The Dord of Darien

Musings from the Mayor of the Internet

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State of the Wood

I haven’t been around so much lately, as I expect you’ve noticed. Yes, there is a reason, and, no, that reason is not that I’m a lazy half-wit. Actually, I’ve suffered a severe bout of crippling hand injury, and typing with just my off-hand blows. So I’ve not been doing that.

But how did I get hurt, you ask? I mean, I’m eleven feet tall and made entirely of rock music and sex, so clearly it was something serious. Well, as a matter of fact, I got hurt while I was saving your life. In the future.

Here’s how it went down. My robot sidekick and I were hunting General Gus for… reasons that aren’t very clear to me in hindsight, but which will be very important in the year 20XX. We finally caught up with him in the big power plant factory room in your apartment (all apartments have those in the future) just after he had killed your husband and/or wife and was about to kill you too. Then he turned big and pink for some strange reason, and I had to bionic-punch the shit out of him. Like, a lot. I had to punch the fucker for almost a minute before he finally exploded! Here’s a futuristic local news station’s footage of the climactic battle.

All that punching takes its toll on even my robotic tendons, forged though they are from the very thunderbolts of mighty Zeus. So the end result is they’re a bit knackered, and playing so much goddamn Dawn of War 2: Retribution didn’t help matters any. So my left hand is currently out for maintenance is what I’m saying, and typing’s a bitch. And also you owe me.

No, seriously, you do. So pay up, Mr. I-Don’t-Believe-The-Future-Even-Though-I’m-Not-From-The-Future-Like-Some-People-Are. Oh, and, uh, sorry about your apartment.


March 10th, 2011 Posted by | Bullshit, Meta-meta | 2 comments