Stalin's Unibrow

It was painful. It was epic. It was glorified. Like some mammoth Kraken rising from the mall fountain seeking only a soothing for its need for blood and training bras. My friend sat in her hobbit sized chair groping the keyboard like some phantom fantasy of Anastasia in a SEXY GRANDMA t-shirt. The emotion. The pain. The loss of sight.

Yes, Holly James sat in her grandparents housche at her computer, not with the Canadian foreigner on the other line, but some mystical creature called Joseph. Papa? No, more like taxi cab driver to satan. The Russian voices can be heard from the cd player. How does this relate to anything. It doesn't. Bitch. Anyways with a frantic search on teh Google for the daily lives of blind porn stars Holly had decided should couldn't and wouldn't become a visually challenged vegetable. Not now. Not ever. Except maybe in the future, in Russia, with that foreigner at her side feeding her sandwiches loaded with mayonnaise otma. Is that you Anastasia?! No Grandmama, it's me, Muffy. Oh well, give her the crown. *CUE THE RUSSIAN FOLK MUSIC*

I digress.

It must have been a tumor. There was absolutely no other possible explanation for any of this. Except maybe reading trashy novels about sexually repressed teenage vampires who haven't  had to use tampons since 1918 for 5 hours straight. Yes, people, she had done it. This crime was on her hands now. After a quick "gwiint" to her fellow Joseph, Holly James made a dramatic and oscar nominee worthy struggle to her boudoir in the depths of her grandparents manor. Did they have a manor exactly? You're terribly impertinent to ask. Go to your room. Now. No like seriously, I'm not taking that shit from you. Ok. What. Excuse me? I'm not putting up with you until your off the vikaden. Have we calmed down? Well maybe we can continue. Bitch. Lynn? Get the fuck out then.

 
I WANTS IT!
WHY?!
I LIKE YOUR PENOR.

This has nothing to do with anything. MAJOR MIND FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FTW.

Back to our tale. Holly James lay in twisted and devastating agony. The pure bliss of it was enough to make any street smart prostitute from 1650's New York wisen up and use her butter knife at the right time of the dinner course. How does that relate? You know exactly why it does. The overbearing intensity of the drama was all too much for her to bare, but what should she do? When it doubt, whip it out! Not that you wretched pervert, the phone. Fuck me and your depraved state of mind. She spoke unto her mother:
"MAMMY?"
"HONEY CHILD?!"
"ME THINKS I NO FEEL WELL!"
"*~*"
"CUT THE SHIT"
"TUMOR?!"
"<3"
"MIGRAINE"
"ZOMGZ LOL ROFLMAO"
"FUCK"
"BYE"
"OH, BYE MUMMY"

With that conversation at a close there was only one last thing to do. No, not go to Chinatown to harass the restaurant owners with flacid moustaches. She cried out for her grandparents aid in her best impression of Squidward "THIS IS SQUIDWARD. AND I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT SPONGEBOB IS NOT MY LOVER!!! THE NETTLES, THE NETTLES!!" And she also asked to go to the hospital.

Cut scene to the ER. "WHAT ARE HER STATS?" asked the male nurse with unnaturally overgrown unibrow. "IT SEEMS WE'VE GOT OURSELVES A MIGRAINE. THAT OR A TUMOR" exclaimed the doctor lethargically. "LE GASP" announced the sexually uncertain nurse. "FUCK SHE'S GOING INTO CARDIAC ARREST" sang the doctor in tones of desire. "HOW THE FUCK COULD A MIGRAINE DO THAT?" inquired the male nurse with potent optimism. "THIS IS A NOVEL....ANYTHING TO ATTRACT THE READERS ATTENTION GOES" the doctor remarked as a unicorn tip-toed past unnoticed, and uncared for. You see it wasn't the unicorns fault that no one ever really noticed him, it wasn't that his horn was to small, his glitter to dull, or his corn rows to unkept. He was just more boring than an episode of Church Gospels for the Elderly. Actually, considering the situation, an episode of that would have inexplicable amounts of entertainment value. Sorry Unicorn, religion pwns. Bitch.

Once the drama had settled the doctors realized all they had to do was stab her with a needle. So they did. She went to sleep. She dreamed of being 70 pounds lighter and looking remarkably like a certain Grand Duchess. It was a fairy tale ending. This author is bored. Now is the correct time to get the fuck out of my kitchens. Stop raping the pie. YAKTHNKZ

She lived in a cottage cheese cottage, yes she did. It is true, now you might be asking yourself: Well...does she like cheese?!?! The answer is obviously no. She hated it, she defied it, she raped it viciously with her mouth. All in one go. It can't possibly be stated in any more charming or simpler a manner. Hold the applause, and the tears. This is one story that's not done yet.

So the local villagers thought she was different, this she. Okay before we go on I should say her name, Holly James. There we have now been formally addressed. We continue. I just heard my cats screeching and it sounded like they were saying RAPE, RAPE. Enough of that cockney bullshit. Bloody hell. Gingerballs. How vile, excuse me. On we go.

So she was chased into a terribly dark and abysmal cave where all she could do was stroke and lick her beard, breaking about 75 laws of the Geneva Convention in the process. I bet your wondering, is this author still in the same physical location he was just in. The answer is simpler than your mothers IQ: no. This author is in the bathroom. I wonder if I would die inside if I were a toilet seat. I will add this to my to-do list. Okay, so cave. Right.

Anyways in this cave she sat when suddenly a glittery, fair skinned hand touched her love touch area. "WTF, OH SWEET DETRIMENT, ALAS IT IS NOT YOU ANASTASIA!" she laughed while one single tear fell from her cheek and upon impact with the floor it sprouted into a flower with the face of Bill Cosby while in labour. "NO, NO HOLLEH. IT'S JUST ME, THE AUTHOR OF THIS NOVELLA" cried the author with emotional distraught similar to a oklahoma bitch with no musical to perform in. "WELL FUCK IT" she giggled pretentiously, "DON'T TOUCH ME NEXT TIME UNLESS YOU'RE DEAD AND YOU'RE A RUSSIAN GRAND DUCHESS". She spoke all this with such rapidly racist discretion that I at once felt in tuned with her soul, and mind. "WE ARE ONE ENTITY, YOU AND I" the author pondered aloud whilst visions of Spongebob in a tights danced in his head. "YES I FEEL THIS, THIS ONE COUNTERACTIVE FORCE" yawned Holly James with deadly earnest.

So they sat in the cave and shared their tales about the woes and heartbreak of being a street whore in 1650's New York. "THOSE WERE THE DAYS, PEOPLE KNEW HOW TO TREAT A PROPER HOE WITH A RESPECTABLE SLAP AND A COMPLEMENTARY CHECK UP FOR AIDS" Holly uttered with deep and careful constipation. " I DON'T KNOW WHERE THIS STORY IS GOING" said the author with a bemused and pedophile alluring flash of his teeth. 'WHY, WHY DO YOU DO THIS, YOU ALWAYS MAKE ME HURT IN MY BABY BAUX" Holly voiced in a tone of complete flatulence. "WELL I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE JUST DONE" implied the author with serious moral feelings of dispassionate neglect and fascism. So they sat in the cave on Holly's magical beard of Rasputin, and ate bubble gum pie, because thats what Holly's mystical tears turned into. That and the underside of Hitler's radiant moustachio. Facial hair. The world needs it. Quite suddenly it dawned on the author to write the account of his story, and mark it down here for eternity. Although the story failed to mention why he was in the cave before Holly or why he is still in the bathroom. Cliffhangers, mind fucks for all ages.

A stage performance of Oklahoma! was performed later that night by four grand duchesses. Holly eyed the second youngest, and wearily leaned over to the author and whispered in deep tones of enviable necrophilia: "DO YOU THINK IF I LOST LIKE 1.5 OR MAYBE SOMETHING LIKE 90 POUNDS I COULD LOOK LIKE HER?" The author replied in a slightly crack baby manner "TRY 120 AND WE'LL SEE HOW IT GOES" Holly felt renewed faith in herself. And a desire to face rape her cottagecheese cottage. No rest for the benefactors of moral deprivation! Fuck it, fire the missiles, well I am le tired. Well go take a nap, then fire dee missiles!!!! Fucking kangaroos.

HALIFAX HATES YOU.

Fin.

AND THE LAND WE BELONG TO IS GRAND.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKLAHOMA, WHEN THE WIND COMES SWEEPIN DOWN THE PLAIN.

MY HONEY LAMB AND I.

OH BABY. OH BABY. THOSE LAZY HAWKS MAKE ME CRAZY

FOR

BUFFALO

CHEAT

RAPE

Dear diary,

I took 4 sleeping pills!! Yay for slowly but surely destroying my body!!!!

Honey lamb and I!!

Oklahoma crack babies.

I am one.
For life.
Like, for real.
You know, for real for real.
Honest to blog.