal the fact that this will be a story about a human person.  I will also reveal the fact that this human person was a male, fair-skinned human person.  With being such an ethnically-challenged cluster of elements our character has had some very unique, yet not so interesting lifestyle choices, identity crises, & itty-bitty decision making conundrums that led to creating the sort of silly, little life that may or may not be captivating to a larger audience.  If at any point in reading you find that our pathetic hero is far too much of a pansy, then please, I beg you to give this book to your least favorite human person & subject them to read this gathering of life-lessons as to ruin their stupid day/week/existence.

So here we go…  

Once upon a time there was this real person with real emotions who lived a real, mundane life.  

He had a name given to him by God, his mother, & a famous female soap-opera actor right around the time of conception.  Conceptually the family was planning on having one human baby & for multiple years the family stuck to said game plan, but after seeing how much money they could sink into a sentient life & in return maintain a state of melancholy euphoria, they decided to go for it again.  Squishing genitalia, urinating on pregnancy tests, nine excruciating months of fat jokes, & some controlled breathing led to a second boy child & now a family of four fair-skinned humans & one Newfoundland, Labrador mix puppy.   They watched television in the living room & ate lunch in the kitchen & lived & breathed each other’s air for ten years in a quaint home amongst the suburban nightmare that was Orange County, California.  The neighbor to their left was one of the leading data entry servants of NASA, to their right was a family of twelve non-English speaking Vietnamese kinfolk, & directly across the street was the shock collar to the largest gang in southern California.   One would think that with such a vast array of neighborly outreach the family would have made long-lasting friendships to celebrate minor holidays (such as July 4th & Groundhog Day), but sadly they spent their festivities lighting sparklers & banging pots & pans in their backyard amongst themselves.  The oldest son grew older & the younger son followed suit & the two of them couldn’t have been happier to have a sibling to spend their days with.  …Or at least until the youngest learned how to talk.  

The siblings went by the name’s assigned to them at birth, one being Skyler & the other being Blake.

A watered-down version of Jesus Christ was taught to Skyler & Blake on Sundays after being pumped full of sugary donate-if-you-feel-convicted donuts & this-is-my-blood-of-the-covenant grape juice.  Following such teachings would be thirty minutes of trying to locate which parents were theirs & subsequently two hours of playtime at the makeshift church jungle gym.  This is where Skyler & Blake learned to settle worldly disputes such as “what amount of confectionary desserts will make a person throw-up after spinning in a circle” or “how will I get more sand/twigs on this pile of sand/twigs quicker than my predecessor” & so forth.  At the noble age of five Skyler decided to accept the teachings of the Bible as truth, & with his mother’s help he brought a sliver of over 2,500 years of Christian-based biblical knowledge into his child heart.  

(…Now I’m not saying that the church isn’t a great place for a five year old to learn about the bitter harshness of reality, but making such a commitment amongst peers & scholars may have required a few more years of fact checking & decision making in order to come to such a conclusion.  But hey, he went with his gut.  So let’s give it to the newborn newly born-again little man of God.)

With a shiny new key to eternity Skyler went about his life with less of a worry about the inevitability of death, trying desperately to experience what the world had in store for him.  After that whole mindset provided much room for contentedness he decided to switch gears & simply worry his little ass off about every detail instead.  I mean this kid really had it coming to him after contemplating eternity most overcast Monday afternoons leading him to have what could only be described as an adolescent mental breakdown, with all of the hyperventilating & anxiety of a forty-five year old midlife-crisis abiding mental patient.  These episodes soon became regularities in Skyler’s tiny existence, leading to more complex insignificant ideologies & theories alike.  Some of these theories pertained to deeper concepts such as if I hold my breath too long under water will I die instantly or if I disappeared from planet Earth would my parents know of my disappearance?  The anxieties of these overthinkings would follow him all the way to his teenage years, where he finally learned to silence the questioning & cross-check his anxious mind in order to become a more self-sufficient young adult.  These are the stories in between the two points of human existence of Skyler “Tiny Hands” McKee.

superwhatevr:

“Why don’t you want to go on the rides?  Seriously everyone likes these rides why can’t you just stop whining about everything” said Kathy Cline, Skyler’s least favourite aunt in-law.  “You’re old enough to swim & yet you’re gonna make us leave you at the bottom while we all go have fun. Nice, it’s just so nice to have brought you along today.”  Staying at the bottom of the waterslide was not my intention whatsoever, I actually would have preferred to not have been invited to partake in the damp shenanigans of Knott’s Soak City with my distant relatives.  The back & forth nature of our dispute initially began by the area where you receive the proper inner tube for your riding pleasure, & ended where you scale the stairs facing the gigantic plastic tubing.  This location was designed in order to ensure a safe starting point in one’s sliding fancy.  In lieu of the argument I was lifted by my uncle & plopped down next to an Asian grandmother waiting for her children & her  children’s children to exit the chlorine-filled piss-water in order to return to a more satiated, chlorine-filled piss-water at another location amidst the park.  “Stop being such a baby, you’re nine years old” were the particular words chosen to cease my cries about not being able to swim adequately.  I was at the tail-end weight for my age & learned previously that I would suffer from a debilitating illness known as sulfa-induced asthma for the majority of my life.  I personally thought I had made a decent argument to Kathy but unfortunately this was not the case.  My swimming trunks were bone dry, my feet were calloused from the squelched pavement, & my back was a sort of splochy pink from the sun beating down on the portion of my skin-meat not concealed by the theme park insignia encrusted umbrella above.  Bill Cline, better known as uncle Body amongst the younger siblings, had been spending his afternoon with his dearly beloved son Matthew & his equally beloved yet not as openly appreciated daughter Jacqueline.  I’m not saying I totally hate these people & hold it against them for bringing me to this damn park, but I just think they could have enjoyed each other’s company without adding me as a conglomerate.  

Sidenote: No matter what ride I was escorted off of for kicking, screaming. thrashing & gnawing, I always ended up right next to the same Asian grandmother waiting for her clan.  Maybe Asian grandmother was as afraid of drowning as I was.  What an interesting thought.  

The only ride I truly enjoyed that day was the well over-capacity “lazy river.”  Unfortunately I was not able to feign laziness in this sea of people because I felt the constant need to stay on guard from being drowned by Matthew.  I did however, have the luxury of standing fully erect in the makeshift river circling the park’s more popular attractions.  After the Cline’s were fully content with their own bleak, superficial well being, we left the watery abyss only to arrive at yet another equally frightening location altogether.  This place was torturous & hellish, providing little room for the mind to wander about the terrible monstrosities ahead known to many as ‘family time.’  This event led to multiple desperate temper tantrums in order to be relieved of the evils I was about to experience.  This location that sparked such a fit was none other than aunt Sue’s house.  Now aunt Sue did not live alone.  Residing at aunt Sue’s house was uncle Bill, aunt Sue’s hippie-turned-conservative mechanic husband, & Tory, their second child who in fact happens to only be a few months younger than myself.  Unbeknownst to aunt Sue & uncle Bill, their house was the worst house to visit regularly as a child.  Aunt Sue & uncle Bill thought of me as a bratty infant, willingly choosing to disobey all of their commandments, while in fact the opposite was true.  I would have loved to do everything they requested, but I just wasn’t able to physically perform all of the demands they were asking of me.  These varied based on the visit, such as trying to make me fit an unbearable amount of food into my underdeveloped belly, or to watch public news television about right-wing conservative agendas for the duration of my stay, or even to play sports such as peewee basketball for hours & hours on end.  But I digress.  The chlorine had been caked on my flesh for nearly three hours at this point & I was in desperate need to get rid of the film that was quickly becoming my new layer of skin.  “Hey could I maybe possibly take a shower aunt Sue?” I kindly asked.  “How about you go figure out how to do it yourself & then maybe you can learn how to put on your diaper & quit whining all the damn time” remarked my loving aunt.  There was an additional statement made by uncle Bill.  “The kid can work a television set but can’t even turn on the shower?”  Duly noted I chose to be the bigger man & not let this banter get to me.  After moving past multiple waves of belittlement, I felt a strong urge to prove my manhood.  I set off to do the impossible.  I would figure out how to work aunt Sue & uncle Bill’s ancient rusted-over temperate shower myself.

After what felt like a lifetime of turning multiple knobs while simultaneously releasing particular drains & faucets, the shower finally came to life at a temperature that I was content with.  “Make sure you have a towel, we don’t want to have to see your naked ass in the living room” uncle Bill yelled feverishly.  Not knowing how to respond, I proceeded to remove my stiff swimming trunks & carefully move my being under the water pouring forth.  The chlorine returned to its liquid state, sluggishly gliding off of me into the hair-clogged drain below.  I was on the second verse of Where Is The Love by the influential hip-hop group, the Black Eyed Peas when all of a sudden aunt Sue & uncle Bill’s perfectly warm shower became an ice-cold Antarctic wasteland, shriveling everything that had the potential to shrivel on my person.  Within seconds I was in a frantic state, grabbing at the air above me hoping to grasp any object with a little more warmth than what I was enduring currently.  Quickly I reached for the frosted glass that was the shower door, & to my surprise, not a single ounce of matter budged beneath my palms.  As my weak lungs began to gasp for air, adrenaline rushed in and primal instincts kicked into gear.  I threw my whole naked weight at the shower door.  To my avail all that resulted was tiny bits of grout now flecked at my feet, swirling around the pinky toe & Achilles tendon amidst the frigid ice bath of shower water below.  I screamed & hollered for help to remove me from this nightmare, but the only sound in return was a news anchor going back & forth with a movie star about which method would be the most effective in sending troops to Iraq.  Accepting defeat, I crouched beneath the arch of water flowing above finding refuge toward the drain where I hovered, ghostlike in both demeanor & complexion.  

Alas!  My cries were not in vain!  “Skyler do you need any help in there?  It sounds like you might be having some trouble” aunt Sue spewed.  I had an overwhelming sense to tell aunt Sue to shove it up her ass, but out of desperation I swallowed my pride & bequeathed her request.  I wish I could tell you that I nobly shouted back “yes woman, bring me doth towel to dry thine rumpus!” but unfortunately this is far from the truth.  In actuality, a whimper was all I could force out through my purple lips.  Fortunately aunt Sue was skilled in this form of communication & proceeded to enter into the privacy of my shower escapade, swinging open the shower door without any strain or force, wrapping me in a bath towel similar to the nature of a mother swaddling her newborn in order to keep it from scratching itself accidentally.  Tears & snot contributed to the now very dense state of the bath towel, but oh lord how I was dry & oh lord how I was free.  Not only was I embarrassed that my aunt had seen everything that even I was embarrassed to look at, but I had found out that the behemoth of a shower door was forced close by none other than a few small magnetic clasps, held together by forces not exceeding anything a small animal couldn’t pry open with enough gusto.

superwhatevr:

After years of extraordinary events involving aunt Sue, uncle Bill, cousin Tory, cousin Matthew, uncle Body, aunt Kathy, & cousin Jacqueline, my family decided to sever ties with anyone that shared the same bloodline or male pattern baldness alike.  This had taken place during a dispute between my mother & father about whether or not they should sell the house & invest in gold, or move down to sunny San Diego, California & start a new life altogether.  In order not to leave this decision to fate, a coin toss was held on the same day that we were supposed to be celebrating my twelfth birthday.  Now these coins were not just any sort of dime or nickel, these coins had a story.  When my pops was making renovations to our Orange County home my mother decided that the seating arrangement in the kitchen needed to change.  In order for the seating arrangement to be ‘changed,’ my father had to remove the built-in fixture known to our family as the ‘awkward bar.’  After three days of huffing & puffing, the awkward bar was removed, and to my father’s surprise four half dollars had been stashed away in the cedar wood as if a past generation was looking to make plans for the future.  These past renovators made the awful mistake to superglue said half dollars to the wood itself, so when my father jackknife pried the secrets from underneath, resin & fibers were merged to one side of the currency.  My parents now had the hard choice of deciding between heads or resin mixed with cedar wood.  Being that heads was easier to call in the air, my mother decided to meld this side of the bet with the notion of moving south.  Unfortunately before the coin was sent spiraling into the atmosphere above, my father had already made the decision to be a loving husband & go with my mother’s request.  So we were off.  If only I knew what sort of hardships lied further in San Diego.  Silly enough gold doubled in stock price & everyone he knew became filthy rich overnight.  Oh well.  I guess everything happens for one reason or another.  

superwhatevr:

I met you through the intranet, your eyes were full of gold, unluckily for me our hearts were furthest from the soil. We mended what was left although it happened quite often, I’m sorry that I chose to live, I couldn’t let this soul remain open. Now time is but a circumstance just happening on end, the minutes seem to pass, but oh my darling, I am dead.

\Super Whatevr

superwhatevr:

I hung up the telephone with the gusto of a bullet to the heart. A pillar to one’s solarplex, the builder made the monument and forgot the integral ingredient. Love is not the answer, it’s only the air in which we experience it. Ozone layers of sadness and preshrunk acid-washed nirvana tshirts. I’m honestly sick of the bullshit, the tiniest inclination sets off my mind threshold these blood vessels set to pop in an instant. Quite inviting yet inexplicably repulsive. My father taught me to think and my mother taught me to stop. And I pray every day that my mother’s teachings outweigh my fathers public indecency in order to finally take a fucking breath and step away from the life that I constantly ruin in order to feel calm. The storm is coming and I need to be alone. The fury is starting and I need to be alone. The smallest mistake and I may end up punching holes in the walls that I’ve built up in order to stay alone.

Leave this place and for god’s sake leave me the fuck alone.

\Super Whatevr

superwhatevr:

Mind Robber

Raise your hands high because this is a robbery

Honestly I think I was persuaded by monogamy

Holding my thoughts captive while you search around the property

Nothing would’ve held true if your beliefs didn’t bother me.

“Bring out the jewels I want the shiny stuff first

Check all the pockets and scrounge every purse”

I can’t believe I signed up for this, which vanity is worse?

It’s plain to see my psyche was on your list of items to scourge.

With the gun up to my skull she listed her demands

Put the money in the bag or else you’ll lose your hand

The situation seemed so sudden, all I wanted was a deposit

I guess there’s nothing I could do but lose my pride and vomit.

She saw me grab the phone in order to call help

As I spoke the words the cord was cut behind the desk

Without little thought I coughed up the wealth inside my head

Too bad she didn’t give a damn, she took my life instead.

Guess I should’ve told her that the bills were full of paint

That none of the money inside the bag was currency in the states

Her state of mind was feeble as if she had been inside a box

The only free will she ever had was now collecting dust.

Hungry for a meal she went inside another bank

With her gun held high she made plenty demands again

“No one move a muscle or it’ll be your last mistake”

The cops were waiting just outside, an end to her charade.

BUILD WALLS AROUND YOUR PSYCHE

MAKE THEM AS TALL AS THE HEAVEN’S GATE

DON’T LET PEOPLE STEAL THE THOUGHTS

THAT PRESENTLY YOU HATE

YOU’RE SMARTER THAN YOUR FORMER SELF

QUIT SLIPPING INTO LIES

PARANOIA DOESN’T HAVE A GRIP BEHIND MY EYES.

\Super Whatevr

superwhatevr:

Questions

Gimme that dialect

Gimme that Christian tongue

Cause I got a million questions for God

And being alive is one of em

Gimme that Holy Ghost

Gimme them pearly gates

If all I’ve been doing is sinning

Then how are they washed away

Upset just doesn’t cut it

Obsession will never help

Because grandma’s been lying there sick for days

And I’m trying to save her from hell

So if I’m trying to point a finger

It should be at the royal “we”

Because I’m dying of a disease called anger

In an attempt to love freely

\Super Whatevr