karkat vantrash (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crab) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowl2012-10-18 09:45 pm
crab) wrote in capeandcowl2012-10-18 09:45 pm
Entry tags:
tenth carcino ♋ voice.
[ look who's back and louder than ever, and freaking out as hard as he's got it in him to do. there is already a plain note of hysteria in his voice when he starts, and it only gets worse as he goes on. ]
Hey, paging all of you revolting jackasses with the gumption to call yourselves my friends!
What the fuck is wrong with you?
Maybe if I ask the question loudly and vehemently enough an answer might be forthcoming for once! Maybe if I ask hard enough, the question will end up slightly less unanswerable. I'll tell you what's wrong with you. You're fucking depraved is what's wrong! No. Depraved does not even begin to cover it. You're a perverse clamoring gaggle of lascivious shitnuggets conducting an eternal sick fuckery jamboree! Everyone's invited, and the party never ends, no matter how much you weep and rock backwards and forwards in a secluded corner wishing for it to! It is an infinite asshole rumpus of flying pails and miscellaneous dead pals and awful letters and corpse theft and suicidal plans and people jamming their tongues down each other's protein chutes with reckless abandon!
I couldn't dream up a better time if I tried! And I am trying! I am attempting to create for myself an imaginary scenario where none of this took place! A timeline in which John motherfucking Egbert didn't bludgeon me in the face with a bucket, a timeline in which my friends are not enormous throbbing douchenozzles who can't keep their lips to themselves, a timeline in which half of those douchenozzles aren't cadavers having unspeakable things done to them by my asswad of a moirail! A timeline where corpse parties are stricken from the topic of discussion on account of being fucking retarded, a timeline where the plans we concoct are not all but suicidal, a timeline where I don't have to spend a sweep and a half on a meteor drifting through the Furthest Ring with this flock of psychopaths and innumerable malevolent tentacle squid gods! And above all, a timeline in which JOHN MOTHERFUCKING EGBERT DIDN'T BLUDGEON ME IN THE FACE WITH A FUCKING PAIL! You better be running, you bucktoothed degenerate bastard, I know you're listening to this and you better be fleeing for the fucking hills--
[ he's prevented from further elaboration by an attack of hyperventilation, having freaked the fuck out a little too hard. the sound of wheezing and the occasional valiant attempt at continuing his rant is all that can be heard for a few more moments before he concedes defeat and cuts the feed. ]
Hey, paging all of you revolting jackasses with the gumption to call yourselves my friends!
What the fuck is wrong with you?
Maybe if I ask the question loudly and vehemently enough an answer might be forthcoming for once! Maybe if I ask hard enough, the question will end up slightly less unanswerable. I'll tell you what's wrong with you. You're fucking depraved is what's wrong! No. Depraved does not even begin to cover it. You're a perverse clamoring gaggle of lascivious shitnuggets conducting an eternal sick fuckery jamboree! Everyone's invited, and the party never ends, no matter how much you weep and rock backwards and forwards in a secluded corner wishing for it to! It is an infinite asshole rumpus of flying pails and miscellaneous dead pals and awful letters and corpse theft and suicidal plans and people jamming their tongues down each other's protein chutes with reckless abandon!
I couldn't dream up a better time if I tried! And I am trying! I am attempting to create for myself an imaginary scenario where none of this took place! A timeline in which John motherfucking Egbert didn't bludgeon me in the face with a bucket, a timeline in which my friends are not enormous throbbing douchenozzles who can't keep their lips to themselves, a timeline in which half of those douchenozzles aren't cadavers having unspeakable things done to them by my asswad of a moirail! A timeline where corpse parties are stricken from the topic of discussion on account of being fucking retarded, a timeline where the plans we concoct are not all but suicidal, a timeline where I don't have to spend a sweep and a half on a meteor drifting through the Furthest Ring with this flock of psychopaths and innumerable malevolent tentacle squid gods! And above all, a timeline in which JOHN MOTHERFUCKING EGBERT DIDN'T BLUDGEON ME IN THE FACE WITH A FUCKING PAIL! You better be running, you bucktoothed degenerate bastard, I know you're listening to this and you better be fleeing for the fucking hills--
[ he's prevented from further elaboration by an attack of hyperventilation, having freaked the fuck out a little too hard. the sound of wheezing and the occasional valiant attempt at continuing his rant is all that can be heard for a few more moments before he concedes defeat and cuts the feed. ]
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guess not
and sorry about the bucket!!
it was the only thing john could find with so little time to send the message
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THAT MESSAGE WAS THE MOST AWFUL THING I HAVE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO READ.
THE NEXT CHANCE I GET I FULLY INTEND TO BLUDGEON MY SKULL WITH A BLUNT OBJECT UNTIL I HAVE SUFFICIENTLY DEPLETED MY MENTAL FACULTIES TO THE POINT WHERE I AM NO LONGER COGNIZANT OF HOW AWFUL IT WAS
OR I SUCCUMB TO CONVENIENTLY SELECTIVE AMNESIA AND FREE MYSELF FROM THIS TORMENT.
THE BUCKET WAS LIKE THE THICK, SUGARY DEPRAVED ICING ON THE DEPRAVED GRUBCAKE.
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overreact much???
he just wanted to let you guys know that everything was all right on our end
plus he felt bad about the bucket after it was too late
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INSTEAD OF ALL THE PRETTY MUCH HORRIBLE THINGS HE SAID INSTEAD.
HE HASN'T EVEN BEGUN TO FEEL BAD YET.
HE IS GOING TO RUE THE DAY HE EVER SLITHERED OUT OF HIS PARADOX SLIME TUBE.
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he likes to be silly
i guess theres no changing your mind on this huh? :|
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OK, I CAN DEAL WITH SILLY
I HAVE, AT THIS POINT, BECOME FAIRLY ACCUSTOMED TO JOHN'S IDEA OF "SILLY"
I AM NOW ABLE TO TOLERATE MOST OF WHAT CONSTRUES AS "JOHN BEING SILLY" WITHOUT SHITTING MYSELF IN FURY OVER IT.
OCCASIONALLY I EVEN FIND MYSELF ENDEARED BY IT, IN I GUESS A REALLY REVOLTED AND ANNOYED WAY.
THIS, THOUGH?
THIS CROSSES THE LINE.
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just dont hurt him too bad okay???
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[ he probably won't even punch him. all bark and no bite!! ]
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