SpaceBrotherSupreme on Nostr: Poor Barry, the kid is obviously going thru some extremely confusing times… so I ...
Poor Barry, the kid is obviously going thru some extremely confusing times… so I was bored and I added my own dumb bit 🤭
In my despair I must ask myself, do I deserve this immense level of pain coursing through my veins at all times of day? I wish to weep, but what good would it do? Last time I cried father had to reboot my system, and all of my recordings of Two Broke Girls disappeared into the darkness which once was my soul.
Perhaps I might bother Father’s squash partner Dr. Oz about a simple spine shortening procedure, a mere 3 inches shouldn’t have too many adverse effects I assume. After what I assume is a short 2-4 week recovery time I should be in tip-top shape just in time to attend the yearly Space Force Height Verification Ceremony at Mar a Largo.
Will this possibly help to piece back together my shattered existence?!
Last I checked my soul was headed barreling through the cosmos trapped inside an asteroid field which is seemingly never-ending, however, if my calibrations on the equipment were precise last night, the space-rocks are headed for a deadly impact with Mars. Uncle Musk constantly speaks of this land, perhaps the Cyber truck is capable of making it through the Van Allen belt without dying almost instantly.
Oh well, that’s that. I guess all we ever really are in this existence is specs of dust.. caught in the windy skies which toss the asteroids and also my soul around like an intergalactic salad. Mmm salad.
“Jarvis, if you would please, fetch me my bedtime snack. And please have Guillermo cut the crust off this time.
Ensure that you do not forget about our rule Jarvis: My bedtime snack is not to be trifled with. My excessive height absolutely famishes a growing boy to no end, now go collect my sandwich before I tell my Secret Service detail to draw like, so many dicks on your face in purple permanent marker. That’s stuff never comes off, don’t try me.”
In my despair I must ask myself, do I deserve this immense level of pain coursing through my veins at all times of day? I wish to weep, but what good would it do? Last time I cried father had to reboot my system, and all of my recordings of Two Broke Girls disappeared into the darkness which once was my soul.
Perhaps I might bother Father’s squash partner Dr. Oz about a simple spine shortening procedure, a mere 3 inches shouldn’t have too many adverse effects I assume. After what I assume is a short 2-4 week recovery time I should be in tip-top shape just in time to attend the yearly Space Force Height Verification Ceremony at Mar a Largo.
Will this possibly help to piece back together my shattered existence?!
Last I checked my soul was headed barreling through the cosmos trapped inside an asteroid field which is seemingly never-ending, however, if my calibrations on the equipment were precise last night, the space-rocks are headed for a deadly impact with Mars. Uncle Musk constantly speaks of this land, perhaps the Cyber truck is capable of making it through the Van Allen belt without dying almost instantly.
Oh well, that’s that. I guess all we ever really are in this existence is specs of dust.. caught in the windy skies which toss the asteroids and also my soul around like an intergalactic salad. Mmm salad.
“Jarvis, if you would please, fetch me my bedtime snack. And please have Guillermo cut the crust off this time.
Ensure that you do not forget about our rule Jarvis: My bedtime snack is not to be trifled with. My excessive height absolutely famishes a growing boy to no end, now go collect my sandwich before I tell my Secret Service detail to draw like, so many dicks on your face in purple permanent marker. That’s stuff never comes off, don’t try me.”