MINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMIENMINE
MY POST.
Firstly: Me and Zen up there, we be:
I am here because she's nice and nonconfrontational and all that crap, so someone has to make sure no one takes advantage of her niceitude.
And I solve all my problems with violence.
"But Dema, you can't actually hurt us we are on teh interwebz LAWL".
Why yes, that is true anonymous poster. But no one said anything about emotional scars.
Not to mention my extensive arsenal of pictures that will make you vomit up your own internal digestive tract. You can't kill the memory. Something this unholy doesn't just die. You may think you've killed It, but It crawls from the starving womb of hell again and again, sustained on the umbilical of your festering sins. In the brief moment before It drags you down into the madness, before your eyes are carved from the sockets by bone claws, before your spine is removed through your rectum, you will catch a glimpse of the gaping maw, dripping with boiling pitch and the bones of the damned, and you will know there is no God.
Unfortunately, Zen refuses to let me scare off the innocent and burn them or do anything fun, so the rest of you don't have to worry about anything. You'll come to know and love me because I'm awesome. If you don't think that then you're obviously a robot. And not the cool robots, but the icky kind that I'll have to kill with fire.
Right. Get to posting. Offer on my friend's artwork.
I'm watching you.
I'm everywhere.
The secret word is BEARICORNS. Ask Zen about BEARICORNS and I shall give thee a present. Don't mention me at all. Just ask.
And don't touch my bucket.
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