Always watching my every move. Anything I say, do, the
slightest mistake, and that old
devil-
whore Ereneta sweeps out of the
ominous nether-regions of the
nodegel and cuts me down. A misquoted
song, a lyric that lacks the
author's personal life story, and even the
nebulas:
"Personal write-ups that are daylogs
that aren't in the daylogs."
Lay the
hell off, of foul referee of knowledge, oh
anonymous judger
of my fate! All are observed, all our judged, all downvoted, /msg'ed, scorned
before
the ever-vigilant, glowering eyes of hate. What mishaped you, what
twisted your soul so? What could have degraded you, stripped you of all morality,
lowered you so much as to use a god-forsaken
ukulele? I tremble in fear.
Yet, as I raise my eyes to the expected
carnage and
chaos, instead I behold--
something pretty. Something better. What was left remains, but
now it is purified in your
holy fire and thus expurgiated of its former,
sinful state. For though the baptism in fire brought me to the
gates of
hell and
back, I now see the wisdom in the old man's savage
cacklings:
"Crickets go down better with beer. If you're eating moths, drink
Mountain Dew."
This bug's on me.