[X] My Assistant

I've added your song to the station for S&G's. If you get fans speaking a weird language using squiggly lines as text, that would me my fault.

Sounds like my Saturday nights.

I doubt most of them have any capacity to engage in any sort of social interaction.

Truth is funny sometimes, isn't it?

Interacting with the brainless is exhausting and not fun at all. And it would probably just piss me off more since most of them don't have the mental capacity to understand the why.

Actually you're right, so let them mumbling.

0-stoned Goemon on Mythical, fuck yeah! /Puzzling Dragons

Necroing this thread for the Blorg. That is all.

Necroing this thread for the Blorg. That is all.

Smartest thing I've heard all day.

Where is he anyway? I wanna read some new chillmighty posts.

Necroing this thread for the Blorg. That is all.

He's gone.

Where is he anyway? I wanna read some new chillmighty posts.

He's gone.

Is it necessary to make us sad... twice? :<

This post has been edited by BrainSucks: Oct 2 2013, 19:07

♫Goodbye Korea's rose♫

He's not really gone:

Last Active: Today, 9 hours ago.

Edit: also, "Location: I BE LIVING IN YOUR SOUUUUUUL"

This post has been edited by el h: Oct 2 2013, 20:22

He's not really gone:
Edit: also, "Location: I BE LIVING IN YOUR SOUUUUUUL"

He set up a bot to crawl the forums in his absence, but the truth of the matter is that he is gone.

Smartest thing I've heard all day.

"C'mon, let's go sniff some butt."

He threw a stone on the lake, and we stood still for a few seconds, watching as it skimmed across the surface, before he suddenly spoke.

"I know about you and her."

Unable to keep my face straight, I looked at him in shock, but he continued to look ahead, as if he was avoiding my gaze.

"I've known for some, in fact. I just want to know why. I thought we were friends."

If only he'd known. The sheer amount of guilt I felt when she and I had... no, that was just an excuse. We were - had been - friends, and there was no justification for what I'd done. I stood there wordlessly, hands at my side, unable to formulate a response. What could I say? How could I explain myself? Rhetorical questions, the lot of them. Obviously there was nothing I could do, but await his judgment.

"Say something, dammit!"

"I... I don't know what to say."

"God dammit!"

He swore, and threw a fist at my face. I made no attempt to block, feeling that my right to do so had been revoked. A second punch followed, and then a third. Soon I was lying on the ground, grabbing the dirt to keep myself from instinctively protecting myself, as he knelt on top of me and threw blow after blow.

THWACK.

A tooth flew out, and I found myself looking to the right, my face's trajectory altered by the force of his fist. Dirt began to accrue under my fingernails as my grip on the earth tightened, when I noticed a wet sensation on my cheek. I looked up to see him crying.

"We were friends, man, we were friends!"

Suddenly something within me broke. All the pain that I had been keeping bolted up finally burst forth as the sight of him weeping cracked open the vault that had been keeping my emotions in check.

"I'm sorry! I don't... I don't know why I did it. I'm so sorry, man! Please tell me something, anything I could do to make this all go away! I'd give anything to take back what I did, to return to the old days, when the three of us were friends! Please, just give me a sign!"

As tears streamed down my face I grabbed his shirt and begged for his forgiveness, as the trickle that was my regret and self-loathing and sorrow intensified and became a flood.

He looked down at me, his chest heaving as he sought to contain his sorrow and fury.

"I want... I want you to..."

Say it. Say it. Say it. Say it say it say it say it say it say it say it say it and make it all go away make everything better give me a chance I know I can do it just say it say it say it say it say it-

"I want you to watch the Roast of James Franco with me on Comedy Central."

"No, motherfucker," I whispered, as I unsheathed the knife I always carried around with me, the knife I had lovingly named Franco Fucker, and shoved it into his stomach. It was something I always knew I'd have to do, yet something I dreaded regardless. Something just as inevitable and James Franco's inability to win an Academy Award. If only it had happened on a different occasion. "Never that."

His eyes widened with shock and pain, and he stiffened as the cold hands of death slowly wrapped around him. I pulled out Franco Fucker and pushed him to the side, where he lay bleeding and unmoving. Taking out a handkerchief I wiped away the blood off of my face and Franco Fucker, before crumpling it up in my fist and tossing it at his head.

"Cillian Murphy should have played Aron Ralston in 127 Hours, you son of a bitch," I muttered to the corpse, before I walked away.

She'd understand. She'd hated James Franco ever since that screening of Pineapple Express.

I took a split second to glance at the lake before continuing on my way.

The stone had reached the other side.

Sigh, sometimes it feels as if he were still posting here...

Sigh, sometimes it feels as if he were still posting here...

I feel the same way sometimes, I think we all do.

*puts some flowers down on Blorg's memorial*

*puts some flowers down on Blorg's memorial*

His funeral song...

I see Blorg on my 3DS. I miss you Blorg.

RIP

He needs to get zombified & post stuff again.

To be honest, I'm still around, it's just that postin' in the E-H forums has some appeal for me lately.

Also last semester of university and all that jazz.