Hi

The Doormat

Once upon a time there was a bathtub that hid under my doormat. Everyday when I woke up I would run to the front door just to make sure it was still there.That bathtub was my best friend, but last night at midnight as I snuck down the uncomfortably carpeted stairs, the realization that my one and only bathtub was gone met me with great sorrow. How could they just leave me? It wasn’t fair, the problem was that I had trusted the bathtub with too much. Never had I thought that compromising the location of the jar in which I stored my sponges would lead to this act of betrayal. I was left with only one choice, I would have to go outside and cut a fresh slice out of my neighbor’s lawn. Only that grimy forbidden chocolate cake would relieve me of my sadness. The timing was perfect, after serious testing and consideration I had discovered that my neighbor was never awake at midnight. All I had to do was take a minute to think back to my days of somersault training, and slyly roll across the street. For any mortal being that task would have been impossible, but with a great semblance of pure willpower I was able to puff up my hair enough to protect me from the brutal asphalt as I sped across the street. What I hadn’t foreseen was the large crack that formed promptly after my collision into the street’s hard concrete curb. Surely I would be discovered and firmly reprimanded for this act of foolishness. After all, I had already ruined three sidewalks that week, and my hard limit for sidewalk destruction was exactly only three sidewalk obliterations per month. But miraculously, all thanks to the sheer omnipotence of the muddy sky toads that swiftly hovered around me in that bleak moment, the sound was silenced. Not a soul in the world heard that sidewalk crack. There was still hope.

Nonsense?

"There was a time in which I did not sit on the ceiling. There was a time in which the ceiling sat on me. They were actually the same time, but not wholly so because both things happened simultaneously, twice. One time seems normal, two is a bit strange. But if you understand the ceiling was the descendant of an ancient toad it's a bit easier to wrap your head around. Except why would I ever sit upside down on the descendant of a toad? Because it's normal here…

...to literally wrap your head around things. My head is a scarf. It's soft and a yellow-ish color, but it makes vacuuming mediocre. I imagine watching the vacuum inhale the vast amounts of dust would be a thing. Instead of actually doing so because my head gets inhaled instead. It's not an inconvenience, I assure you. The experience of being able to physically wrap my machine woven head around an abstract concept is in fact a factual one. That guy over there agrees, and who's to dispute that? Overall everything is made up for through the process of never being associated with an emotion in the first place. That's your job. My job is to do the household chores in a way in which someone who is not associated with you deems adequate.

I walk from one side of the room to the other. Dishes folded. I put a birthday cake in your dishwasher. Bathroom clean. The ceiling light in the kitchen is a frog belly button.", Was what the never previously mentioned calendar stated as the schedule for the eighth day of the week. Yyygdhjrrrshujvbhuvtd searshchvivtxjbjbiginlmpjojvu, or Mr. Keyboard Spam didn't plan on not not planning to follow that schedule. It was an insignificant choice. But one which promptly and painlessly ended his life, concluding this amalgamation of unofficially unrelated words. It wasn't sad.

Bounce Game

Magic Eight Ball

Guess the Number

Idk what to write here so have fun watching Nyan Cat.