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Planet Bob, You Have Until Update


llamavore
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To bake me a delicious cupcake. Should you fail to meet my demands and please my cupcake craving, I will doubt your true feelings for me.

"Demands is plural! Cupcake is singular! Egad, what could it mean? Are there secret implied demands? Are we supposed to guess? I lose guessing games! This seems dangerous!" Good! Now you're worried! Well, read on then!

As a casual enthusiast in evilry, petty scheming, and things of that nature, I, Llamavore, Eater of Llamas, was severely disheartened and enflamed by the general lack of horror and mortal fear in response to epic gestures of the nature I described from my dear, if somewhat amateur, co-enthusiasts in the NSO. It's a sad day for shady types all throughout the lands of Bob when our victim-counterparts have forgotten their place in the grand comedic melodrama. The world needs heroes, and the way it seeks them is by producing villains, prophets and vicars of mortal frailty, who then massage the public consciousness to a state of despair that is the life-giving nectar of the Hero Ego! But, without proper wailing, a Hero type cannot be summoned and self-realized from the depths of the seemingly average hiding among you! In such a manner, The Great Romance of Hero and Villain is constipated by jaded and unceremonious refusal to panic. This is precisely the danger in our midst! This public consciousness needs more massaging! More Tumult! More Disorder! And as a member of the Random Insanity Alliance, average though I may be, I must realize my role on the grand stage and provide the timber for the flames of injustice (pre-justice, really), EVEN if it means I, too, am brushed off and the glory of my purpose unrecognized. I may be a fly in your eyes, but I have the spirit of a pachyderm! Grunt on, target rhinoceras, I will not repent no matter how practical it might be.

My demand is for cake... and for recognition! And all who in their hearts hear the truth of my message and yearn for proper ventilation of personal anger on the public, or yearn, really, for anything with inappropriate and somewhat absurd vehemence, I demand you add your demands to mine, until Bob quakes under the weight of our List of Demands and is so morbidly enthralled with our evident madness that every moment is a threshold to nightmare they cannot predict or understand. We'll have cake, and we'll prepare the world for heroism, and ourselves to be gloriously sacrificed to it. Bob, You Have Until Update.

Inconditus, Dementia, Concordia.

Edited by llamavore
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I demand a 3 story warehouse sized cupcake whose inside is filled with thousands of twinkies wrapped in bacon. In the center of that I want 72 young women, virgins or otherwise. Preferably otherwise. Also, don't forget to poke holes or insert straws in the giant cupcake so that the girls don't die and start to rot, which would ruin the flavor.

I also need about 500,000 fresh brains to go into my robotic army so it can get rolling onto that world domination thing and get those rust buckets off my lawn- instead of being the target of my neighbors harassing phone calls to city council.

Edited by Kzoppistan
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