Drip Dried Loneliness

Down the road from the malicious witch’s house….

Over near the green fire lake….

Behind the chrome colored lightening shooting tree…

That sits next to the harpoon dropping giant magical robot, the one with the eyes made out of a thousand glued together tiny demons, each of which have been brainwashed to say nothing but a different dirty word over and over at a pitch rarely pleasant, if at ALL pleasant, and with nostrils which are slightly different shaped giving off a facial expression which is hard to read and yet always seems to be signifying some degree of anger, or at the very least pissed-offedness, and with arms which bend backwards in a way that make people who see them immediately suck air through their gritted teeth inwards in empathetic pain as if they have seen two viciously broken arms, until they realize that perhaps the arms were just ATTACHED to the robot on the wrong sides, and yet if you look even closer you realize that they can’t have been put on the wrong sides or else the screws would have had to be bent, and no one is going to go to that much effort, I mean maybe for a good robot, but this robot was evil from the get go, and yet despite this unlikely scenario no one can know for sure because the inventor cannot be located, so no explanation of why the arms we’re designed in such a pain inducing way is available, which is REALLY frustrating for those people who are concerned with such things, and yet completely irrelevant for those who have acid spat in their eyes by the demons, but still even for those with their eyes being melted off are still annoyed by the thought of asking the robot to hand them something, a towel to mop up the liquefied eyes mess for example, only to discover that due to the robots poorly crafted arms it struggles to hand people ANYTHING, which is a infuriating, I mean think about it ‘please hand me the butter?’ you may request of a close acquaintance who is presently located closer to the butter than you are at this given time, well then if the reply came as ‘sorry I have badly designed arms and therefore I struggle to hand people things’, well then you’d have to reach out to get the butter yourself, and did I mention at the time this began you had a warm roll in front of you, a WARM roll, any delay in getting this butter is going to drastically change how enjoyable this roll is, it doesn’t sound like a pleasant experience does it? Plus right after your eyes have been liquefied the LAST thing you want to be thinking about is melting butter. And lets also point out the giant grey beast in the room, if you see this giant robot, you’re immediately going to think ‘wow, next time I have to throw together a rag-tag bunch of football players to play against the local university team in a last ditch effort to save the farm, this robot will be the FIRST guy I pick’, but then you’d get him out on the field and discover that due to his arms he can’t even catch a football satisfactorily, which depending on the variety of football you are talking about in your particular scenario, and which position on that team you choose to play him in, could mean that you’d wasted your first pick on a player who potentially could not perform at level as high as you’d hoped. Plus what if the referee asked it to ‘hand me the ball please?’ Yeah, good luck winning the penalty count in THAT game…

And adjacent to the giant people slurping portal to Dimension Karlilk, known in dimension circles as the place Hell WISHES it could be…

Is where Luke lives.

Luke doesn’t get many visitors these days.


No one is really sure why. 

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