It’s been a few weeks since I’ve done a 7 random picture post. Lazy, I know. I have, however, been finding pictures more along the lines of a caption this or like the one below…
Perhaps we can write the next paragraph.
Filed under don't say cat, honeybees, words
shoe which she imagined could talk to her. It was a very special shoe, special to her anyway, as it had previously belonged to
…the boy who had helped her escape. It was the last thing she was able to grab before he
parasitic second head. Throughout her life she tried to ignore it and pretend it didn’t exist. She didn’t hear the muffled whimpers when she covered it with a shawl. She would pretend it’s voice were voices in here head…….
we commented at the same time Kelly. your response took a decidedly different turn….perhaps whomever comments next, or again, can rework things
ahhhh…I was suppose to follow the shoe thing, I see.
but I can’t believe you picked a shoe over a parasitic second head, and you being a Fringe fan. Gasp or maybe it’s because I like brussel sprouts.
yes, sorry if that wasn’t clear.
i didn’t pick anything, i saw yours after i’d responded. yes, when in doubt, blame the fucking brussel sprouts!
okay, for anyone else wanting to respond…follow the second comment listed here. fit in a parasitic head too, if you wish.
took the shotgun and shoved the barrel into the mouth of his parasitic second head. A split second before he pulled the trigger, his primary head swiveled around to address her. “Run!” he implored. “And don’t forget to…”
“…turn the handle on the red door counter clockwise when you reach it. It must be counter clockwise!” A shot rang out, birds flew through the tress, rustling the leaves and alerting the others to their presence. She knew she had to
call someone to fix the wall. “How could you possibly miss from that range?”, she asked him.
“I can’t do it, it may be a parasitic second head, but it’s MY parasitic second head.” As he said this the second head began to
laugh maniacally. “You couldn’t do it, could you? You’ve always been a spineless wimp” “Just as well, I’m taking over now”
(I am so sorry for the direction this has gone..ha ha ha..that isn’t my parasitic second head laughing)
He looked at her, confused, hurt, as she’d never taken this tone with him before, despite all they had been through. She quickly crossed the path and picked up the shotgun, which lay adjacent to him in a pile of leaves. She could hear the others quickly advancing, she aimed the gun at the head, “You know it has to be done, or it will…”
“keep singing that goddamn Justin Bieber song”. She steadied her aim as the head began to softly sing “You know you love me, I know you care” and she was about to pull the trigger when all of a sudden
a hand crept up and grasped her shoulder from behind. Startled, she turned around, the singing grew louder. She now had the gun pointed at
the doctor from the psychiatric hospital that she was locked away in for all those years. Suddenly the memories flooded back, she recalled
that boy with the bad haircut and the talking shoes. At first she thought the shoes funny, but the first time the boy had reached into kiss her, the left shoe shouted
“Where’s the beef??!!” Which she thought was weird because that’s just what
she was thinking, distracted by the tray table of mysterious sludge, next to the boy’s elbow, as they sat in the cafeteria. Yet the boy didn’t seem to hear this exclamation, could she only hear the shoe? And if so, could the shoe hear her thoughts? No, that couldn’t be because then surely
it would know that she hates those type of shoes and would rather it was a talking pair of black patent leather stiletto’s. It would also know she was thinking about the fateful incident at the rodeo when
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