Lighting The Fuse

Here we go here we go.

I've been silent about this for two days now. I have Amelia right here. As a precaution I had to tie her down. She keeps trying to hang herself otherwise.

I'll email you my location, Alexandria, along with proof that she is here and alive. Barely alive. But alive.

It might be a trap.

I know you won't resist coming along to find out.

A T-Shirt.

I just received one in the post. It's the one advertised in Fracture's shop. The David Fucking Banks one.

Fuck you pHIL.

WOULD YOU GIVE A GIRL THAT T-SHIRT??? NO??? SO WHY AM I ANY DIFFERENT?

YOU FUCK. FUCK YOU pHIL.

Would you give Alexandria a T-shirt of the sort if I did that to her???

WHY DON'T WE FUCKING FIND OUT, YOU FUCK?

BITCHASS.

Yeaaaah, so a nice fit, quality product, 100% cotton. Very nice soft cotton, too. The dye is good quality as well.

FUCK YOU PHILLIP.

Announcements! Nicknames! Fun! BORED!

My proxy girlfriend dumped me by text with a sad face :( at the end.

I dumped her in a construction site with a slit throat.

So now I'm single, ladies. Think about it. I might be dead soon! Think about itttttt.

Look over there, Kelevra has taken to calling me Snegurochka. Uhhh... "snow-something"? The fuck does it mean? Aah, call me what you want, I'm likely going to kill our little Sashura, but I'm sure you're cool with that. Any proxies reading this, bring her in dead or alive, whichever. You might have more luck bringing her in dead. And get back to work, you skiving bastard.

That's all for announcements, I suppose.

Over on aforementioned little girl's blog, I nicknamed Kelevra Mr. Bump on account of his resemblance to Mr. Bump, you know from the Mr Men / Little Miss series. I had a childhood too, you know. So now, since all proxies are required to nickname, I give you a comprehensive list that I shall add to upon request:

Kelevra -- Mr. Bump
Vikady -- Mr. Noisy
pHIL -- Mr. Clever
Veigar -- Mr. Mean
JP -- Mr. Happy
Alexandria -- Little Miss Curious

Med -- Little Miss Brainy

BORING!!!

It's BORING in nigh on captivity. Not that I'm complaining.

I'd love to be out there on the battlefield, though. Or the Path. One day, I'm going to be great at using the Path. You'll see.

I suppose here might be a good time to tell you about me. You know that mook in the background of blogs that gets killed off? I mean there's probably like one sentence devoted to it. That's me. That's who I am. A generic proxy tormentor, and I pride myself on it. Infamy? Now that can go fuck itself! I don't want infamy. I just want... blood and guts. What all the other crazy generic proxies want.

And sight. Seeing. That little bitch took my eye out, and she will pay in blood for it. But seeing, ever since I was a boy, everything is sight.

Achievements. Torture. No glory.

Blood. Pain. Death. Money. That's all I need.

Generic proxy, out.

Oh No I Didn't

There must be something about blogging that makes my brethren do it, eh?

To start with, I made a ten day poll so I can find out my audience. If we suppose that I have one to start with. Besides, I've been bored, Veigar suggested I do something productive. Under sanctioned protective conditions, I have nothing better to do but this.

One blizzard burned.