I have been lending my helping hand for young writer on his brain-celling scrambling Freehand Drawing plates. Some of them, they are supposed to be passed already, but good thing for my friend that his mentor has a heart of gold.
Though his mentor is one considerate folk, fat pig is so demanding about the quality of the illustrations. When I get to meet him face-to-face, I will stab his eyes with pencils and clog his throat with kneaded eraser. I am really longing for that king-sized bed with soft, squishy pillows, the ventilated atmosphere, and that moonlight beneath the window.
But Hellbound doesn’t rest for Dear Friend. Must fight, get through this just like what I always do during killing sprees.
I know that you, dear writer, have mend your ties with your friends who have left you behind because of the sins you have committed. Your crisis is finally over, and you can breathe oxygen clearly now.
Then Dickhead is getting more paranoid, he can be a candidate for rehabilitation.
He already forbade you from talking with your best friend - who happened to be his girlfriend - on your instant messenger. He even cut off your communication with her through mobile technology. He recenly dumped your connection with her on one of your social network accounts.
Yes, I can feel your hatred over Dickhead. He really deserves the name for his actions toward you, young writer. He called you names that scarred your heart. But yes, you are still standing on your two legs and feet and wear those scars like badges of honor. Oh yes, words can never bring a mortal like you indeed. But the anger burning in your soul makes you want to slice his body parts, fry them and rejoice to his death. Continue reading ‘To Dismember?’
“Brain fart”.
I kept on mentioning that phrase here on The Journal instead of how all of you, mortal bloggers, would call it… Yes, “blog post”. And I like it that way just like how I like juggling with the words in your dictionary and expressing myself indirectly. It is my trademark after all.
It’s like this:
- Humor bloggers = WTFLOLZ.
- The Hellbound = Disbelief took over me, laughing out loud.
If you, respected reader, would think about it carefully, literature is one of your humankind’s greatest gifts. And I said that for a lot of reasons like expanding boundaries of one mortal’s imagination. And too bad for some people who gave me, The Hellbound, an impression that they either did not took literature classes at all or they have forgotten the class lectures. But I guess there are some forces on your planet that made them forgot the things that should be etched in your skull.
And If I, The Hellbound, were to classify what kind of blogger I am, it would be a mix of personal and literary. I would write the things manifesting in your earth that made me write this piece of limerick, short note or whatever, but the catch is that I do it symbolically. I’m a big fan of literature and this is like my way of promoting it subliminally somehow.
I’m Dan.
A note: I am not a humor blogger, and never will be one. If my writing style would made you fall off your seat, and laugh the way a pig would roll and soak over mud, I don’t mind. I never intended on making people burst in laughter on The Journal, but it would be a good thing to hear if some people would take my brain cell-scrambling posts on a lighter note.
