May. 27th, 2015 05:52 pm
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
*knit one, purl one*

"The problem with kids these days is that they're so sedentary," she says, peering over her bifocals. "Just tap-tap-tap on those phones and games! No gumption at all!"

*knit one, purl one*

"It's not good for their bodies, neither. They get winded so fast, so little energy, and the tissues and muscles (if you can call them that) are all fatty."

*knit one, purl one*

"Just look at this! It's so slippery and greasy, I can barely work with it. Back in my day, you could get quality materials from kids who moved around and played. Not anymore, no sir."

*knit one, purl one*
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
"Sediment, necrosis, and naivete," she expounds while gently swirling her onyx drink aloft. "Three of many unwanted, often unknown, elements we all have inside of us in varying degrees." Dark legs of the thick liquid trail down the inside of the glass. She studies it intently before suddenly tossing the sweetly rotten smelling brew into her aged throat. "Today, I realized I no longer care about any of it."
kung_fu_monkey: (BM)
Nami, a meek teen bibliophile, discovers that her 8 year old friend, Kiri, is actually a bunny-eared, buxom alien pair of scissors sent by a future alternate dimension to stop Nami from killing God.

Meanwhile, Nami continues to develop a crush on Kei, secretly the Prince of the Magic Butterfly Kingdom and a top ranking middle school tennis pro embroiled in a life or death dance-off using a legendary visor that only Kei can use!

Will Kei's challenges force Nami to kill God against Kiri's wishes?


Feb. 7th, 2015 10:26 pm
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
Paralysis whirled itself into the unborn heart of the universe, locking everyone's doomed gaze into one final loathed spectacle which sluggishly, irrevocably shreds reality.

"It worked!", she screams, "By the Three, it wor-"

kung_fu_monkey: (B&W profile)
47 Ronin is to the Chuushingura as Black Swan is to Perfect Blue.


Ah, the Grand Ball. Blackmail, fashion, alliances, masks, machinations, and dancing. The Great Game is always thrilling and not for the timid or unwise.

Yet, there is one thing that could forever send this elegant affair into the hallowed annals of history.



The baker's bylaw, verging on adjunct staccato, ingrained scrawling chevrotain into heirloom digital mesh. Flailing and cherubic both, autonomous maws time contrived contagion.


Sep. 15th, 2014 12:39 pm
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
"Digital wainscot parks, covalent Jainist custard, or supernomial thread-count baseboards?", mused the nephilic son of Bastet. Cu Challain's step-daughter was overly fond of absurdist constructs, especially given as gifts during the Entropic Year celebrations, and he was determined to catch her eye. (Or eight of them, at least.)

kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
"Frequency," she says as she removes her spectacles and focuses her 3 eyes on mine, " decodes their grain. Observe." Unlocking the dream housing the ignoble acid, a spring steel hyacinth sings a final chord of painted horizons.


Aug. 2nd, 2014 03:37 pm
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
Acquaint innumerable matcha weasels of transmission to ghost writing formulas fomenting Gardenian glass! Bake! Baaaake!


Jul. 1st, 2014 10:30 pm
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
Cascade!, the froling sark skips waves
kit and pack anew,
Wry and tast, her mice as mates
Fear'd captain being a shrew.

Cheer and froak they sate
ev'r manic for what's new,
but heart of hearts at stake,
most bromidic they eschew.

Torch and rapier, rapid gait
Xanadu to Timbuktu
cold hearths sill forever wait,
antecedents, none, for this crew.


May. 31st, 2014 11:23 pm
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
Broad, crescent, and alliterative, preceding it's origin, this compressed crocus needle gently ebbs downward foam designs of ophidian graces. Lazily similar to burnt cinnamon and peppered honeydew, those restrained gestures chant inaudibly of weathered felt canes.


Mar. 11th, 2014 10:56 pm
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
Spoken language; it's what separates us from the roving clans of cannibal mimes.
kung_fu_monkey: (B&W profile)
Cerebro doesn't actually boost Xavier's mental powers or detect mutant life signs; it just lets him access public, hospital, and police records really fast and makes the professor feel useful.
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
Athiests who are repulsed by the idea of joining Cthulhu's cult generally say "Ick! Theology!"


Nov. 12th, 2013 10:52 am
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
Weft and warped, filtered and fitted, the crystalline fractures expunge cardamom spores from the silent ether. They are gathered, collected, and left to putrefy over one's own agency, saturating our assumed destiny with rancid spices. It is only in this form that it, agency, is worth using; all others are too frail, and broken futures are fed to the sewer-hounds.


Oct. 28th, 2013 10:00 am
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
No, I'm not feeling crankled; I just don't have cankles.


Sep. 5th, 2013 12:38 pm
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
Finally having overcome his fears, the black cat dons the snorkel and hides in the seaweed. Endless fish, skittering crab, maybe even some shrimp; all his to chase and feast upon to his tiny heart's content. Nothing can stop him now.

Black Suns

May. 11th, 2013 10:52 pm
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
Powdered wooden engines inject tin ochre notes into the misanthropic morals of lunar butterflies.
kung_fu_monkey: (AAAAAAA!!!)
"It's not entropy," he says as we slide up the descending granite stairs. I notice that his leg slumps and fully disconnects from his body. There is no blood; I suspect he hasn't had any for some time.

The pores on his head, now stretched thin and splitting open, yield puce tendrils that sway independently from his motions. Gravity gently peels off his face, allowing the fine hollow quills to flex outward as fibrous slime casually ejects from his vacant maw.

One brightly colored red claw is raised from what was once his hand to punctuate his statement.

Gently he hisses,"No, no. It's *choice*." I continue transcribing.


kung_fu_monkey: (Default)

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