Scripto Kkake

The night was moist.

Too moist. This much moisture could only mean one thing: the machine was working. I sprang out of bed and groped for my fuzzy kitten slippers. As I shoved the child-sized footwear onto my fat sausage-like feet I couldn't stop muttering "their end is at hand." I flew down the stairs with the agility of a small hamster and smashed open my laboratory door. To my surprise I saw something I never expected to see

Glass shards lay strewn about on the floor of the lab and the viscous nutrient fluid puddled around them. Racheal (My AI I system) was blaring "Warning, Warning level 6 containment failure." I scanned the room but saw only the broken incubation unit. I knew that the X57b was one of the more advanced clones, but I didn't think it was smart enough to override the containment field.. There was a sudden clamor to my left as an instrument tray toppled over. I turned and saw it rising from behind the operating table, still wet with nutrient solution it's wide mouth glistening in the flashing red emergency lights.
I had forgotten how unnatural it looked, the blending of human and orangutan features were not as unsettling as it slept in it's nutrient bath, but now with it's vacant, soulless eyes open it struck terror into the core of my being.
As it slowly grinned it's lips parted revealing it's crooked inhuman canines. I took a step back as it raised it's stubby finger and pointed at me.
"You're Fired," it hissed and charged.

Time slowed down. Racially charged hatred fueled the monster's advance. Under my unimpressive bookish frame, however, was the heart of a warrior. My senses heightened as the creature made it's approach. Pow! I buried my kitten slipper deep in the beast's pelvic girdle. Seeming not to notice, the demon continued it's advance; time decided to return with a vengeance. Easily overpowering me, the orange-haired animal made it's escape, tearing my front door off the hinges. Very soon this abomination would bring about the total destruction of the entire world and I could do nothing to stop it.
Looking back...i probably shouldn't have made it in the first place.

Because I am a robot.

Not just any robot, but a X3 pleasure model. Here to service the neighborhood dog park.

Or was I? Since the absence of any mirrors on my dwelling place, since the new President Trumpy Mc Duckface legally banned all mirrors within enclosed areas greater than 20 sq feet, I was not sure about who I am anymore, one day I woke up sure of myself it was in 1809 and I was Saul Goodman the legendary animal husbandry expert who ended the chlorine plague that ravaged Europe. Today I'm a robot, battling another robot but I would not be fooled again! Last time I was Saul Goodman, legendary animal husbandry expert, it lasted 22 days before I realized that it is now impossible, due to excess use of hairspray, to mate a three legged cow with a left handed horse, the ordeal was torture and I promised it would not happen again and surely I forced myself to be awoken from this confusion... I am not battling an advanced robot but a metaphor of the injustice of fighting to search of who I really am.
I sat clearly dumbfounded, losing all hope in humanity, then I saw under the table a picture of wild eyed man with with a beard that almost covered the entire picture and under that, a scrawl, in which I recognized is my own handwriting:

"Do not trust Sam Davenport Richardson III, Do not trust him with all your heart".

He has no recollection on who the person in the picture is, who Sam Davenport Richardson III is nor any memory of him ever writing the mysterious note.
"Ding dong!" the bell rang,
"Who he is it?"
"Just the milk man" said a muffled voice.

I opened the door to find the milk man standing there then i realized its 2016 and there arent milt men anymore
i stand there and stare and slowly close the door sit at the table in the kitchen for a moment and wonder who the hell was that i look at the calander and notice its Halloween well my house is getting vandalized i thought to myself

and then.....

i took the egg whites and mixed in the flour, sugar, and baking powder. carefully adding the vanilla extract, i reached for the chocolate chips (a very necessary ingredient) but found the milk instead. do i dare break from convention and add items out of sequence?

Then I remembered my last therapy secession where the Doc said I needed to think more outside the box. So, I went ahead and added the milk. I felt great, but later, when the cookies didn't turn out, I fired my therapist.

I awoke hours later, naked on the floor of the pantry. Cookies lay strewn about the room where I had flung them in a fit of rage. I don't think I can keep doing this, going back and forth through time. I mean, I either have to commit to something or resign myself to flitter aimlessly through many lifetimes throughout the ages. I got up and stomped on every single cookie just to make myself feel better. It worked, so I

suck my flute

and it was not just an ordirnary flute, it's the Figllar Flute 2000 , possibly the best flute ever created, its fine materials consists of reinforced titanium, with the blowhole made from the finest cocobolo, and layers upon layers of tears from Chinese sweatshop workers serves as its protective paint.

And it was roughly the diameter of my dick

which was, coincidentally, also painted with the tears of underpaid Asians.

Asians who cried the tears of unrequited love and not being able to find an open IHOP on Sunday night. Their small hands working furiously to create the plastic brikabrak that was fodder for the machine. "Tamagotchi!!!" they cried as another hopper of Furbys was dumped into the gnashing and squealing maw of progress and economy, it's black lips frothing with fat free yogurt. "Probiotics are nature's antidepressants!!!" it screamed, "Are you tired of pet hair!" The metal catwalks above the machine shook with every roar as workers held on to the safety railing and prayed to whatever god their broken souls could still believe in.
"The pressure's too high, demand is skyrocketing," The foreman yelled from his Jazzy scooter, "some one open the medical drama release valve."
Workers scrambled and made futile attempts to release the pressure as the machine continued to scream and strain against it's bonds. Suddenly there was metallic pinging and the floor shook as cables tethering the machine began to snap. A man who was running towards the safety release was cut diagonally in half by one of the errant cables. Several other men fell from the catwalks and were instantly eviscerated as they were consumed by the being wrought from steel and our own desires. Free of it's bonds the hulking mass of consumer electronics, imitation leather and fad diet books towered over it's creators, it's eyes burning with the insatiable hunger of a million Honey Boo Boos. It raised it's giant fists of detritus and thundered "IF YOU EXPERIENCE AN ERECTION LASTING FOR MORE THAN FOUR HOURS SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION!!!!!"

Then as quickly as it started there was one tremendous crash and a sudden stillness. Bits and pieces of metal and what were probably body parts could be heard hitting the ground or scorching on hot metal ...the "tink, tink, tink" of cooling steel and the dripping of fluids permeated the mist and

the phone rang

Hello?

I'm calling to inform you that your father is dead, your mother died of pneumonia while you were away, your brothers died of the plague, your dog Pongo was run over by a carriage, your goldfish Goldie was eaten by the cat, and your cat choked on the goldfish. But it's so good that you are home

But that wasn't what you had planned for. It shouldn't end like this!

Of course it didn't, this was merely the beginning. Captain Ace Rimmer climbed into his spacecraft, let an arse trembling fart rip and exclaimed to all and sundry...

"Your days are numbered Pruden Antagonis. You may be the Galactic Space Prince, but no one turns my beloved into a telepathic plate of spaghetti and gets away with it!" Ace adjusts his rear view space mirror as a satisfied smirk creeps across his wide jaw. "Yep, I've got a pretty interesting back story..." He says, unnecessarily, to the spaghetti as his spacecraft speeds off through the black.

The plate of spaghetti is unresponsive.

hey

Said Ace, "you can be quiet if you want to be.." he looks back at the spaghetti, still no response. " I've been meaning to tell you something for a while now.." Ace mumbled "i havent done this in a while and.. i.. i just kinda, well you know... I Wanna nut ok..."
the spaghetti gasped

And then Adolf Hitler rose from the dead and fucked them both in the shitter. The End.

At least, that was what Jimmy Rustles dreamed of out loud while he sat in the back of the Spacecraft, plotting the course that Ace Rimmer had commanded him to plot. Boy, one day, he would command his own spacevessel. One day! But alas, his brain was not fully developed and never would be , as Xyloor , the O'bronion nanny, had dropped him as a child. Dropped or Thrown, the doubt was still there. And now he was stuck here, plotting courses on the Plot-O-Course-Automat: a handy computersystem that just had one big red pulsating button. At least he could push it.

*PUSH*

And the adolf hitler rose from the dead and killed everyone...

"Oh thank god," she panted, "it was just a dream..."

A dream about throbbing, hard, black penis

"Pens" I mean "Pens"
A dream about throbbing hard black "PENS"

And just where, one might ask, that throbbing black pen is? Or how a pen is able to throb.

I've been throbbed blind by the most innocent-looking members of my socio-economic group. Maybe I should set my sights higher.

Or maybe I should not...

at that moment i wake up to discover myself face down on a soft floor. with a very tight feeling in my torso. as i attemt to lift myself from the ground i realise that im rapped up in a straight jacket in the middle of a padded room. after a few moments of twisting and jerking i manage to get myself to my feet. i look out the window to see a man in the sell across from mine. he looks tired with a look in his eye that sends feer down my spine. its not for a few moments that i realise that the cold dark monster im looking at is a my own reflection. and at that moment i begin to question whether all thous "time jumps" where real or if thay where just a figment of my insanity.

suddenly aliens blew up the earth to make way for a intergalactic bypass. "Well..you've got to have a bypass." ~ The end.

*GAME OVER*

end of simmullation
your scored 7 out of 100

Play again???

i jammed the X button ... "i guess ill fucking play again" i mumbled as i reached for a drink of mountain dew. the game loaded and there i was being blasted by 2 very powerful laser miniguns. instant death. "ARGH! what the fuck !"
so , i loaded a different save file , farther back to see if i could remedy this. .. i guess ill get up and start some laundry. i was the only person in the house of 5 that did any housework. i was also the person that didnt work a 9-5 job. i worked a "when my eyes open to when my eyes shut" job. but today was going to be a good day because ...

i had an extremely good bowel movement this morning.

A once that weight was lifted, I felt free; almost renewed as if I was a different person. But alas, I knew deep in my bowels that I was not.

i was right. i wasn't done, a deep rumble started from within... "oh oh i better get to a shitter pronto" i thought and in that instant i could feel a warm wet moistness between my cheecks... i had shart my self. i remember thinking " i wonder how it tastes" and decided to just just let it dry in my craxk and eat it when it got chewy like jerky. that was the day my fetish started.

And the funny thing about fetishes...they evolve over time. I went from dehumidified crap eating

to writing Twilight fan fiction: The sparkly vampire ate his girlfriend. The wolf guy became jealous and punched the vampire in his vampire face and he lost his sparkly. Then they all had vampire tea.