Do You Still Like Us?

that one time...in jail and wow, we talk about dreams, yeesh...oh and Hamilton again #039

Every move forward escalates the battle. In moments the beast grows and spills over in rage and power as the 2 brave girls rush ahead. 2 brave girls stand by Death, surge by Death, fight by Death, a heavy stench choking everything into blindness. With all their collective power they strike right and true. As the flash of their blow fades they see that horrible monster still standing strong and sardonic, laughing and pointing at the once quaint town, now destroyed, lost to the spill of their powerful battle, all the sudden death and too quickly faded shine of quaint and real lives screaming for justice. “See you soon, little ones.” The beast vanishes in a flash, but the consequence remains, the town has been demolished, the townsfolk extinguished. The 2 girls and Death have been defeated, mocked and ridiculed, but they must still move forward. They must still fight for this.  

Our most confusing episode, we explain nothing, try to figure it out #038

With heavy hearts and cold, seething fury the 2 brave, angry girls sling their full packs over their shoulders as they walk to the outskirts of town, all the towns folk silently gathering behind them, making sure they leave, but terrified they won’t. And than a scent in the air catches the 2 girl’s attention, something musky and old and wrong, they don’t need to catch each other’s eyes, in an instant they are running towards that growing, seething stench. A moment later they come upon a sweating Death, heavy robes soaked in effort and terror, Death that ancient adversary, boldly fighting a profane and maleficent terror, wielding a profane and ugly weapon...and still only losing to the beast. The 2 brave girls see Death fighting a far worse enemy than death, they see Death needs their aid, they look to one another for a moment...and quickly decide to join the fight.

The dentist episode...this gets painful...#037

Than appeared a gray and dull monster at the breakfast table. Musty and old robes hung on a gaunt god, sardonic grin forever implied upon bleached jawbones, their sat Death, that old and selfish power.
‘what do you want?’
“An odd...inappropriate request, given our history.”
‘...’
“The beastie you chase, it is a bad one, an ancient and terrible thing. I have been following along your futile journey hoping you might stop the thing, or at least die trying.”
‘...’
“You of course did neither. Instead you have shown me how terrible and ancient this beastie is. You are not enough. Join me, together we can stop this thing.”
“no.’
‘never trust death.’
‘go.’
“I am...disappointed. You are a worthless pair and it was futile to hope you could be anything more.”
‘...’
In a moment Death is gone. But the change has come, as 2 brave girls collect themselves a trembling waiter shrinks towards their table. The 2 girls ready themselves to reassure these poor, frightened people.
“Can you...please leave...town.”

Well time to type up another title #036

It is a big breakfast, full of all the hot and savory things they enjoy at home, they appreciate and cherish the moment. These are the sweet chances when everything seems to fit together and make sense. The 2 brave little girls are reminded of their resolve and their smiles come freely again for the first time in a while, all the darkness that came before, both real and fake, is for now behind them. In a moment everything changes, a sense of dread begins to seep into the warm and cozy tavern, a mocking, arrogant and shadowy intent weighs heavily in the air.

Guess whose mic is broken...guess who broke it #035

The wounds are poison true, the truth of it is pure poison, one true purpose, to poison, pulse and pump to a crooked beat, reaching further and further beneath the surface, but it is the truth of that poison seeking it’s marred purpose that brings 2 brave girls to their senses. The truth of it, the purpose and bend of it is like smelling salts to the soul, 4 confident eyes shine anew, ‘oh yes’ they think as they stare deeply into one another’s bright eyes...’it is all fake’...’these wounds, ha, what are these wounds but only fake’...’yes sister, only fake’...’lets move on, yes my dear and sweet sister lets move on and never hide from one another again’...’yes...i’m sorry sister.’...’i’m sorry sister.’
‘always equal.’
‘always.’
‘let’s get breakfast.’
‘yes sister.’

Sorry, we’re hungover, this will be a bad title #034

Walking forward, they stride on...talk is lite and little, 2 little girls mostly silently march forward, they pretend they are too embarrassed to broach the subject of their being fooled and tricked  into a mock fight of smog and fog and fear and mirror, but really they secret away the fact that they still feel that recent wound from that fake fight pulsing and stinging in their side, and oozing, and deepening...and they are sadly shamed enough to not be open with one another, a true and sad first for 2 confident, brave, but recently wounded girls, for this moment, for the first time they refuse to see one another and while marching on together, they are both sadly walking alone.

On to bigger, better things, we hope #033

And then fingertip thrust over cliff edge, they have come to an end, but not a real end, one manufactured. The darkness, smoke and fog begin to dissipate at a slick and greasy pace as their sides continue to ache deeper and deeper. They look down to find the wounds are no longer there, but the pain, that raw and rot and oozing pain, seems to have pushed deeper and deeper. Still they can continue forward, this fight was a wasted thing, a fake thing, they were fooled, but they could continue forward. So 2 brave, little girls walk forward.