So, a certain someone who shall not be named (Dean) wanted me to write another silly story, with grammatical errors, chat-speak and fairies but no kawaii-desu-kaa because he is a meaniefais who once had a beard. If you don’t know me (99% chance you don’t) I must warn you my stories make A LOT OF SENSE. I am God.
Once upon a time, in a far far far far farfarfapfapfarfapfap - ahem - FAR away land, there lived a beautiful mutated carrot. It had no legs, no eyes, no arms… it was long and orange. If you’re unfamiliar with ”carrots”, they’re like B-A-N-A-N-A-S, but ORANGE and not curvy. They’re sort of like teenage sticks who wish they had what potatoes have: hot Men-in-Black sunglasses, the CharlieChaplinFAISstache, and a Kenshin scar on their left buttcheek. DASS RITE. LEFT BUTTCHEEK, I SAID IT.
Back to the story, the carrot’s name was Carrot, but it’s MISS Carrot for you, you two-eyed human with a computer and internet access. MISS Carrot was the proud owner of an overactive imagination, which means she could predict the future, which means she was very much like the KFC grandpa guy man, which means she could save the universe if she wanted to, which also means she could fuck us all up if she felt like it, which means we’re all f’d. We’re all gonna die horrible deaths, and it’s all her fault. Thanks to me, now you’ll know why you won’t end up in an afterlife filled with rotting unicorn corpses, insects poop, and broccoli but in a MILKY WAY WITH DANCING FLOWERS, FAIRY DUST, UNICORN ASS HAIR, AND MORE AWESOME THINGS YOU WISH YOU HAD IN YOUR LIFE, but you don’t because you are not the proud owner of a time machine that could take you back to Da Vinci’s year, where you’d get to witness the end of Sir Shoe, a most painful but awesome death you’ll never have because you are a human being with internet access and too much time on your hands as if you don’t have anything better to do, which you actually do but you choose to ignore it because wasting time on the GLORIOUS INTERNET is way better than living real, boring life. DASS RITE. REAL BORING LIFE YOU GOT THERE. YEAH.
Anyway yeah, now you know who to blame. You’re lucky I exist.
I shall mindfuck you some more later. It’s time to sneeze myself to death.