Fear of the bean

you only yolo once

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The best and greatest man alive

There once lived the most handsome and brave man in the world. He was kind and honest and clever and gentle and polite and neat and swell and great at sports.
He could yodel, speak Swahili, break-dance , play the fiddle, braid hair, kick box , surf and even pull off skorts!

A lover of nature, he spent the evening sat upon a hillside, to watch the sun set over the nearby glade “Farewell Mr.Sun! It’s always a pleasure, If I do say!! I Hope to see you again tomorrow, when you light up the world with each golden ray!”

And the dazzling sun replied, “Adieu best man ever!Sadly, I must bid thee farewell! But as I set for you I leave the sky awash with the swirling hues of pinks blues and pastels!”

And as Mr.sun lazily retracted his glowing embrace from the hillside, the best man never once broke his gaze. He then brought his hand up to his cheek and shed a single tear.

His retinas had been burnt to a crisp.

You could say the next 48hrs were somewhat of a blur.

Even when under extreme physical trauma, the greatest and most perfect man ever managed to keep his cool. He was endlessly level-headed and always behaved with the upmost respect to those around him.

He could feel the snap crackle and pop of hardened pus and blood scabbing around his eyes. He realized that this was not a stylish look this season, or any season for that matter!

He certainly did not want to seem unfashionable, showing a lack of comprehension of the role of aesthetics and status in society and alienating himself from around fucking 70% of people he knew.

He thought about it for a while, about the stigmatization of being unfashionable, and about how others are blindsided by “packaging” and struggle to see themselves in other people - but rather admire certain immediate qualities that they desire.

All the while knowing that he was in need of medical attention, In an act of reason, he decided to weld a circular mirror onto his face using the now hardening blood and pus as a tact.
The harmful chemicals in glue may have worsened his injury, and we wouldn’t want that.
As the best person alive, his own natural adhesive was twice as powerful than any store bought malarkey!
"Nothin’ beats home cookin’!", he laughed, from behind his new prosthetic scab.


"My oh my!! I knew you were the BEST PERSON EVER, but I didn’t know how handsome you 
were!!”, said the greengrocer, polishing his cabbage heads for an evenings rest.
"The years certainly have treated you well, my good sir!" said the police man, twirling his baton and licking his lips.
"What a gorgeous manifestation of human you are!" Said the local carpenter, and gave him a seductive wink, not a care in the world, that man…

He no longer needed to react, because the peoples own reactions to themselves would suffice!
With one look, any man could, if he wanted, take a good hard look at himself, see the error of his ways - but mistaking this reflection as the face of the best man alive, did not want to seem judgmental!

The best and most lovely man in existence was known for his humbleness, and down to earth nature. He never blew his own horn nor had any interest in swagger, he never gloated or strutted or was really much of a bragger!

Never-the-less, the constant beating barrage of compliments began to go to his head and the simpering sycophancies began to serenade and syncopate with the throbbing pulsations of his now severely wounded eye sockets.

Passing Birds, mistaking his head as open air - flew directly into him, cracking his mirror face in several places and leaving large beak wounds in his flesh.

But after a while the party stopped.

with a head that now resembled a large disco ball, he was admitted to the hospital, with a fever of some sort.

The smell of antiseptic and the multitude of faint beeps and boops of hospital equipment made him feel as though he was in some sort of galactic meadow with the, whizzing of hybrid incandescent insects that have yet to evolve.

Being the most perfectest man that ever lived, the staff had a choice of whether to treat him with extremely well or extremely shittily, knowing that with his top-notch immune system, he would heal faster than … an extremely obedient collie with the promise of meat…(Maybe he doesn’t get meat that often and just eats those dried food chunks. How bad though. The dog could be out on his ear, fending for himself like a dirty raccoon!)

The doctors and the nurses and the boys and girls and the hospital gently pulled out each shard of bird beak and broken mirror from the most glorious mans face and made them into a decorative mobile for the childrens ward. “A bare ceiling is no comfort to a sick child!” they cried. what a wonderful day it was. Pure Patch Adams type shit.

Within seconds the most fantastic mans face healed without visible scar. It turns out it was the Crofts dog show that day so he went to that.

He met a man that had the original collie, turns out it was a crossbreed between a Labrador and Richard Gere.


The end.

 

Filed under richard gere collies beak mirror poem short story patch adams adhesive creepy humor best man ever crofts

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zenarchism:

Ani DiFranco - Alla This

I will not stand immersed
In this ultra violent curse
I won’t let you make a tool of me
I will keep my mind and body free

Bye, bye, minutiae
Of the day to day drama
I’m expanding exponentially
I am consciousness without identity

I am many things made of everything
But I will not be your bank roll
I won’t idle in your drive through
I won’t watch your electric sideshow
I got way better places to go

I will maintain the truth
I knew naturally as a child
I won’t forfeit my creativity
To a world that’s all laid out for me

I will look at everything around me
And I will vow to bear in mind
That all of this was just someone’s idea
It could just as well be mine

I won’t rent you my time
I won’t sell you my brain
I won’t pray to a male God
'Cause you know that would be insane

And you know that I can’t support the troops
'Cause every last one of them is being duped here
And I will not rest a wink
Until the women have regrouped

I am many things made of everything
But I will not be your bank roll
I won’t idle in your drive through
I won’t watch your electric sideshow
I got way better places to go