antlers and fingertip machine guns

nowadays Bocky is played by seldom the most reckless of our kin. but even low-level voidcraft-less games garner massive crowds of chirping and drunken Fleshbirds. after every game the meatball casing is cut open and the ball consumed ceremonially to honor the countless lives lost on this shitty game

since then Bocky has been known as "The Birdiest Game" and roving gangs of Bocky Hooligans in flocks of light assault craft have been the scourge of our flightzones since JFB IV when a disgruntled voidcraft gang stole the meatball and were trailed by the players for 7 nights before being apprehended

the sport's codifying moment was during the inagural Jumbo FleshBowl I, when esteemed war criminal GoomBoogoke's ship collided with newcomer Squangawk's. the ensuing catastrophe was interpreted as deliberate on part of the onlookers, and seeking crowd pop, the remaining players all followed suit.

during the Consortium era the King, and by extension the war-weary Fleshbirds sought greater spectacle in kicking shit around. surplus voidvessels outfitted with rams and directional thrusters. more buoyant meats were cured. Fleshbird aviators who sought purpose outside combat were ecstatic.

Bocky was originally known as Bock Bock which was derived from the primordial ballgame BockBockBockBaGock, a favorite pastime of our beloved King Fleshbird. due to his wide and immobile physiology the sport consisted of kicking a rubbery, spheroid sausage against himself until he got bored or hungry

something to believe in her. and after long enough, it began to. so she made another. and a few more. more, and more, until she had whittled her horns down to crayon stumps. all she had to do was let them regrow, which didn't take long. not that she believed they would. her progeny did.

when she awoke, she pulled the tip of her horn off and chewed it. processed it through her slitted compound mouth. she spat it out and it was still soft. she fashioned horns onto it, and bit enough of her fingertip off to bleed inscriptions onto it. a name, and a face. something to believe in

and she dreamt of little things of her own creation. pathetic, small fatty things with horns and an only pareidolic resemblance to their patroness. little things to befriend. little things to worship her. little things to come rescue her from the languishing. her precious horned things. her progeny.

in the morning she dreamt of her first death. failing to cleanse the rot that the blushing one's curse had inflicted, and skewering herself with her own prehensile horns. her limp and toxin filled body raised above the divine river, purely so it could not filter through her poisoned form

when the great and sacred darkness of the blushing one's senior swathed the forest, the horned one could see patterns in the sky above. great fractals, tearing themselves apart and mushing back together, and she had to restrain herself from believing this is what the world ending looked like

on the occasions her mind rested the horned goddess dreamt of bizarre yet familiar environments. teeming with verdant life and formations unlike anything she had seen or could imagine. and in these woods, a tiny dwelling with a tiny appliance that displayed tiny moving pictures, of tiny stars

the horned goddess had become bored. the stagnant nothingness of protogoddesspace was no place titillating to the mind, body or soul. she did not believe in the hierarchy of pantheon, and managed to usurp the blushing one's status for a grand total of 0 seconds before being shunted into sterility

we discharged him from the New Consortium after getting many complaints that he was assaulting his fellow bird. that he'd "make fate himself" or something. it's that kind of violent streak that cost the Progeny all their alliances. and now he just drops in, harpoons our guys with his beak & bails.

youtu.be/DeO_vuhMM9o?...

SOFT SELTZER. CAPTAIN MORGAN (GIRL). NEGATIVE ABV BEER THAT MAKES YOU HEALTHIER

is da monkey girl still around

i want an episode where cartman dies gruesomely and stan soapboxes harder than the dr bronners distribution center trying to find someone, ANYONE willing to attend the funeral besides his mom. the whole episode's him trying to make excuses before all the people cartman terrorized while still walking

don't forget he's the reason ToonTown remains beleaguered by capitalist occupation youtu.be/iOAXXwZVV04?...