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Friday, August 21, 2015


     Closing the godawful creaking door softly behind me, I set out to prepare some more toxins for the youngsters to soak up. I was halfway to the preparation lab when Claudia came running out, screaming hysterically. I grabbed her and shook her violently to get her back to her senses.

     "Claudia! What's wrong?" She stared nervously down at my firm arms holding down her trembling body. "Calm down now, and tell me," I gently coaxed.

     She shook violently and took a deep breath, but she could not suppress the rising panic that was surging up out of her throat and racking her body like a 9.8 earthquake. "I looked out through the observation pane. The star has blown!"

     I slowly dropped her shaking figure to the floor and left her to her hysteria, Part of me wanted to doubt it. No way the star has blown. The scientists guaranteed that the Dyson sphere would keep it in check for over 2000 years. But then again, strange power outages have been happening sporadically ever since the sphere was implemented, and these outages have been occurring more frequently, and over greater areas recently.

     "No, I must go confirm with the head of the station," I thought to myself, snapping out of my trance.

     My face a resolute mask, I marched with determination to the head's offices, where the head and his supporting secretaries and section managers carry out their work. I entered the hallway that led to flights of stairs to every department office. At the end was a massive steel-plated door that slid open to reveal a flight of constantly rotating hardlight escalators. I skipped steps and raced to the end, where I was greeted by Jenny, a hologram and AI replica of the head's personal secretary, Jennifer. Behind her was what looked like a plain white wall, but I knew what was hidden on the other side. Jenny served as the head offices' security guard.

     "Hello, Cecilia. What brings you here?"

     Impatiently, I stated bluntly, "I am here to see the head of the station. This is urgent."

     "What can be as urgent as his own affairs to maintain this ship?"

     "Please, Jenny. Now is not the time to ask questions."

     "Very well. I see the anxiety in your eyes. You may  enter." As she said the last word, the nonthreatening-looking wall warped and dissolved away and I stepped into the offices with haste.

     My goal was to find the head's office in this giant multi-level network of rooms only the engineers understood how to navigate. Even the maintenance workers barely entered here and the secretaries and heads of sections seldom ventured out of here, for fear of getting lost.

     Everyone was rushing around in what looked an emergency. I asked for directions to no avail, and had nearly given up all hope when I spotted the head striding urgently to the station operations room. My feet carried me up the stairs so fast that I felt that I was on a space walk-- I felt that I was weightless. Maybe I was just lightheaded. I traced his footsteps and was reaching for the handle when all the lights across the offices dimmed and blew out. The emergency power supply started to hum sharply, then abruptly died in a brilliant flash of white-blue light.

     Suddenly, everyone cried out and started panicking. Screams of pain and agony echoed around the levels. People were being trampled underneath the frantic mob of distressed workers. Panic had taken hold of us.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

How Two Men With Big Hearts Became The RICHEST Men On Mars!

The Internet is riddled with pieces of crap. A lot of posts on Facebook today be like. "Dog barfs owner's lost breakfast onto owner's expensive jeans. What he does next is GENIUS!".

Then you click on it, and all the content you get is hosted on a site riddled with pop-up ads and is just a giant, unorganized clusterf*ck of text link ads and irrelevant crap.


Click this link to see how 20 guys hauled a giant hamster out of Loch Ness!

Then this is what you get:

Selling sand to desert nomads is difficult. However, follow this guide and you'll lose wait in less than 20 years! First step is to follow this fricking retarded text link ad that leads you nowhere, then you wait in line for a survey, then you get your computer infected with viruses not even discovered by the virus discoverers! Also, apparently "fricking" is not included in the dictionary of my computer.


Don't lose hope! Remember, these are the photos of our successful weight-loss participants:
Wiley Citrus Before Weight-Loss Program
Wiley Citrus Before Weight-Loss Program
Wiley Citrus After Weight-Loss Program
Wiley Citrus After Weight-Loss Program
So there you have it! We have wasted your time very efficiently! These articles are little wrecking balls of sh*t!


Thank you for your time in reading this post,


     Last night, I heard the vocals of a sun dying. It was goddamn terrifying. The shrieks could not be heard in the vast dark void known as space, but I could somehow feel the tremors building up inside of me, until I exploded. The entire world beneath me shook. I was ripped apart by the intense gamma rays radiating from the brilliant supernova. I was all but gone.


     I bounced from bed to bed, aiming to eventually reach the far end where the springs hurt the least and the mattress was the most soft. I guess I was being too loud. I had almost met my goal when the door creaked open and a caretaker came in.

     "Hey!" she exclaimed, "You're not supposed to be out of your pot. youngster,"

     "Aw, give me a break. All I do each day is soak up whatever toxins you guys feed to my tube!" I whined.

     "That's to train you for the field. They're delicious, anyway." she replied impatiently. "Now get back into your pot and soak up the rest of those toxins."

     "Fine, fine."

     I bounced across the beds until I reached the one that was stationed beside my pot. Settling in and making sure my stems would not be rumpled against the glass walls by the movement of by beating trunk, I turned back and waved at the caretaker.

     "Very good. I'll come back to check on you later, youngster." She turned and closed the creaking door softly behind her.

     I listened carefully to the clip-clopping footsteps her heels made. I shrugged. She probably went back to the kitchen to prepare some toxins to distribute to other younger potties like me. Or so she planned.