JUST SEEN CHALKBOX EATING COLD CANNED DUMPLINGS IN GRUBSAUCE. STRAIGHT OUT OF THE THING. FOR CONTEXT. HE HAS ACCESS TO REAL FOOD. WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM. #YUCK. #KARKNAPPED. #GETTINGPRETTYSICKOFTHISFUCKINGTHING. #WHOWANTSHIM. #ABANDONMENTPLAY. #DEADBEATCULLDADDY. #IDONTWANTCUSTODYANYMORE. #PORRIMHELP.
I'M TAKING A BREAK FROM STUFFING MY HUNGER GASH WITH BARE MINIMUM NUTRITION SLOP (JUSTIFIED, I THINK I SHOULD ADD, BY ALL THE FUCKING DUCKING AND WEAVING AND SPRINTING FOR MY LIFE I'VE DONE SINCE MARA BROUGHT US BOTH TO ANCIENT ALTERNIA, SO WHO GIVES A FUCK HOW I GET THE CALORIES) JUST TO ANSWER THIS, BECAUSE I WANT TO GO ON THE RECORD TO DEFEND MY HONOR, HERE. FIRST OFF, TO ANYONE (INCLUDING MARA) WHO WANTS TO POINT A GNARLED, WRINKLY POINTSTUB IN MY DIRECTION AND LOOK NAUSEATED AT MY CHOICE OF COMFORT FOOD, TELL ME THAT YOU'VE NEVER HAD TO SPEND A PROLONGED PERIOD OF TIME INDOORS DURING A DRONE SURVEILLANCE SURGE OR AN ESPECIALLY HIGH-ALERT CULL DISPATCH SEASON WITHOUT TELLING ME. HAVING NON-PERISHABLES AROUND YOUR HEMOANONYMOUS SECRET BASE IS NON-FUCKING-NEGOTIABLE. AND MISERY ACQUAINTS A TROLL WITH STRANGE CUPEFELLOWS. SOMETIMES, THAT CUPEFELLOW IS A COOL (NOT COLD, COOL) CAN OF THICK, CONGEALED, TANGY NIGHTSHADE-DERIVATIVE PASTE WITHIN WHICH ARE SUBMERGED SLIMY, VELVETY PILLOWS OF PITY THE LIKES OF WHICH EVEN TROLL ANTHONY BOURDAIN WOULD HAVE MORE TO JACK OFF ABOUT THAN EVEN I. DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT HEATING THESE BAD BOYS UP. YOU'LL RUIN THEM. HEAT WILL TURN RAVIDOLI INTO FLOPPY WET BLOBS SO FRAGILE THAT YOU CAN'T SPEAR THEM WITH A FORK - YOU JUST HAVE TO SCOOP THEM TENDERLY FROM THE BOTTOM LIKE YOU'RE CUPPING A LOVER'S FLACCID GLOBE IMPLANT. YOU DON'T WANT A FLACCID GLOBE. YOU WANT A RAVIDOLI *WITH* SOME FUCKING GLOBES. YOU WANT A FIRM, TOUGH, LEATHERY BASTARD THAT WILL GIVE YOU THE TOOTHSOME RESISTANCE YOUR GNASHCRAGS INHERENTLY DESIRE. YOU WANT THIS SHIT TO FIGHT YOU FOR ITS FUCKING LIFE. AND WHEN YOU'RE DONE, YOU WANT TO FEEL LIKE YOU WON. LIKE YOU BEAT SOMETHING. LIKE YOU'RE ALIVE, AND IT ISN'T. EVERY FUCKING TIME. AND THAT'S WHY I STILL DO IT. TO FEEL SOMETHING. SO THERE. THERE IS MY COMPREHENSIVE, NO-HOLDS-BARRED, OUT THERE IN THE FUCKING MOONLIGHT FOR ALL TO SEE ANSWER. AND IF YOU WANT TO LECTURE ME ON THE "MOUTHFEEL" OR ANY SUBSEQUENT QUALITY THEREAFTER, GO AHEAD AND SHOW ME YOUR CREDENTIALS IN EATING ANYTHING BUT FUCKING LUSUS NUGGIES AND GRUBSAUCE AND *THEN* WE CAN TALK.
SIGH. I MISS MY DEAD TROLL WIFE.
I ALSO MISS YOUR DEAD WIFE. @0︵0@
oh wow you are visiting ancient alternia? that sounds fun as for the mouthfeel question i suppose we can consider that answered though i wonder if it is a plus or minus to have that tinny residue coating your sorrow chute as well as the leaden weight of the regrettios in your digestion sacks?
TRUST ME. IF YOU'RE WEIGHING YOURSELF DOWN WITH REGRETTIOS, YOU'VE GOT NOWHERE TO GO IN A HURRY. BLUH. TRY IT. REPORT BACK TO ME WITH YOUR FINDINGS. I WILL GIVE YOU ONE (1) WHOLE KARKAT FAVOR IF YOU DO. YOU, TOO, CAN LARP THE SURVIVAL-MODE HUNGER GAME THAT IS MY CURRENT ROMP THROUGH ANCIENT ALTERNIA'S MOST FAMOUS REBEL PURGE WITH YOUR VERY OWN #REGRETTIOQUEST. CHITT OR IT DIDN'T HAPPEN.
i will be sure to leave an ardently phrased review and i shall tag #sloppychalkies to let everyone keep their prong on the pulse of this cool (not cold or hot) topic
as an aside i am so pleased to see you get over your previous prejudices regarding flarping though that is clearly in no small part due to the careful interference of both my dancestor and apparently kurloz
NO. FLARPING IS STILL STUPID AND EVERYONE WHO DOES IT IS STUPID. I WAS *LIVING.*
living in a way that is virtually indistinguishable from putting on an act as a bindle toting wanderer but that is beyond the scope of this conversation at this point as the real issue here is the enjoyment of sodium and sugar drenched nightshade derivative sauce with globs of glutinous regret interspersed in its depths
and really if you cant enjoy that who can say you are actually living? not me