RANDOM THE ASYLUM: M E M E T O W N

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FireEater said:
hahaha, that´s a good question. I hope his dinner wasn't interrupted by the same guy. lol
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Little do we know it happened again.

Guy is just sitting down to watch some pornographic movie while eating dinner and the same guy just walks in with a gun and video recorder, walks around for a bit, both silent while the resident slowly ingests his meal. All the while feeling incredibly uncomfortable with the invader, wondering who he is and why he keeps just showing up. He didn't feel compelled to stop him, considering the gun and all, but he felt they should be having a conversation. No. The situation spoke loud enough as they observed each other in what would otherwise be an abnormal circumstance.

This was the fifth time now. He'd stopped calling the police as the situation seemed not only ridiculous, but somehow expected. His relationship with the strange cameraman grew on a creepy and silent level as the months fell off the calender. There was one winter morning the resident had come home with some pornographic material, freshly bought from his local sexual goods general store. He sat down and began removing his shoes when he realized the cameraman was back, standing in the living room, silent as ever. Bundled up tightly with layers of layers he stood in the same usual pose. One hand up, lens pointed at the resident always and the other hung down at his side, gun clutched in hand.

"We can't keep doing this." The resident finally spoke up to the cameraman. First time the silence had been broken in twelve strange visits. Each time the cameraman just entered the house like he had the damned key. "Please, I don't know why you keep doing this and I... I can't even figure out why I've let this go on as far as it has. Please, just get out. Just leave damnit." No answer, not even the faintest twitch of a muscle. He just kept recording. That blinking little red light behind the cameras eye. The resident hated it for a moment, he wanted to break the damn camera but he preferred that his body stay clean of any bullet wounds either.

With a heavy sigh he continued on his way. Years passed into decades, the resident lived alone with his occasional visits from the cameraman. He got to the point where he'd converse with the mute. Or at least that's what he believed. Never responded, maybe he was deaf too. After twenty-three years it was on some autumn afternoon the resident approached his door, going out for a night with friends. There he was, the cameraman. They locked eyes for a moment, the world silent to the both of them. It was like yesterday did this man barge into his basement while masturbating, videotaping him. The weird bastard. This was the strangest thing the resident had ever known.

"Okay. I'm finished." He spoke. The cameraman finally spoke. He put the camera into his coat, drew the gun and shot the resident twice in the chest with a subtle somehow accomplished smile on his face. He strolled away as a neighbor screamed in horror, clawing to get into her front door away from the cameraman. The resident however lay, staring up at the evening sky. He thought about a scene from one of his favorite movies. A pornographic film, wasn't sure why that came to mind though. The sky seemed to gleam toward his vision as the world faded from his view. The cameraman turned on a heel as he disappeared from view around the blocks edge, sirens off in the distance.

Edit: Really shouldn't be typing when half baked and half awake at four in the morning.
 
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SlamifiedBuddafied said:
Little do we know it happened again.

Guy is just sitting down to watch some pornographic movie while eating dinner and the same guy just walks in with a gun and video recorder, walks around for a bit, both silent while the resident slowly ingests his meal. All the while feeling incredibly uncomfortable with the invader, wondering who he is and why he keeps just showing up. He didn't feel compelled to stop him, considering the gun and all, but he felt they should be having a conversation. No. The situation spoke loud enough as they observed each other in what would otherwise be an abnormal circumstance.

This was the fifth time now. He'd stopped calling the police as the situation seemed not only ridiculous, but somehow expected. His relationship with the strange cameraman grew on a creepy and silent level as the months fell off the calender. There was one winter morning the resident had come home with some pornographic material, freshly bought from his local sexual goods general store. He sat down and began removing his shoes when he realized the cameraman was back, standing in the living room, silent as ever. Bundled up tightly with layers of layers he stood in the same usual pose. One hand up, lens pointed at the resident always and the other hung down at his side, gun clutched in hand.

"We can't keep doing this." The resident finally spoke up to the cameraman. First time the silence had been broken in twelve strange visits. Each time the cameraman just entered the house like he had the damned key. "Please, I don't know why you keep doing this and I... I can't even figure out why I've let this go on as far as it has. Please, just get out. Just leave damnit." No answer, not even the faintest twitch of a muscle. He just kept recording. That blinking little red light behind the cameras eye. The resident hated it for a moment, he wanted to break the damn camera but he preferred that his body stay clean of any bullet wounds either.

With a heavy sigh he continued on his way. Years passed into decades, the resident lived alone with his occasional visits from the cameraman. He got to the point where he'd converse with the mute. Or at least that's what he believed. Never responded, maybe he was deaf too. After twenty-three years it was on some autumn afternoon the resident approached his door, going out for a night with friends. There he was, the cameraman. They locked eyes for a moment, the world silent to the both of them. It was like yesterday did this man barge into his basement while masturbating, videotaping him. The weird bastard. This was the strangest thing the resident had ever known.

"Okay. I'm finished." He spoke. The cameraman finally spoke. He put the camera into his coat, drew the gun and shot the resident twice in the chest with a subtle somehow accomplished smile on his face. He strolled away as a neighbor screamed in horror, clawing to get into her front door away from the cameraman. The resident however lay, staring up at the evening sky. He thought about a scene from one of his favorite movies. A pornographic film, wasn't sure why that came to mind though. The sky seemed to gleam toward his vision as the world faded from his view. The cameraman turned on a heel as he disappeared from view around the blocks edge, sirens off in the distance.

Edit: Really shouldn't be typing when half baked and half awake at four in the morning.
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Hahahaha! Now that was the best reading I had in a long time. You should do a followup and tell the story from the cameraman´s perspective. When you´re fulyl baked and going through two sleep-deprived days. :D
 
I feel sleep deprivation hinders my ability to think rationally enough to write the absurd. Then again, upon reading it again it doesn't seem so absurd. Weird, but something that could possibly happen or have happened. But it's a story nobody knows till now because at the whim of the universe somebody happened to detail those same events in detail without ever have known it.

Or maybe I'm full of shit. I have a hard time differing between the two. It's like hating yourself, but loving yourself for hating yourself. Like a masochistic person who is in a delusional state in believing their suffering brings enlightenment or better times to others as a way of rationalizing their life due to their on mistakes. Maybe that's me. Maybe that's this guy who lives down the street, the one with the trunk which has been closed by duct tape and bungie cords for the past year. Maybe some guy out in New York or some other well established city everyone is aware of. Maybe one hardly anyone knows about, like Ypsilanti in Michigan or Holden in Missouri. Hell, maybe it happened in Southern Spain or some crowded district in Moscow.

Point being is singularity. All things have a means to an end and all things are repeated in some form or another. Imagine if every dream truly does happen in some way but is only known to the dreamer and the inhabitants of the dream. Whether the inhabitants of said dream actually have any awareness of dream is up to speculation however. Sometimes I can only wonder if the dream itself is of any meaning if it is only known to a single inhabitant of that dimension. Now assume that every dream has already happened and is recurring through all things over and over and as time goes on more and more threads are created, becoming more dense, diverse and complicated. But eventually all the threads begin collapsing as all possibilities are expired and the different ideals, dimensions, realities and so on and so forth become a singular consensus.

Wait. The fuck was I talking writing about. Well anyways, dreams are awesome.
 
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SlamifiedBuddafied said:
I feel sleep deprivation hinders my ability to think rationally enough to write the absurd. Then again, upon reading it again it doesn't seem so absurd. Weird, but something that could possibly happen or have happened. But it's a story nobody knows till now because at the whim of the universe somebody happened to detail those same events in detail without ever have known it.

Or maybe I'm full of shit. I have a hard time differing between the two. It's like hating yourself, but loving yourself for hating yourself. Like a masochistic person who is in a delusional state in believing their suffering brings enlightenment or better times to others as a way of rationalizing their life due to their on mistakes. Maybe that's me. Maybe that's this guy who lives down the street, the one with the trunk which has been closed by duct tape and bungie cords for the past year. Maybe some guy out in New York or some other well established city everyone is aware of. Maybe one hardly anyone knows about, like Ypsilanti in Michigan or Holden in Missouri. Hell, maybe it happened in Southern Spain or some crowded district in Moscow.

Point being is singularity. All things have a means to an end and all things are repeated in some form or another. Imagine if every dream truly does happen in some way but is only known to the dreamer and the inhabitants of the dream. Whether the inhabitants of said dream actually have any awareness of dream is up to speculation however. Sometimes I can only wonder if the dream itself is of any meaning if it is only known to a single inhabitant of that dimension. Now assume that every dream has already happened and is recurring through all things over and over and as time goes on more and more threads are created, becoming more dense, diverse and complicated. But eventually all the threads begin collapsing as all possibilities are expired and the different ideals, dimensions, realities and so on and so forth become a singular consensus.

Wait. The fuck was I talking writing about. Well anyways, dreams are awesome.
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You´re really stoned, man!! lol Get some sleep before you put a fork in your eye, or some other crazy shit. :)
 
Razilin said:
because they are
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Gwazi Magnum said:
Because stupid minds can only be stimulated with sex. :P
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I suppose I just don't understand. I blame my upbringing and sheltered childhood for keeping my mind from being exposed to stupidity until I was old enough to have enough teenage angst to create a rational theory about sex. It's great. No doubt about it. The irony I find is little do those same people know, those children are bound for the same path their currently walking. I suppose that is what bothers me even more, knowing it's just going to happen another billion times at the least. And no, that number is no exaggeration.

Then again births have decreased to my understanding over time. Well at least we still have prophylactics to keep the gene pool from bottoming out.
 
FireEater said:
Hahahaha! Now that was the best reading I had in a long time. You should do a followup and tell the story from the cameraman´s perspective. When you´re fulyl baked and going through two sleep-deprived days. :D
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The house had its own scent. Like any good house, I enjoyed finding a new smell. Better yet a culmination of smells which creates a certain atmosphere. I could smell stale trash from an overfilled wastebasket, dirty laundry muddling with the scent of a fresh load downstairs. The stench of cigarettes and their lingering tar along the creases of the walls. I'd been in a number of houses before, just wandering. Most of the time they never knew he was there. Silent. Camera in one hand and gun in the other he'd go about filming other peoples lives. It was interesting to see them when they thought nobody else was watching. But today, today would be different. Today he would start his project, the project of a lifetime.

The basement door smoothly opened without a sound and he made his way down the old stairs. Cinder block columns against concrete walls. Older house, he enjoyed the older houses. Always the ones with the best smells. The sound of a woman moaning caught his ear as he continued further down. There was a man sitting in a lawn chair nude masturbating slowly to a porno of sorts. He didn't like recording other recordings. To redundant and the frame rate never looked good on playback. That's when the resident looked up, startled the nude man jumped up and began yelling at him to leave, to get the fuck out. He'd heard it before, he'd leave when he was good and ready unless circumstances dictated otherwise.

The nude man grabbed his phone and dialed three quick numbers. Hmmph. Circumstances dictate. He backtracked slowly out, camera lens kept it's eye on the target until he was out of view. The playback was amusing. He would make a good subject, they'd already had a good first date. A bit short and already to second base. Face still and eyes gleaming the cameraman sat in a crowded apartment filled with VHS', DVD's and various televisions and monitors lining the walls on desks or wall mounts. His own private insight to the lives of many men and woman. Nearly all of them will never know they were on film doing whatever it is they do when nobody is around. He thought of Mrs. Fields. Forty-three miles away, husband and two kids. Every Monday afternoon she'd arrive home from work when nobody was home and would masturbate using household fruit which she would always serve to the family for dinner. Some people were sick. He thought of himself and chuckled.

He returned again, little did the resident know he had made a copy of the key one night when the resident slept. Two just in case. He found it odd the resident eventually stopped fighting him and seemed to pretend like it was somehow normal. He always brought his gun of course, but he never intended to use it, not yet. There was still much work to be done. It was on the thirty-eight visit the residents mother had passed away. I seamlessly blended in with the funeral reception, one of the few occasions I could use my more expensive toys. Small recording device in suit tie, lovely little device. The resident recognized me though he seemed in no mood to confront me. I suppose I felt I should pay some respects to the mother of my greatest work of art.

It's been twenty-three years and it's complete. It is time to immortalize him. My pet, my toy. Only I will have your life for my viewing pleasure, at my disposal at any time. Out of all the others I've watched and studied over the years, I'd say you were the most... normal; well, save for my occasional visit of course. Still single and forty-nine years old. You've had a good job, you've done it as long as I have known you through my lens. You are loved by your family which is good, it brings a sense of ease to your portrayal. Not so much a pervert but a self sex addict. Strictly masturbation however, nothing to outlandish like some of my other subjects. Ah, but you are the only one who has known me, well at least knows of me. You are the only one who let me in time after time, allowing my to capture your life for my own. Oh how wonderful it is live vicariously through your mundane days, your soul rending little life all made digital.

"Okay, I'm finished." I felt content with all that I had done as I targeted his chest and fired. Strange. The look on his face wasn't quite what I expected. No surprise, no sudden anguish or fear. It was as if he'd been expecting it all along, as if it were normal. I pocketed my handgun and strolled down the street, the irritating cries of a woman scratching at her door tempted me to strike her. But my day was to fulfilled to bother, this was the finest day of that mans life. He had a beautiful meaning in a world he would never understand.


...well. Opposite side of the day. I feel a little more strange for bothering writing any of this.
I also realize I hope I'm not invading any of Iwaku's rules. Maybe I should put a warning... naaaaaaaaaah.
 
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SlamifiedBuddafied said:
I suppose I just don't understand. I blame my upbringing and sheltered childhood for keeping my mind from being exposed to stupidity until I was old enough to have enough teenage angst to create a rational theory about sex. It's great. No doubt about it. The irony I find is little do those same people know, those children are bound for the same path their currently walking. I suppose that is what bothers me even more, knowing it's just going to happen another billion times at the least. And no, that number is no exaggeration.

Then again births have decreased to my understanding over time. Well at least we still have prophylactics to keep the gene pool from bottoming out.
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I think most of the people who rush into having sex aren't thinking about children.
They just want to get laid, and either ignore the risk of pregnancy or simply plan to abort said child if one does show up.

While if they are purposely looking to have a child, they are looking at shows such as "16 and pregnant" thinking it to be some fun game and the child an accessory.
Not realizing it for the serious commitment it is, and how rushing into parenthood is setting your child up for a less well off upbringing.
 
The hell is this shit. this ain't insanity talk.

Talk in memes, people, talk in gibberish. Rational thinking has no place in Orochi's domain.









HAIL HYDRA!
 
OROOOOOOCHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


This place has gone downhill.
 
Fel said:
OROOOOOOCHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


This place has gone downhill.
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Hoo ha I say. You haven't the slightest clue if that river is still in Italy damnit! So where was Sam Hill, hmmm? Where I say! WHERE!? Nothing but a bunch of cardboard masks in a river it is. So who are you to say it doesn't work? Like a sponge it works damnit! Blue fish on the walls! I'd like to see you dance a jig after a ballad before a waltz with no underwear to hear better! You understand me!? What? I'm sorry I left my shoes at home, I don't have my glasses on me. Well if you'd like I have a pen so you can shave your ears. Huh? Bah earwax is mined by the little men anyways, screw them! I don't see a penny of that earwax gold after the little bastards sell it. Always leaving their little footprints on my bed sheets, but I can't follow them damnit! The sheets keep on ruffling around and I struck somebody the other day! I. I haven't seen my son in years. He doesn't call, he does't write. Last time I saw him he was wearing a fishbowl as a codpiece and his wife was a fish. A fish I tell you! A damned fish! Blubbering like a chicken. Tuna is what she was! Married to what should have been a shark! Turned into a whale!
 
I bred, and I'm not stupid. o.O My kids aren't either, they just like to act they don't use their brains. I think that's just a kid thing though.

And damn it, can we please stop talking about sex! -Mumbles while adding another mark on the calender since the last time she's seen her husband-
 
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