You stumble to your feet and make your way to your apartment. You slip in and out of consciousness until you open the door. The room seems to darken with every step. Blood splatters against your laptop screen as you cough. You try to type your password in, but your fingers don't seem to work, they falter and fall heavily across the keys. When you finally get it right, your wifi goes out.
You crawl to your router and restart the modem. When it's up, you sign in and send the assignment. It makes it just in time. You pass out on the floor.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
Were you enjoying your day? STOP! There is outrageous crap going on you need to know about!
Experience several minutes of top-tier modern game design for FREE.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.