Sarcasm Alley

In the Land of Milk and Honey when you die they think it's funny

cheshyre grin

cheshyre grin
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The One True
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An ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own.
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Quit your snooping, bitch.

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AUGUST 20, 2010 1:05AM

Sirens' Open Call: Critique Me Lest I Brand Thee False!

Rate: 11 Flag

Alas, poor me
  

I stepped into the room, the air thick as blood with the lingering suspicion of an unsolved murder, a dead man's body crying out for unleashed vengeance; the night air coldly dreaded the oncoming darkness. In the corner, two laughing hyenas fresh with the guilt of ultimate betrayal, their animalistic behavior a mockery of their humanoid shapes. To probe black hearts such as these I dare not do. Their eyes were graveyards, gateways to the eternal abyss, forever falling into nothingness. I felt the oxygen escaping from my lungs, desperate for a clean breath was I, a drowning man to whom no life preserver comes. 

"What pit of hell is this!" I cried out to any god who would listen. But none did. The fuckers never do. 

Choking tears came to my eyes with pitchforks of their pleasure wounding me into defeat. Living at the mercy of those who curdle the milk of human kindness is to suffer a thousand needles bound in conspiracy of human puncture, moving in inevitably, timelessly, punishing vain attempts of escape and deflating the soul with a slow hiss until the final dissipation of life. You see your life has no more meaning than the tear-away strip of cardboard that opens a frozen pizza; you find your worth discarded and discounted without a first thought. Soon, one is stepped upon mercilessly, imprinted with Nike branding, shamed before the heavens.

For whom the cat meows
The eyes were here,
The eyes were there,
The eyes were all around!
  

I stood before them as Jesus before Pilate, but where our Savior remained quiet I could not. Staring into the engulfing fires of damnation, I knew my words would only feed the demons who gloried in my death but whose window was short. I cursed myself for having neither the conviction to kill nor the courage to cough. I stretched out my hand into the emptiness of space in one last appeal - and was found wanting. So I bore witness to my god the cruelty of my fate, to bring condemnation to all the universe! 

"You fucking assholes! You're having another fart contest, aren't you? Jesus Christ, you can peel the wallpaper off with that shit! Tell me before I walk into room, you fucking pricks!" 

Then the devilish hyenas cackled once more into the night air, stilling the heart and making forlorn roadkill of hope for mankind. 






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Do crazypants come in different colors?
Crazy pants come in all crazy colors. Liked your story.
Best Wishes,
Blittie
Thanks Blittie, I'll save some Fancy Feast for you. But there might be a wee bit of sarcasm in my story.
If I rate this will Jesus weep? You be the judge you cantankerous bastard.
Sarcasm? In a Harry post? OH MY NO!!

**Flees into the thorn bushes**

;)
Jesus weeps everytime I wake up, so what? God, you people and your emotions. Jesus is a weepy bitch!!!

**Wanders off again**
Actually, Jesus high-fived me and gave me a gold star. The man knows his shit! To wit: "A brilliant mockery of the unwitting, told from the viewpoint of Heaven."

See, Tink? Jesus is fine and happy! I've got Fancy Feast for you too.
At my age fart contests are too dangerous to even contemplate. I, thus, bow to you and wave my hand back and forth whilst murmuring, we are not worthy to stain the pants, we are not...
Can't even read it Harry with your choice of rather large and bold font. Ha... there's a start. Cheers.
Scarlett, the font is part of the literary drama needed to impact the reader's emotions. This is really deep stuff.

Matt, this isn't about farts, but rather the Serious Writing we need here at Open Salon.
Purely poetic, Harry. A most excellent response . . .
I got a PM from Hemingway, Owl. He was jealousing. But it seems only one of the sirens dare visit me.

As usual, I'll have to self-critique. Best/worst line: "your life has no more meaning than the tear-away strip of cardboard that opens a frozen pizza"
Seriously? Thank goodness. I'm down to my last Depends and won't be going to the store until after lunch. "Serious Writing," eh? I wonder if Google would have something on that.

BTW, the hauntingness of your entry is of the beautiful variety, yet, syntactically, just sayin'.

I'm guessing now - this is JUST A GUESS - that crazypants will prove to have been a one-legged pony. I have seen...yea, verily have I seen...the likes of such, in a manner of speaking, within a distinctly déjà vu context, if you will, as a conclusive dénouement, without qualification, that I may lift my voice in praise, thusly: "Under the boardwalk, down by the sea on a blanket with my baby is where I'll be..."
Yeah, I meant to highlight that pizza box strip line, as well. It grabbed me by the jonquils of my prefrontals and made me want to be a better critic.
Matt, dare ye mock the literary sirens? I think we all need to put up a sample post for critiquin' 'n' such. Then the mighty Siren Scepter will touch our head and we shall go forth throughout the land enlightened and at one with the universe.

See, they work sort of like a laxative.
The sirens are silent, Harry. They blow once and then fade. They are the real ghosts, tangled in chains they've forged of grammatical pedantries, where they moan obeisance to the strictures of the early William Strunk and his apologists. Even Strunk's spirit, liberated at last, must be laughing.
brand me false

err wait...where exactly will this brand be? is this a scarlet letter sort of thing or a searing flesh sort? and no i will not tell you which i prefer.

ANYhowz... brand me false, because as much as i would love to critique this, i am still holding out hope that one day i shall be a queen and rule in the land of fuckmuppets (hey! a girls gotta have a dream/nightmare?)

so i will say: this is GREAT! such original & poetic imagery. you rock! and your dark stormy tags are brilliant!
What, no marshmellows? Damn!

Hehe

-R-
lorianne, this is total silliness except for the inside joke only Jesus and I get.

Miko-san, we'll have to eat something else :)

Gabby, another siren vanquished!
Fancy Feast!! NUMMY NUMMY NUMMY!!! Woooo!!

Pffft, my entire collection of posts is my entry into this judgement, THEY ARE SHIT AND I PROUDLY ANNOUNCE IT!! Teeheehee.

Now where's my award? I want something for my shit production!! :D
harry - my comment was also pure silly...obviously my silly needs work.
and inside jokes make jesus laugh so hard he weeps.
Aw, man, lorianne! I had such high hopes for you as queen of the fuckmuppets! Now they will be lost and leaderless, wandering the desert.

Karin, the Sirens are whomever I say they are, that way I can always be correct in my victory. But don't you recognize some of the styles in their post?

Linnn, as a policy I'm for naked.
Heavily cliched...still, beautiful, yet haunting......big hugs:)
HOw can air be thick as blood or bodies cry out! Pitchforks of their pleasure? Mwahahahah!

Is that critical enough? Was I too sarcastic? I am often unfairly accused of being a sarcast. Let me know, 'cause I could do more with that bold print that made a permanent impression on me corneas....

The bad news is that I want more. This is powerful writing underneath the cornea burning print and cliche.
HOw can air be thick as blood or bodies cry out! Pitchforks of their pleasure? Mwahahahah!

Is that critical enough? Was I too sarcastic? I am often unfairly accused of being a sarcast. Let me know, 'cause I could do more with that bold print that made a permanent impression on me corneas....

The bad news is that I want more. This is powerful writing underneath the cornea burning print and cliche.