Podcasts about Teletubbies

GIULIANO ALLEVA é mestre espiritual e terapeuta holístico. Ele vai bater um papo sobre os efeitos da ayahuasca e seu uso nos rituais religiosos. O Vilela já tomou ayahuasca e lembra de ter encontrado os Teletubbies.

Miracle On Route 34: Part 2 Virginia and Santa face extreme danger together. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Someone attacked Santa with a wicked-looking spiked hand-axe, something out of a sci-fi movie. He batted the weapon aside and clapped his open hands across the man's ears, busting his brain. Before he dropped, Santa grabbed the corpse and swung it around in a wide arc, smashing it into the foes surrounding him and knocking them back. "Shit!" Ginny squealed as one of the targets landed near her. "It's like the fucking Matrix in here!" As he threw the corpse away, he paused very briefly and glanced at her. "Since you happen to be right there, how about a little mood music?" "What?" "I'm just saying some music would be nice if we're going to be doing this," he called. "You're next to the entertainment system, how about putting something on?" "You’re shitting me, right?" she almost complained, wincing as she heard something delicate-sounding and expensive smash behind her amidst the wild brawl. She stared at the multimedia system, flapping her arms in frustration as she tried to focus through the noise. This couldn't be happening. She clutched the sleeves of her plush robe for a moment, trying to concentrate on its soft, fuzzy texture and center herself. She'd almost forgotten the large nerf gun in her hands but ignored it now, fixing her gaze on the mp3 playlist. She pressed a button. "Silent night; Holy night;" Bing crooned through the room. "Not really what I had in mind!" Santa mentioned loudly as he rammed his knee into a man's chin. "Try again!" Ginny bit her lip and pressed the button again, this time rewarded with Gary Glitter singing 'Another Rock And Roll Christmas'. "Still not quite there," he said as he snapmared another foe. "Better, but not quite!" "Well I don't know!" she shouted in exasperation. "What kind of music do you put on while Santa kills things in your living room?" Santa turned sideways and thrust his foot out, kicking an intruder in the chest and sending him sprawling backwards, rolling head over heels until he thumped into the entertainment system, jolting it and skipping the player. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Perfect!" he declared as he fought, swarmed once again by foes. "Seriously?" Ginny yelled. "Combichrist is Santa's fucking fighting groove?" "I'm trying to figure out why you have it on your playlist," Santa replied. "I don't remember you liking aggrotech!" "Why the hell do you of all people even know what it is?" she shot back, wincing as she watched another body sail into the opposite wall with a sickening crunch before dropping to the floor and leaving a huge, crumbling dent in the stone. 'This Shit Will Fuck You Up!' "I prefer the term 'Hellektro' myself," he added. "And I know all songs, silly. I remember when the Dayglo Abortions wrote that 'Hey Santa!' song back in the '80's, they didn't get presents for” "I didn't ask, why are you answering?" she hissed. "Kill! Kill!" All the while, the pounding rhythms of the music filled the room. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Well, at least we know why it's on your playlist, anyway!" he mentioned as he broke someone's back over his knee. "Very funny, red man!" Ginny hissed, scowling. She ducked wildly as another assailant flew overhead and landed in the Jacuzzi, his neck slamming against the hard edge with a snap noise and then tilting at a strange angle, his eyes wide and unseeing. "Fucking hell," she muttered. "These guys eat too much red meat!" Santa smashed two heads together before punting a third man in the chest, sending him staggering back until he fell against the entertainment unit, right next to Ginny, his eyes spiraling in his head. She scowled down at him for a moment before smashing the pitcher of nog on his cranium and sending him to the floor. Every single intruder stopped and turned to look at her suddenly, their eyes narrowing and turning very yellow. "Eep;" Ginny said quietly, going pale. They all howled and lunged toward her, even as Santa fought to reach her first. She shrieked in fright. "Darn it, Ginny!" he shouted in what almost sounded like irritation. "I told you not to do anything!" "You said not to use the stupid nerf gun!" she shot back as she dodged wildly and began to run around, evading her pursuers. "I meant don't do anything to get yourself noticed!" he growled as he bulldogged one man's head into the floor. He sprang to his feet and grabbed another man by the back of the head, ramming his face into the stone wall, creating a small crater from which the body slumped only slowly and wetly. "How the hell did they not notice the mostly naked girl in the room?" she yelled, sprinting around the circumference of the room, being chased by yellow-eyed foes. "They're mostly quantum, they don't always perceive real-state things or beings until they're interacted with!" he answered. "They weren't looking for you until you announced yourself!" "Oh, you and your weird physics shit!" she groused, her robe coming more and more undone as she ran. One of her tits was exposed, bouncing annoyingly and the nipple hardening as a cold wind from the endless holes in her walls and windows blew into the room. "Now what?" "Well, since they know you're here, you might as well use the gun," he answered as he tackled a small knot of them who were looking to cut off her avenue of escape. "At least then you can defend yourself if you're careful!" "The fuck am I supposed to do?" she shouted angrily as she clutched the ridiculous, useless gun. "Nerf them to death? Hope I shoot one foam dart down a throat and hope the bastard chokes and dies?" "Didn't you just let me inside all of your orifices?" he pointed out as he spun low, sweeping one foe's feet from under him and then taking him by the ankles to slam him off the floor. "Trust me, Virginia!" "Dammit!" she spat, steeling her nerve, hoping her resolve was harder than her nipple currently was. Taking a deep breath, she stopped running and spun, pointing the gun and pulling the plastic trigger; She yelped in astonishment as coruscating arcs of lightning crackled and lashed out from the muzzle, enveloping several foes, who wailed in glowing agony before disappearing from view. "Jesus H Fucking Tesla!" she exclaimed in amazement as she gaped down at her toy. "Virginia, language!" Santa warned. She rolled her eyes and pointed at another man rushing her, pulling the trigger and watching him explode in a shower of scintillating particles. "This shit will fuck you up!" blared the speakers. The wall splintered next to Ginny and several terrifying creatures barged in, causing her to shriek in fright, they were easily Santa's size, vaguely humanoid but covered in a greyish, segmented carapace, with insectoid heads, evil-looking mandibles and huge claws at the end of four arms. They hissed as the lunged for her. "Fuck fuck fuck!" cried out as she began running. "Fucking hate motherfucking bugs!" She fired wildly behind herself without looking, managing to strike one of the new creatures but only slowing it down. Ginny raced for the stairs, stampeding up them only to find more of the yellow-eyed humanoids waiting for her. "Santa!" she cried out in terror. "Help!" He glanced her way and grimaced at her predicament. "Aw, hell;" With a strength born of the desperation to protect one of his precious children, he surged forward, shoulder-blocking his way through a knot of assailants, springing through the air with astonishing agility, alternately using the wall and railing of the stairs to get to the upper floor, twisting and executing a flying kick that downed a foe about to attack Ginny. "Good thing I wore my enhanced parkour boots tonight, eh?" he muttered as he glared at the foes crowding to get up the stairs or down the hallway at them. "I don't even know what that means." Ginny snapped, backing up warily as the horde coming for them grew in numbers. "If that's some sort of geek speak, then we, are you getting bigger?" "I guess I am," he replied, grimly, glaring at their foes. "I don't expect what I'm saying to make sense, but the other iterations of me, my other selves, they're all coming here, merging with me to help meet the threat." "You're; consolidating?" she asked in disbelief. "That's one way to look at it," he said, his blue eyes flashing. "It's gonna make finishing the Christmas run tight if I get held up here much longer." "Oh, terribly sorry if I'm inconveniencing you, your highness." Ginny said, trying to not sound too snide. He put his body between her and her foes, backing her up against the wall. "They can't come through the wall you're up against, it's the South wall," he said quietly but with a sense of urgency. "You're safe from that angle. You can fire your gun past me or over the rail at the guys down below. Since they're trying to reach you that means they've solidified enough that they can't do crazy things like jump seven meters up to reach you, they'll have to use the stairs." "I thought they were after you." Ginny said hotly. "They were, until you announced yourself with a jug of nog," he pointed out. "Now they want to destroy you to hurt me." "Oh. Sorry." Ginny mumbled somewhat sheepishly. "You can make it up to me later!" he said as he surged forward suddenly, bulling his way through the approaching crowd, clotheslining several at once. Shouts went up and the fight was on again. Santa punched, kicked, elbowed, kneed and wrenched his way through the enemy horde. Ginny swore he was indeed bigger than he had been earlier. His already hard body physique was almost bulging with muscles now, like a California beach bodybuilder. Black blood glistened on his flawless skin as he maimed the attackers. Droplets that hit the carpet sizzled and ate through it, burning the hardwood floor beneath. "No!" Ginny wailed in despair. "Not the hardwood! I loved that feature!" She glared and gritted her teeth as she leaned over the railing and pointed the nerf gun down at the endless crowd on the main floor, pulling the trigger. The crackling arcs of energy enveloped several foes, who wailed and vanished. Same as before, the giant insectoids rarely disappeared but seemed slowed or staggered by the attack. Santa fought his way forward, forcing the attackers back from Ginny. Try as they might, no one got by him, even if it meant that they could strike at him instead. He took their assaults resolutely, using his body as a shield to protect her. Before long, the floor of the hallway was littered with bodies, some barely stirring, others not moving at all. Still, the foes swarmed up the stairs. One of the bug-things swiped at him with its vicious claws and he ducked under the blow before kicking his boot into one of the reverse-jointed legs, snapping it. The bug screeched and tumbled and he leapt onto its back, grabbing hold of one of the large, wet-grey chitinous plates that armored its back and pulled, it tore away with a mushy crack and the beast's keened agony as it shuddered and thrashed. Without pausing, Santa whirled around and slammed the exoskeletal plate across several men's heads, dropping them. Ginny kept firing the nerf tesla gun, wondering what sort of sociopath would invent a deadly weapon that looked like a famous kid's toy. She pushed it from her mind, realizing that she wanted to live and didn't care at the moment about the social mores of the issue. Santa was using the huge chitin plate almost like a shield, driving his foes back with it to the stairs. It finally cracked in half and he punched through the mess, unwilling to give the enemy time to regroup. He spun one man around with a fist across the jaw before grabbing his arms from behind and ramming his knee into the man's back, lifting him off the floor and letting him slam his spine onto the stairs. Without waiting, Santa launched himself through the air, knee raised and smashed it into the face of a man on the stair's corner landing. The foe's head went back through the wall with a loud crunch and he hung there limply, no longer part of the battle. "Ack!" Ginny squawked as the nerf gun sputtered and let out several impotent flashes and then died. "Not now! No no no!" One foe had broken through the cordon and now raced toward her. She yelled loudly and smashed the butt of her nerf gun into his face, staggering him for a moment. She glared at him angrily, waiting for him to fall, but her didn't, so she kicked him in the crotch with her instep. He groaned and sunk to his knees, holding himself. Ginny was practically jumping up and down on top of him by the time he stopped moving. "Stay; the; fuck; down!" she shouted angrily as she turned his ribcage into powder. She failed to notice the one last foe who rushed up behind her. But then Santa was at her side and he delivered a devastating haymaker to the man's thorax. Stunned, the intruder staggered back against the railing. With a growl, Santa grabbed him by the face and ruthlessly bent his back over the railing before leaping over and slamming his elbow across the man's neck as he went down to the main floor. The lifeless form crumpled next to him as he looked around, glaring. No foes remained standing. Aside from the music, all was quiet. "It is safe?" Ginny called from the gallery. "Are the scary guys and bug-thingies all gone?" "No," Santa said warily. "And the next wave is even bigger." "Great!" Ginny complained, tossing the useless nerf gun over the side. "And according to you, there's no one that can help us!" "I didn't say that," he countered, beckoning for her to come down the stairs and be near him for protection. "I just said there was no Easter Bunny." "No Superman either, apparently," she grumbled as she approached him, letting him put a huge arm around her possessively. He was, indeed, bigger than ever. She was practically child-sized next to him now. "So who the hell is there to help us?" "If help's arriving it had better get here soon," he said, taking her to the remains of her big glass bay windows and back door. The wind was howling as snow drove into the living room. What was left of it, anyway. Which was nothing. "It's now or never. Can you see them?" She peered into the darkness outside and a chill ran down her spine, hundreds of red and yellow glowing eyes could be seen in the darkness. And they seemed to be getting closer. "Do; do they see me?" she asked, swallowing nervously. "I'm sure they do," he said, grimacing. "Not going to take a chance and assume they don't. I'll do everything I can to protect you, of course." "Is; is that going to be enough?" She could hear the angry hisses and an evil chanting outside clearly now, getting closer with each moment. It pained Santa that he couldn't lie to her. "I don't know, Virginia." She sighed and smiled weakly. "Well, at least I know there's a Santa Claus now. And he gave me the night of my life before it all ended." He returned the smile, trying to feign a cheerfulness he didn't feel. "I don't;" Ginny faltered, trying to find the words. "I don't suppose that you'd; well; that you'd be willing to kiss me one last time? You know, before the end?" He turned to look down at her, his hands holding her arms with an unreal gentleness and a warmth in his eyes that comforted her even now. "Nothing would make me happier, Virginia." She smiled and closed her eyes. "Merry Christmas, Santa." "Merry Christmas, Virginia;" he said softly as he leaned down to kiss her. Then the night was filled with high-pitched shrieks, a noise that made her eyes snap open. She'd heard noises like that before, once a long time ago in grade school. It sounds like the hissing passage of meteors above, and getting closer. Or what she imagined artillery sounded like when it was incoming, like in all those war movies. Santa's head turned and an almost evil grin crept over his face as he listened. "That's more like it!" he declared, standing tall and pointing at the blackness of the night. "Watch the sky, Virginia;" She looked up and noticed glittering points of light, dozens of them, seeming to get closer. The hissing shriek was indeed their approach and they seemed to be aimed right at them. She felt Santa's hand squeeze on her shoulder, almost in excitement. His blue eyes were blazing ferociously. Finally, what looked like dozens of giant icicles, each larger and longer than a semi, lanced out of the night sky and slammed into the earth around her house, shaking it as they buried their tips in the frozen ground and came to a stop. Several impaled the intruders as they came in, while others kicked up a covering spray of snow as the enemy stopped and looked around in confusion. Then doors or portals opened on the sides of the titan icicles and tall, lithe beings began leaping out of them, wearing weird, form-fitting armor and carrying space-age guns and swords or axes. Their armor and long hair was a riot of colors that was reflected by the snow and ice. Wild, ululating war cries pierced the air. And a savage, bloody battle began on her property. "Who the hell are they?" Ginny almost yelled in astonishment as she watched. They moved with inhuman grace and speed, the ones not wearing helmets revealing long, beautiful facial features that were often frightening because of the wrath they displayed. The helmets were all tall and peaked, showing fearsome designs and glowing eyes. Weird runes pulsed and throbbed with light all over their armor. Guns hissed and shrieked while swords hummed as they slew. "My elves," Santa said, clearly pleased and also eager to fight but not willing to leave her side yet. "They got my call and converged on my position." "Those are elves?" she exclaimed in amazement. "Aren't they cutesy little toy-shop people?" "Cute myth, but no, not these ones," he replied, watching as several elves wearing bone-white armor with feminine features raced past, throwing themselves into a knot of the hulking bugs. They screamed and the masks of their wild-maned helmets gave off vibrations that shook Ginny's teeth in her head as it melted their foes' faces off. "No, a lot of my elves are warriors, meant to help me fight Krampus. They keep Christmas safe with me." "What the hell are they wearing?" she asked in disbelief. How could this weird night get any weirder? Santa sighed. "Truth? They've been spending way too much time playing Warhammer 40k and they; appropriated armor, weapons and tactics from the Eldar faction. They're space elves." "Wow. Gay;" she muttered, shaking her head. "Well, they're certainly earning their keep tonight." He nodded. "Been a long time since Krampus moved against us this hard. Apparently he got bored and was feeling uppity. That or he just forgot what a good thrashing felt like." Ginny watched as three elves, clad in scary black armor and wearing helmets that looked like peaked skulls, marched relentlessly forward, firing little rockets from elaborate launchers they carried in their hands and on suspensor harnesses. The rockets punctured the bugs' chitin shells and exploded inside them, sending shards of exoskeleton and stinking goo in every direction. Ginny squeaked and hid behind Santa as some of the nasty effluence landed right where she'd been standing only a moment before. Beams of super-heated plasma and tiny, shuriken-like projectiles hissed and whizzed by them, the remains of her lovely house now the center of a battleground while the winter storm raged on. Warriors in green armor, carrying weapons that looked like a horrifying hybrid of sword and chainsaw, tore into a knot of foes, slicing them to bloody ribbons. As savage as the battle had been earlier, when it had just been her and Santa, she suddenly appreciated its relative civility. "They need my help," Santa said finally, cracking his knuckles, his expression grim. "We have to finish this off or Christmas won't come on time." "I thought you said there was plenty of time." Ginny protested, frowning up at him. "There was," he admitted. "But in order to defeat Krampus' minions, I summoned every single quantum iteration of myself back to here to help me fight. No one is delivering presents anywhere at the moment. I can't change real-time if I'm here in my entirety." He turned and looked at her. "Hopefully we're keeping them busy enough that they don't worry about you. Stay against the wall and work the music, will you?" "Manning the music station," she said, nodding, focusing on giving herself a task. "Music for Santa and his homicidal elves to kill by. Got it;" She watched as Santa leapt through the shattered remains of her bay doors into the howling storm and crashed into a knot of foes, savaging them. She watched in disbelief for some time, trying to figure out how Santa could kill anyone. I mean, even serial murderers got presents in prison, didn't they? Maybe they didn't, she had no way of knowing and chalked up thinking about this to what could only be described as the weirdest night of her life. She squealed and dodged out of the way as a body came flying through the doors and landed next to her. She scrambled over to the entertainment center and stood in front of it, trying to figure out what the hell she should play. "Okay;" she breathed, trying to focus. "Mass slaughter music; mass slaughter music;" What constituted mass slaughter music? Death metal? Panic At The Disco? Teletubbies music? She had no playlists, so she began cycling through the radio, hoping to find anything that might suffice. Oldies; Christmas music; hip-hop; trance; disco; "Son of a fuck," she muttered. "This is harder than it looks." She finally came across a station playing 'Jailhouse Rock' and decided that was good enough, she was sick of looking. She winced, trying to ignore another splintering crash as a body came through her wall. She hugged herself but then felt her robe. She frowned as she looked down at it, realizing it had been thoroughly shredded in the fight earlier. Those shuriken-thingies had been cutting it real close. Ginny grumbled as she pulled it off and threw it away, standing there completely naked, it hadn't been keeping her warm in its current condition and she was thoroughly beyond giving a shit at this point about who saw her naked. They were all too damn busy tearing one another apart anyway. And that sort of pissed her off. She was buck-naked and no one seemed to care. She'd shaved her cunt for this? "And I thought my night sucked before," she sighed to no one in particular. "Not getting my cunt pounded had been my biggest complaint before this hack!" She never saw the menacing shadow that had slipped up behind her. Santa picked one of his foes up overhead and hurled him into a cluster of foes, bowling them all over. He then punched another man as he tried to run by, knocking him off his feet and into his back. A quick stamp on his solar plexus made sure he stopped moving. The huge man thrust his fist in the air and shouted loudly. "Clear!" he thundered, indicating no other enemies surrounded him. His elves responded in kind, many of them gathering in a tight ring about him, weapons facing out as they sought to protect him. Hundreds of bodies lay strewn across the landscape, some burning from plasma blasts, other shredded and blown apart by rockets or sliced into bloody jerky. The storm seemed to be abating, no longer a blizzard so much as a stiff wind and swirls of snow. "Sire, we detect no enemies in the immediate vicinity," one elf wearing blue armor with a tall, crested helmet announced, striding up and saluting by thumping his gauntleted fist over his heart. "This attack has been defeated." "Maybe," Santa said, looking around warily. "But that doesn't mean anything just yet. We have to secure the area, make sure Virginia is alright and then get back to” "Kringle!" "Damn," he muttered to himself. "I thought this was too easy." He made several complex gestures, sending his elves fanning out in a wide arc as he began trudging forward through the snow, heading toward where the voice had come from out of the night. The winds and squalls of snow continued to die down until there was an almost deafening silence, the moon shining brightly overhead and revealing the sheer carnage of the battle that had been waged, the snow and ice glittered with frozen blood. "Kringle!" snarled the inhuman voice angrily. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" Santa said loudly, scowling. "Don't get your panties in a bunch!" He stopped in a clearing on the other side of the house, glowering at who confronted him, the beast was not as tall as he was, nor as muscular, but horrifying in aspect. The backward-jointed, hairy legs ended in wicked hooves. The skin not covered in coarse black fur was almost as dark and criss-crossed with innumerable scars. The vascular chest was crowned with a strong neck and sitting atop it was a blasphemous head, a demonic goat's visage from which grew four evil, twisting horns. The red eyes blazed like wrathful coals and sharp teeth glistened wetly inside the hateful mouth. Krampus. And in one of his powerful, clawed hands, he held Virginia by the neck, who looked like a rag doll. "Hi, Santa;" she said weakly, looking very apologetic. Santa kept walking forward, clenching his fists. "By all means, Kringle, keep coming forward if you mean to slay the child." Krampus growled, starting to squeeze and causing Ginny to shudder in fear. Santa stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. His elves had now cast a tight net around the scene, hemming in Krampus. One circle of warriors faced inward, pointing their weapons at the abomination while another behind them faced out, prepared for any further attacks. Santa didn't move. "Let the girl go, Krampus," he said levelly. "This doesn't concern her." "Oh, I beg to differ," said the beastman in an almost non-chalant tone. "It's always about the children, isn't it?" "Hey!" said Ginny angrily. "I am not a child, jerk! I'm twenty, Gurr!" "Oh, do stop talking, you're such an annoyance." Krampus said, giving her neck another warning squeeze. "Let the adults work this out." "There's nothing to work out, Krampus," Santa growled, his blue eyes flashing. "You'll let the girl go." "I think we both know that's not happening," intoned the vile intruder. "She is my victory over you, and you know it. Revenge is not only a dish best served cold but often. And not often enough for me." "About this cold revenge dish thing," Ginny said, squirming slightly. "Couldn't; couldn't I just find you a nice tin can to chew on instead?" "Shut up, girl!" Krampus said harshly while several elves could be heard to chuckle and even Santa smirked at her jest. "I hold your life in my hands, to dispose of as I please." His foul breath crackled in the cold night air. His touch was uncomfortably warm, almost hot and strangely kept her body from freezing in the winter night. His touch felt evil and her skin crawled in revulsion. His strength was terrifying. "It wasn't enough that I slaved in coal mines for you, giving you carbon lumps to deliver to naughty children," Krampus growled, glaring at Santa. "It wasn't enough that I found the worst of them and brought them to you in the night so you could lecture them." "Hey, nobody asked you or ordered you to do the coal thing, pal," Santa said angrily. "And the whole kidnapping kids thing was your idea. I decided to let you have some creative control and look what happened. When it didn't work out, you decided that beating naughty kids with reeds was the answer. You're damn right that wasn't good enough!" "Silence!" Krampus snarled loudly, stamping one of his clawed hooves and making the ground shake dangerously. "Your kind-hearted foolishness with these puny mortals changed nothing about their behavior! Your failure to recognize their inherent selfishness was why our efforts were doomed!" "These puny mortals?" Santa countered. "You used to be one of them, Pete, remember? You were a well-behaved boy once." "Shut up!" growled Krampus. "Well-behaved, but not good," Santa continued. "You followed the rules and wanted everyone to follow rules. You were a control freak. I brought you north to show you what kindness could do, but you hated the cheer and the happiness and you fled to the coal mines in Greenland, hiding in the dark where the light of Christmas couldn't touch you! And when making kids feel bad with coal didn't bring them into line, you started the whole whipping them with reeds thing. Good job there, Pete!" "I'm warning you, Kringle;" Krampus said dangerously. "Oh, he really gets your goat, doesn't he?" Ginny sneered, causing several elves to laugh loudly. Krampus now snarled furiously and lifted her into the air by her neck, causing her to cry out in pain. Santa watched warily, knowing better than to make a move. "We seem to have an impasse," Krampus said, an evil smile playing over his slavering mouth. "You cannot harm me, because you know I can slay the child, but I cannot as yet slay her because she is my bargaining chip. But my need to hurt you, old man, is so very strong." He lowered Ginny down until her feet were just touching the snow-covered ground. She frowned as she heard a wet slithering sound she could not identify. "And there are other ways to hurt you than slaying the poor dear, aren't there?" Ginny felt something slimy touch her leg and then start to crawl up it, wrapping around her smooth skin. She shuddered and squirmed in horror as she realized exactly what was happening. The snake-like appendage wound up her thigh and then behind her. She gasped as it slid between her ass cheeks and then underneath to her cunt. She felt the blunt head split her lips and then move upward again. "Don't do this, Krampus." Santa said, trying to figure out what to do without hurting Ginny. "And why not?" replied the qliphotic abomination. "Don't you have a present for me? Then I guess I'll have to give myself one." Krampus' organ continued to slither its way around her body, leaving a glistening trail on her skin. She stiffened and moaned as his appendage wrapped around her tits, squeezing them, the head pausing and teasing the nipples. "Hey, asshole, dinner and a movie first!" she spat angrily. Ginny was about to say something else when the large, grayish cockhead snaked up in front of her face and then plunged into her mouth, causing her to gag and go silent. Her eyes widened and she thrashed furiously, but to no avail. He was simply too strong. "Language, young lady." Krampus chided, still staring at Santa. "Hasn't Santa taught you anything?" "This isn't gonna end well for you, Pete." Santa said, his tone dire. "Christmas never does, Kringle," replied the demon, his cock sliding in and out of Ginny's mouth. "I'm just hoping to make the holiday every bit as awful and intolerable for you as it is for me. After all, misery loves company." He brought her body close to his head and his other hand reached over and stroked her cunt lips, which were glistening. He leered at his foe, knowing Santa was helpless to get closer. "Is she good down here?" Krampus said mockingly. "Nice and wet and tight for you? Was she the best one ever, in the endless list of good girls you have fucked?" Santa said nothing, just glaring at Krampus. His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists. "Sharing your toys is the spirit of Christmas, isn't it?" Krampus said evilly, finally pulling his cock out of her mouth. Ginny coughed and sputtered, tendrils of resinous spittle and worse trailing away from her lips. She glared at Krampus but was still immobilized. "Just get this over with and fuck me already, whip-cock," she spat. "You won't be my first egotistical disappointment, trust me." Krampus' eyes blazed red and his tongue sped around her naked form blindingly quickly while he released her from his clawed grip. The tongue wrapped and immobilized her arms, holding them out straight while still encircling her tits. It then snaked around her waist and legs, pinning those as well while his long cock, swaying about like a cobra, came to a stop in front of her swollen cunt lips. The head teased and tapped against the opening, causing her to moan and squirm. "As you wish, child;" The head forced itself through her lips, sliding deep inside her. Ginny cried out in a mixture of shock and indescribable pleasure. She felt the tip of his pointed tongue probe trailing around her nipples. The python-like length of his cock churned inside her cunt. The blinding light behind her eyes finally receded and she lifted her head, looking out into the night, feeling his tongue constricting around her neck. She could dimly see a huge being in red pants and black boots watching nearby, his powerful chest exposed. The startling blue eyes flashed in the darkness of the night. She could tell he wanted to rescue her but didn't dare come closer. She gasped and shuddered as Krampus' cock pushed still deeper inside her. She felt fuller than she had imagined possible, the slithering appendage stretching her wide. The sticky, squelching noises were hardly to be believed. "Ew, gross! Hentai noises!" she thought in revulsion. "Krampus;" Santa warned. His elves all pointed their weapons menacingly but he held up his hand, staying them. "The child is naughty," Krampus said, smiling through pointed teeth. "Very naughty. Such a sordid past." "Hey, back off, she was young and needed the money!" Santa snapped defensively. "That thing with the midget and the donkey was” "You're not helping here!" Ginny shouted, blushing furiously, even as Krampus violated her. "Wicked child," growled the vile demon, shoving his cock in and out of her, the peristaltic actions of its length causing her to writhe and squirm in his grip, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Shameless. Even though I violate her, she finds a way to be concerned about how you perceive her. I find it; titillating." "Oh, do I make you horny?" she sneered, turning her head to smirk at him. "Couldn't tell, looking at that head of yours." "Silence!" Krampus hissed, spittle flying from his jaws, his eyes flashing angrily. "I hold your life and death in my hands." "How would I know?" she shot back. "Hope you're better with your hands than you are with your cock, Billy G." He plunged his cock deeper still inside her. She went rigid and cried out. "That all you got?" she rasped, trying not to faint as she felt popping inside her hips while he stetched her. "My brother got in deeper than that when we were little!" "Insolent!" Krampus snarled savagely, bouncing her up and down and he fucked her harder than ever, pulling on her arms and legs, stretching her joints til they creaked. She felt a deep, wet heat building inside her and in spite of the horror she consciously felt about the situation, even more dire was her need to cum. She felt her cunt squeezing around his cock. His snake-like tongue probed her ass and wriggled inside, further adding to her desperation. "Intholent bith, you will be punithed!" "What was that?" Santa asked, turning his head slightly and putting his hand to his ear. "I couldn't understand you, it's like you have a lisp or something." "Don't mock meef!" Krampus said angrily, his tongue whipping out of Ginny's ass, causing her to yelp suddenly. "I'll kill her, Kringle!" "Not before I cum, damn you!" Ginny panted, her body flushed and covered in sweat as she twisted and writhed in his grip. "Uh, so close, goddammit!" "Language!" Santa and Krampus both snapped at her. "Aw, c'mon!" she wailed. "You two are total pains in the ass! Do it, Billy! Show me what a bad boy you are!" Krampus glared at her and began fucking her harder than ever. "As you wish, child!" "Krampus!" Santa shouted, reaching out his hand in alarm. "Don't!" Krampus grinned evilly at Santa, his teeth clenching as he drew close to climax. His cock seemed to swell along its length, stretching her wider still. She threw her head back and gritted her teeth, straining as she was overwhelmed by sensation; Santa's fist slammed across Krampus' jaw with a powerful crack. The demonoid's eyes rolled into his head and he crumpled to the ground. Ginny wailed in frustration as his cock pulled out of her and retreated back to his body, like a wet, slimy Stanley tape measure. She collapsed to her hands and knees in the snow, panting and shaking, her eyes wide. Santa raced up and knelt next to her, his eyes shining with concern. "Fuck;" Ginny whispered, gasping for air. "Motherfucker;" She looked up at her rescuer now, her eyes flashing accusingly. "The hell? Couldn't you have let him make me cum first?" Santa paused. "What?" "I was so damn close!" she hissed, standing up and stamping her foot. "I was within half a second of the orgasm of my life and you had to choose that moment to intervene and play the hero! Don't expect a thank you card!" "Uh, Virginia," Santa said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to figure out what to say. "If he had brought you to orgasm, it would have killed you. When Krampus climaxes, his appendage you were so attached to bursts into spikes, basically killing you from the inside while denying you your orgasm." She paused and then deflated. "Holy cobra dildos. What a bastard." Ginny then pointed a finger at her savior. "But you still owe me an orgasm, then, pal. You may have rescued me from certain death, but that doesn't mean I don't need relief." Santa looked really confused. "What, here? Now?" "Damn straight," she said firmly, suddenly remembering she was buck naked in a snow-storm. In spite of the no-doubt freezing weather, her body was still warm and very wet with need. She put her hand down her cunt and felt around for a moment before presenting her sticky palm and fingers to Santa for inspection. "Do I look satisfied to you? You've already fucked me, Screamo the Goat Boy just fucked me, who cares if your freaky gay elves watch us? I need satisfaction now and I already am aware that you can't say no." Santa sighed. "It's gotta be quick, Virginia. I'm really behind, now that I'm completely temporal in one location." "Whatever, just get me to the promised land, man." Ginny replied, shrugging. "Who knows, maybe your entourage might enjoy a show." "Oh, right, about that," Santa said, standing up tall and shouting loudly. "About; Face!" As a single unit, the elves all turned around smartly on their heels, still arranged in a protective ring around their liege and his companion, weapons ready as they scanned the darkness for trouble, their eyes glowing menacingly inside their helmets. Santa strode up to Ginny, towering over her and ignoring the prostrate form of the still-unconscious Krampus, snuffling nearby. She smiled up at him, somehow warmed by his presence, in spite of the icy night she should have frozen to death in already. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. She moaned into his mouth as she felt her already molten core getting even more heated in response to his touch. Tongues tangled and played as he took her ass cheeks in his hands and squeezed them, making her shiver. Ginny's hands fumbled with his large black belt until it fell away and then pulled down his red pants. He pulled her onto his powerful thighs, resting her on them. She hooked her legs behind his waist and began grinding her wet, eager cunt against his hardening cock, which swelled readily. Her head was almost spinning, she was so horny. "Hmm, give it to me, baby," she purred, feeling the head of his cock touch her cunt lips. "Make me cum hard and fast." She sighed loudly as he pulled her close, penetrating and sliding deep inside her. Ginny moaned shamelessly as Santa once again began to pump back and forth inside her. His huge cock stretched her cunt wide, but not in the violent, violating way Krampus did. This felt warm and utterly perfect. She nipped at the skin of his chest while he moved in and out of her. "Yes," Ginny breathed as he began to moved faster, pumping strongly and rhythmically. She could feel her wetness trickling down between her cheeks, her cunt clutching at him hungrily, greedily and unwilling to let go until it was somehow sated. "Oh, God, just what I needed. Yes, fuck me, Santa!" He gripped her tight and thrust into her, picking up his pace just the way she wanted. She was gasping and yelping now and he squeezed her cheeks, one of his fingers poking inside her puckered knot. She clenched her teeth and groaned at the intrusion, murmuring that she loved it. She grew warmer and warmer, her body tingling with an exquisite fire that rippled out from her core. Santa turned her around and set her feet on top of his boots, bending her forward and pulling on her arms. She cried out as he fucked her harder, his hips thumping against her ass cheeks. Her hands clenched wildly, her breath coming in gasps as his overwhelming strength dominated her. "Oh, God!" she panted, beginning to shudder uncontrollably, almost drooling. "Uh, cum in me, dammit! Fucking cum in me!" Santa pulled on her arms even tighter as his thighs slammed into her. Ginny strained, craning her neck, teeth clenched as she tried not to scream, but it was no use, she wailed loudly as he came inside her, filling her once again in a way she could not describe. Her orgasm shook every last atom of her being, transporting her to a world of nothing but pleasure, edged with mint. She buckled, hanging loosely in his arms, exhausted. She'd been fucked hard at least five times tonight and had a dreadful suspicion that this experience would only make her libido even more hyperactive. She sighed as Santa scooped her naked form into his arms and cuddled her against the cold. Ginny purred and traced a fingernail across his broad chest. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Just what the doctor ordered. That quenched the flames, for now." He finally put her down and she looked at the remains of her ruined chateau, which was completely leveled and now on fire. "Poor Oatmeal," she murmured. "Where am I going to live?" She scowled down at the still supine Krampus, anger flaring in her. "It's this jack wagon’s fault. You should totally napalm his face." Santa looked down at her in shock. "Did you just say I should jerk off in Krampus' face?" "Damn right, he'd deserve it too." Ginny announced. "That and shove your sleigh up his ass." "I am not jizzing in Krampus' face." Santa said, clearly repulsed by the suggestion. "Fine, leave a woman to do a man's job," Ginny said testily, striding over to Krampus and putting one leg on either side of his head. She stuck three fingers inside her cunt and managed to tease out considerable amounts of Santa's minty cum, which she smeared all over Krampus' face and into his fur with glee, even giving him a glistening white moustache. "Take that, asshole!" She looked like she might have been done desecrating the unconscious form, but then she paused and squatted over him, peeing on his body and face, the stream steaming in the cold night air. She grinned evilly as she thoroughly baptized him. "Teach you to mess with me." Ginny muttered as she walked back to Santa, nodding. The huge man had a wide smirk on his face and shook his head slowly. "I can't believe you just pissed all over Krampus," he said, hugging her to him. "However, you're going to freeze to death at this rate;" He held out his hand and one of his elves dutifully brought him a large, velvety red cloak, which he wrapped around her. She blushed and smiled gratefully at his consideration, but only until he slid it off her, revealing that she was now wearing some ridiculous 'Hot Christmas Elf' outfit, complete with striped stockings and high heels. She looked like a Yule whore. "Seriously?" she asked, unimpressed. "This is your solution to my naked issues?" He shrugged. "I liked you better naked, but you would freeze quickly." "Whatever," she sighed, looking down and appreciating the considerable lift it gave her cleavage. It was incredibly warm, in spite of how scant it was. "So now what? I still have no damn home, you and Goatse here blew it up with your little barnyard brawl." Santa looked around warily. "That might be the least of your worries. The wind's picking up again, which means that another assault is coming. We need to get out of here." "Sire!" said one of the armored elves, thumping his fist to his breastplate and bowing his head. "We will cover you. You must go while you still have a head-start and the dark one is unconscious." Santa nodded. "Yeah, he's not gonna be happy when he wakes up and he's really gonna want revenge on you, Virginia." She felt her mouth go dry at the notion of another battle and Krampus waking up to even the score. "So; now what?" Santa shrugged. "I'd say it's fairly obvious. I've still got to make my rounds before the night is over and I'm not leaving you here;" She gaped as he put his hands on her shoulders and looked down into her eyes. "Virginia, you're coming with me and you're going to help save Christmas." Chapter 3, Christmas Wishes "How the hell do you drive this thing?" Ginny called in a panic, her eyes wide as she held onto the reigns, twisting them wildly as she tried to steer. Up ahead of her, eight large reindeer squealed and thrashed their heads. The sleigh corkscrewed while it hurtled through the cold night air, the moon shining down on them. "Well, first of all, stop panicking," Santa replied as he stood on the back of the sleigh, atop his huge red sack of toys. He was more or less back to his original size she had become accustomed to, now that he had sent his other 'iterations' of himself out over the globe to deliver presents. "That would be an excellent start." "Easy for you to say," she snapped, scowling back at him for a moment since taking her eyes off her designated path seemed to make no difference to how she was doing at navigating. "You're used to doing this!" "Trust me, between the two of us, you're the one with the easy job right now and I'd be happy to trade," he called back as he ducked wildly. A comically large rocket thundered by, with an evil-looking man strapped to the bottom of it, swinging a weapon wildly to hit Santa. "Try to keep her steady!" "While dodging psychos on rockets, no problem!" she grumbled, trying to ignore the howling wind and roaring projectiles. "Have I mentioned Krampus is a gigantic asshole?" "Repeatedly," Santa answered, watching warily. The sky was threaded with jets of fire as their enemies kept coming about in ponderous, elliptical arcs and heading back towards them, intent on their destruction. They had only just pulled off from the smoldering remains of Ginny's country chateau when the assault began. Krampus was nowhere to be seen, but his minions were clearly determined to avenge him. "Maybe urinating on him wasn't such a good idea. He never did take humiliation well." Ginny squawked in alarm and ducked as a rocket streaked right at her. Santa jumped in the air, doing the splits to avoid the projectile and landing back on top of his present sack. Another tried to pull up alongside them but Santa grabbed the harness the man was wearing and wrenched the rocket off course, sending it speeding into one some distance away. Both rockets (and presumably their pilots) exploded in a violent orgy of noise and flashing lights. "Really hope people just think those are fireworks," Santa muttered as he looked glared balefully at yet another rocket considering approaching. "Fireworks right in the middle of the world's most spastic meteor shower. Sure, they'll buy that;" "Funny part is I can't tell if you're serious," Ginny said loudly. "If they don't believe that narrative, then they've gotta accept that Santa Claus was engaged in an epic air battle over their town with quantum men strapped to rockets." "Truth is often stranger than fiction," Santa agreed, nodding. "Fighting these jerks off is taking too much time!" "Well, don't you have anything in your back of tricks there?" Ginny asked. In spite of the sleigh being open, it seemed to have some weird form of climate control and she'd been getting rather warm. To that end she'd pulled down her top, exposing her tits to cool herself off. The breeze allowed through made her nipples tingle delightfully, but not enough to distract her from driving the sleigh. After all, she often drove ninety minutes to her job wearing a vibrating insert in her panties, so she knew for a fact she could orgasm and still control a vehicle. A wheeled one, at least. She wasn't so sure about a sleigh doing Mach Three at twenty thousand feet. "You mean a weapon?" Santa asked. "In the bag full of toys for kids?" "You gave me a nerf gun out of that bag and it turned out to be some sort of doomsday device, didn't it?" she pointed out. "Scary lightning bolts everywhere. I refuse to believe you don't have some other goodies in there." Santa shrugged and squatted down to look inside the bag, getting narrowly missed by another rocket that shot over his head. The pilot cursed and came around again, aiming directly at the chassis of the sleigh from the side. Ginny's eyes widened in fright as she saw him approach. She jerked the reins to one side and the sleigh tilted ninety degrees, presenting its wide, flat red underside. The rocket slammed into it and exploded. Whatever it was made of or whatever shielding was in place, Ginny only heard the detonation and felt a rumble, but there was no damage aside from that. "Ha!" Santa said, standing tall and holding an electric guitar in the air, its black body gleamed in the moonlight. He put the strap around his neck and took several seconds to tune it, ignoring the aerial mayhem that swirled around him. "The hell are you going to do with that?" Ginny asked, scowling as she looked behind to see what he was up to. "You said to find something, I found something," he said simply as he checked the pickups. "Now let's see what we can do here;" He took the pick in hand and strummed it across the strings, a screeching pulse of sound blared out from the instrument, heading in all directions. It struck several rockets nearby, which exploded brightly. Other were knocked off course, spiraling around crazily as they fought for control. Santa laughed loudly, apparently enjoying himself. "Quit laughing and kill, red man!" Ginny yelled, nonplussed by his amusement. "I want to survive the night and I've had several close calls with death already!" "I'm working on it, Virginia, patience." Santa chided, adjusting the tuners momentarily. "Near-death experiences make you cranky." "No shit, Sherlock," she grumbled as he blasted out another screeching wave of sound. "Do you plan to play anything or just keep shrieking out that one sound?" "As you wish," he said cheerfully, pleased to be doing as she asked. Making her happy was all he cared about. He began playing a heavy metal version of Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyries', the pulsing walls of sound thundering out and striking every foe within hundreds of

Miracle On Route 34: Part 2 Virginia and Santa face extreme danger together. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Someone attacked Santa with a wicked-looking spiked hand-axe, something out of a sci-fi movie. He batted the weapon aside and clapped his open hands across the man's ears, busting his brain. Before he dropped, Santa grabbed the corpse and swung it around in a wide arc, smashing it into the foes surrounding him and knocking them back. "Shit!" Ginny squealed as one of the targets landed near her. "It's like the fucking Matrix in here!" As he threw the corpse away, he paused very briefly and glanced at her. "Since you happen to be right there, how about a little mood music?" "What?" "I'm just saying some music would be nice if we're going to be doing this," he called. "You're next to the entertainment system, how about putting something on?" "You’re shitting me, right?" she almost complained, wincing as she heard something delicate-sounding and expensive smash behind her amidst the wild brawl. She stared at the multimedia system, flapping her arms in frustration as she tried to focus through the noise. This couldn't be happening. She clutched the sleeves of her plush robe for a moment, trying to concentrate on its soft, fuzzy texture and center herself. She'd almost forgotten the large nerf gun in her hands but ignored it now, fixing her gaze on the mp3 playlist. She pressed a button. "Silent night; Holy night;" Bing crooned through the room. "Not really what I had in mind!" Santa mentioned loudly as he rammed his knee into a man's chin. "Try again!" Ginny bit her lip and pressed the button again, this time rewarded with Gary Glitter singing 'Another Rock And Roll Christmas'. "Still not quite there," he said as he snapmared another foe. "Better, but not quite!" "Well I don't know!" she shouted in exasperation. "What kind of music do you put on while Santa kills things in your living room?" Santa turned sideways and thrust his foot out, kicking an intruder in the chest and sending him sprawling backwards, rolling head over heels until he thumped into the entertainment system, jolting it and skipping the player. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Perfect!" he declared as he fought, swarmed once again by foes. "Seriously?" Ginny yelled. "Combichrist is Santa's fucking fighting groove?" "I'm trying to figure out why you have it on your playlist," Santa replied. "I don't remember you liking aggrotech!" "Why the hell do you of all people even know what it is?" she shot back, wincing as she watched another body sail into the opposite wall with a sickening crunch before dropping to the floor and leaving a huge, crumbling dent in the stone. 'This Shit Will Fuck You Up!' "I prefer the term 'Hellektro' myself," he added. "And I know all songs, silly. I remember when the Dayglo Abortions wrote that 'Hey Santa!' song back in the '80's, they didn't get presents for” "I didn't ask, why are you answering?" she hissed. "Kill! Kill!" All the while, the pounding rhythms of the music filled the room. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Well, at least we know why it's on your playlist, anyway!" he mentioned as he broke someone's back over his knee. "Very funny, red man!" Ginny hissed, scowling. She ducked wildly as another assailant flew overhead and landed in the Jacuzzi, his neck slamming against the hard edge with a snap noise and then tilting at a strange angle, his eyes wide and unseeing. "Fucking hell," she muttered. "These guys eat too much red meat!" Santa smashed two heads together before punting a third man in the chest, sending him staggering back until he fell against the entertainment unit, right next to Ginny, his eyes spiraling in his head. She scowled down at him for a moment before smashing the pitcher of nog on his cranium and sending him to the floor. Every single intruder stopped and turned to look at her suddenly, their eyes narrowing and turning very yellow. "Eep;" Ginny said quietly, going pale. They all howled and lunged toward her, even as Santa fought to reach her first. She shrieked in fright. "Darn it, Ginny!" he shouted in what almost sounded like irritation. "I told you not to do anything!" "You said not to use the stupid nerf gun!" she shot back as she dodged wildly and began to run around, evading her pursuers. "I meant don't do anything to get yourself noticed!" he growled as he bulldogged one man's head into the floor. He sprang to his feet and grabbed another man by the back of the head, ramming his face into the stone wall, creating a small crater from which the body slumped only slowly and wetly. "How the hell did they not notice the mostly naked girl in the room?" she yelled, sprinting around the circumference of the room, being chased by yellow-eyed foes. "They're mostly quantum, they don't always perceive real-state things or beings until they're interacted with!" he answered. "They weren't looking for you until you announced yourself!" "Oh, you and your weird physics shit!" she groused, her robe coming more and more undone as she ran. One of her tits was exposed, bouncing annoyingly and the nipple hardening as a cold wind from the endless holes in her walls and windows blew into the room. "Now what?" "Well, since they know you're here, you might as well use the gun," he answered as he tackled a small knot of them who were looking to cut off her avenue of escape. "At least then you can defend yourself if you're careful!" "The fuck am I supposed to do?" she shouted angrily as she clutched the ridiculous, useless gun. "Nerf them to death? Hope I shoot one foam dart down a throat and hope the bastard chokes and dies?" "Didn't you just let me inside all of your orifices?" he pointed out as he spun low, sweeping one foe's feet from under him and then taking him by the ankles to slam him off the floor. "Trust me, Virginia!" "Dammit!" she spat, steeling her nerve, hoping her resolve was harder than her nipple currently was. Taking a deep breath, she stopped running and spun, pointing the gun and pulling the plastic trigger; She yelped in astonishment as coruscating arcs of lightning crackled and lashed out from the muzzle, enveloping several foes, who wailed in glowing agony before disappearing from view. "Jesus H Fucking Tesla!" she exclaimed in amazement as she gaped down at her toy. "Virginia, language!" Santa warned. She rolled her eyes and pointed at another man rushing her, pulling the trigger and watching him explode in a shower of scintillating particles. "This shit will fuck you up!" blared the speakers. The wall splintered next to Ginny and several terrifying creatures barged in, causing her to shriek in fright, they were easily Santa's size, vaguely humanoid but covered in a greyish, segmented carapace, with insectoid heads, evil-looking mandibles and huge claws at the end of four arms. They hissed as the lunged for her. "Fuck fuck fuck!" cried out as she began running. "Fucking hate motherfucking bugs!" She fired wildly behind herself without looking, managing to strike one of the new creatures but only slowing it down. Ginny raced for the stairs, stampeding up them only to find more of the yellow-eyed humanoids waiting for her. "Santa!" she cried out in terror. "Help!" He glanced her way and grimaced at her predicament. "Aw, hell;" With a strength born of the desperation to protect one of his precious children, he surged forward, shoulder-blocking his way through a knot of assailants, springing through the air with astonishing agility, alternately using the wall and railing of the stairs to get to the upper floor, twisting and executing a flying kick that downed a foe about to attack Ginny. "Good thing I wore my enhanced parkour boots tonight, eh?" he muttered as he glared at the foes crowding to get up the stairs or down the hallway at them. "I don't even know what that means." Ginny snapped, backing up warily as the horde coming for them grew in numbers. "If that's some sort of geek speak, then we, are you getting bigger?" "I guess I am," he replied, grimly, glaring at their foes. "I don't expect what I'm saying to make sense, but the other iterations of me, my other selves, they're all coming here, merging with me to help meet the threat." "You're; consolidating?" she asked in disbelief. "That's one way to look at it," he said, his blue eyes flashing. "It's gonna make finishing the Christmas run tight if I get held up here much longer." "Oh, terribly sorry if I'm inconveniencing you, your highness." Ginny said, trying to not sound too snide. He put his body between her and her foes, backing her up against the wall. "They can't come through the wall you're up against, it's the South wall," he said quietly but with a sense of urgency. "You're safe from that angle. You can fire your gun past me or over the rail at the guys down below. Since they're trying to reach you that means they've solidified enough that they can't do crazy things like jump seven meters up to reach you, they'll have to use the stairs." "I thought they were after you." Ginny said hotly. "They were, until you announced yourself with a jug of nog," he pointed out. "Now they want to destroy you to hurt me." "Oh. Sorry." Ginny mumbled somewhat sheepishly. "You can make it up to me later!" he said as he surged forward suddenly, bulling his way through the approaching crowd, clotheslining several at once. Shouts went up and the fight was on again. Santa punched, kicked, elbowed, kneed and wrenched his way through the enemy horde. Ginny swore he was indeed bigger than he had been earlier. His already hard body physique was almost bulging with muscles now, like a California beach bodybuilder. Black blood glistened on his flawless skin as he maimed the attackers. Droplets that hit the carpet sizzled and ate through it, burning the hardwood floor beneath. "No!" Ginny wailed in despair. "Not the hardwood! I loved that feature!" She glared and gritted her teeth as she leaned over the railing and pointed the nerf gun down at the endless crowd on the main floor, pulling the trigger. The crackling arcs of energy enveloped several foes, who wailed and vanished. Same as before, the giant insectoids rarely disappeared but seemed slowed or staggered by the attack. Santa fought his way forward, forcing the attackers back from Ginny. Try as they might, no one got by him, even if it meant that they could strike at him instead. He took their assaults resolutely, using his body as a shield to protect her. Before long, the floor of the hallway was littered with bodies, some barely stirring, others not moving at all. Still, the foes swarmed up the stairs. One of the bug-things swiped at him with its vicious claws and he ducked under the blow before kicking his boot into one of the reverse-jointed legs, snapping it. The bug screeched and tumbled and he leapt onto its back, grabbing hold of one of the large, wet-grey chitinous plates that armored its back and pulled, it tore away with a mushy crack and the beast's keened agony as it shuddered and thrashed. Without pausing, Santa whirled around and slammed the exoskeletal plate across several men's heads, dropping them. Ginny kept firing the nerf tesla gun, wondering what sort of sociopath would invent a deadly weapon that looked like a famous kid's toy. She pushed it from her mind, realizing that she wanted to live and didn't care at the moment about the social mores of the issue. Santa was using the huge chitin plate almost like a shield, driving his foes back with it to the stairs. It finally cracked in half and he punched through the mess, unwilling to give the enemy time to regroup. He spun one man around with a fist across the jaw before grabbing his arms from behind and ramming his knee into the man's back, lifting him off the floor and letting him slam his spine onto the stairs. Without waiting, Santa launched himself through the air, knee raised and smashed it into the face of a man on the stair's corner landing. The foe's head went back through the wall with a loud crunch and he hung there limply, no longer part of the battle. "Ack!" Ginny squawked as the nerf gun sputtered and let out several impotent flashes and then died. "Not now! No no no!" One foe had broken through the cordon and now raced toward her. She yelled loudly and smashed the butt of her nerf gun into his face, staggering him for a moment. She glared at him angrily, waiting for him to fall, but her didn't, so she kicked him in the crotch with her instep. He groaned and sunk to his knees, holding himself. Ginny was practically jumping up and down on top of him by the time he stopped moving. "Stay; the; fuck; down!" she shouted angrily as she turned his ribcage into powder. She failed to notice the one last foe who rushed up behind her. But then Santa was at her side and he delivered a devastating haymaker to the man's thorax. Stunned, the intruder staggered back against the railing. With a growl, Santa grabbed him by the face and ruthlessly bent his back over the railing before leaping over and slamming his elbow across the man's neck as he went down to the main floor. The lifeless form crumpled next to him as he looked around, glaring. No foes remained standing. Aside from the music, all was quiet. "It is safe?" Ginny called from the gallery. "Are the scary guys and bug-thingies all gone?" "No," Santa said warily. "And the next wave is even bigger." "Great!" Ginny complained, tossing the useless nerf gun over the side. "And according to you, there's no one that can help us!" "I didn't say that," he countered, beckoning for her to come down the stairs and be near him for protection. "I just said there was no Easter Bunny." "No Superman either, apparently," she grumbled as she approached him, letting him put a huge arm around her possessively. He was, indeed, bigger than ever. She was practically child-sized next to him now. "So who the hell is there to help us?" "If help's arriving it had better get here soon," he said, taking her to the remains of her big glass bay windows and back door. The wind was howling as snow drove into the living room. What was left of it, anyway. Which was nothing. "It's now or never. Can you see them?" She peered into the darkness outside and a chill ran down her spine, hundreds of red and yellow glowing eyes could be seen in the darkness. And they seemed to be getting closer. "Do; do they see me?" she asked, swallowing nervously. "I'm sure they do," he said, grimacing. "Not going to take a chance and assume they don't. I'll do everything I can to protect you, of course." "Is; is that going to be enough?" She could hear the angry hisses and an evil chanting outside clearly now, getting closer with each moment. It pained Santa that he couldn't lie to her. "I don't know, Virginia." She sighed and smiled weakly. "Well, at least I know there's a Santa Claus now. And he gave me the night of my life before it all ended." He returned the smile, trying to feign a cheerfulness he didn't feel. "I don't;" Ginny faltered, trying to find the words. "I don't suppose that you'd; well; that you'd be willing to kiss me one last time? You know, before the end?" He turned to look down at her, his hands holding her arms with an unreal gentleness and a warmth in his eyes that comforted her even now. "Nothing would make me happier, Virginia." She smiled and closed her eyes. "Merry Christmas, Santa." "Merry Christmas, Virginia;" he said softly as he leaned down to kiss her. Then the night was filled with high-pitched shrieks, a noise that made her eyes snap open. She'd heard noises like that before, once a long time ago in grade school. It sounds like the hissing passage of meteors above, and getting closer. Or what she imagined artillery sounded like when it was incoming, like in all those war movies. Santa's head turned and an almost evil grin crept over his face as he listened. "That's more like it!" he declared, standing tall and pointing at the blackness of the night. "Watch the sky, Virginia;" She looked up and noticed glittering points of light, dozens of them, seeming to get closer. The hissing shriek was indeed their approach and they seemed to be aimed right at them. She felt Santa's hand squeeze on her shoulder, almost in excitement. His blue eyes were blazing ferociously. Finally, what looked like dozens of giant icicles, each larger and longer than a semi, lanced out of the night sky and slammed into the earth around her house, shaking it as they buried their tips in the frozen ground and came to a stop. Several impaled the intruders as they came in, while others kicked up a covering spray of snow as the enemy stopped and looked around in confusion. Then doors or portals opened on the sides of the titan icicles and tall, lithe beings began leaping out of them, wearing weird, form-fitting armor and carrying space-age guns and swords or axes. Their armor and long hair was a riot of colors that was reflected by the snow and ice. Wild, ululating war cries pierced the air. And a savage, bloody battle began on her property. "Who the hell are they?" Ginny almost yelled in astonishment as she watched. They moved with inhuman grace and speed, the ones not wearing helmets revealing long, beautiful facial features that were often frightening because of the wrath they displayed. The helmets were all tall and peaked, showing fearsome designs and glowing eyes. Weird runes pulsed and throbbed with light all over their armor. Guns hissed and shrieked while swords hummed as they slew. "My elves," Santa said, clearly pleased and also eager to fight but not willing to leave her side yet. "They got my call and converged on my position." "Those are elves?" she exclaimed in amazement. "Aren't they cutesy little toy-shop people?" "Cute myth, but no, not these ones," he replied, watching as several elves wearing bone-white armor with feminine features raced past, throwing themselves into a knot of the hulking bugs. They screamed and the masks of their wild-maned helmets gave off vibrations that shook Ginny's teeth in her head as it melted their foes' faces off. "No, a lot of my elves are warriors, meant to help me fight Krampus. They keep Christmas safe with me." "What the hell are they wearing?" she asked in disbelief. How could this weird night get any weirder? Santa sighed. "Truth? They've been spending way too much time playing Warhammer 40k and they; appropriated armor, weapons and tactics from the Eldar faction. They're space elves." "Wow. Gay;" she muttered, shaking her head. "Well, they're certainly earning their keep tonight." He nodded. "Been a long time since Krampus moved against us this hard. Apparently he got bored and was feeling uppity. That or he just forgot what a good thrashing felt like." Ginny watched as three elves, clad in scary black armor and wearing helmets that looked like peaked skulls, marched relentlessly forward, firing little rockets from elaborate launchers they carried in their hands and on suspensor harnesses. The rockets punctured the bugs' chitin shells and exploded inside them, sending shards of exoskeleton and stinking goo in every direction. Ginny squeaked and hid behind Santa as some of the nasty effluence landed right where she'd been standing only a moment before. Beams of super-heated plasma and tiny, shuriken-like projectiles hissed and whizzed by them, the remains of her lovely house now the center of a battleground while the winter storm raged on. Warriors in green armor, carrying weapons that looked like a horrifying hybrid of sword and chainsaw, tore into a knot of foes, slicing them to bloody ribbons. As savage as the battle had been earlier, when it had just been her and Santa, she suddenly appreciated its relative civility. "They need my help," Santa said finally, cracking his knuckles, his expression grim. "We have to finish this off or Christmas won't come on time." "I thought you said there was plenty of time." Ginny protested, frowning up at him. "There was," he admitted. "But in order to defeat Krampus' minions, I summoned every single quantum iteration of myself back to here to help me fight. No one is delivering presents anywhere at the moment. I can't change real-time if I'm here in my entirety." He turned and looked at her. "Hopefully we're keeping them busy enough that they don't worry about you. Stay against the wall and work the music, will you?" "Manning the music station," she said, nodding, focusing on giving herself a task. "Music for Santa and his homicidal elves to kill by. Got it;" She watched as Santa leapt through the shattered remains of her bay doors into the howling storm and crashed into a knot of foes, savaging them. She watched in disbelief for some time, trying to figure out how Santa could kill anyone. I mean, even serial murderers got presents in prison, didn't they? Maybe they didn't, she had no way of knowing and chalked up thinking about this to what could only be described as the weirdest night of her life. She squealed and dodged out of the way as a body came flying through the doors and landed next to her. She scrambled over to the entertainment center and stood in front of it, trying to figure out what the hell she should play. "Okay;" she breathed, trying to focus. "Mass slaughter music; mass slaughter music;" What constituted mass slaughter music? Death metal? Panic At The Disco? Teletubbies music? She had no playlists, so she began cycling through the radio, hoping to find anything that might suffice. Oldies; Christmas music; hip-hop; trance; disco; "Son of a fuck," she muttered. "This is harder than it looks." She finally came across a station playing 'Jailhouse Rock' and decided that was good enough, she was sick of looking. She winced, trying to ignore another splintering crash as a body came through her wall. She hugged herself but then felt her robe. She frowned as she looked down at it, realizing it had been thoroughly shredded in the fight earlier. Those shuriken-thingies had been cutting it real close. Ginny grumbled as she pulled it off and threw it away, standing there completely naked, it hadn't been keeping her warm in its current condition and she was thoroughly beyond giving a shit at this point about who saw her naked. They were all too damn busy tearing one another apart anyway. And that sort of pissed her off. She was buck-naked and no one seemed to care. She'd shaved her cunt for this? "And I thought my night sucked before," she sighed to no one in particular. "Not getting my cunt pounded had been my biggest complaint before this hack!" She never saw the menacing shadow that had slipped up behind her. Santa picked one of his foes up overhead and hurled him into a cluster of foes, bowling them all over. He then punched another man as he tried to run by, knocking him off his feet and into his back. A quick stamp on his solar plexus made sure he stopped moving. The huge man thrust his fist in the air and shouted loudly. "Clear!" he thundered, indicating no other enemies surrounded him. His elves responded in kind, many of them gathering in a tight ring about him, weapons facing out as they sought to protect him. Hundreds of bodies lay strewn across the landscape, some burning from plasma blasts, other shredded and blown apart by rockets or sliced into bloody jerky. The storm seemed to be abating, no longer a blizzard so much as a stiff wind and swirls of snow. "Sire, we detect no enemies in the immediate vicinity," one elf wearing blue armor with a tall, crested helmet announced, striding up and saluting by thumping his gauntleted fist over his heart. "This attack has been defeated." "Maybe," Santa said, looking around warily. "But that doesn't mean anything just yet. We have to secure the area, make sure Virginia is alright and then get back to” "Kringle!" "Damn," he muttered to himself. "I thought this was too easy." He made several complex gestures, sending his elves fanning out in a wide arc as he began trudging forward through the snow, heading toward where the voice had come from out of the night. The winds and squalls of snow continued to die down until there was an almost deafening silence, the moon shining brightly overhead and revealing the sheer carnage of the battle that had been waged, the snow and ice glittered with frozen blood. "Kringle!" snarled the inhuman voice angrily. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" Santa said loudly, scowling. "Don't get your panties in a bunch!" He stopped in a clearing on the other side of the house, glowering at who confronted him, the beast was not as tall as he was, nor as muscular, but horrifying in aspect. The backward-jointed, hairy legs ended in wicked hooves. The skin not covered in coarse black fur was almost as dark and criss-crossed with innumerable scars. The vascular chest was crowned with a strong neck and sitting atop it was a blasphemous head, a demonic goat's visage from which grew four evil, twisting horns. The red eyes blazed like wrathful coals and sharp teeth glistened wetly inside the hateful mouth. Krampus. And in one of his powerful, clawed hands, he held Virginia by the neck, who looked like a rag doll. "Hi, Santa;" she said weakly, looking very apologetic. Santa kept walking forward, clenching his fists. "By all means, Kringle, keep coming forward if you mean to slay the child." Krampus growled, starting to squeeze and causing Ginny to shudder in fear. Santa stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. His elves had now cast a tight net around the scene, hemming in Krampus. One circle of warriors faced inward, pointing their weapons at the abomination while another behind them faced out, prepared for any further attacks. Santa didn't move. "Let the girl go, Krampus," he said levelly. "This doesn't concern her." "Oh, I beg to differ," said the beastman in an almost non-chalant tone. "It's always about the children, isn't it?" "Hey!" said Ginny angrily. "I am not a child, jerk! I'm twenty, Gurr!" "Oh, do stop talking, you're such an annoyance." Krampus said, giving her neck another warning squeeze. "Let the adults work this out." "There's nothing to work out, Krampus," Santa growled, his blue eyes flashing. "You'll let the girl go." "I think we both know that's not happening," intoned the vile intruder. "She is my victory over you, and you know it. Revenge is not only a dish best served cold but often. And not often enough for me." "About this cold revenge dish thing," Ginny said, squirming slightly. "Couldn't; couldn't I just find you a nice tin can to chew on instead?" "Shut up, girl!" Krampus said harshly while several elves could be heard to chuckle and even Santa smirked at her jest. "I hold your life in my hands, to dispose of as I please." His foul breath crackled in the cold night air. His touch was uncomfortably warm, almost hot and strangely kept her body from freezing in the winter night. His touch felt evil and her skin crawled in revulsion. His strength was terrifying. "It wasn't enough that I slaved in coal mines for you, giving you carbon lumps to deliver to naughty children," Krampus growled, glaring at Santa. "It wasn't enough that I found the worst of them and brought them to you in the night so you could lecture them." "Hey, nobody asked you or ordered you to do the coal thing, pal," Santa said angrily. "And the whole kidnapping kids thing was your idea. I decided to let you have some creative control and look what happened. When it didn't work out, you decided that beating naughty kids with reeds was the answer. You're damn right that wasn't good enough!" "Silence!" Krampus snarled loudly, stamping one of his clawed hooves and making the ground shake dangerously. "Your kind-hearted foolishness with these puny mortals changed nothing about their behavior! Your failure to recognize their inherent selfishness was why our efforts were doomed!" "These puny mortals?" Santa countered. "You used to be one of them, Pete, remember? You were a well-behaved boy once." "Shut up!" growled Krampus. "Well-behaved, but not good," Santa continued. "You followed the rules and wanted everyone to follow rules. You were a control freak. I brought you north to show you what kindness could do, but you hated the cheer and the happiness and you fled to the coal mines in Greenland, hiding in the dark where the light of Christmas couldn't touch you! And when making kids feel bad with coal didn't bring them into line, you started the whole whipping them with reeds thing. Good job there, Pete!" "I'm warning you, Kringle;" Krampus said dangerously. "Oh, he really gets your goat, doesn't he?" Ginny sneered, causing several elves to laugh loudly. Krampus now snarled furiously and lifted her into the air by her neck, causing her to cry out in pain. Santa watched warily, knowing better than to make a move. "We seem to have an impasse," Krampus said, an evil smile playing over his slavering mouth. "You cannot harm me, because you know I can slay the child, but I cannot as yet slay her because she is my bargaining chip. But my need to hurt you, old man, is so very strong." He lowered Ginny down until her feet were just touching the snow-covered ground. She frowned as she heard a wet slithering sound she could not identify. "And there are other ways to hurt you than slaying the poor dear, aren't there?" Ginny felt something slimy touch her leg and then start to crawl up it, wrapping around her smooth skin. She shuddered and squirmed in horror as she realized exactly what was happening. The snake-like appendage wound up her thigh and then behind her. She gasped as it slid between her ass cheeks and then underneath to her cunt. She felt the blunt head split her lips and then move upward again. "Don't do this, Krampus." Santa said, trying to figure out what to do without hurting Ginny. "And why not?" replied the qliphotic abomination. "Don't you have a present for me? Then I guess I'll have to give myself one." Krampus' organ continued to slither its way around her body, leaving a glistening trail on her skin. She stiffened and moaned as his appendage wrapped around her tits, squeezing them, the head pausing and teasing the nipples. "Hey, asshole, dinner and a movie first!" she spat angrily. Ginny was about to say something else when the large, grayish cockhead snaked up in front of her face and then plunged into her mouth, causing her to gag and go silent. Her eyes widened and she thrashed furiously, but to no avail. He was simply too strong. "Language, young lady." Krampus chided, still staring at Santa. "Hasn't Santa taught you anything?" "This isn't gonna end well for you, Pete." Santa said, his tone dire. "Christmas never does, Kringle," replied the demon, his cock sliding in and out of Ginny's mouth. "I'm just hoping to make the holiday every bit as awful and intolerable for you as it is for me. After all, misery loves company." He brought her body close to his head and his other hand reached over and stroked her cunt lips, which were glistening. He leered at his foe, knowing Santa was helpless to get closer. "Is she good down here?" Krampus said mockingly. "Nice and wet and tight for you? Was she the best one ever, in the endless list of good girls you have fucked?" Santa said nothing, just glaring at Krampus. His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists. "Sharing your toys is the spirit of Christmas, isn't it?" Krampus said evilly, finally pulling his cock out of her mouth. Ginny coughed and sputtered, tendrils of resinous spittle and worse trailing away from her lips. She glared at Krampus but was still immobilized. "Just get this over with and fuck me already, whip-cock," she spat. "You won't be my first egotistical disappointment, trust me." Krampus' eyes blazed red and his tongue sped around her naked form blindingly quickly while he released her from his clawed grip. The tongue wrapped and immobilized her arms, holding them out straight while still encircling her tits. It then snaked around her waist and legs, pinning those as well while his long cock, swaying about like a cobra, came to a stop in front of her swollen cunt lips. The head teased and tapped against the opening, causing her to moan and squirm. "As you wish, child;" The head forced itself through her lips, sliding deep inside her. Ginny cried out in a mixture of shock and indescribable pleasure. She felt the tip of his pointed tongue probe trailing around her nipples. The python-like length of his cock churned inside her cunt. The blinding light behind her eyes finally receded and she lifted her head, looking out into the night, feeling his tongue constricting around her neck. She could dimly see a huge being in red pants and black boots watching nearby, his powerful chest exposed. The startling blue eyes flashed in the darkness of the night. She could tell he wanted to rescue her but didn't dare come closer. She gasped and shuddered as Krampus' cock pushed still deeper inside her. She felt fuller than she had imagined possible, the slithering appendage stretching her wide. The sticky, squelching noises were hardly to be believed. "Ew, gross! Hentai noises!" she thought in revulsion. "Krampus;" Santa warned. His elves all pointed their weapons menacingly but he held up his hand, staying them. "The child is naughty," Krampus said, smiling through pointed teeth. "Very naughty. Such a sordid past." "Hey, back off, she was young and needed the money!" Santa snapped defensively. "That thing with the midget and the donkey was” "You're not helping here!" Ginny shouted, blushing furiously, even as Krampus violated her. "Wicked child," growled the vile demon, shoving his cock in and out of her, the peristaltic actions of its length causing her to writhe and squirm in his grip, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Shameless. Even though I violate her, she finds a way to be concerned about how you perceive her. I find it; titillating." "Oh, do I make you horny?" she sneered, turning her head to smirk at him. "Couldn't tell, looking at that head of yours." "Silence!" Krampus hissed, spittle flying from his jaws, his eyes flashing angrily. "I hold your life and death in my hands." "How would I know?" she shot back. "Hope you're better with your hands than you are with your cock, Billy G." He plunged his cock deeper still inside her. She went rigid and cried out. "That all you got?" she rasped, trying not to faint as she felt popping inside her hips while he stetched her. "My brother got in deeper than that when we were little!" "Insolent!" Krampus snarled savagely, bouncing her up and down and he fucked her harder than ever, pulling on her arms and legs, stretching her joints til they creaked. She felt a deep, wet heat building inside her and in spite of the horror she consciously felt about the situation, even more dire was her need to cum. She felt her cunt squeezing around his cock. His snake-like tongue probed her ass and wriggled inside, further adding to her desperation. "Intholent bith, you will be punithed!" "What was that?" Santa asked, turning his head slightly and putting his hand to his ear. "I couldn't understand you, it's like you have a lisp or something." "Don't mock meef!" Krampus said angrily, his tongue whipping out of Ginny's ass, causing her to yelp suddenly. "I'll kill her, Kringle!" "Not before I cum, damn you!" Ginny panted, her body flushed and covered in sweat as she twisted and writhed in his grip. "Uh, so close, goddammit!" "Language!" Santa and Krampus both snapped at her. "Aw, c'mon!" she wailed. "You two are total pains in the ass! Do it, Billy! Show me what a bad boy you are!" Krampus glared at her and began fucking her harder than ever. "As you wish, child!" "Krampus!" Santa shouted, reaching out his hand in alarm. "Don't!" Krampus grinned evilly at Santa, his teeth clenching as he drew close to climax. His cock seemed to swell along its length, stretching her wider still. She threw her head back and gritted her teeth, straining as she was overwhelmed by sensation; Santa's fist slammed across Krampus' jaw with a powerful crack. The demonoid's eyes rolled into his head and he crumpled to the ground. Ginny wailed in frustration as his cock pulled out of her and retreated back to his body, like a wet, slimy Stanley tape measure. She collapsed to her hands and knees in the snow, panting and shaking, her eyes wide. Santa raced up and knelt next to her, his eyes shining with concern. "Fuck;" Ginny whispered, gasping for air. "Motherfucker;" She looked up at her rescuer now, her eyes flashing accusingly. "The hell? Couldn't you have let him make me cum first?" Santa paused. "What?" "I was so damn close!" she hissed, standing up and stamping her foot. "I was within half a second of the orgasm of my life and you had to choose that moment to intervene and play the hero! Don't expect a thank you card!" "Uh, Virginia," Santa said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to figure out what to say. "If he had brought you to orgasm, it would have killed you. When Krampus climaxes, his appendage you were so attached to bursts into spikes, basically killing you from the inside while denying you your orgasm." She paused and then deflated. "Holy cobra dildos. What a bastard." Ginny then pointed a finger at her savior. "But you still owe me an orgasm, then, pal. You may have rescued me from certain death, but that doesn't mean I don't need relief." Santa looked really confused. "What, here? Now?" "Damn straight," she said firmly, suddenly remembering she was buck naked in a snow-storm. In spite of the no-doubt freezing weather, her body was still warm and very wet with need. She put her hand down her cunt and felt around for a moment before presenting her sticky palm and fingers to Santa for inspection. "Do I look satisfied to you? You've already fucked me, Screamo the Goat Boy just fucked me, who cares if your freaky gay elves watch us? I need satisfaction now and I already am aware that you can't say no." Santa sighed. "It's gotta be quick, Virginia. I'm really behind, now that I'm completely temporal in one location." "Whatever, just get me to the promised land, man." Ginny replied, shrugging. "Who knows, maybe your entourage might enjoy a show." "Oh, right, about that," Santa said, standing up tall and shouting loudly. "About; Face!" As a single unit, the elves all turned around smartly on their heels, still arranged in a protective ring around their liege and his companion, weapons ready as they scanned the darkness for trouble, their eyes glowing menacingly inside their helmets. Santa strode up to Ginny, towering over her and ignoring the prostrate form of the still-unconscious Krampus, snuffling nearby. She smiled up at him, somehow warmed by his presence, in spite of the icy night she should have frozen to death in already. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. She moaned into his mouth as she felt her already molten core getting even more heated in response to his touch. Tongues tangled and played as he took her ass cheeks in his hands and squeezed them, making her shiver. Ginny's hands fumbled with his large black belt until it fell away and then pulled down his red pants. He pulled her onto his powerful thighs, resting her on them. She hooked her legs behind his waist and began grinding her wet, eager cunt against his hardening cock, which swelled readily. Her head was almost spinning, she was so horny. "Hmm, give it to me, baby," she purred, feeling the head of his cock touch her cunt lips. "Make me cum hard and fast." She sighed loudly as he pulled her close, penetrating and sliding deep inside her. Ginny moaned shamelessly as Santa once again began to pump back and forth inside her. His huge cock stretched her cunt wide, but not in the violent, violating way Krampus did. This felt warm and utterly perfect. She nipped at the skin of his chest while he moved in and out of her. "Yes," Ginny breathed as he began to moved faster, pumping strongly and rhythmically. She could feel her wetness trickling down between her cheeks, her cunt clutching at him hungrily, greedily and unwilling to let go until it was somehow sated. "Oh, God, just what I needed. Yes, fuck me, Santa!" He gripped her tight and thrust into her, picking up his pace just the way she wanted. She was gasping and yelping now and he squeezed her cheeks, one of his fingers poking inside her puckered knot. She clenched her teeth and groaned at the intrusion, murmuring that she loved it. She grew warmer and warmer, her body tingling with an exquisite fire that rippled out from her core. Santa turned her around and set her feet on top of his boots, bending her forward and pulling on her arms. She cried out as he fucked her harder, his hips thumping against her ass cheeks. Her hands clenched wildly, her breath coming in gasps as his overwhelming strength dominated her. "Oh, God!" she panted, beginning to shudder uncontrollably, almost drooling. "Uh, cum in me, dammit! Fucking cum in me!" Santa pulled on her arms even tighter as his thighs slammed into her. Ginny strained, craning her neck, teeth clenched as she tried not to scream, but it was no use, she wailed loudly as he came inside her, filling her once again in a way she could not describe. Her orgasm shook every last atom of her being, transporting her to a world of nothing but pleasure, edged with mint. She buckled, hanging loosely in his arms, exhausted. She'd been fucked hard at least five times tonight and had a dreadful suspicion that this experience would only make her libido even more hyperactive. She sighed as Santa scooped her naked form into his arms and cuddled her against the cold. Ginny purred and traced a fingernail across his broad chest. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Just what the doctor ordered. That quenched the flames, for now." He finally put her down and she looked at the remains of her ruined chateau, which was completely leveled and now on fire. "Poor Oatmeal," she murmured. "Where am I going to live?" She scowled down at the still supine Krampus, anger flaring in her. "It's this jack wagon’s fault. You should totally napalm his face." Santa looked down at her in shock. "Did you just say I should jerk off in Krampus' face?" "Damn right, he'd deserve it too." Ginny announced. "That and shove your sleigh up his ass." "I am not jizzing in Krampus' face." Santa said, clearly repulsed by the suggestion. "Fine, leave a woman to do a man's job," Ginny said testily, striding over to Krampus and putting one leg on either side of his head. She stuck three fingers inside her cunt and managed to tease out considerable amounts of Santa's minty cum, which she smeared all over Krampus' face and into his fur with glee, even giving him a glistening white moustache. "Take that, asshole!" She looked like she might have been done desecrating the unconscious form, but then she paused and squatted over him, peeing on his body and face, the stream steaming in the cold night air. She grinned evilly as she thoroughly baptized him. "Teach you to mess with me." Ginny muttered as she walked back to Santa, nodding. The huge man had a wide smirk on his face and shook his head slowly. "I can't believe you just pissed all over Krampus," he said, hugging her to him. "However, you're going to freeze to death at this rate;" He held out his hand and one of his elves dutifully brought him a large, velvety red cloak, which he wrapped around her. She blushed and smiled gratefully at his consideration, but only until he slid it off her, revealing that she was now wearing some ridiculous 'Hot Christmas Elf' outfit, complete with striped stockings and high heels. She looked like a Yule whore. "Seriously?" she asked, unimpressed. "This is your solution to my naked issues?" He shrugged. "I liked you better naked, but you would freeze quickly." "Whatever," she sighed, looking down and appreciating the considerable lift it gave her cleavage. It was incredibly warm, in spite of how scant it was. "So now what? I still have no damn home, you and Goatse here blew it up with your little barnyard brawl." Santa looked around warily. "That might be the least of your worries. The wind's picking up again, which means that another assault is coming. We need to get out of here." "Sire!" said one of the armored elves, thumping his fist to his breastplate and bowing his head. "We will cover you. You must go while you still have a head-start and the dark one is unconscious." Santa nodded. "Yeah, he's not gonna be happy when he wakes up and he's really gonna want revenge on you, Virginia." She felt her mouth go dry at the notion of another battle and Krampus waking up to even the score. "So; now what?" Santa shrugged. "I'd say it's fairly obvious. I've still got to make my rounds before the night is over and I'm not leaving you here;" She gaped as he put his hands on her shoulders and looked down into her eyes. "Virginia, you're coming with me and you're going to help save Christmas." Chapter 3, Christmas Wishes "How the hell do you drive this thing?" Ginny called in a panic, her eyes wide as she held onto the reigns, twisting them wildly as she tried to steer. Up ahead of her, eight large reindeer squealed and thrashed their heads. The sleigh corkscrewed while it hurtled through the cold night air, the moon shining down on them. "Well, first of all, stop panicking," Santa replied as he stood on the back of the sleigh, atop his huge red sack of toys. He was more or less back to his original size she had become accustomed to, now that he had sent his other 'iterations' of himself out over the globe to deliver presents. "That would be an excellent start." "Easy for you to say," she snapped, scowling back at him for a moment since taking her eyes off her designated path seemed to make no difference to how she was doing at navigating. "You're used to doing this!" "Trust me, between the two of us, you're the one with the easy job right now and I'd be happy to trade," he called back as he ducked wildly. A comically large rocket thundered by, with an evil-looking man strapped to the bottom of it, swinging a weapon wildly to hit Santa. "Try to keep her steady!" "While dodging psychos on rockets, no problem!" she grumbled, trying to ignore the howling wind and roaring projectiles. "Have I mentioned Krampus is a gigantic asshole?" "Repeatedly," Santa answered, watching warily. The sky was threaded with jets of fire as their enemies kept coming about in ponderous, elliptical arcs and heading back towards them, intent on their destruction. They had only just pulled off from the smoldering remains of Ginny's country chateau when the assault began. Krampus was nowhere to be seen, but his minions were clearly determined to avenge him. "Maybe urinating on him wasn't such a good idea. He never did take humiliation well." Ginny squawked in alarm and ducked as a rocket streaked right at her. Santa jumped in the air, doing the splits to avoid the projectile and landing back on top of his present sack. Another tried to pull up alongside them but Santa grabbed the harness the man was wearing and wrenched the rocket off course, sending it speeding into one some distance away. Both rockets (and presumably their pilots) exploded in a violent orgy of noise and flashing lights. "Really hope people just think those are fireworks," Santa muttered as he looked glared balefully at yet another rocket considering approaching. "Fireworks right in the middle of the world's most spastic meteor shower. Sure, they'll buy that;" "Funny part is I can't tell if you're serious," Ginny said loudly. "If they don't believe that narrative, then they've gotta accept that Santa Claus was engaged in an epic air battle over their town with quantum men strapped to rockets." "Truth is often stranger than fiction," Santa agreed, nodding. "Fighting these jerks off is taking too much time!" "Well, don't you have anything in your back of tricks there?" Ginny asked. In spite of the sleigh being open, it seemed to have some weird form of climate control and she'd been getting rather warm. To that end she'd pulled down her top, exposing her tits to cool herself off. The breeze allowed through made her nipples tingle delightfully, but not enough to distract her from driving the sleigh. After all, she often drove ninety minutes to her job wearing a vibrating insert in her panties, so she knew for a fact she could orgasm and still control a vehicle. A wheeled one, at least. She wasn't so sure about a sleigh doing Mach Three at twenty thousand feet. "You mean a weapon?" Santa asked. "In the bag full of toys for kids?" "You gave me a nerf gun out of that bag and it turned out to be some sort of doomsday device, didn't it?" she pointed out. "Scary lightning bolts everywhere. I refuse to believe you don't have some other goodies in there." Santa shrugged and squatted down to look inside the bag, getting narrowly missed by another rocket that shot over his head. The pilot cursed and came around again, aiming directly at the chassis of the sleigh from the side. Ginny's eyes widened in fright as she saw him approach. She jerked the reins to one side and the sleigh tilted ninety degrees, presenting its wide, flat red underside. The rocket slammed into it and exploded. Whatever it was made of or whatever shielding was in place, Ginny only heard the detonation and felt a rumble, but there was no damage aside from that. "Ha!" Santa said, standing tall and holding an electric guitar in the air, its black body gleamed in the moonlight. He put the strap around his neck and took several seconds to tune it, ignoring the aerial mayhem that swirled around him. "The hell are you going to do with that?" Ginny asked, scowling as she looked behind to see what he was up to. "You said to find something, I found something," he said simply as he checked the pickups. "Now let's see what we can do here;" He took the pick in hand and strummed it across the strings, a screeching pulse of sound blared out from the instrument, heading in all directions. It struck several rockets nearby, which exploded brightly. Other were knocked off course, spiraling around crazily as they fought for control. Santa laughed loudly, apparently enjoying himself. "Quit laughing and kill, red man!" Ginny yelled, nonplussed by his amusement. "I want to survive the night and I've had several close calls with death already!" "I'm working on it, Virginia, patience." Santa chided, adjusting the tuners momentarily. "Near-death experiences make you cranky." "No shit, Sherlock," she grumbled as he blasted out another screeching wave of sound. "Do you plan to play anything or just keep shrieking out that one sound?" "As you wish," he said cheerfully, pleased to be doing as she asked. Making her happy was all he cared about. He began playing a heavy metal version of Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyries', the pulsing walls of sound thundering out and striking every foe within hundreds of

El episodio en donde Ian prende fuego su Moorette Card  y abre fuego contra los Teletubbies, los cocodrilos, Abel, Caín, Pocahontas y Livia Soprano.En definitiva, lo que todos ustedes estaban esperando.Próxima lectura (Season Finale!): Swamp Thing #35 The Rite of Spring⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐Ian Gutierrez - Gus Casals#IanleeCrisis----------------Nos pueden invitar un Cafecito a Ian y Gus y ayudarnos con el tiempo y el esfuerzo de hacer todos estos videos. Gracias! https://cafecito.app/gusian Si están fuera de Argentina y quieren colaborar, lo pueden hacer por PayPal https://paypal.me/GustavoCasals?locale.x=es_X

Who left a whole box of corn flakes In a locker At the Equinox On Wall Street? I told you go to the one at The Rock. I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all. {Enter The Multiverse} That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy; I did a whole lot than just Thought about it More edits, More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it; The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller With less and less plants in it; I have your pants on, But shoes didn't fit I wrote a whole book and resenting But still not the movies, I meant it. Damn. She's just so much better than I am Head in a frying pan on high beforehand, And however damaged, It felt bad I know what I did I felt that Camera Obscura, for sure, you know But disconnect, Swallow badders, wha— t?! Get my peanut butter up; Why! I'm a circus monkey; Damn. I got karma faster Than I should have known I lost episodes And threw away the whole entire show I went running long And then I threw up on the subway I only like the one Sublime album (The one with wrong way.) You know? Cuh' I went the wrong way I fucked up on all my dollars I got karma back hard, yah Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two) I fall in love inside the tube, Truth is, though Teletubbies and teleportation Ain't so far off from where I come from Problem is, Opporsite world, I'm the story of the whole show; For sure dawg. —a situational Thought process. When the crack finally kicks in, Astounding the loss of my confidence I've gotten lost in a toxic land I got syndrome “talk to much” Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable X's and O's on the tic tac toe board, Just an underhanded “I told you so” All the rockstars want —Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches? Nah, Models and the other types of girls That never work at all, They just born at it. I got bored with it, But not the fourth one, Cross my first amendment, On my heart like catholic More like Bart Simpsons, Like art magic Cause I won't watch that show But love Matt Groening— Maybe I'm the type that just Love hating But hate loving with No way to I don't hate you; Yeah you're right, I'm off Take two. ((Good Luck Riding The J Home.)) Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess I got so many plausible options, I guess I should call on one of them, Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics I can't let my lantern out of gas, We're not friends, are we? What a fiend! Are you offended? I just want to see my dreams relayed to me— Is that too much to ask? So I'm the asshole. What did I pack a bag for?! Picnic baskets. What did I leave this curse for? Nothing, Thanks for asking, Nance. I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon. I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton. This automation algorithm— is it? Doesn't make a difference. I spilled blood inside my kitchen, Put deposits on a flicker, Tricked the treasure at a phantom, Phantom I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one; There's only God, There's only us— There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one. Squeeze em hard, ya'll. Don't let me love God. Don't let me talk back, I'm not about a rack. Tantrum, yes. Talk to my God. Please. Talk to me God. Now. Talk to my family one time. Now. Talk out me sideways— Now. Bring me a rebel. Now. I have a headache. Now. I got regrets son. Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open: I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean, Calm before storm comes Out on a surfboard Look at the full moon— Nobody can hear you so SCREAM. Now. For crying out loud, Take the knife out, For a second or thought, I'm a wife now; What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist— Your back room was only your conscious— Now I'm looking at my left side, Also catatonic, Not aboard the problem like you wanted, What an order form for border patrol, You want tall glasses of hard fortune, Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough. I'm in love with you, but in poverty— There the devil is. But oh, aren't we all familiar? Suit and tie hangs to the tide, I tie the knot with rope from which I die, And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off, Diving board or world one antenna? Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive— Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go Or it falls out and to the ground Not only will I float up, But the world will open And swallow us all whole ((Down.)) I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today I owe a bank my very and entire existence It is what it claims to be, these days ring true Nothing these days sounds like music but you. I put that book back on the shelf; Rewound the tape before I put it in the case I knew it would be late because, well That's the way it always is That's the way I always am I'm sorry mom. That's the way it always is— They told me I don't need no makeup on, However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two, Or twenty two, Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story. When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this [that's called a God Complex] It's all behind us now, or rather All up front And out in the open In twelve point font As if I would ever cop to it I took the wrong way to Wall Street l Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock, Long before this all was ever thought of, And I held her seed in the heart of my palm God said go the other way, I said “Okay” I want to see how much money I make; I wear makeup, I got nothing So much for a body I got stuck with words and good talking, And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard So what's the cost for a whole table turn? So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.” Huh? What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office? What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song— Don't get me wrong I have original music I'm just hard getting to it; The motors are running The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting But I been wanting some corn on the cob To talk to my mom To call some place home To care for my son To wake up on Sunday past noon like “That was a good show.” And the next sold out . real talk, I got real problems Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock, Choking back cocaine All the world under me, Mad at the world though For not looking up to me Huh I call this suffering Cause I already been been hungry, And homeless So I know this Pit-of-your stomach And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really Sits somewhere between “Hopeless” And “not good” But hey— If you were to say “how's your day” I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of “Please help me.” Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents; However, Seems like, It isn't worth the breathing, really Oddly, I forget to— Then I get this special feeling, Almost sentimental, inside my head I don't need medicine as much as I just need a friend besides my cat —thoughts of hammers in my brain— If I could tell you what the level of the pain is? Mercy. There doesn't seem to be a number Merry Christmas, Let's get displaced; Case is dismissed— Let's get shitfaced Wash the dishes, Pick the peloton, Pick imaginary friends And watch the President be hilarious, Until it effects us negative and in the read, When peanut butter bread and jelly All you ever get for breakfast For extended periods of time. Hah. Bloodshed? Wrong. Blood hound? Bad. Segmented thoughts on a toothache? Too late. I hate to tell you what the truth is, Cause you'd hate it. Useless. Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks But I can't do this anymore I want to choose live; Inside my death is The whole of the city, Electric and Thomas Edison And impressive Mister Business— Rockerfeller read about it; Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people! Something simple says, “Just stop it.” Choke a chicken over breakfast, Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think Today will be the day That I give bacon To charity, No care left, to give a gift So thankful, For being blessed with time to waste To write this piece of shit I guess I died I guess in family guy? I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence— …like, a British baby? And a talking dog? And a dumb ass dad? And a bunch of songs? And some salad dressing, To go with that master habit of getting Grams and Grammies; But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God, I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court— But not to work at all, Only order sandwhiches Obsession has its advantages and platinum records, If you tap into it directly. Forget it. I'm out of magic. Or out of patience— out of time for petitions, But which one is it? Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders? Learn your lesson well; There's got to, got to be a reason why The wrong way is the right. There's got to be a reason why— My day becomes the night. There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper, But I've got to figure out my rhythm later; I gone up instead of downtown, Turn the clock before the sunrise, I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai. Gotta love a synchronicity; I get stuck inside bronze statues Door way syndrome And I shutter just to never remember him But here the picture is, a perfect person Headless and befriended him, the lover The line inside my mind is crossed I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one. My thoughts the first time I saw him? I hate him, Cause he'll never love me. What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem. One more, I don't remember where I'm going Day to, I have to remember to forget you Take three, I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things Because I'm maybe going crazy; From the outside though, you wouldn't know it Low and behold, this is my show afterall And covered in gold like the whole of the moon I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you, You looks twisted Get out of your head, and turn off your television Go on a walk, Get run over by a bus or motorcycles Turn around and talk to God and your disciples — cause they all watch. Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run, And now another pilot that I'm proud of— Stop looking at the ground— It hurts. Today, I learned my lesson, It was not a new apartment— It's a prison. I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”. The cat needs water, My heart needs captions. New York needs Jesus Hope he don't see this (Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it, Or Even if he did He's having trouble learning English, And, Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us; We worship dollars A cock-shaped structures in New York— TIME TRAVELER Its called The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What. TIME TRAVELER I'm looking for The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVEL It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.” SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVELER It's a building? I guess? SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER It is. It's— SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER But— *fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.* TIME TRAVELER Huh. the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo; (Like Marty McFlyim back to the future) Contd Must be the wrong dimension… But then JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL. Oh no! So that's what happened… Yeah? He was a bastard. Well! Damn. {Enter athe Multiverse} So you're everywhere all the time, And I got nothing left to run And we already talked the talk And we're already back to one Let the waves blow over, Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking Putting every penny on the promise that you got me But you never save me, Really, Jesus? Racist! I got a lot of stakes in the game And all these snakes keep weighing in! I got these eight days left inside my head, And I'm a murderer Remember to admit his wrong you are Next time the caw will crow. I crevice drawing under rock Inside the undertoe, My surfboard heading home for shore, My body going under. Oh Conan, what have you done. I'm not sure yet. So? Go get him, you old hoot. I just want to watch a little longer! *feathers ruffled* What! It is comical So i'm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic, Adding up the dollar signs and losses, Well now, Got my hosts and calling cards, And struck with dirty dozens Doesn't anybody understand? [no. Nobody does.] Certainly, you know, nobody does this. Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it. For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket . Well done, folks. Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying. I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause Nobody knows where they come from; Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears Here, solar panels Animals and tragic circumstances, Fucking Asholes Never shine your diamond on the twilight, Shooting stars; Never shoot at birds from cars; Remember, They are flying. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you, done. I swallowed you whole, I swallows you whole, I swallowed you down some. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you up; I swallowed you whole I swallowed you whole, You know what the cost is Just a heads up, If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face, They run away. The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon. When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established. It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind; The more evidence you gather, It becomes a verifiable crime. Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly, The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world— A loss of God. And also remember, Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand, And cannot control— However, also, God comes in all forms. You must know when all is all. Okay, shh— Don't lock the door, now You got a pardon, You better run. I am an a-list celebrity; I am an “amen, sister— I hear that!” I am a medicine woman, A centrifugal figure, A ritual character, Skilled at charicature— A big Kimmel fan, A rick and a Morty, A woman a man, A puppet, the master, A cat in a hatbox, A blasphemous coffin; A wart on a warflower. Hm. Now who could possibly take that out of context? Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street. I love all four stories, I rode all four horses, I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface Then I rolled it up Huh… Somebody does that. Leets go, hard core But don't forget the hot sauce Don't forget the — Smattercat?! SMATTERCAT?! SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT! The Adventures of Atticus Catticus. Man, this is fucked up. I can't disagree with you. I can't get you out of my head (I want head) Can't get you out of my mind I find that You must want me dead Tan lines l You must want me off my meds! You want in me in bed at 9 sharp You know what!? You remind me of Harper. Now let's talk shop, Calm, little brother I went with the other oath— Don't you belong to God? Who's on the phone? Donald Trump. Tell him “no.” No to what? Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster. So what do you got in your supplements? Simple psychology; Have a red album. Nah that. I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes Pulled apart orgasms, Never been touched, sire. Never have I took forgranted this passion( Never have —that flex— Theatrical pangentry. Never went Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich GODDAMMIT. I thought you grant wishes. — also in charge of summoning. Part time. Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job! I'm so sick of this kid, He just summons “Ham sandwhich” What's wrong with that? I gave him “ham sandwhich”, Alright?! All kinds, And you know what? That guy has all kinds of magic— All the kinds— Every kind you can imagine, And no matter what, He just wants. Hmmmm…: …. Come on. Summon a dog, or something… A new bike… ……. ……..:::: ……. …. Ham sandwhich. GOD DAMMIT. …and a kite. …what was that? I want a kite. Y…you want to fly a kite. Ya. Alright! But first. An, God. Ham Sandwhich. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN! SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES! AND ALL THE KENNEDIES! FUCK WITH ME. Somebody shoot that bitch. But sir— Before she runs for president. But sir… THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER. You're right. TAKE THE SHOOOOOT. MEANWHILE… In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY Oh good. What's that. Someone one assasinated me. That's good. I'll say. Wouldn't want you to run for president. Someone still would have had to elected me. Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here. *shrugs* They'll collapse eventually. They haven't yet. I just got assasinated. Wait for it. I've been waiting. I don't get why you hate me so much. I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting. I just got assasinated. And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences. It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension; Did I correct you— Lessons, I'm not making any promises. Look out little brother! I set them on you. Got to put the pudding in your pot— And don't forget to floss. What's corrextions? Look, I'm anatomically correct— Shut up, Ken. I don't click on videos or images Because I love him It's just a crush, A pair of wooden crutches A horcrux And a fox A crucifix And Sunday Brunches. It's just a bunch of pictures, Edits, autographs, Extended plays It's just an infinite inside my head— It's been a couple days. A couple miles down And sure to go, You're all for it— Soon you got to know Whatever you done Has come for your— Stop the truck for misuse of four muses And autotune to ruin it— Your mascot is a narwhal But you're rooting for the Bruins. What is even a Bruin? A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens? Bet that Okay, Like, I fall in love But just to write a bit I pour my heart out in a song And for the moment I could make forget i'm ugly Even if for the duration of the half time; Half a pack at halftime, Half a pack at bedtime 20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision. Three beers, Then three beers Thirty three years and he still won't love me Thirty three years and I'm still no woman. He show first, So I shot back I forgot rock doves Served a purpose Postage For lost albums on the surface Surfboards For hot rod bod host, I offered up Conan, Now pick that hard eye Banjo up Water dance Pick that apple, Off the tree With not a scratch Hands tied behind your back; Baggage claim, River dance Pick it up without a fork You whispered us a state of trance For God's socks, If I fly coach, Low ball Lost a fortune Don't call me ‘bud' I think about your walk all day; Like, Three or four times, maybe Not no noodle soup, you wonder But you're asking for a Ballroom. Haggard. God did far too good a job on you; As the car jumped over the moon. I complete your meat puppet, But recently went vegan Line them up and then A heart attack, A hot bath, And a hammock. You got your offer, But I want it back, I want my roses. Golden proses so rit and rattle. I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble; Damn. I just can't get you off my head without ramble You're probably on a tour bus; She's pulling out all the stop— But you're my monster, just know that Although I'm on top of her turf. So much for Service Monday. So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct. So much for love as. He aim for the head; I aim for the neck; He aim for the heart, I duck, I fall in her eyes, High water— No more cam tide Sunsets. What, I get you really wanted oceans, So you got them. Godsense. Pull, Conan Pull— Haul in! All in on your cards, But take the occult off them; Offering? Totem pole. More than one? I love to hope. Fix your face. Pull the plug— I'm off till Sunday, Off till Sunday. Ten days to Tuesday, You want no more Ten days to Sunday And ten more before that; Ten tongues before dawn, And other I slaughter And slaught cross the sloth, I wither, Your honor. Ten tales too soon, Ten wide my diamonds; Ten eyes in your Isis, My mind, Orion. Ten lost in the Outback; Ten lost on your mass, tongue Two whipped at the alter— I called her about that. So to the effect you check your fax and press the send, I'm steady living, never coming back, Or cap the president— Never living, Never listing residence on Madison You're stuck inside my half-life That I'm mad besides the medicine. You're stuck inside my past, Like all the knives inside my back, And still I fondly think upon a laugh, As ice cream sundaes, Half a sandwich Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art, The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins, The wicked summers and the bitter winters came, But did not cross paths, So to not bear ties, and to not plug Holes in the hull of the whole ship I think I sunk overtime instead of rather All at once, You know, It doesn't suffix What it takes to turn it back from “Love him” Into nothing. 20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers, But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers— Scatterbrained but highly trained in “Never Happened.” “Didn't matter.” So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors. Why'd you flash me, dancer, Don't you know how bad I want that? Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat Nail box fires Had you ordered Your desires Flow the golden drifter Fear of rivers never frozen. Don't you know the sun draws close But the heart grows cold, But the want goes harder? Don't you know the doors get shut, And the Kings get cut, And the wind blows wilder? Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky (They all fall from the sky, They fell from the sky) Don't you know We're all gonna die Put a trial to the wand, Fore you take her heart out Ten times.

Who left a whole box of corn flakes In a locker At the Equinox On Wall Street? I told you go to the one at The Rock. I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all. {Enter The Multiverse} That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy; I did a whole lot than just Thought about it More edits, More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it; The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller With less and less plants in it; I have your pants on, But shoes didn't fit I wrote a whole book and resenting But still not the movies, I meant it. Damn. She's just so much better than I am Head in a frying pan on high beforehand, And however damaged, It felt bad I know what I did I felt that Camera Obscura, for sure, you know But disconnect, Swallow badders, wha— t?! Get my peanut butter up; Why! I'm a circus monkey; Damn. I got karma faster Than I should have known I lost episodes And threw away the whole entire show I went running long And then I threw up on the subway I only like the one Sublime album (The one with wrong way.) You know? Cuh' I went the wrong way I fucked up on all my dollars I got karma back hard, yah Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two) I fall in love inside the tube, Truth is, though Teletubbies and teleportation Ain't so far off from where I come from Problem is, Opporsite world, I'm the story of the whole show; For sure dawg. —a situational Thought process. When the crack finally kicks in, Astounding the loss of my confidence I've gotten lost in a toxic land I got syndrome “talk to much” Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable X's and O's on the tic tac toe board, Just an underhanded “I told you so” All the rockstars want —Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches? Nah, Models and the other types of girls That never work at all, They just born at it. I got bored with it, But not the fourth one, Cross my first amendment, On my heart like catholic More like Bart Simpsons, Like art magic Cause I won't watch that show But love Matt Groening— Maybe I'm the type that just Love hating But hate loving with No way to I don't hate you; Yeah you're right, I'm off Take two. ((Good Luck Riding The J Home.)) Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess I got so many plausible options, I guess I should call on one of them, Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics I can't let my lantern out of gas, We're not friends, are we? What a fiend! Are you offended? I just want to see my dreams relayed to me— Is that too much to ask? So I'm the asshole. What did I pack a bag for?! Picnic baskets. What did I leave this curse for? Nothing, Thanks for asking, Nance. I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon. I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton. This automation algorithm— is it? Doesn't make a difference. I spilled blood inside my kitchen, Put deposits on a flicker, Tricked the treasure at a phantom, Phantom I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one; There's only God, There's only us— There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one. Squeeze em hard, ya'll. Don't let me love God. Don't let me talk back, I'm not about a rack. Tantrum, yes. Talk to my God. Please. Talk to me God. Now. Talk to my family one time. Now. Talk out me sideways— Now. Bring me a rebel. Now. I have a headache. Now. I got regrets son. Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open: I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean, Calm before storm comes Out on a surfboard Look at the full moon— Nobody can hear you so SCREAM. Now. For crying out loud, Take the knife out, For a second or thought, I'm a wife now; What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist— Your back room was only your conscious— Now I'm looking at my left side, Also catatonic, Not aboard the problem like you wanted, What an order form for border patrol, You want tall glasses of hard fortune, Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough. I'm in love with you, but in poverty— There the devil is. But oh, aren't we all familiar? Suit and tie hangs to the tide, I tie the knot with rope from which I die, And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off, Diving board or world one antenna? Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive— Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go Or it falls out and to the ground Not only will I float up, But the world will open And swallow us all whole ((Down.)) I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today I owe a bank my very and entire existence It is what it claims to be, these days ring true Nothing these days sounds like music but you. I put that book back on the shelf; Rewound the tape before I put it in the case I knew it would be late because, well That's the way it always is That's the way I always am I'm sorry mom. That's the way it always is— They told me I don't need no makeup on, However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two, Or twenty two, Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story. When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this [that's called a God Complex] It's all behind us now, or rather All up front And out in the open In twelve point font As if I would ever cop to it I took the wrong way to Wall Street l Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock, Long before this all was ever thought of, And I held her seed in the heart of my palm God said go the other way, I said “Okay” I want to see how much money I make; I wear makeup, I got nothing So much for a body I got stuck with words and good talking, And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard So what's the cost for a whole table turn? So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.” Huh? What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office? What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song— Don't get me wrong I have original music I'm just hard getting to it; The motors are running The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting But I been wanting some corn on the cob To talk to my mom To call some place home To care for my son To wake up on Sunday past noon like “That was a good show.” And the next sold out . real talk, I got real problems Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock, Choking back cocaine All the world under me, Mad at the world though For not looking up to me Huh I call this suffering Cause I already been been hungry, And homeless So I know this Pit-of-your stomach And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really Sits somewhere between “Hopeless” And “not good” But hey— If you were to say “how's your day” I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of “Please help me.” Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents; However, Seems like, It isn't worth the breathing, really Oddly, I forget to— Then I get this special feeling, Almost sentimental, inside my head I don't need medicine as much as I just need a friend besides my cat —thoughts of hammers in my brain— If I could tell you what the level of the pain is? Mercy. There doesn't seem to be a number Merry Christmas, Let's get displaced; Case is dismissed— Let's get shitfaced Wash the dishes, Pick the peloton, Pick imaginary friends And watch the President be hilarious, Until it effects us negative and in the read, When peanut butter bread and jelly All you ever get for breakfast For extended periods of time. Hah. Bloodshed? Wrong. Blood hound? Bad. Segmented thoughts on a toothache? Too late. I hate to tell you what the truth is, Cause you'd hate it. Useless. Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks But I can't do this anymore I want to choose live; Inside my death is The whole of the city, Electric and Thomas Edison And impressive Mister Business— Rockerfeller read about it; Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people! Something simple says, “Just stop it.” Choke a chicken over breakfast, Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think Today will be the day That I give bacon To charity, No care left, to give a gift So thankful, For being blessed with time to waste To write this piece of shit I guess I died I guess in family guy? I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence— …like, a British baby? And a talking dog? And a dumb ass dad? And a bunch of songs? And some salad dressing, To go with that master habit of getting Grams and Grammies; But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God, I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court— But not to work at all, Only order sandwhiches Obsession has its advantages and platinum records, If you tap into it directly. Forget it. I'm out of magic. Or out of patience— out of time for petitions, But which one is it? Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders? Learn your lesson well; There's got to, got to be a reason why The wrong way is the right. There's got to be a reason why— My day becomes the night. There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper, But I've got to figure out my rhythm later; I gone up instead of downtown, Turn the clock before the sunrise, I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai. Gotta love a synchronicity; I get stuck inside bronze statues Door way syndrome And I shutter just to never remember him But here the picture is, a perfect person Headless and befriended him, the lover The line inside my mind is crossed I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one. My thoughts the first time I saw him? I hate him, Cause he'll never love me. What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem. One more, I don't remember where I'm going Day to, I have to remember to forget you Take three, I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things Because I'm maybe going crazy; From the outside though, you wouldn't know it Low and behold, this is my show afterall And covered in gold like the whole of the moon I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you, You looks twisted Get out of your head, and turn off your television Go on a walk, Get run over by a bus or motorcycles Turn around and talk to God and your disciples — cause they all watch. Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run, And now another pilot that I'm proud of— Stop looking at the ground— It hurts. Today, I learned my lesson, It was not a new apartment— It's a prison. I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”. The cat needs water, My heart needs captions. New York needs Jesus Hope he don't see this (Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it, Or Even if he did He's having trouble learning English, And, Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us; We worship dollars A cock-shaped structures in New York— TIME TRAVELER Its called The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What. TIME TRAVELER I'm looking for The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVEL It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.” SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVELER It's a building? I guess? SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER It is. It's— SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER But— *fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.* TIME TRAVELER Huh. the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo; (Like Marty McFlyim back to the future) Contd Must be the wrong dimension… But then JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL. Oh no! So that's what happened… Yeah? He was a bastard. Well! Damn. {Enter athe Multiverse} So you're everywhere all the time, And I got nothing left to run And we already talked the talk And we're already back to one Let the waves blow over, Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking Putting every penny on the promise that you got me But you never save me, Really, Jesus? Racist! I got a lot of stakes in the game And all these snakes keep weighing in! I got these eight days left inside my head, And I'm a murderer Remember to admit his wrong you are Next time the caw will crow. I crevice drawing under rock Inside the undertoe, My surfboard heading home for shore, My body going under. Oh Conan, what have you done. I'm not sure yet. So? Go get him, you old hoot. I just want to watch a little longer! *feathers ruffled* What! It is comical So i'm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic, Adding up the dollar signs and losses, Well now, Got my hosts and calling cards, And struck with dirty dozens Doesn't anybody understand? [no. Nobody does.] Certainly, you know, nobody does this. Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it. For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket . Well done, folks. Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying. I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause Nobody knows where they come from; Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears Here, solar panels Animals and tragic circumstances, Fucking Asholes Never shine your diamond on the twilight, Shooting stars; Never shoot at birds from cars; Remember, They are flying. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you, done. I swallowed you whole, I swallows you whole, I swallowed you down some. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you up; I swallowed you whole I swallowed you whole, You know what the cost is Just a heads up, If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face, They run away. The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon. When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established. It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind; The more evidence you gather, It becomes a verifiable crime. Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly, The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world— A loss of God. And also remember, Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand, And cannot control— However, also, God comes in all forms. You must know when all is all. Okay, shh— Don't lock the door, now You got a pardon, You better run. I am an a-list celebrity; I am an “amen, sister— I hear that!” I am a medicine woman, A centrifugal figure, A ritual character, Skilled at charicature— A big Kimmel fan, A rick and a Morty, A woman a man, A puppet, the master, A cat in a hatbox, A blasphemous coffin; A wart on a warflower. Hm. Now who could possibly take that out of context? Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street. I love all four stories, I rode all four horses, I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface Then I rolled it up Huh… Somebody does that. Leets go, hard core But don't forget the hot sauce Don't forget the — Smattercat?! SMATTERCAT?! SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT! The Adventures of Atticus Catticus. Man, this is fucked up. I can't disagree with you. I can't get you out of my head (I want head) Can't get you out of my mind I find that You must want me dead Tan lines l You must want me off my meds! You want in me in bed at 9 sharp You know what!? You remind me of Harper. Now let's talk shop, Calm, little brother I went with the other oath— Don't you belong to God? Who's on the phone? Donald Trump. Tell him “no.” No to what? Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster. So what do you got in your supplements? Simple psychology; Have a red album. Nah that. I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes Pulled apart orgasms, Never been touched, sire. Never have I took forgranted this passion( Never have —that flex— Theatrical pangentry. Never went Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich GODDAMMIT. I thought you grant wishes. — also in charge of summoning. Part time. Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job! I'm so sick of this kid, He just summons “Ham sandwhich” What's wrong with that? I gave him “ham sandwhich”, Alright?! All kinds, And you know what? That guy has all kinds of magic— All the kinds— Every kind you can imagine, And no matter what, He just wants. Hmmmm…: …. Come on. Summon a dog, or something… A new bike… ……. ……..:::: ……. …. Ham sandwhich. GOD DAMMIT. …and a kite. …what was that? I want a kite. Y…you want to fly a kite. Ya. Alright! But first. An, God. Ham Sandwhich. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN! SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES! AND ALL THE KENNEDIES! FUCK WITH ME. Somebody shoot that bitch. But sir— Before she runs for president. But sir… THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER. You're right. TAKE THE SHOOOOOT. MEANWHILE… In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY Oh good. What's that. Someone one assasinated me. That's good. I'll say. Wouldn't want you to run for president. Someone still would have had to elected me. Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here. *shrugs* They'll collapse eventually. They haven't yet. I just got assasinated. Wait for it. I've been waiting. I don't get why you hate me so much. I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting. I just got assasinated. And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences. It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension; Did I correct you— Lessons, I'm not making any promises. Look out little brother! I set them on you. Got to put the pudding in your pot— And don't forget to floss. What's corrextions? Look, I'm anatomically correct— Shut up, Ken. I don't click on videos or images Because I love him It's just a crush, A pair of wooden crutches A horcrux And a fox A crucifix And Sunday Brunches. It's just a bunch of pictures, Edits, autographs, Extended plays It's just an infinite inside my head— It's been a couple days. A couple miles down And sure to go, You're all for it— Soon you got to know Whatever you done Has come for your— Stop the truck for misuse of four muses And autotune to ruin it— Your mascot is a narwhal But you're rooting for the Bruins. What is even a Bruin? A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens? Bet that Okay, Like, I fall in love But just to write a bit I pour my heart out in a song And for the moment I could make forget i'm ugly Even if for the duration of the half time; Half a pack at halftime, Half a pack at bedtime 20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision. Three beers, Then three beers Thirty three years and he still won't love me Thirty three years and I'm still no woman. He show first, So I shot back I forgot rock doves Served a purpose Postage For lost albums on the surface Surfboards For hot rod bod host, I offered up Conan, Now pick that hard eye Banjo up Water dance Pick that apple, Off the tree With not a scratch Hands tied behind your back; Baggage claim, River dance Pick it up without a fork You whispered us a state of trance For God's socks, If I fly coach, Low ball Lost a fortune Don't call me ‘bud' I think about your walk all day; Like, Three or four times, maybe Not no noodle soup, you wonder But you're asking for a Ballroom. Haggard. God did far too good a job on you; As the car jumped over the moon. I complete your meat puppet, But recently went vegan Line them up and then A heart attack, A hot bath, And a hammock. You got your offer, But I want it back, I want my roses. Golden proses so rit and rattle. I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble; Damn. I just can't get you off my head without ramble You're probably on a tour bus; She's pulling out all the stop— But you're my monster, just know that Although I'm on top of her turf. So much for Service Monday. So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct. So much for love as. He aim for the head; I aim for the neck; He aim for the heart, I duck, I fall in her eyes, High water— No more cam tide Sunsets. What, I get you really wanted oceans, So you got them. Godsense. Pull, Conan Pull— Haul in! All in on your cards, But take the occult off them; Offering? Totem pole. More than one? I love to hope. Fix your face. Pull the plug— I'm off till Sunday, Off till Sunday. Ten days to Tuesday, You want no more Ten days to Sunday And ten more before that; Ten tongues before dawn, And other I slaughter And slaught cross the sloth, I wither, Your honor. Ten tales too soon, Ten wide my diamonds; Ten eyes in your Isis, My mind, Orion. Ten lost in the Outback; Ten lost on your mass, tongue Two whipped at the alter— I called her about that. So to the effect you check your fax and press the send, I'm steady living, never coming back, Or cap the president— Never living, Never listing residence on Madison You're stuck inside my half-life That I'm mad besides the medicine. You're stuck inside my past, Like all the knives inside my back, And still I fondly think upon a laugh, As ice cream sundaes, Half a sandwich Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art, The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins, The wicked summers and the bitter winters came, But did not cross paths, So to not bear ties, and to not plug Holes in the hull of the whole ship I think I sunk overtime instead of rather All at once, You know, It doesn't suffix What it takes to turn it back from “Love him” Into nothing. 20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers, But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers— Scatterbrained but highly trained in “Never Happened.” “Didn't matter.” So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors. Why'd you flash me, dancer, Don't you know how bad I want that? Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat Nail box fires Had you ordered Your desires Flow the golden drifter Fear of rivers never frozen. Don't you know the sun draws close But the heart grows cold, But the want goes harder? Don't you know the doors get shut, And the Kings get cut, And the wind blows wilder? Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky (They all fall from the sky, They fell from the sky) Don't you know We're all gonna die Put a trial to the wand, Fore you take her heart out Ten times.

—1313. Chroma111. Who left a whole box of corn flakes In a locker At the Equinox On Wall Street? I told you go to the one at The Rock. I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all. {Enter The Multiverse} That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy; I did a whole lot than just Thought about it More edits, More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it; The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller With less and less plants in it; I have your pants on, But shoes didn't fit I wrote a whole book and resenting But still not the movies, I meant it. Damn. She's just so much better than I am Head in a frying pan on high beforehand, And however damaged, It felt bad I know what I did I felt that Camera Obscura, for sure, you know But disconnect, Swallow badders, wha— t?! Get my peanut butter up; Why! I'm a circus monkey; Damn. I got karma faster Than I should have known I lost episodes And threw away the whole entire show I went running long And then I threw up on the subway I only like the one Sublime album (The one with wrong way.) You know? Cuh' I went the wrong way I fucked up on all my dollars I got karma back hard, yah Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two) I fall in love inside the tube, Truth is, though Teletubbies and teleportation Ain't so far off from where I come from Problem is, Opporsite world, I'm the story of the whole show; For sure dawg. —a situational Thought process. When the crack finally kicks in, Astounding the loss of my confidence I've gotten lost in a toxic land I got syndrome “talk to much” Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable X's and O's on the tic tac toe board, Just an underhanded “I told you so” All the rockstars want —Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches? Nah, Models and the other types of girls That never work at all, They just born at it. I got bored with it, But not the fourth one, Cross my first amendment, On my heart like catholic More like Bart Simpsons, Like art magic Cause I won't watch that show But love Matt Groening— Maybe I'm the type that just Love hating But hate loving with No way to I don't hate you; Yeah you're right, I'm off Take two. ((Good Luck Riding The J Home.)) Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess I got so many plausible options, I guess I should call on one of them, Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics I can't let my lantern out of gas, We're not friends, are we? What a fiend! Are you offended? I just want to see my dreams relayed to me— Is that too much to ask? So I'm the asshole. What did I pack a bag for?! Picnic baskets. What did I leave this curse for? Nothing, Thanks for asking, Nance. I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon. I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton. This automation algorithm— is it? Doesn't make a difference. I spilled blood inside my kitchen, Put deposits on a flicker, Tricked the treasure at a phantom, Phantom I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one; There's only God, There's only us— There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one. Squeeze em hard, ya'll. Don't let me love God. Don't let me talk back, I'm not about a rack. Tantrum, yes. Talk to my God. Please. Talk to me God. Now. Talk to my family one time. Now. Talk out me sideways— Now. Bring me a rebel. Now. I have a headache. Now. I got regrets son. Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open: I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean, Calm before storm comes Out on a surfboard Look at the full moon— Nobody can hear you so SCREAM. Now. For crying out loud, Take the knife out, For a second or thought, I'm a wife now; What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist— Your back room was only your conscious— Now I'm looking at my left side, Also catatonic, Not aboard the problem like you wanted, What an order form for border patrol, You want tall glasses of hard fortune, Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough. I'm in love with you, but in poverty— There the devil is. But oh, aren't we all familiar? Suit and tie hangs to the tide, I tie the knot with rope from which I die, And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off, Diving board or world one antenna? Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive— Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go Or it falls out and to the ground Not only will I float up, But the world will open And swallow us all whole ((Down.)) I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today I owe a bank my very and entire existence It is what it claims to be, these days ring true Nothing these days sounds like music but you. I put that book back on the shelf; Rewound the tape before I put it in the case I knew it would be late because, well That's the way it always is That's the way I always am I'm sorry mom. That's the way it always is— They told me I don't need no makeup on, However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two, Or twenty two, Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story. When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this [that's called a God Complex] It's all behind us now, or rather All up front And out in the open In twelve point font As if I would ever cop to it I took the wrong way to Wall Street l Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock, Long before this all was ever thought of, And I held her seed in the heart of my palm God said go the other way, I said “Okay” I want to see how much money I make; I wear makeup, I got nothing So much for a body I got stuck with words and good talking, And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard So what's the cost for a whole table turn? So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.” Huh? What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office? What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song— Don't get me wrong I have original music I'm just hard getting to it; The motors are running The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting But I been wanting some corn on the cob To talk to my mom To call some place home To care for my son To wake up on Sunday past noon like “That was a good show.” And the next sold out . real talk, I got real problems Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock, Choking back cocaine All the world under me, Mad at the world though For not looking up to me Huh I call this suffering Cause I already been been hungry, And homeless So I know this Pit-of-your stomach And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really Sits somewhere between “Hopeless” And “not good” But hey— If you were to say “how's your day” I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of “Please help me.” Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents; However, Seems like, It isn't worth the breathing, really Oddly, I forget to— Then I get this special feeling, Almost sentimental, inside my head I don't need medicine as much as I just need a friend besides my cat —thoughts of hammers in my brain— If I could tell you what the level of the pain is? Mercy. There doesn't seem to be a number Merry Christmas, Let's get displaced; Case is dismissed— Let's get shitfaced Wash the dishes, Pick the peloton, Pick imaginary friends And watch the President be hilarious, Until it effects us negative and in the read, When peanut butter bread and jelly All you ever get for breakfast For extended periods of time. Hah. Bloodshed? Wrong. Blood hound? Bad. Segmented thoughts on a toothache? Too late. I hate to tell you what the truth is, Cause you'd hate it. Useless. Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks But I can't do this anymore I want to choose live; Inside my death is The whole of the city, Electric and Thomas Edison And impressive Mister Business— Rockerfeller read about it; Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people! Something simple says, “Just stop it.” Choke a chicken over breakfast, Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think Today will be the day That I give bacon To charity, No care left, to give a gift So thankful, For being blessed with time to waste To write this piece of shit I guess I died I guess in family guy? I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence— …like, a British baby? And a talking dog? And a dumb ass dad? And a bunch of songs? And some salad dressing, To go with that master habit of getting Grams and Grammies; But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God, I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court— But not to work at all, Only order sandwhiches Obsession has its advantages and platinum records, If you tap into it directly. Forget it. I'm out of magic. Or out of patience— out of time for petitions, But which one is it? Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders? Learn your lesson well; There's got to, got to be a reason why The wrong way is the right. There's got to be a reason why— My day becomes the night. There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper, But I've got to figure out my rhythm later; I gone up instead of downtown, Turn the clock before the sunrise, I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai. Gotta love a synchronicity; I get stuck inside bronze statues Door way syndrome And I shutter just to never remember him But here the picture is, a perfect person Headless and befriended him, the lover The line inside my mind is crossed I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one. My thoughts the first time I saw him? I hate him, Cause he'll never love me. What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem. One more, I don't remember where I'm going Day to, I have to remember to forget you Take three, I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things Because I'm maybe going crazy; From the outside though, you wouldn't know it Low and behold, this is my show afterall And covered in gold like the whole of the moon I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you, You looks twisted Get out of your head, and turn off your television Go on a walk, Get run over by a bus or motorcycles Turn around and talk to God and your disciples — cause they all watch. Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run, And now another pilot that I'm proud of— Stop looking at the ground— It hurts. Today, I learned my lesson, It was not a new apartment— It's a prison. I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”. The cat needs water, My heart needs captions. New York needs Jesus Hope he don't see this (Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it, Or Even if he did He's having trouble learning English, And, Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us; We worship dollars A cock-shaped structures in New York— TIME TRAVELER Its called The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What. TIME TRAVELER I'm looking for The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVEL It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.” SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVELER It's a building? I guess? SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER It is. It's— SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER But— *fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.* TIME TRAVELER Huh. the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo; (Like Marty McFlyim back to the future) Contd Must be the wrong dimension… But then JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL. Oh no! So that's what happened… Yeah? He was a bastard. Well! Damn. {Enter athe Multiverse} So you're everywhere all the time, And I got nothing left to run And we already talked the talk And we're already back to one Let the waves blow over, Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking Putting every penny on the promise that you got me But you never save me, Really, Jesus? Racist! I got a lot of stakes in the game And all these snakes keep weighing in! I got these eight days left inside my head, And I'm a murderer Remember to admit his wrong you are Next time the caw will crow. I crevice drawing under rock Inside the undertoe, My surfboard heading home for shore, My body going under. Oh Conan, what have you done. I'm not sure yet. So? Go get him, you old hoot. I just want to watch a little longer! *feathers ruffled* What! It is comical So imm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic, Adding up the dollar signs and losses, Well now, Got my hosts and calling cards, And struck with dirty dozens Doesn't anybody understand? [no. Nobody does.] Certainly, you know, nobody does this. Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it. For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket . Well done, folks. Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying. I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause Nobody knows where they come from; Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears Here, solar panels Animals and tragic circumstances, Fucking Asholes Never shine your diamond on the twilight, Shooting stars; Never shoot at birds from cars; Remember, They are flying. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you, done. I swallowed you whole, I swallows you whole, I swallowed you down some. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you up; I swallowed you whole I swallowed you whole, You know what the cost is Just a heads up, If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face, They run away. The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon. When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established. It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind; The more evidence you gather, It becomes a verifiable crime. Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly, The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world— A loss of God. And also remember, Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand, And cannot control— However, also, God comes in all forms. You must know when all is all. Okay, shh— Don't lock the door, now You got a pardon, You better run. I am an a-list celebrity; I am an “amen, sister— I hear that!” I am a medicine woman, A centrifugal figure, A ritual character, Skilled at charicature— A big Kimmel fan, A rick and a Morty, A woman a man, A puppet, the master, A cat in a hatbox, A blasphemous coffin; A wart on a warflower. Hm. Now who could possibly take that out of context? Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street. I love all four stories, I rode all four horses, I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface Then I rolled it up Huh… Somebody does that. Leets go, hard core But don't forget the hot sauce Don't forget the — Smattercat?! SMATTERCAT?! SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT! The Adventures of Atticus Catticus. Man, this is fucked up. I can't disagree with you. I can't get you out of my head (I want head) Can't get you out of my mind I find that You must want me dead Tan lines l You must want me off my meds! You want in me in bed at 9 sharp You know what!? You remind me of Harper. Now let's talk shop, Calm, little brother I went with the other oath— Don't you belong to God? Who's on the phone? Donald Trump. Tell him “no.” No to what? Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster. So what do you got in your supplements? Simple psychology; Have a red album. Nah that. I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes Pulled apart orgasms, Never been touched, sire. Never have I took forgranted this passion( Never have —that flex— Theatrical pangentry. Never went Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich GODDAMMIT. I thought you grant wishes. — also in charge of summoning. Part time. Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job! I'm so sick of this kid, He just summons “Ham sandwhich” What's wrong with that? I gave him “ham sandwhich”, Alright?! All kinds, And you know what? That guy has all kinds of magic— All the kinds— Every kind you can imagine, And no matter what, He just wants. Hmmmm…: …. Come on. Summon a dog, or something… A new bike… ……. ……..:::: ……. …. Ham sandwhich. GOD DAMMIT. …and a kite. …what was that? I want a kite. Y…you want to fly a kite. Ya. Alright! But first. An, God. Ham Sandwhich. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN! SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES! AND ALL THE KENNEDIES! FUCK WITH ME. Somebody shoot that bitch. But sir— Before she runs for president. But sir… THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER. You're right. TAKE THE SHOOOOOT. MEANWHILE… In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY Oh good. What's that. Someone one assasinated me. That's good. I'll say. Wouldn't want you to run for president. Someone still would have had to elected me. Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here. *shrugs* They'll collapse eventually. They haven't yet. I just got assasinated. Wait for it. I've been waiting. I don't get why you hate me so much. I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting. I just got assasinated. And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences. It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension; Did I correct you— Lessons, I'm not making any promises. Look out little brother! I set them on you. Got to put the pudding in your pot— And don't forget to floss. What's corrextions? Look, I'm anatomically correct— Shut up, Ken. I don't click on videos or images Because I love him It's just a crush, A pair of wooden crutches A horcrux And a fox A crucifix And Sunday Brunches. It's just a bunch of pictures, Edits, autographs, Extended plays It's just an infinite inside my head— It's been a couple days. A couple miles down And sure to go, You're all for it— Soon you got to know Whatever you done Has come for your— Stop the truck for misuse of four muses And autotune to ruin it— Your mascot is a narwhal But you're rooting for the Bruins. What is even a Bruin? A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens? Bet that Okay, Like, I fall in love But just to write a bit I pour my heart out in a song And for the moment I could make forget i'm ugly Even if for the duration of the half time; Half a pack at halftime, Half a pack at bedtime 20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision. Three beers, Then three beers Thirty three years and he still won't love me Thirty three years and I'm still no woman. He shot first, So I shot back I forgot rock doves Served a purpose Postage For lost albums on the surface Surfboards For hot rod bod host, I offered up Conan, Now pick that hard eye Banjo up Water dance Pick that apple, Off the tree With not a scratch Hands tied behind your back; Baggage claim, River dance Pick it up without a fork You whispered us a state of trance For God's socks, If I fly coach, Low ball Lost a fortune Don't call me ‘bud' I think about your walk all day; Like, Three or four times, maybe Not no noodle soup, you wonder But you're asking for a Ballroom. Haggard. God did far too good a job on you; As the car jumped over the moon. I complete your meat puppet, But recently went vegan Line them up and then A heart attack, A hot bath, And a hammock. You got your offer, But I want it back, I want my roses. Golden proses so rit and rattle. I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble; Damn. I just can't get you off my head without ramble You're probably on a tour bus; She's pulling out all the stop— But you're my monster, just know that Although I'm on top of her turf. So much for Service Monday. So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct. So much for love as. He aim for the head; I aim for the neck; He aim for the heart, I duck, I fall in her eyes, High water— No more cam tide Sunsets. What, I get you really wanted oceans, So you got them. Godsense. Pull, Conan Pull— Haul in! All in on your cards, But take the occult off them; Offering? Totem pole. More than one? I love to hope. Fix your face. Pull the plug— I'm off till Sunday, Off till Sunday. Ten days to Tuesday, You want no more Ten days to Sunday And ten more before that; Ten tongues before dawn, And other I slaughter And slaught cross the sloth, I wither, Your honor. Ten tales too soon, Ten wide my diamonds; Ten eyes in your Isis, My mind, Orion. Ten lost in the Outback; Ten lost on your mass, tongue Two whipped at the alter— I called her about that. So to the effect you check your fax and press the send, I'm steady living, never coming back, Or cap the president— Never living, Never listing residence on Madison You're stuck inside my half-life That I'm mad besides the medicine. You're stuck inside my past, Like all the knives inside my back, And still I fondly think upon a laugh, As ice cream sundaes, Half a sandwich Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art, The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins, The wicked summers and the bitter winters came, But did not cross paths, So to not bear ties, and to not plug Holes in the hull of the whole ship I think I sunk overtime instead of rather All at once, You know, It doesn't suffix What it takes to turn it back from “Love him” Into nothing. 20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers, But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers— Scatterbrained but highly trained in “Never Happened.” “Didn't matter.” So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors. Why'd you flash me, dancer, Don't you know how bad I want that? Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat Nail box fires Had you ordered Your desires Flow the golden drifter Fear of rivers never frozen. Don't you know the sun draws close But the heart grows cold, But the want goes harder? Don't you know the doors get shut, And the Kings get cut, And the wind blows wilder? Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky (They all fall from the sky, They fell from the sky) Don't you know We're all gonna die Put a trial to the wand, Fore you take her heart out Ten times. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW ​​

Who left a whole box of corn flakes In a locker At the Equinox On Wall Street? I told you go to the one at The Rock. I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all. {Enter The Multiverse} That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy; I did a whole lot than just Thought about it More edits, More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it; The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller With less and less plants in it; I have your pants on, But shoes didn't fit I wrote a whole book and resenting But still not the movies, I meant it. Damn. She's just so much better than I am Head in a frying pan on high beforehand, And however damaged, It felt bad I know what I did I felt that Camera Obscura, for sure, you know But disconnect, Swallow badders, wha— t?! Get my peanut butter up; Why! I'm a circus monkey; Damn. I got karma faster Than I should have known I lost episodes And threw away the whole entire show I went running long And then I threw up on the subway I only like the one Sublime album (The one with wrong way.) You know? Cuh' I went the wrong way I fucked up on all my dollars I got karma back hard, yah Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two) I fall in love inside the tube, Truth is, though Teletubbies and teleportation Ain't so far off from where I come from Problem is, Opporsite world, I'm the story of the whole show; For sure dawg. —a situational Thought process. When the crack finally kicks in, Astounding the loss of my confidence I've gotten lost in a toxic land I got syndrome “talk to much” Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable X's and O's on the tic tac toe board, Just an underhanded “I told you so” All the rockstars want —Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches? Nah, Models and the other types of girls That never work at all, They just born at it. I got bored with it, But not the fourth one, Cross my first amendment, On my heart like catholic More like Bart Simpsons, Like art magic Cause I won't watch that show But love Matt Groening— Maybe I'm the type that just Love hating But hate loving with No way to I don't hate you; Yeah you're right, I'm off Take two. ((Good Luck Riding The J Home.)) Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess I got so many plausible options, I guess I should call on one of them, Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics I can't let my lantern out of gas, We're not friends, are we? What a fiend! Are you offended? I just want to see my dreams relayed to me— Is that too much to ask? So I'm the asshole. What did I pack a bag for?! Picnic baskets. What did I leave this curse for? Nothing, Thanks for asking, Nance. I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon. I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton. This automation algorithm— is it? Doesn't make a difference. I spilled blood inside my kitchen, Put deposits on a flicker, Tricked the treasure at a phantom, Phantom I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one; There's only God, There's only us— There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one. Squeeze em hard, ya'll. Don't let me love God. Don't let me talk back, I'm not about a rack. Tantrum, yes. Talk to my God. Please. Talk to me God. Now. Talk to my family one time. Now. Talk out me sideways— Now. Bring me a rebel. Now. I have a headache. Now. I got regrets son. Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open: I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean, Calm before storm comes Out on a surfboard Look at the full moon— Nobody can hear you so SCREAM. Now. For crying out loud, Take the knife out, For a second or thought, I'm a wife now; What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist— Your back room was only your conscious— Now I'm looking at my left side, Also catatonic, Not aboard the problem like you wanted, What an order form for border patrol, You want tall glasses of hard fortune, Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough. I'm in love with you, but in poverty— There the devil is. But oh, aren't we all familiar? Suit and tie hangs to the tide, I tie the knot with rope from which I die, And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off, Diving board or world one antenna? Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive— Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go Or it falls out and to the ground Not only will I float up, But the world will open And swallow us all whole ((Down.)) I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today I owe a bank my very and entire existence It is what it claims to be, these days ring true Nothing these days sounds like music but you. I put that book back on the shelf; Rewound the tape before I put it in the case I knew it would be late because, well That's the way it always is That's the way I always am I'm sorry mom. That's the way it always is— They told me I don't need no makeup on, However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two, Or twenty two, Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story. When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this [that's called a God Complex] It's all behind us now, or rather All up front And out in the open In twelve point font As if I would ever cop to it I took the wrong way to Wall Street l Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock, Long before this all was ever thought of, And I held her seed in the heart of my palm God said go the other way, I said “Okay” I want to see how much money I make; I wear makeup, I got nothing So much for a body I got stuck with words and good talking, And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard So what's the cost for a whole table turn? So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.” Huh? What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office? What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song— Don't get me wrong I have original music I'm just hard getting to it; The motors are running The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting But I been wanting some corn on the cob To talk to my mom To call some place home To care for my son To wake up on Sunday past noon like “That was a good show.” And the next sold out . real talk, I got real problems Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock, Choking back cocaine All the world under me, Mad at the world though For not looking up to me Huh I call this suffering Cause I already been been hungry, And homeless So I know this Pit-of-your stomach And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really Sits somewhere between “Hopeless” And “not good” But hey— If you were to say “how's your day” I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of “Please help me.” Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents; However, Seems like, It isn't worth the breathing, really Oddly, I forget to— Then I get this special feeling, Almost sentimental, inside my head I don't need medicine as much as I just need a friend besides my cat —thoughts of hammers in my brain— If I could tell you what the level of the pain is? Mercy. There doesn't seem to be a number Merry Christmas, Let's get displaced; Case is dismissed— Let's get shitfaced Wash the dishes, Pick the peloton, Pick imaginary friends And watch the President be hilarious, Until it effects us negative and in the read, When peanut butter bread and jelly All you ever get for breakfast For extended periods of time. Hah. Bloodshed? Wrong. Blood hound? Bad. Segmented thoughts on a toothache? Too late. I hate to tell you what the truth is, Cause you'd hate it. Useless. Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks But I can't do this anymore I want to choose live; Inside my death is The whole of the city, Electric and Thomas Edison And impressive Mister Business— Rockerfeller read about it; Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people! Something simple says, “Just stop it.” Choke a chicken over breakfast, Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think Today will be the day That I give bacon To charity, No care left, to give a gift So thankful, For being blessed with time to waste To write this piece of shit I guess I died I guess in family guy? I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence— …like, a British baby? And a talking dog? And a dumb ass dad? And a bunch of songs? And some salad dressing, To go with that master habit of getting Grams and Grammies; But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God, I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court— But not to work at all, Only order sandwhiches Obsession has its advantages and platinum records, If you tap into it directly. Forget it. I'm out of magic. Or out of patience— out of time for petitions, But which one is it? Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders? Learn your lesson well; There's got to, got to be a reason why The wrong way is the right. There's got to be a reason why— My day becomes the night. There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper, But I've got to figure out my rhythm later; I gone up instead of downtown, Turn the clock before the sunrise, I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai. Gotta love a synchronicity; I get stuck inside bronze statues Door way syndrome And I shutter just to never remember him But here the picture is, a perfect person Headless and befriended him, the lover The line inside my mind is crossed I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one. My thoughts the first time I saw him? I hate him, Cause he'll never love me. What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem. One more, I don't remember where I'm going Day to, I have to remember to forget you Take three, I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things Because I'm maybe going crazy; From the outside though, you wouldn't know it Low and behold, this is my show afterall And covered in gold like the whole of the moon I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you, You looks twisted Get out of your head, and turn off your television Go on a walk, Get run over by a bus or motorcycles Turn around and talk to God and your disciples — cause they all watch. Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run, And now another pilot that I'm proud of— Stop looking at the ground— It hurts. Today, I learned my lesson, It was not a new apartment— It's a prison. I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”. The cat needs water, My heart needs captions. New York needs Jesus Hope he don't see this (Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it, Or Even if he did He's having trouble learning English, And, Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us; We worship dollars A cock-shaped structures in New York— TIME TRAVELER Its called The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What. TIME TRAVELER I'm looking for The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVEL It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.” SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVELER It's a building? I guess? SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER It is. It's— SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER But— *fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.* TIME TRAVELER Huh. the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo; (Like Marty McFlyim back to the future) Contd Must be the wrong dimension… But then JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL. Oh no! So that's what happened… Yeah? He was a bastard. Well! Damn. {Enter athe Multiverse} So you're everywhere all the time, And I got nothing left to run And we already talked the talk And we're already back to one Let the waves blow over, Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking Putting every penny on the promise that you got me But you never save me, Really, Jesus? Racist! I got a lot of stakes in the game And all these snakes keep weighing in! I got these eight days left inside my head, And I'm a murderer Remember to admit his wrong you are Next time the caw will crow. I crevice drawing under rock Inside the undertoe, My surfboard heading home for shore, My body going under. Oh Conan, what have you done. I'm not sure yet. So? Go get him, you old hoot. I just want to watch a little longer! *feathers ruffled* What! It is comical So i'm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic, Adding up the dollar signs and losses, Well now, Got my hosts and calling cards, And struck with dirty dozens Doesn't anybody understand? [no. Nobody does.] Certainly, you know, nobody does this. Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it. For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket . Well done, folks. Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying. I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause Nobody knows where they come from; Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears Here, solar panels Animals and tragic circumstances, Fucking Asholes Never shine your diamond on the twilight, Shooting stars; Never shoot at birds from cars; Remember, They are flying. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you, done. I swallowed you whole, I swallows you whole, I swallowed you down some. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you up; I swallowed you whole I swallowed you whole, You know what the cost is Just a heads up, If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face, They run away. The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon. When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established. It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind; The more evidence you gather, It becomes a verifiable crime. Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly, The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world— A loss of God. And also remember, Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand, And cannot control— However, also, God comes in all forms. You must know when all is all. Okay, shh— Don't lock the door, now You got a pardon, You better run. I am an a-list celebrity; I am an “amen, sister— I hear that!” I am a medicine woman, A centrifugal figure, A ritual character, Skilled at charicature— A big Kimmel fan, A rick and a Morty, A woman a man, A puppet, the master, A cat in a hatbox, A blasphemous coffin; A wart on a warflower. Hm. Now who could possibly take that out of context? Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street. I love all four stories, I rode all four horses, I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface Then I rolled it up Huh… Somebody does that. Leets go, hard core But don't forget the hot sauce Don't forget the — Smattercat?! SMATTERCAT?! SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT! The Adventures of Atticus Catticus. Man, this is fucked up. I can't disagree with you. I can't get you out of my head (I want head) Can't get you out of my mind I find that You must want me dead Tan lines l You must want me off my meds! You want in me in bed at 9 sharp You know what!? You remind me of Harper. Now let's talk shop, Calm, little brother I went with the other oath— Don't you belong to God? Who's on the phone? Donald Trump. Tell him “no.” No to what? Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster. So what do you got in your supplements? Simple psychology; Have a red album. Nah that. I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes Pulled apart orgasms, Never been touched, sire. Never have I took forgranted this passion( Never have —that flex— Theatrical pangentry. Never went Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich GODDAMMIT. I thought you grant wishes. — also in charge of summoning. Part time. Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job! I'm so sick of this kid, He just summons “Ham sandwhich” What's wrong with that? I gave him “ham sandwhich”, Alright?! All kinds, And you know what? That guy has all kinds of magic— All the kinds— Every kind you can imagine, And no matter what, He just wants. Hmmmm…: …. Come on. Summon a dog, or something… A new bike… ……. ……..:::: ……. …. Ham sandwhich. GOD DAMMIT. …and a kite. …what was that? I want a kite. Y…you want to fly a kite. Ya. Alright! But first. An, God. Ham Sandwhich. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN! SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES! AND ALL THE KENNEDIES! FUCK WITH ME. Somebody shoot that bitch. But sir— Before she runs for president. But sir… THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER. You're right. TAKE THE SHOOOOOT. MEANWHILE… In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY Oh good. What's that. Someone one assasinated me. That's good. I'll say. Wouldn't want you to run for president. Someone still would have had to elected me. Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here. *shrugs* They'll collapse eventually. They haven't yet. I just got assasinated. Wait for it. I've been waiting. I don't get why you hate me so much. I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting. I just got assasinated. And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences. It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension; Did I correct you— Lessons, I'm not making any promises. Look out little brother! I set them on you. Got to put the pudding in your pot— And don't forget to floss. What's corrextions? Look, I'm anatomically correct— Shut up, Ken. I don't click on videos or images Because I love him It's just a crush, A pair of wooden crutches A horcrux And a fox A crucifix And Sunday Brunches. It's just a bunch of pictures, Edits, autographs, Extended plays It's just an infinite inside my head— It's been a couple days. A couple miles down And sure to go, You're all for it— Soon you got to know Whatever you done Has come for your— Stop the truck for misuse of four muses And autotune to ruin it— Your mascot is a narwhal But you're rooting for the Bruins. What is even a Bruin? A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens? Bet that Okay, Like, I fall in love But just to write a bit I pour my heart out in a song And for the moment I could make forget i'm ugly Even if for the duration of the half time; Half a pack at halftime, Half a pack at bedtime 20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision. Three beers, Then three beers Thirty three years and he still won't love me Thirty three years and I'm still no woman. He show first, So I shot back I forgot rock doves Served a purpose Postage For lost albums on the surface Surfboards For hot rod bod host, I offered up Conan, Now pick that hard eye Banjo up Water dance Pick that apple, Off the tree With not a scratch Hands tied behind your back; Baggage claim, River dance Pick it up without a fork You whispered us a state of trance For God's socks, If I fly coach, Low ball Lost a fortune Don't call me ‘bud' I think about your walk all day; Like, Three or four times, maybe Not no noodle soup, you wonder But you're asking for a Ballroom. Haggard. God did far too good a job on you; As the car jumped over the moon. I complete your meat puppet, But recently went vegan Line them up and then A heart attack, A hot bath, And a hammock. You got your offer, But I want it back, I want my roses. Golden proses so rit and rattle. I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble; Damn. I just can't get you off my head without ramble You're probably on a tour bus; She's pulling out all the stop— But you're my monster, just know that Although I'm on top of her turf. So much for Service Monday. So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct. So much for love as. He aim for the head; I aim for the neck; He aim for the heart, I duck, I fall in her eyes, High water— No more cam tide Sunsets. What, I get you really wanted oceans, So you got them. Godsense. Pull, Conan Pull— Haul in! All in on your cards, But take the occult off them; Offering? Totem pole. More than one? I love to hope. Fix your face. Pull the plug— I'm off till Sunday, Off till Sunday. Ten days to Tuesday, You want no more Ten days to Sunday And ten more before that; Ten tongues before dawn, And other I slaughter And slaught cross the sloth, I wither, Your honor. Ten tales too soon, Ten wide my diamonds; Ten eyes in your Isis, My mind, Orion. Ten lost in the Outback; Ten lost on your mass, tongue Two whipped at the alter— I called her about that. So to the effect you check your fax and press the send, I'm steady living, never coming back, Or cap the president— Never living, Never listing residence on Madison You're stuck inside my half-life That I'm mad besides the medicine. You're stuck inside my past, Like all the knives inside my back, And still I fondly think upon a laugh, As ice cream sundaes, Half a sandwich Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art, The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins, The wicked summers and the bitter winters came, But did not cross paths, So to not bear ties, and to not plug Holes in the hull of the whole ship I think I sunk overtime instead of rather All at once, You know, It doesn't suffix What it takes to turn it back from “Love him” Into nothing. 20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers, But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers— Scatterbrained but highly trained in “Never Happened.” “Didn't matter.” So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors. Why'd you flash me, dancer, Don't you know how bad I want that? Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat Nail box fires Had you ordered Your desires Flow the golden drifter Fear of rivers never frozen. Don't you know the sun draws close But the heart grows cold, But the want goes harder? Don't you know the doors get shut, And the Kings get cut, And the wind blows wilder? Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky (They all fall from the sky, They fell from the sky) Don't you know We're all gonna die Put a trial to the wand, Fore you take her heart out Ten times.

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Ryan and Derek watch Teletubbies and talk about 28 Years Later!Support the show

The legendary DOENUT Factory himself returns to Nephilim Death Squad to dive deep into the weirdest corners of modern reality — from Nordic aliens and time-traveling Teletubbies to Rockefeller UFO psyops, frequency warfare, and the occult origins of propaganda.DOENUT joins Top Lobsta and The Raven (David Lee Corbo) for a cosmic journey that connects the dots between MK Ultra, UAP disclosure, time travel, the Nephilim bloodline, and the weaponization of memes and media.They break down:The alien–human hybrid agenda and the Rockefeller UFO psyopWhy 1948 keeps showing up in world events, sci-fi, and marketingThe connection between time travel, plasma entities, and biblical prophecyThe weaponization of rhythm, emotion, and laughter for controlThe secret to escaping modern PSYOPs through comedy, faith, and discernment

Don't forget to Like & Subscribe to GET SIMPLIFIED!It's Halloween at Simple Man HQ.In this episode, the boys get their Halloween costumes and discuss slap-boxing , $500K watches, and hog-hunting off a truck.Find us on Instagram:@thesimplemanpodcast @simplemanmartialarts@bjjdamien@nickyrod247@ethan.crelinsten@nickyryanbjj@sallyhatesjiujitsu@allywolskiMerchwww.simplemanma.myshopify.comMarek Health:

Ben Elton joins Dan, James and Andy to discuss Tinky Winky, Shakespeare, Lances and Popes. Visit nosuchthingasafish.com for news about live shows, merchandise and more episodes.  Join Club Fish for ad-free episodes and exclusive bonus content at apple.co/nosuchthingasafish or nosuchthingasafish.com/patreon

Our show today is being sponsored by Free Float Analytics, the only platform measuring board power, connections, and performance for FREE.DAMIONAmazon to announce largest layoffs in company history, in AI push. WHO DO YOU BLAME?Former CEO Jeff BezosAICovid (This wave of layoffs results from overhiring during the pandemic)Executive Chair and largest shareholder Jeff BezosF5 Expects Revenue Hit From Cyber Attack. F5, a $20B billion technology company with impressive gross profit margins of 81%, experienced a cybersecurity incident involving unauthorized access to certain company systems by a sophisticated nation-state threat actor. WHO DO YOU BLAME?The Risk committee: Dreyer, Klein, Montoya, Budnik*Chair Marianne Budnik is deemed to have Cybersecurity experience because she serves as a Chief Marketing Officer in the cybersecurity industryPeter Klein was the CFO at Microsoft for less than 4 years, then was the CFO for WME for 6 months and then has only been a director since 2014.Risk committee member Michael Montoya specifically. F5 revealed that the director mysteriously resigned in the same filing it disclosed the cyberattack, despite having served for only 4 years. According to the proxy, had “extensive experience as an information security executive.” Following his resignation from the Board, Mr. Montoya continued his service with the Company and has been appointed as F5's Chief Technology Operations Officer.The entire board, for doing dumb modern day board things: announced that CEO François Locoh-Donou, would assume the additional role of Chair of the Board following the Company's next Annual Meeting of Shareholders 12 days after they announced the cyberattack.Investors. 98% YES average this year: 7 over 99.2%, including Risk Committee Chair Marriane Budnik with 99.6%. Nobody feels like they have to work hard to impress anyoneF5! It's a god damn cybersecurity company!How climate change is fueling Hurricane Melissa's ferocity. WHO DO YOU BLAME?Exxon CEO Darren Woods because he sued his own shareholders last year: Arjuna Capital, LLC and Follow ThisExxon CEO Darren Woods because just yesterday: Exxon sues California over new laws requiring corporate climate disclosuresExxon CEO Darren Woods because gas and oilClimate ChangeOpenAI says U.S. needs more power to stay ahead of China in AI: ‘Electrons are the new oil' WHO DO YOU BLAME?The fear-and-spending geniuses behind the original Cold War: Truman, Stalin, ChurchillPeople who historically ignored Eisenhower and his statements on the U.S. military-industrial complex when he explicitly warned that defense contractors and the military could exert undue influence on government policy. Sound familiar?Anyone who empowered the board to not be empowered when they tried to fire Sam Altman for such reasons as:Conflicts over OpenAI's rapid growth and direction, especially the tension between aggressive AI deployment vs. safety oversight.Power dynamics between Altman, key researchers, and board members — some may have felt he had too much unilateral control.The college that let Sam Altman drop outSammy Altman Citi's Jane Fraser consolidates power with board chair vote — and a $25 million-plus bonus to boot. WHO DO YOU BLAME?The entire Compensation, Performance Management and Culture CommitteeThese two long-tenured Compensation, Performance Management and Culture Committee membersDiana L. Taylor* 10 other directorships: Brookfield Corporation, Accion (Chair), Columbia Business School (Board of Overseers),Friends of Hudson River Park (Chair), Mailman School of Public Health (Board of Overseers), The Economic Club of New York (Member), Council on Foreign Relations (Member), Hot Bread Kitchen (Board Chair), Cold Spring Harbor Lab (Member), and New York City Ballet (Board Chair)Peter B. Henry*8 other directorships: Nike, Inc., Analog Devices, Inc., National Bureau of Economic Research (Board), The Economic Club of New York (Board), Protiviti (Advisory Board), Biospring Partners (Advisory Board), Makena Capital (Advisory Board), and Two Bridges Football Club (Board)The lowest common denominator effect of bank compensation committees:Wells Fargo CEO Charlie Scharf: ~$30M special equity grant tied to becoming Chair as well as CEO (3 months after meeting)Goldman Sachs: CEO David Solomon & COO John Waldron ~$80M each (retention RSUs vesting in ~5 yrs)KeyCorp: CEO Chris Gorman & four other senior execs: ~$8M for Gorman; ~$17M combined for the five NEOsThe passive ownership (re: management-friendly) of BlackRock, State Street, and Vanguard (combined 22%): without their votes at Goldman then Say on Pay was nearly tied, which might have dissuaded the year of one-off bonuses for banking CEOs??The world is about $4.5 trillion short of securing a sustainable food supply for the future, global food and ag business CEO [Sunny Verghese, CEO of food and ag company Olam Group] says. WHO DO YOU BLAME?The world's top 28 richest people (those worth ~$160 B each) together would equal $4.5 trillionThe world's greatest sycophant Tesla chair RobynDenholm: “On the pay package specifically: “It's not about the money for him. If there had been a way of delivering voting rights that didn't necessarily deliver dollars, that would have been an interesting proposition.”Any two of these basically redundant techbro companies' market caps would sufficeNvidia ~$4.2 trillion Microsoft ~$3.8 trillion Apple ~$3.1 trillion Amazon ~$2.4 trillion Alphabet ~$2.2 trillion Meta Platforms ~$1.8 trillion Broadcom ~$1.3 trillion Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company ~$1.2 trillionBill Ackman. Because he's a douche.MATTTarget is eliminating 1,800 roles as new CEO Michael Fiddelke gets set to take over the struggling retailer - WHO DO YOU BLAME?Current CEO Brian Cornell, who's “stepping down” to the role of Executive Chair - which is basically still CEO, just on the board and doesn't have to talk to employees anymore, so he can eliminate 1800 jobs and then fade away into a multimillion dollar unaccountable board roleFuture CEO Michael Fiddelke, who starts February 1, 2026, but is current COO and was forced to send the memo to employees telling them 8% of the workforce will be cutMonica Lozano, chair of the compensation and human capital management committee of the board, who's also on the BofA and Apple boards and is the most connected board member at a highly connected board - does the chair of the human capital committee have to weigh in on firing?OpenAI - the memo makes zero mention of the fact that part of Target's problem is that it shit on gays and blacks because of a feckless internet toad named Robby Starbuck, but feels very written by AI which would account for phrases like:“Adjusting our structure is one part of the work ahead of us. It will also require new behaviors and sharper priorities that strengthen our retail leadership in style and design and enable faster execution so we can: Lead with merchandising authority; Elevate the guest experience with every interaction; and Accelerate technology to enable our team and delight our guests.”Does anyone know what that word salad actually means? Doesn't it just mean “you're fired because we basically sucked at our jobs”?Hormel recalls 4.9M pounds of chicken possibly 'contaminated with pieces of metal' - WHO DO YOU BLAME?The audit committee, the closest committee responsible for enterprise risk (ie, metal in chicken) - Stephen M. Lacy, William A. Newlands (also lead director), Debbra L. Schoneman, Sally J. Smith (chair), Steven A. White, Michael P. ZechmeisterThe governance committee - James Snee, the now retired CEO who retired somehow in January but the company still hasn't found a permanent replacement 9 months later - so they're being run by Jeff Ettinger, interim CEO? Chair Gary C. Bhojwani, Elsa A. Murano, Ph.D., William A. Newlands (also lead director), Debbra L. Schoneman, Steven A. WhiteThe one black guy on the board - Steve White - who works at Comcast, is somehow qualified to be on Hormel board, and is on BOTH the audit committee AND governance committeeThe conveyor belt that spit pieces of metal as large as 17mm long into “fire braised chicken” sent to hotels and restaurantsCervoMed appoints McKinsey veteran David Quigley to board of directors - WHO DO YOU BLAME? Board is 2 VCs, a longtime biotech CFO, and five MD/PhDs. And among those 8, there are just two woman - the co-founder/wife of the CEO and a VC. And when they did their search, they could only find a longtime professional opinion haver - a consultant from the big three?Nominating committee for lack of imaginationEx or current McKinsey, Bain, and BCG employed directors - the opinion industrial complex - make up a whopping 4% of ALL US DIRECTORSAmong boards with MULTIPLE ex opinion directors: Kohl's is 25% consultantStarbucks is 27% consultantDisney is 30% consultantsWilliams-Sonoma is 38% consultantCBRE is 40% consultant!Nominating committee chair Jane Hollingsworth, for not looking around the room and saying, “hey dudes, can we add, like, maybe, ONE other lady?”Co founders Sylvie Gregoire and John Alam (also CEO) who own 17.3% of voting power - add in Josh Boger, board chair and 12.3% voter, and you basically have the CEO daddy and his buddy Josh with 29.6% of voting controlSylvie and John's bios, which neglect to mention they're married to one anotherWe are all terrified of the future - which headline is worse for your terror? WHO DO YOU BLAME?The world is about $4.5 trillion short of securing a sustainable food supply for the future, global food and ag business CEO saysBill Gates Says Climate Change ‘Will Not Lead to Humanity's Demise' - ostensibly because billionaires in bunkers will, in fact, survive on cans of metal-filled Hormel chili.Sorry, Yoda. Mentors are going out of styleMan Alarmed to Discover His Smart Vacuum Was Broadcasting a Secret Map of His HouseJennifer Garner's baby food company is going public on the NYSE — should investors be putting their eggs in this basket?Woman Repeatedly Warned by Canadian Exchange Not to Transfer Crypto, Gets Scammed AnywayOpenAI completes restructure, solidifying Microsoft as a major shareholder - MSFT owns 27%, the non profit which controlled the company “for the benefit of humanity” now will only control it for 26% of humanity?Tesla risks losing CEO Musk if $1 trillion pay package isn't approved, board chair says - IF MUSK LEAVES, WHO DO YOU BLAME?Robyn Denholm, board chair, whose job it is to manage Musk, but does it like an overwhelmed permissive mother who parents with chocolate and Teletubbies when the kid has a tantrumKimbal Musk - I was told by a bunch of directors and institutional investors at a conference, no joke, that Kimbal was still on the board (ie, not voted out) to control his brother's ketamine intake and crazy episodes. So if he throws a tantrum and leaves, isn't it bro's fault? This is a binary trade - Musk gets extra pay/control, stock goes up and isn't de-meme'd. Musk doesn't, he leaves and the stock is de-meme'd and drops arguably by 66% or more to be more like a car company with some tech. So do we blame investors, no matter what they do? They meme'd the stock in the first place, he couldn't get a trillion extra dollars if they hadn't pumped up the stock - and now they could vote with humanity (no pay) or meme capitalism (pay)!Techbro middle school conservatism - is this Ben Shapiro and Joe Rogan's fault? A Yale economist paper suggests that Musk's politics cost between 1 and 1.26 million Tesla car sales… Would we even be worried if Musk stayed out of politics? Wouldn't the market have just paid him whatever?Pop quiz: which directors stay on the board if Musk leaves in a tantrum?Jeffrey StraubelKimbal MuskRobyn DenholmJames MurdochKathleen Wilson-ThompsonIra EhrenpreisJack HartungJoe Gebbia

Dusk's D&D KICKSTARTER - https://www.secretgardenadventureclub.com His Name Is Dusk - https://www.hisnamewasdusk.com GET THE MISCELLANEOUS IMMORALITY SHIRT HERE:

Bretman and Miss K are back with a Halloween episode full of wild theories and unholy laughs. From cursed Teletubbies to government pumpkin spice plots and real Filipino ghost stories, it's spooky, silly, and so DaBaddest.Produced by Dear MediaSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

En el programa de hoy hemos comentado cómo ha ido el verano en general, ya que no contábamos que renováramos temporada, y al final sí. También, hemos hablado de la actualidad deportiva, cosas random de los teletubbies y El Chiringuito. Poco más, pero muy divertido. Con Iván Martínez, Héctor Morcillo y Oriol Manrique. Presentado por Ferran Jaime.

This CORNDOWN keeps circling back to keys, losing them, someone else finding them, cops and even dogs getting involved, and wastedmemory chasing them down in his own ways. The magic rabbit stuff runs right alongside it, with them appearing, disappearing, and even coming out of hats thanks to whuppy. We bounce into odd jobs and hotel problems, from sieves and TV people to being forced to apply for jobs we don’t want, all while wastedmemory endures Mario music in the background. The rest of the crew drops in too: snappy bakes with toilet keys and cardboard food, Lux with Teletubbies, buccshot talking alternate dimensions, Cloutmaster debating ethics, and Hootis helping me track down keys at work. It winds down with me and wastedmemory trying to be professional on the phone but never quite pulling it off. This show is made possible by donations from listeners like you. If you enjoy what you hear, please consider donating via patreon or paypal! join the new rogue telegram or the prank call discord server !! powered by rogueserver.com

Jessica Rosas is on the couch today talking stand-up life, bad tapes, and why comics hate watching themselves. She talks PBS credits, childhood shows like Dragon Tales and Teletubbies, and the early chaos of TikTok. Then we get into the Box of Friendship. Thank you all for Listening!  Follow Jessica Rosas:  https://www.instagram.com/heyjessicarosas https://www.jessicarosas.com Follow Us: Podcast pages - https://linktr.ee/reydarpod https://www.instagram.com/reydarpodcast Rian Reyes - https://linktr.ee/rianreyes Josh the Producer - https://www.instagram.com/imjoshuabenjamin This Old Ting - https://www.instagram.com/thisoldthing.tv Support the podcast: Patreon - https://patreon.com/reydarpo Merch - https://www.etsy.com/shop/RiansMerch  Legacy Teas and Spices: https://legacyteasandspices.com Use code: 10YEARS

Award-nominated composer Andrew McCrorie-Shand joins Francesca de Valence to share a songwriting journey shaped by curiosity, cinematic vision, and emotional depth. From hit TV themes like Teletubbies to reflective solo work, Andy's decades-spanning career reveals the power of imagination and storytelling in music.About Andrew: Andy is a multi-instrumentalist, arranger, producer and composer. As a teen he was greatly influenced by the American rock musician, composer and filmmaker Frank Zappa and British rock musician Keith Emerson. In 1974 Andy joined the progressive rock band Druid, with whom he co-composed and recorded 2 albums for EMI: Toward the Sun (1975) and Fluid Druid (1976). He went on to play with Curved Air, which included a pre-Police Stewart Copeland on drums.Contact Andrew: WebsiteSong Credit: “Streetlights" - Written by Andrew McCrorie-Shand. Performed by Andrew McCrorie-Shand.Ready to deep dive into songwriting? Join our 10-week online intensive course to write 10 new songs with lessons, personalised mentorship and practical tools to refine your craft. Learn more at iheartsongwritingclub.com/songwritingcourses.Find out more and contact us at I Heart Songwriting Club & Francesca de Valence.Get your creativity, confidence, and songwriting output flowing. Join The Club and receive the support and structure to write 10 songs in 10 weeks and get feedback from a private peer community. Just getting started on your songwriting journey and need more hands-on support? Establish a firm foundation and develop your musical and lyric skills with our Beginner Songwriting Courses. Don't struggle to write your next album - write an album a year with ease! Watch our Free Songwriting Masterclass. Get songwriting insights from I Heart Songwriting Club: Instagram / Facebook / YouTubeBe inspired by Francesca on socials: YouTube / Facebook / InstagramTheme song: “Put One Foot In Front Of The Other One” music and lyrics by Francesca de Valence If you love this episode, please subscribe, leave a review and tell everyone you know about The Magic of Songwriting.

Today's featured podcast highlights the internet's most infamous YouTube commenters. This episode is an exclusive interview with “Teletubby Todd”, who has been making controversial comments for nearly two decades. Plus, Rob struggles with turning 40. 

Today's featured podcast highlights the internet's most infamous YouTube commenters. This episode is an exclusive interview with “Teletubby Todd”, who has been making controversial comments for nearly two decades. Plus, Rob struggles with turning 40. 

Join this channel to get access to perks:    / @freakyattractions   When my sister vanished after visiting the abandoned Teletubbies filming location, all they found were her shoes near a flooded hill. Weeks later, I got a drawing in the mail—four hollow-eyed figures, and a message: “It was never a show.” Written by ► Even_Sink_842 Music by ► Myuu Mr.Freaky Discord server ►   / discord   © 2025 Freaky Attractions. All rights reserved. This Creepypasta is for Entertainment Purposes Only.

L'été est chaud dans 24FPS, le podcast ciné avec ou sans spoiler, avec les films vus en juin et juillet 2025. Voici les 10 films abordés sans spoiler par Julien et Jérôme dans cet épisode : Jurassic World Renaissance de Gareth Edwards (à partir de 0:02:56) Dangerous Animals de Sean Byrne (à partir de 0:45:48) MEGAN 2.0 de Gerard Johnstone (à partir de 0:53:33) Shadow Force de Joe Carnahan (à partir de 1:06:21) Sorry Baby de Eva Victor (à partir de 1:18:31) Amélie Et La Métaphysique Des Tubes de Maïlys Vallade et Liane-Cho Han (à partir de 1:25:13) Eddington de Ari Aster (à partir de 1:32:50) Superman de James Gunn (à partir de 1:44:56) 28 Ans Plus Tard de Danny Boyle (à partir de 2:51:37) F1 de Joseph Kosinski (à partir de 3:59:16) Puis ils reviennent sur F1 avec des spoilers à partir de 4:28:38 car Julien a des choses à dire ! Bonne écoute, et n'hésitez pas à donner votre avis sur les Teletubbies ! Crédits musicaux : Whole Lotta Love de Led Zeppelin, issu de l'album Led Zeppelin II (1969)

– Jeg strøk på ex.phil gang etter gang. Jeg skrev om at Hufsa potensielt kunne være ekte og om Teletubbies, innrømmer artisten. Hør alle episodene i appen NRK Radio

BEST OF TST: The sudden popularity of Labubu toys has resulted in grown adults lining up in the early morning hours to acquire as many of these little monsters as possible. Although upon first glance they appear sort of cute, closer examination will reveal that their apparent smile is actually a sinister grin with razor sharp teeth. Designed by Hong Kong-born artist Kasing Lung, the toys are sold by Pop Mart in collaboration with the artist and in relation to his 2015 book “The Monsters.” Their increasing popularity is a result of celebrities like Rihanna or Dua Lipa flaunting their own, although the trend began when Blackpink k-pop singer Lisa first was spotted with the keychain in April 2024. Each doll comes in a sealed box with no indication of what's inside, meaning each purchase is a mystery. Shoppers are notified of a new drop off of the toy at their local stores via WhatsApp. They then rush to the spot, as one Australian article documented, “at 3am.” Put simply, people are lining up during the “witching hour” to buy a mysterious monster in a box after receiving an oddly timed text in the middle of the night. The atmosphere around these toys is similar to any long gone or persisting product, from Furbys and Beanie Babies to Hello Kitty and Pokemon, but there is something else about these little toys that is anything but friendly.The dolls themselves are not really even monsters, but instead more like little children that appear to be possessed and wearing Teletubbies costumes. Like any good marketing campaign, the product page on Amazon describes their various character stores: one of the leaders, zimomo ventures to the human world where he learns yoga and then brings the practice back to his own world in the forest. The monsters are thus more like fairies, and in fact one description reads: “the elves in the forest are curious about the human world. So, the No. 1 curious player LABUBU gathered her friends and secretly came to the city for an adventure. The goal is absolutely not to be discovered by humans!” The forests are described further as “nordic,” which is the mythological nature that was inspiration for the dolls.It's not just the name zimomo that brings back memories of the Momo Challenge, but the fact that these monsters from another world are essentially being promoted like Momo. Mysterious messages in the middle of the night that prompt half-asleep humans to perform some action - in this case, buy a mysterious box that contains what amounts to a fairy, demon, familiar, or personal spirit charm. This is reminiscent also of the 3am Challenge and the recent Mirror Challenge, where one looks into the mirror for so long they watch their face and reality around them distort. The name LA BU BU is even more telling of an underlying darkness. The LALALOOPSY doll, a girl with no apparent ears, a mouth sewn shut, and black buttons for eyes - something further reminiscent of the movie Carolin where the Beldam Other Mother replaces the girl's eyes (soul) with buttons to trap her in the other world - is a toy about fanciful play through a sort of loopy “Lala-ness.” The LA BU BU is generally said to refer to the same playfulness, though the word “bubu” is both a euphemism for a child's injury, and also holds the meaning of grandmother. In other words, LA GRANDMOTHER, the old crone of the forest. She is also known as Momo, Yamamba, the hag, the Hansel and Gretel Witch, or Baba Yaga. She also shares something in common with La Llorona, Ubume, and Banshee.   Perhaps this is all a coincidence, or perhaps Labubu, like Elf on the Shelf, is not something we should be bringing into our homes or carrying with us on our person. *The is the FREE archive, which includes advertisements. If you want an ad-free experience, you can subscribe below underneath the show description.-FREE ARCHIVE (w. ads)SUBSCRIPTION ARCHIVEX / TWITTER FACEBOOKWEBSITECashApp: $rdgable EMAIL: rdgable@yahoo.com / TSTRadio@protonmail.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-secret-teachings--5328407/support.

Welcome to another What the Hell? edition of Terror Talk Podcast, where things get weird, wacky, and totally unhinged.In this episode, Shannon and Cathy dive into some of the most ridiculous and jaw-dropping true crime headlines we've seen all year. From a Greek woman who trusted ChatGPT to predict infidelity through coffee grounds, to a man in a Teletubby costume breaking into his friend's house, this one is packed with wild ride energy.Other stories include:A child who ordered 70,000 Dum Dums (yes, really)A woman stealing $11,000 worth of chicken wingsA woodpecker terrorizing Massachusetts (we're serious)A man in a cow suit robbing WalmartAnd a disturbing true crime story out of Russia involving dead children dressed as dollsIf your brain hurts by the end, don't worry—it's What the Hell? after all.We keep it light, fun, and completely unpredictable—because sometimes reality is stranger than horror fiction.Instagram: @terrortalkpodcastYouTube: TerrorTalk PodcastFacebook: Halloween All Year LongTikTok: @dark.psychology.girlsAll music for this episode is provided by Mannequin Uprising.

In this episode of Leaning Into Leadership, Darrin sits down with Joe LaTorre, a middle school English teacher, team coordinator, and founder of the Bridges program in Long Island, NY. Joe shares how looping, relationship-building, and culturally responsive practices help him build classroom communities rooted in trust and student empowerment. They dive deep into the origin and impact of Bridges, a student leadership and cultural exchange initiative, and explore how educators can go beyond curriculum to foster belonging and long-term engagement.Joe and Darrin discuss everything from rethinking first-day icebreakers to helping students tackle real-world issues like mental health and community leadership. You'll hear stories about students taking charge, serving their communities, and building relationships that last beyond the school walls. If you're looking for actionable ways to build student agency and school culture—this episode delivers.

In this episode of The Commentary Booth, hosts Jamie Apps and Corrina Mabey conclude (for now!) their Frightening Flashback series with a deep dive into 28 Years Later, the long-awaited sequel to the iconic 28 Days Later franchise. Set nearly three decades after the initial outbreak, the film follows a group of survivors on a fortified island as one member ventures to the mainland, uncovering mutated threats, new horrors, and cult-like survivors with disturbing influences.Highlights Breakdown:- First Impressions: Does 28 Years Later live up to the franchise's legacy?- Ralph Fiennes Shines: Why Dr. Ian Kelson is the film's saving grace.- Tonal Whiplash: The bizarre Power Rangers-meets-Teletubbies cult that derails the ending.- Infected Evolutions: From spine-ripping Alphas to bloated, worm-eating zombies.- The Baby Mystery: WTF was up with that infected birth scene?!- This Was Filmed On An iPhone?!: Cinematography, Behind-the-Scenes & Future Sequels- Box Office & Future: Will the planned trilogy stick the landing?Jamie and Corinna debate the film's strengths, its jarring flaws, and whether Danny Boyle's vision still holds up. Plus, ranting about Jimmy Savile-inspired villains and the worst tonal shift in horror history!This week's episode is brought to you byAustralian Wrestling CardsCheck out more great content from Pario Magazine on our website.-------------------------------------------------------------SUPPORT PARIO MAGAZINE & THE COMMENTARY BOOTH- PATREON- SAVE 15% ON OODIE- TUBEBUDDY- COMPLETE PAID SURVEYS WITH OCTOPUS GROUP- COMPLETE PAID SURVEYS WITH PUREPROFILE- COMPLETE PAID SURVEYS WITH SURVEYZ- PRODUCTIVITY PLANNER NOTIONMY EQUIPMENT- Elgato Facecam- Rode PodMic- Elgato Wave Mic Arm LP- Streamlabs Talk StudioFOLLOW JAMIE ON SOCIAL MEDIA- Twitter- Facebook- Instagram- TikTokFOLLOW PARIO MAGAZINE ON SOCIAL MEDIA- Twitter- Facebook- Instagram

Blank Check is going back to the British Isles with Danny Boyle, Alex Garland, and one extraordinarily well-endowed zombie this week as they discuss 28 Years Later. This movie has so much to love in it – wet bones, third-act Ralph Fiennes, Jodie Comer doing a thing, the Angel of the North, Teletubbies, the aforementioned well-endowed zombies, mind-bending digital photography, and did we mention THE WET BONES??? Be prepared for David to get REAL British, for Marie to cry on mic, for Griffin to bring up the manosphere, and for Ben to learn about Operation Yewtree. Gosh, we love this movie so much. Sign up for Check Book, the Blank Check newsletter featuring even more “real nerdy shit” to feed your  pop culture obsession. Dossier excerpts, film biz AND burger reports, and even more exclusive content you won't want to miss out on. Join our Patreon for franchise commentaries and bonus episodes. Follow us @blankcheckpod on Twitter, Instagram, Threads and Facebook!  Buy some real nerdy merch Connect with other Blankies on our Reddit or Discord For anything else, check out BlankCheckPod.com  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Oh, Best Friend Force! Chris had a whirlwind night at the Tonys, Fin's album release is just around the corner, and The Traitors Season 4 cast is official. So rather than traveling anywhere this week, we're inviting you onto the rocket ship for a catch-up! Topics may include: Broadway nights, devil's plans, Playboy models, Survivor legends, Teletubbies, and *evil giggles.* Here's a list of LA immigration support resources, and here's a progressive voting guide for NYC's Democratic primaries. One of Us is hosted and produced by Chris Renfro and Fin Argus. It's executive produced by Myrriah Gossett and Erica Getto for Good Get. Myrriah Gossett is our sound designer, and our theme music is produced by Fin Argus and Brendan Chamberlain-Simon. Our show art was drawn by Fin Argus, and photographed by ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Mike⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ and ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Matt McCarty⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. You can follow One Of Us on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ and ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠TikTok⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ at @oneofus.pod. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

The Ghorman story really takes flight in this arc as the Empire, through Dedra and Syril, tug on the strands of the Ghorlectipod web they've woven behind the scenes.Cass and Bix try to get settled in Coruscant, Kleya and Luthen have to clean up a mess they made, Saw teaches Wilmon to huff rhydo, and Vel and Cinta reunite briefly. We talk about it all. And the Teletubbies. (We promise it makes sense...kind of.)- Where To Find Us -Web: ⁠GlitterJaw.com⁠⁠Bluesky: @DistantEchoespod.bsky.socialInstagram: ⁠⁠@DistantEchoesSW⁠⁠TikTok: @DistantEchoesPod⁠Email: ⁠DistantEchoesSW@gmail.com⁠- Theme Music -失望した by EVA -⁠ https://joshlis.bandcamp.com⁠⁠Promoted by ⁠⁠@RoyaltyFreePlanet⁠⁠Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 ⁠⁠http://bit.ly/RFP_CClicense⁠- Sources -"Say It in Ghor: How Andor Brought a Brand New Language to Star Wars, Liz Shannon Miller, consequence.net/2025/05/andor-ghor-language-creation-season-2All audio clips are used under Fair Use and belong to their respective copyright owners.

On today's episode of The Therapy Crouch, it's the best of the Agony Abs and chaos is absolutely guaranteed. Peter and Abbey dive into your juiciest, most unhinged, and totally relatable dilemmas—from the stepmum who feels more invisible than the family dog on Mother's Day, to the mystery of the man ordering used weird packages to someone else's house... There's a wedding invitation snub that has everyone questioning if they're the “complete knob,” a bizarre obsession with oldish knickers, and the boyfriend who turns into a Teletubby in bed.

Originally posted Jan 1, 2025Episode about cartoons and how they shape the world around us with Mike Bilandic + his article How Fred Flintstone Became One of America's Greatest Cultural Exports Eurodance music with Smurfs and Flintstones, the purpose and legacy of Dexter's Lab, Hanah Barbera, Casimir Spaulding aka Glo Mula, Glo Jean-Charles de Castelbajac and Iceberg: Fred infiltrating fashion, loukos_por_trenzinhos_ofc, cartoon imagery on legalized weed and gray market dispenseries, Degentrificartion, 1960's, a history of drugs and cartoons, Street artist Kenny Scharf making a Flintstones and Jetson's religion, Hugus who painted 50 Rick & Morty murals in NYC, Latino love for Loony Tunes, Cartoons in the hood and in rap music, Teletubbies: total psychedelic illiteracy, the Smurf conference at the start of Covid: first super spreader event, Turmoil in the Toy Box, cartoons in the age of AI, the NFT Ape effect, Florence Fang and the Flintstone's House (1976)Edit by Alex Talan

The sudden popularity of Labubu toys has resulted in grown adults lining up in the early morning hours to acquire as many of these little monsters as possible. Although upon first glance they appear sort of cute, closer examination will reveal that their apparent smile is actually a sinister grin with razor sharp teeth. Designed by Hong Kong-born artist Kasing Lung, the toys are sold by Pop Mart in collaboration with the artist and in relation to his 2015 book “The Monsters.” Their increasing popularity is a result of celebrities like Rihanna or Dua Lipa flaunting their own, although the trend began when Blackpink k-pop singer Lisa first was spotted with the keychain in April 2024. Each doll comes in a sealed box with no indication of what's inside, meaning each purchase is a mystery. Shoppers are notified of a new drop off of the toy at their local stores via WhatsApp. They then rush to the spot, as one Australian article documented, “at 3am.” Put simply, people are lining up during the “witching hour” to buy a mysterious monster in a box after receiving an oddly timed text in the middle of the night. The atmosphere around these toys is similar to any long gone or persisting product, from Furbys and Beanie Babies to Hello Kitty and Pokemon, but there is something else about these little toys that is anything but friendly.The dolls themselves are not really even monsters, but instead more like little children that appear to be possessed and wearing Teletubbies costumes. Like any good marketing campaign, the product page on Amazon describes their various character stores: one of the leaders, zimomo ventures to the human world where he learns yoga and then brings the practice back to his own world in the forest. The monsters are thus more like fairies, and in fact one description reads: “the elves in the forest are curious about the human world. So, the No. 1 curious player LABUBU gathered her friends and secretly came to the city for an adventure. The goal is absolutely not to be discovered by humans!” The forests are described further as “nordic,” which is the mythological nature that was inspiration for the dolls.It's not just the name zimomo that brings back memories of the Momo Challenge, but the fact that these monsters from another world are essentially being promoted like Momo. Mysterious messages in the middle of the night that prompt half-asleep humans to perform some action - in this case, buy a mysterious box that contains what amounts to a fairy, demon, familiar, or personal spirit charm. This is reminiscent also of the 3am Challenge and the recent Mirror Challenge, where one looks into the mirror for so long they watch their face and reality around them distort. The name LA BU BU is even more telling of an underlying darkness. The LALALOOPSY doll, a girl with no apparent ears, a mouth sewn shut, and black buttons for eyes - something further reminiscent of the movie Carolin where the Beldam Other Mother replaces the girl's eyes (soul) with buttons to trap her in the other world - is a toy about fanciful play through a sort of loopy “Lala-ness.” The LA BU BU is generally said to refer to the same playfulness, though the word “bubu” is both a euphemism for a child's injury, and also holds the meaning of grandmother. In other words, LA GRANDMOTHER, the old crone of the forest. She is also known as Momo, Yamamba, the hag, the Hansel and Gretel Witch, or Baba Yaga. She also shares something in common with La Llorona, Ubume, and Banshee.  Perhaps this is all a coincidence, or perhaps Labubu, like Elf on the Shelf, is not something we should be bringing into our homes or carrying with us on our person. *The is the FREE archive, which includes advertisements. If you want an ad-free experience, you can subscribe below underneath the show description.-FREE ARCHIVE (w. ads)SUBSCRIPTION ARCHIVEX / TWITTER FACEBOOKMAIN WEBSITECashApp: $rdgable EMAIL: rdgable@yahoo.com / TSTRadio@protonmail.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-secret-teachings--5328407/support.

(Original airdate: March 27, 2020) Lucas & Will are ready to sit down to discuss where they were during Teletubby-mania, find out just how popular the show was in its heyday, reveal their favorite Teletubbies, and discuss what Tubby Toast is...

The huns rant about the price of the theatre, the joy of The Mousetrap and pull a tarot card that demands we all gain a bit of perspective... reckon we got any? We're bringing back SPOOKY NEWS to kick the eppy off, a little news segment about spooky goings on around the world. This week we hear about a parliament ghost tour in Wellington, NZ. Story 1 - Hannah reads us a story called 'The Thin Man' about Billy who, one day, stopped coming to school... what's behind that streetlight? Story 2 - Big S tells us a story about a strange encounter whilst hunting in rural Texas... think cabin in the woods... this one gets real creepy... Story 3 - Hannah has a story about Aaron Kelly - newsflash - he's dead and he's dancing. Creep of the Week (COW!) is read by Big S and was sent in from Matthew - thank you hun - this creepy story is about the HAUNTING OF THE TELETUBBIE PLUSHIES all the way from Singapore!ENJOY HUNS WE LOVE YA xoxoJOIN OUR PATREON! EXTRA bonus episodes AND a monthly ghost hunt for just £4.50! Or £6 for AD-FREE EPS and weekly AGONY HUNS! We'll solve your problems huns! Sign up here:www.patreon.com/GhostHuns

Max Giammario "We're not just building an assistant—we're creating artificial life that you actually want to talk to." — Max Giammario, CEO, Kindred Labs In one of the most thought-provoking episodes of Technology Reseller News, publisher Doug Green sat down with Max Giammario, CEO of Kindred Labs, to discuss a new frontier in AI: emotionally intelligent, pop-culture-powered digital companions. Forget impersonal chatbots or disjointed AI assistants. Kindred Labs is blending beloved characters like Hello Kitty, Teletubbies, and Pudgy Penguins with advanced agentic AI to create immersive, emotionally resonant digital experiences. The goal? A future where your most trusted companion might be a personality you already know and love. Artificial Life Meets Emotional Intelligence Giammario's research centers on artificial life and emotional connection. Kindred is the result of that work, delivering companions that don't just complete tasks—they live across your devices, follow your routines, and grow with you over time. "Imagine a character like Hello Kitty or a K-pop idol expressed as your AI assistant," said Giammario. "It's Clippy reimagined for the AI era, but now it's someone you love waking you up, organizing your day, tracking your portfolio, and cheering you on during your workout." That vision isn't hypothetical. Kindred already has over 100,000 active users, and many of them spend more than six hours a day interacting with their AI companions. These are cross-platform personalities, jumping from mobile to laptop to smartwatch, offering contextually relevant help with a smile, a joke, or a familiar catchphrase. Trust, Familiarity, and Emotional Loyalty One of Kindred's key innovations is in overcoming what Giammario calls the "AI trust gap." "Most people are hesitant to allow AI that level of access to their life. But when it comes wrapped in a character you know—one you already trust—you drop your guard. That's the magic." Kindred isn't just function-first. In fact, its entire model is based on emotional connection. Users don't just use Kindred because it works. They use it because they love the character. "If we just built a better assistant, we'd be in a race to the bottom," Giammario explained. "But if you love your Bugs Bunny, you'll stick with it. That loyalty is what lets us deliver more functionality, not the other way around." A Single Interface Across Everything The implications for enterprise and commercial applications are vast. Instead of bouncing between disconnected bots, imagine a single consistent AI companion interface across every website and interaction. "Chatbots are fragmented," said Giammario. "But your Kindred character can follow you across every business, every device, and every platform—always learning, always adapting." In the workplace, that might look like a familiar avatar giving you a morning briefing, syncing your calendar, prompting reminders, and surfacing insights from your CRM. In retail, it could mean brand mascots that act as informed, AI-powered shopping concierges. From Fiction to Reality Giammario admits that this shift can feel surreal—even science fiction. But it's already happening. "We're crossing a line from tools into relationships," said Green. "From functionality into feeling." And it's not just about novelty. The mental health benefits, the engagement rates, and the potential for radically new forms of interaction are all on the table. Learn More Visit KindredLabs.ai to meet your next digital companion, explore the white paper, or join the community on Discord. You can also follow Max Giammario on X and Kindred at @kindred_ai. Kindred is turning the characters you grew up with into the digital friends you take into the future. The question now is: Are you ready to meet your AI best friend?  

Send us a textTwo beers that completely flip traditional expectations - that's the delightful contradiction we explore in our latest adventure through craft beer's wilder frontiers. The Midnight Butcher Black IPA from Michaux Brewing arrives dark as night yet carries the distinctive bitterness of an IPA, creating what we describe as a "bitter chocolate" experience that improves significantly as it warms. At 6.5% ABV, this collaboration with Rooster Street Brewing challenges what we typically expect from the style.Following our journey through darkness, we pivot to a golden-hued Albino White Stout from Cleveland's Butcher and Brew that delivers mind-bending coffee and chocolate flavors despite its bright appearance. The surprising sweetness and easy drinkability of this 5.4% creation earned unanimous 9/10 ratings from both hosts – a standout that would appeal even to those who normally shy away from traditional stouts.Between sips, we venture into Rick's upcoming maiden voyage with his new camper (hopefully more successful than the Titanic's journey that began on this very date in 1912), Princess's adventures with his new Teletubby-like CPAP machine, and a surprisingly detailed conversation about ass cracks, potential tattoos, and the advantages of snorkel-breathing apparatus in intimate situations. These tangents might explain why we keep coming back to these beers to ground ourselves!Whether you're intrigued by beers that challenge visual expectations or simply enjoy authentic conversations between friends, this episode delivers both in equal measure. Find these unexpected brews if you can – they represent the creative spirit driving today's craft beer industry and provide perfect examples of how innovation continues to thrive among American brewers.Support the showwww.anotherreasontodrink.com

Here we are with the rising NYC based spooky band Teletubbies. Here we are with two of the band members where they will share more about how they formed their band, their background in music, and their professional goals with social media, performing at comedic open mic nights and other venues in the Manhattan area. We will wrap up hearing their advice and upcoming releases on SoundCloud.

Hoy toca hablar de viajes, fotos, vídeos, podcasts… y de cómo evitar que todo eso se convierta en un tostón para quien lo ve o lo escucha. Repasamos algunos consejos para mejorar tus reportajes de viaje, tanto en imagen como en sonido, sin caer en el “efecto Teletubby”. También charlamos con Oskar Mondéjar (@cienkilometrosmas), que vuelve al programa tras recorrer media Sudamérica. Además, Quique Franco nos trae un audio con tips prácticos sobre cámaras y la nueva Insta360 X4. Comentamos los resultados del último concurso, las cosas que pasan cuando no duermes y, como siempre, rematamos con los comentarios de los oyentes. ¡Todo muy audiovisual pero sin pasarnos de intensos! Invitado:  Oskar Mondéjar (Instagram): ⁠instagram.com/cienkilometrosmas⁠ Patrocinan este episodio: Asador de Nozana – ⁠www.mesondenozana.com⁠ Casa Pipo – ⁠www.hotelrestaurantecasapipo.es⁠ Estoy de Ruta – ⁠estoyderuta.com⁠ Atlantis Moto – ⁠atlantismoto.com⁠ Motorbeach Viajes – ⁠motorbeachviajes.com⁠ #viajoenmoto #viajesenmoto #fotografiadeviajes #videodeviajes #gopro #insta360 #motoviajeros #podcastmotero #oskarmondejar #quiquefranco #motorbeach #aliciasornosa #fernandogarciaelbúfalo #podcast #motos

HAPPY FRIDAY! Today on the show, we asked you WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU STILL DO but ARE NOT ASHAMED of?!? But first, Heidi has some questions for Kyle. Will it be a new segment? Also, SECOND DATE UPDATE... on a FRIDAY? Welp, she needed our help! Also, SMARTEST IN THE ROOM AAAAAAAAAND What happened to Rich at Guitar Center? All of this and MUCH MUCH MORE TODAY on Johnjay and Rich

Tinky Winky, Dipsy, La La and Po were introduced to British viewers on 31st March, 1997 - launching an international phenomenon and changing kid's television forever. ‘Teletubbies' was an enormous hit for the BBC, but not without controversy: from viewers concerned that the characters' toddlerish language might impede the linguistic development of the nation's children, to angry Radio Times readers who claimed the BBC were committing ‘cultural vandalism' by axing the long-running series Playdays. In this episode, Arion, Rebecca and Olly get lost in the weeds of Teletubbies Wiki fandom; revisit the ‘toy rage' that the show had inspired by Christmas 1997; and reveal why the first generation ‘tubbies never did live appearances…  Further Reading: • ‘Teletubbies turn 20: how four blinking toddlers became a true TV phenomenon' (The Guardian, 2017): https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2017/mar/31/teletubbies-turn-20-how-four-blinking-toddlers-became-a-true-tv-phenomenon • ‘The Great Distractor' (Centre for Media, Technology and Democracy, 2021): https://www.mediatechdemocracy.com/work/the-great-distractor • ‘Teletubbies: Ned's Bicycle' (BBC, 1997): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9woh2gKx1rM&list=PL8Zq4IrtuktnIh_XkWqMRfNkebVPgUIwy Love the show? Support us!  Join 

Stand-Up On The Spot! Featuring completely improvised sets from Ari Shaffir, Kevin Nealon, Tony Baker, Beth Stelling & Jeremiah Watkins. No material. Comedians create Stand-Up On The Spot off audience suggestions. Everything is covered from Teletubbies, Carnies, sharing hotel rooms & more! Jeremiah Watkins you know from Trailer Tales, Dr. Phil Live, his special DADDY, and as the host and creator of Stand-Up On The Spot. Ari Shaffir has a new Netflix special America's Sweetheart and has a travel podcast called You Be Trippin. Kevin Nealon is in the upcoming Happy Gilmore 2 and you know him from SNL and many of your favorite comedies, check out his series Hiking with Kevin. Tony Baker has multiple specials and you can watch his podcasts Daddy Issues and Verbal Cardio and he is in the upcoming season of Churchy on BET. Beth Stelling is a writer for Rick and Morty and has a Netflix Special If You Didn't Want Me Then.  Follow the Comedians! Jeremiah Watkins  @jeremiahwatkins   @TrailerTalesPod   @standupots  https://www.instagram.com/jeremiahstandup Ari Shaffir  @arishaffir  https://www.instagram.com/arishaffir Kevin Nealon  @KevinNealoncomedy  https://www.instagram.com/kevinnealon T ony Baker https://www.instagram.com/tonybaker  @TonyBakercomedy  Beth Stelling https://www.instagram.com/bethstelling Stand-Up On The Spot https://www.instagram.com/standupots  @standupots  Sponsored by: Blue Chew Support the show and try BlueChew for free, just pay $5 shipping. Visit https://www.bluechew.com Sponsored by: Hims Hair Support the show and start your free online Hims visit at https://www.hims.com/SPOT Interested in sponsoring the show? Email standupots@gmail.com for inquiries SOTS: Ari Shaffir, Kevin Nealon, Tony Baker, Beth Stelling & Jeremiah Watkins | Ep 68 #1HourSpecial #StandupComedy #AriShaffir #KevinNealon #TonyBaker #BethStelling #StandUpOnTheSpot #SOTS #Jeremiah Watkins #CrowdWork

Want to write great fiction podcasts but don't know where to begin? You're not alone! Wolf 359 creator Gabriel Urbina is offering a new and updated version of his acclaimed online workshop, Writing Stories For Sound this February. Join Gabriel on a guided tour of his own journey into understanding audio, as he retraces his steps and revisits the questions he asked as he started writing the first episodes of Wolf 359. He's teaching the workshop twice next month - on Sunday February 2nd and on Tuesday February 4th! But wait! He's also teaching a brand new Masterclass Edition of Writing Stories for Sound - a six-week class where he not only teaches you all the things you need to know to write a great audio fiction pilot, he actually writes a script alongside you. It's the best look into the creative process that brought us Wolf 359 and many other shows you'll ever get! The first round of this online masterclass kicks off February 5th! For more information or to sign up, please visit gabrielurbina.com/classes. * * * TRANSCRIPT OF TODAY'S MESSAGE: (sounds of Eiffel fidgeting, while tense, dramatic music plays) Eiffel: Come on come on come on... where is he? Doctor... (door opens) Eiffel: Ah, Doctor Hilbert! Thank goodness, there you are! I need help.  Hilbert: Officer Eiffel. What seems to be the problem? Eiffel: I - I don't know. I feel like nothing I do sounds the way it ought to. The funny parts aren't funny. The exciting parts aren't exciting. It's like I've lost the script on my whole life.  Hilbert: I see. Do not be worried, Officer Eiffel. Problem is serious but there is simple solution.  Eiffel: Is the great clown Pagliacci in town? Hilbert: Even better. (music abruptly changes, replaced by a more playful melody) Hilbert: Podcast creator Gabriel Urbina is offering online workshop on how to write the great audio fiction.  Eiffel: He is? Hilbert: He is. Is comprehensive journey through the building blocks of gripping podcast stories.  Eiffel: Does it cover the basics of how to write scenes without any visuals? Hilbert: Absolutely. But it goes beyond that. It explains how audio fiction can do things no other medium does, such as making the audience imagine visuals that cannot be seen.  Eiffel: You mean like that weird room in the back of the station, where the walls are painted a color that's darker than black?  Hilbert: Precisely. Or the way you can introduce a new detail into scene and completely change audience's understanding of what was happening.  Eiffel: Oh! Is that why you're dressed up as a Teletubby? To illustrate that concept? Hilbert: Uh... no. I am wearing this for... my own purposes. Do not ask any more questions about the outfit.  Eiffel: I am not going to ask any more questions about the outfit. Well, Doc, I have to say I'm sold.  (a laminated card is placed on the table) Eiffel: Will my insurance cover this? Hilbert: Eiffel, you know very well that Goddard Futuristics does not offer health insurance to independent contractors such as yourself. Eiffel: Awww man... Hilbert: This is Dave and Busters gift card.  Eiffel: But it's still valid!  Hilbert: But: more good news. There are scholarship opportunities available for students and others who need them. Visit website for more information.  Eiffel: (leaving) Amazing. Doc, this sounds exactly like what I needed. How can I repay you?  Hilbert: No need, happy to be of assistance. (lower) Besides, genetic materials nanobots collected while you were in laboratory will be perfectly adequate display of gratitude.  Eiffel: What was that, doc? Hilbert: Nothing, Officer Eiffel, nothing! Enjoy the class! (music changes again, replaced with a bouncy, happy theme) Gabriel Urbina: Writing Stories For Sound, a set of online classes by me, Gabriel Urbina. Seats are now open for one-day workshops on February 2nd and 4th, as well as a brand new six-week masterclass beginning on February 5th. Visit gabrielurbina.com/classes for more info and to reserve your seat today! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Thank you to our sponsors at Petivity! Click here to save money - USE CODE CC15 AT CHECKOUT https://www.amazon.com/stores/page/F78DCCEE-26B8-48EF-AB5D-155C28106611?ingress=2&visitId=0a9f2d60-73f9-493e-ae2e-1746ac5f8e5a&ref_=ast_bln&utm_source=PodCo&utm_medium=Audio&utm_campaign=PodCoQ4&utm_content=ChristyRomano _______________________________________________________________________________________________Step into the ultimate time capsule as we take you back to the early 2000s— in a 2024 Target?! We're breaking down the trends we loved (and sometimes hated), from raver, popstar, and goth aesthetics to the iconic MC Bling era that defined our youth. Join us as we reminisce about Teletubby necklaces, pop-up parties, and why Target has always been the place to be. Who better to relive this time period than us? Anneliese went to the original Mean Girls movie premiere? Who did Anneliese and Christy go to prom with?? And what one regret from the Y2K era does Christy have? Follow us at @Bignamespod on Instagram and TikTok.Follow Christy Carlson Romano at @thechristycarlsonromano on Instagram and @christycarlsonromano on TikTok.Follow Anneliese van der Pol at @anneliesevanderpol on Instagram and @anneliesevdp on TikTok. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

sign up using our link kalshi.com/basic and the first 500 traders who deposit $100 will get a free $20 credit! Welcome back to another episode of Basically Unfiltered! Today's episode took a pretty crazy turn… The gang first surprise each other with their silly and fun Halloween costumes. Alisha comes dressed as the Mona Lisa, Heath is Mermaid Man, Remi is a Teletubby and Zane is Mr. TumTum! They talk about their crazy piercing stories, what they'd do when they hit the lottery, and then discuss their crazy experience at the 17th Door. The crew went to a Halloween experience to bring back a crazy story for the pod… and a crazy story they brought. They went in with high spirits, but their time was cut short after a very violating experience. I perhaps smell a lawsuit???? Tune in every Thursday for new episodes of your fave podcast Basically Unfiltered?

If you have a real ghost story or supernatural event to report, please write into our show at http://www.realghoststoriesonline.com/ or call 1-855-853-4802! Want AD-FREE & ADVANCE RELEASE EPISODES? Become a Premium Subscriber Through Apple Podcasts now!!! https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/real-ghost-stories-online/id880791662?mt=2&uo=4&ls=1 Or Patreon: http://www.patreon.com/realghoststories Or Our Website: http://www.ghostpodcast.com/?page_id=118 

Alaska and Willam are representing the great state of Florida on today's episode of Race Chaser as they discuss the green screen skits about selling real estate; and the insanity of the Teletubbies making an appearance in the workroom. Plus, the theme on the runway is ‘Day to Night' with some revealing looks! And listeners, please weigh in…are Ru's bangs too short this ep? An open dialogue about the hair has been started.Listen to Race Chaser Ad-Free on MOM PlusFollow us on IG at @racechaserpod and click the link in bio for a list of organizations you can donate to in support of Black Lives MatterFOLLOW ALASKAhttps://twitter.com/Alaska5000https://www.instagram.com/theonlyalaska5000https://www.facebook.com/AlaskaThunderhttps://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9vnKqhNky1BcWqXbDs0NAQFOLLOW WILLAMhttps://twitter.com/willamhttps://www.instagram.com/willamhttps://www.facebook.com/willamhttps://www.youtube.com/channel/UCrO9hj5VqGJufBlVJy-8D1gRACE CHASER IS A FOREVER DOG PODCAST Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Alaska and Willam are representing the great state of Florida on today's episode of Race Chaser as they discuss the green screen skits about selling real estate; and the insanity of the Teletubbies making an appearance in the workroom. Plus, the theme on the runway is ‘Day to Night' with some revealing looks! And listeners, please weigh in…are Ru's bangs too short this ep? An open dialogue about the hair has been started. Listen to Race Chaser Ad-Free on MOM Plus Follow us on IG at @racechaserpod and click the link in bio for a list of organizations you can donate to in support of Black Lives Matter FOLLOW ALASKA https://twitter.com/Alaska5000 https://www.instagram.com/theonlyalaska5000 https://www.facebook.com/AlaskaThunder https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9vnKqhNky1BcWqXbDs0NAQ FOLLOW WILLAM https://twitter.com/willam https://www.instagram.com/willam https://www.facebook.com/willam https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCrO9hj5VqGJufBlVJy-8D1g RACE CHASER IS A FOREVER DOG PODCAST Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices