04. THE PROCTOR‪.‬ OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL, LTD.The infinite Skrillifiles: Next Generation— Quantum Force

The shock put me into immediate overload, which caused me to power down my phone for the night, only reaching for it once sure It was something I had to write about, and certainly it was, as I hollowed out the nearly extinct cantaploupe in the kitchen sink, sure that I was doomed, after once again some satanic force had ended my only income, possessing my short lived employer with its usual antics—lovebombing, then hating me—and worse making me hate myself, so much so that in had retreated into none other than the likes of binge watching 30 Rock, which was at the very least almost a laugh, in the worst of moods, but at least somewhat high enough spirits, that I could cope—until, that is, I noticed, something particularly odd about Conan O'Brien during his cameo appearance—odd, meaning, surprising, at least, that is—as he seemed to stand a full head over Alec Baldwin, who I always thought seemed particularly large… and so, at best, curiosity began to kill the cat—and kill the cat it did.

Google, How Tall Is Conan O'Brien?

GOOGLE
He's 6'4

Oh, wow, that's ridi—

GOOGLE
—and [Redacted] is 6'.

OH.

Fuck.
Oops.

GOOGLE CON'D
I knew you were wondering.

FUCK.
Thanks alot Google.

I had been curious, but wouldn't dare ask, and it had been by complete and total accident that I had gandered at such an atrocity as to what I had already suspected—this [Redacted] person was and had always been, by the hands of God, and exquisitely perfect man.

Perfectly ideal, that is, no less of a comforting gesture, in that the sudden onset and rampant attraction which had flattened the collection of scene and stories written in, for and about [Redacted], into an atrocity of parables and incomprehensible anagrams, analogies, and allegories— no such a world I might belong to at all, for if [Redacted] was at all not the man that I had hoped, certainly also I was not the woman I had hoped in any way at all that there would be sense in any of it; The sunken hole in my stomach where my soul used to rest sunk heavily, a gesture which could only mean to move on, and write something else. Perhaps a scene which had been rolling around in my head for some weeks, so incomplete and with consistent interruption that I worked whether or not it could or should be written—but there it is again.

‘Fuck, now I know he has a huge dick'

Standard rules and messaging rates may apply:

Ū/SUPACREE
You're a miserable son of a bitch, do you know that?

JIMMY FALLON/THE COSMIC AVENGER
I know that.

The aliases have been captured, and are handcuffed with their arms above their heads, back to back, as to keep them from using their powers to break free.

You're making me nervous.
It's not like I'm going to do anything.

Here, fishy.

Ooh.

Don't bite this. ⚠️

…

You're a shark,
I'm Chum in the water

No fat bitches

I must have scared you off
For certain
A Jack o lantern
A Jack of all trades
A mad hatter
An alchemist
Some
Scientific recollections
On
The theory of genetic attraction
It must be time to find a man

The chaos, destruction, and sadness had yet to turn to music yet but I was due at any moment to vanish without a trace into some realm where even the satanic and horrible masses that I had been tied down to could not find me, beyond that of the trolls in the parking lot adjacent to my window and the world below, I was sure that the motorcycles would bellow as I wallowed in my underwhelming polished apartment, which at least now felt somehow more like home after having to go out of it, and with all on pause as I waited to replace the cards from my wallet, seemingly long lost as I was from any hope that I might see my son again. The sadness refused to turn to music at all and instead welled up into tears in my eyes—it had been so long since I had lost something of importance that I knew something was of and wrong—making the judgement that my ex husband had tried to curse me w