>Clean all that grey shit off your screen
>Clean all that grey shit off your screen
Mick: Reveal your true last name to be Jagger.
Mick: Squeak angry, incoherent noises at your cat until it gets off the table.
- Mr. Shepard
Look out the window
The space where you once viewed the sun passing its daily arc across the sky has been bricked up. It makes no difference to you, the world outside is empty regardless of whether or not your rowdy eyes can see it or not. The once crowded streets of a captial, now spacious in nature, with only the passing laugh of a juggalo or the buzzing of flies over fresh corpses to occupy the ghostly void of what once was.
It is your sixth day in prison, and as with all five proceeding it blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.
You don’t have time for fancy words and poetry. It’s almost as useless as those two bit hacks who make ironic movies to mock your proud juggalo establishment. Or those arm-swingy flappy things on mailboxes, assuming you even knew what those were. Which you don’t. Juggaloes banned those years ago when mail was deemed “For Nerds”. Though the mail system banning was challenged in the supreme court by some definitely unrowdy members of the resistance, the honorable solo-judge Guy Fieri (The other eight disappeared at the time, and Jay and Dope are too lazy to appoint new ones, at least you assume that, you have no clue to the inner workings of their brilliant minds), however upheld the decision and started a mass flappy thing burning. Critics of the juggalo regime who leveled it to burning books were quickly laughed and honked into exile. Anyway Mail is almost as useless as poetry to you, unless it happens to be slam poetry. If that narration was in a sick rap accompanied by dubstep, then you might have been singing a different tune, Poetry is the sweet bro and hella jeffa of words, and mail is the red tilty lever whatever of GODDAMNIT THIS METAPHOR IS BORING AND TIRESOME.
It’s almost as if you’ve heard it all before.
Frankly you don’t know anything about proper rowdiness or capriciousness, or even busting rhymes. Half of the time you are just making shit up as you go along to fit in, even if you are completely one hundred percent sincere in your attempts. What matters is You’ve got AMBITION. You were meant to be the rat which finishes first before any other animal in the race out of sheer cleverness. It was who you were all along. No prison cell can contain that. No sick beats can drown out the mad choir of ambition which rages in your head.
You stew in your dark room of isolation. You will probably be here for a long time unless you manage to break yourself out. Your juggalo masters have a habit of imposing strict punishments upon the disciples and then forgetting to free them until months later.
Mick: Ask your DEITY LUSUS to fix the damage you just caused.
Lusus? All of you have or had a Lusus except for the 13th and the Madcheft that is for sure, but the dangerous white beasts prefer to stay away from you all hours of the day excluding feeding time. Your lusus was a rare exception, a small squeak beast of a unlimited love and devotion. You thought of him as a parental surrogate for the longest time, and he even had a name. JAGGER. Mick and Jagger. You two were the best team in all of the earth. You even had some sweet moves together. Moves like Mick and Jagger was the first song you ever composed, and you keep a disc copy of the song on you at all times. Unfortantely your rat dad was a victim of. Well. That thing. Whatever it is. That likes to come in your room and bully you. Sometimes it saves your life, or transports you somewhere far away from the REMODELED JUGGALO MASTER TENT, that was formerly made up of the whitehouse, the capitol building, and the underground tunnels running throughout all of DC all reconstructed into a near temple to the two Mirthful Executives, and which houses ALL THIRTEEN OF YOUR OTHER FRIENDS PLUS YOU. You sincerely love this place, but sometimes being stuck in one building at all hours of your life is a little dry. So, being teleported into a field three hours away and having to wait in the cold for one of your friends to steal a car from one of the high clowns just lingering around and drive you back. That is the closest thing in life you have to a vacation. It’s why you can’t bring yourself to completely hate this thing.
Maybe the cat is in one of its arbitrary good moo-- No you’re not even going to get your hopes up for that one.
Last edited by linkzeldi; 07-26-2012 at 10:54 AM.
Clean that gray shit off of your screen
You do exactly that. Not necesarily cleaning the gray shit off of your computer because your computer is PRETTY DAMN BROKEN. However, you always have that useful mousetop lying around. On this list are juggalidentities of all the other friends and juggaloes who have yet to be given a character description. Of course that's not how you think of them, because "Character Description" is not exactly a concept you grasp. What you see is a list of thirteen other humans who were handpicked by the mirthful administration to be taught and raised as successors. Though you are a daily victim to their shenanigans and rowdiness, you can’t help but feel a sincere fondness for this group of clowns. Even if the one who is indirectly responsible for your lockup here in the first place WON’T STOP JUGGULATING YOU. Putting the planning stage of your new musical masterpiece aside, you better see what she wants. You are the leader after all, and in the crime dramas you love so much, the main character leader guy always listens to all the other characters. And by listen of course you mean tolerates them for a few moments by begrudgingly hearing how wrong they are, all the while wearing the most exasperated expression he can on his face because he's so much smarter than the person he's talking too. You're much too sincere to do any of that of course, but you wish you could.
Also note to self. You should experiment with the musical concept of "Even More Wubya" in this next song whose working title is currently "Aaaaaaaaaaauiuuuuuugh" because you have no creativity when it comes to names.
Explain to your fellow juggaloes how you are so lame musically, apparently.
Last edited by linkzeldi; 07-31-2012 at 10:11 PM.
PM: Prepare for the shitstorm.
- Mr. Shepard
You attempt to re-examine the cage within which you are imprisoned, but suddenly you find yourself as somebody else.
Who is this girl anyway?
She seems to have a monkey thing going on.
Must be that monkey person ratboy was just talking with.
Even though it's not her birthday today, she could still use a name.
And chop chop to, this girl has PLANS and MEDDLINGS which she needs to attend to, and your attempt to be her and introduce her is already putting her behind schedule. THE THINGS SHE HAS TO DEAL WITH. Especially that monkey, where is he off to now? She could have sworn he was there a second ago, hooting up a storm and acting generally annoying and overbearing. Parents.
Nobody would understand. Unless they were her. So technically, you'll understand in a moment. But not now, because you're not her yet.
And yes, she is just as confused as you are.
Last edited by linkzeldi; 09-09-2012 at 11:43 AM.
nice meme face there dude. Upgraded. Wersion two point sero.
damn, sucka. you just got trolled. I hope I don't get trolled!!!!!!
I suggest Becca Sword.
NICE SPRITE, ZELDI!
- Mr. Shepard
> Pat Black
"If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character, would you slow down? Or speed up?" -- Chuck Palahniuk
pesterchum - cynicalDoomster/xeroticDeceiver
ARRRRRGH! so much own!
This girl doesn’t have time for any of your bullshit. Let’s try it again.
No I said Try it again, what are you doing? Meddling already? You can’t wait until the narration catches up with you. That's a nope.
Your name is Shoa Gorilla
You get pretty excited by APES OF A MUSiCAL PERSUASION WHICH MAY OR MAY NOT BE LOCATED ON A BEACH OF PLACISTICITY OR IN THE MIDDLE OF DEMONIC DAYS. You belong to a SO OBSCURE IT'S ALMOST NON EXISTANT CULT, due to regular Juggalo religion being too mainstream. Your religion is based on the legend of a BAND OF APING AND CARTOONISH MNISTRELS who DIED OF UNKNOWN BUT HEROIC REASONS when the Juggalo party began to take political power. They are your messiahs, it is them.
Your religion is highly forbidden and the mere worship of them is enough grounds to have you burned at the stake IN A WITCH TRIAL. To be extra careful, you've hidden the COMPACT DISCS containing their everlasting hymms within the pages of your collected heretical books. Complacency of the learned is an interesting read, especially with half the pages chewed out to form a secret hidey hole. You have to take a lot of precautions, and betray (you like the term prank) a few secrets to keep the clown's watchful eyes off of you. Not that this bugs you in any way, you are a master of EXTREME ACTING. Which is totally a thing that is real. You define it as a sort of form of larping where instead of acting like a D&D character you rolled up for a certain amount of time, you just act like a different person all the time. This behavior is highly confusing to your friends, who believe you act like two different people, and the thought process behind your decision making think pan rests within an UNDISCERNABLE VOID.
You have a penchant for strumming out ill jams on your guitar, which is also sometimes a katana. You even write your own songs and share it with your Pal Mick. You chat a lot with Mick, who is usually pretty cranky due to your constant pranking of him, but you still consider him your best friend. Though his taste in music is absolutely abhorrent, you much prefer spooky halloween themed music featuing WITCHES, wizards and haunting refrains than any of that base drop remix crap.
Your absolute favorite thing of all however is meddling. You are the unseen hand whose nimble digits are behind every subtle twitch in this clown based conspiracy’s hairy ape ass. You also have a bunch of other friends, and a monkey lusus who you are okay on. Your Juggalong Tag is piousMonkey and yOU TALK IN A MANNER THAT GRADUALLY BUILDS. tO A GREAT CONCLUSION.
What, you’re still talking to somebody, even after the intro is over? Who are you meddling with this time?
Last edited by linkzeldi; 09-29-2012 at 06:55 PM.
> Register to vote!!!!!!!!!!!!!