What does Freud say about flying zombies anyway?
Last night I dreamed that I was a zombie. Not just any old zombie, but an extraordinarily fat male zombie that the other zombies had decided to eat because A) there were no humans around to nom, and B) evidently I looked delicious. So I started running away, but then I figured out that I could fly and tried crashing through various skylights to escape. And then the other zombies realized that they could fly too and the whole thing devolved into this epic aerial undead dogfight! :D!
... And then I woke up and was convinced right up until about 9:30 that it was Sunday. *shrug* My brain is a muddled place.
Tenuously related only by the fact that it also involves monsters, my self-discipline went splort and I've started writing this little story that's been amusing me in my mind for a couple months now. (Dr. Frankenstein moves to the suburbs, yo. O purest genius!) Which means that my Serious Business lit-fic thingy isn't being finished, but damned if I'm not having fun writing about monsters and lonely kidlets, as I seem to do when left to my own devices. XD
... And then I woke up and was convinced right up until about 9:30 that it was Sunday. *shrug* My brain is a muddled place.
Tenuously related only by the fact that it also involves monsters, my self-discipline went splort and I've started writing this little story that's been amusing me in my mind for a couple months now. (Dr. Frankenstein moves to the suburbs, yo. O purest genius!) Which means that my Serious Business lit-fic thingy isn't being finished, but damned if I'm not having fun writing about monsters and lonely kidlets, as I seem to do when left to my own devices. XD