48 Reasons To Check Your Tongue
“Long night…” she slurred.
“Yeah,” he replied, pinching the end of his tongue with his fingers. “And I think my mouth tastes like glow-in-the-dark.”
“How d’y’know?”
He suddenly bent over and hurled underneath the table. “Never min’. It’s gone….”
(Source: carli-rae)
See? Even the petty, generic, mindless foot soldiers of a galactic fascist empire can enjoy a trip now and then. So how can liberal democracies keep psilocybin illegal?
Now that Peter the Hut has your attention…. A new live-action Family Guy porno is upon us! Sure, it’s horribly perverse and terribly wrong, but it looks pretty hilarious. Plus, you know we can trust Lee Roy Myers (who directed the Simpsons porn parody). It looks like Ron Jeremy has a cameo as a…well, I’ll let you watch it. And I always knew somewhere deep down that Meg would turn out to be a squirter.
“What’s the matter?” I asked her.
Without responding, she tossed the duvet aside, revealing her naked body, and stepped out of bed onto the cold hardwood floor. Running her fingers through her long, silky auburn hair, she walked to the window. Outside, the street was silent. A streetlight buzzed in front of our house; except for that, there was no light.
“Do you see it?” she asked.
Curious, I got out of bed myself and joined her naked by the window. Dozens of parked cars sat unattended. A cat was wandering aimlessly among the trash cans at the end of its owner’s driveway. The faintest breeze tickled the branches of the weeping willow down the street. The sky was a dark navy blanket over the neighbourhood, clouds and light pollution obscuring the stars.
“See what?” I asked.
“The face. The face in the sky. It’s smiling at me.”
I peered once more out the window, not really expecting to see anything. And maybe that’s why I didn’t. She’d always been a believer, the type who was absolutely convinced there was a ghost in the machine. As for me, my Agency Detection Device was usually veiled by a potentially unhealthy amount of skepticism.
“I don’t see anything,” I admitted.
“You have to look deeper.” Then, for a long time, she didn’t say anything. She just gazed out the window, idly playing with the hair that lay between her shoulder blades. Finally, she turned to me and put a hand on my cheek. “Someday maybe you’ll see it. Someday maybe it’ll smile at you.” She turned away again, and I felt invisible arms pulling me back to bed, drawing the duvet over my naked body, guiding my eyelids closed. I dreamed of her walking into the sky, towards a great gaping celestial maw, her neck tilted back in wonder and her hand in her hair.
When I awoke, she was gone. It was still a few minutes till dawn. I rushed to the window; the sky had cleared considerably. I could see a few stars in the grey pre-dawn. They seemed to form a pathway into the heavens. The ones lower down seemed closer, and the higher ones seemed further away, as if they were footsteps heading towards a vanishing point. Somehow I knew she was at that point. The sky had smiled upon her, and she had ascended into its mysteries. In a few minutes, beams of dawn light began to punctuate the Western horizon, and the stars vanished. But I remembered clearly the pathway they carved, and every night I followed it into the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the celestial countenance.
(Source: deactivating)
