It's not Sane.
Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2018 10:57 pm
((Continued from Rebirth))
Jonathan Michaels had done quite a lot of things on his short amount of time on the island, he had committed the first kill, he had participated in combat with some pseudo-ninja, he had ripped off Brad Wilson's skin and now his two inch dick was rocketing for everyone to see (although according to Clerks, he might be busting a two and half one, but that's not the point the point is that Brad Wilson has a small penis and that is how he will always be remembered), he had intimidated a full crowd a way from the Western Shore and now was at the Wheat Field, just walking.
Yet for some odd reason Jonathan was not introspective, he was not thinking of his next move. To the contrary he was thinking perhaps the most dullest thing in the world and that was boredom. Apparently people watch little bits and pieces of SOTF or an abridged version, but having spent twelve hours on the island (and now stuck in a wandering state) he could tell you that it was the most boring thing in the world. More boring than playing monopoly, more boring than watching quadriplegic porn, and most of all more boring then even attempting to read a book written by J.R.R. Tolkien.
You know my nickname is boxing was the "Hobbit Horror" so maybe I'm just a bit biased on the quality of Mr. Tolkien's work.
All I can say you know my life it's pretty plain
And all that I can do, is just pour some tea for two
And speak my point of view, but it's not sane
No it's not sane
It's not sane
Sighing visibly Jonathan simply found a clearing within the field and sat down, he jumped visibly when he heard the crunch of the grass. His head looking around it was quite obvious that he was a bit confused, or maybe it was that he was looking around for people.
"Short fuck overfilled on testosterone is scared of grass? No WONDER I could kick his ass!" Jonathan said in a high pitched voice, obviously trying to imitate An Linh (albeit failing miserably).
"Yeah...well fuck you An Linh!" he muttered.
Motherfucker...I just had a conversation with myself. Yeah, insane people? You just got a new joiner for the club and his name is Jonathan Michaels.
Jonathan once again sighed, this was a waste, but he decided to lay down on the grass and sleep for a bit, keeping the shotgun close by and he decided to rest his eyes. He was awake, but just barely, content to stay there till sunrise. A smile crept upon his face and he stretched out like a cat does on top of a roof on a sunny day.
A small grunt could be heard and then snickering as Jonathan realized how hilarious that An Linh impression was.
And I don't understand why I sleep all God damn day
All that I do, is read a book to stay awake
It rips my life away
And it rips my life away
And it will rip your life away
Jonathan Michaels had done quite a lot of things on his short amount of time on the island, he had committed the first kill, he had participated in combat with some pseudo-ninja, he had ripped off Brad Wilson's skin and now his two inch dick was rocketing for everyone to see (although according to Clerks, he might be busting a two and half one, but that's not the point the point is that Brad Wilson has a small penis and that is how he will always be remembered), he had intimidated a full crowd a way from the Western Shore and now was at the Wheat Field, just walking.
Yet for some odd reason Jonathan was not introspective, he was not thinking of his next move. To the contrary he was thinking perhaps the most dullest thing in the world and that was boredom. Apparently people watch little bits and pieces of SOTF or an abridged version, but having spent twelve hours on the island (and now stuck in a wandering state) he could tell you that it was the most boring thing in the world. More boring than playing monopoly, more boring than watching quadriplegic porn, and most of all more boring then even attempting to read a book written by J.R.R. Tolkien.
You know my nickname is boxing was the "Hobbit Horror" so maybe I'm just a bit biased on the quality of Mr. Tolkien's work.
All I can say you know my life it's pretty plain
And all that I can do, is just pour some tea for two
And speak my point of view, but it's not sane
No it's not sane
It's not sane
Sighing visibly Jonathan simply found a clearing within the field and sat down, he jumped visibly when he heard the crunch of the grass. His head looking around it was quite obvious that he was a bit confused, or maybe it was that he was looking around for people.
"Short fuck overfilled on testosterone is scared of grass? No WONDER I could kick his ass!" Jonathan said in a high pitched voice, obviously trying to imitate An Linh (albeit failing miserably).
"Yeah...well fuck you An Linh!" he muttered.
Motherfucker...I just had a conversation with myself. Yeah, insane people? You just got a new joiner for the club and his name is Jonathan Michaels.
Jonathan once again sighed, this was a waste, but he decided to lay down on the grass and sleep for a bit, keeping the shotgun close by and he decided to rest his eyes. He was awake, but just barely, content to stay there till sunrise. A smile crept upon his face and he stretched out like a cat does on top of a roof on a sunny day.
A small grunt could be heard and then snickering as Jonathan realized how hilarious that An Linh impression was.
And I don't understand why I sleep all God damn day
All that I do, is read a book to stay awake
It rips my life away
And it rips my life away
And it will rip your life away