what is this.

[fuckyou_chorus]

[out in the field today, the wind is blowing soothingly across the cornfields, making it shift and wave in the breeze . . . and on that wind travels the faint hint of a song. Shalalalalala, it might go. My oh my.Allow me to take you back to Christmas, where it could be said that the mood crab huddled with a sprig of mistletoe just for warmth, but

Comments

[theskyenceguy]

Kill it.

[nocturnemission]

No way! That thing looks like it would be totally full of stinky goop.

[theskyenceguy]

What, you want to listen to its singing?

[nocturnemission]

If you want it dead so bad, you kill it.

[theskyenceguy]

...I can't.

[nocturnemission]

Why not? Are you secretly a monk under a no-killing vow?

[theskyenceguy]

No! I just can't.

[nocturnemission]

So what, I'm supposed to kill it just because you're wussing out?

[theskyenceguy]

It would be the chivalrous thing to do.

[nocturnemission]

Pffft! Who even believes in that crap anymore?

[Also, gradually scooting your direction.]

[theskyenceguy]

The perfect man is stoic, noble, and-

What do you think you're doing.

[nocturnemission]

Huh? What?

[theskyenceguy]

You. You're in my space.

[nocturnemission]

Who made you queen of the cornfield?

[... Scooting over another step]

[theskyenceguy]

Hey! Stop right there!

[nocturnemission]

What? Where am I-

... Oh, crap.