Look lady, what’re you even doing? Is it a dance? Are you dancing? Is it your hair? Do you want me to smell your hair? I can smell it from here, you and all your fleshy smells. And put on some damn clothes. Why do I always get these jobs? Jonesey was right, I need to polish up my resume and get the hell out of here.
Lo, great planetary orb, why dost thou make me so ponderous? Though from thy heavens I can see only blue and green, in thy depths I know of a great many sufferings.
Lo, also behold this thing on my head.
I’ve arrived! I’m sorry it took me so long but… oh. Oh dear.
Archery makes me sad. Archery and animals. Archery, animals, and nuclear war.
AAUUGGHHH that’s my eye– why would you even–? Dammit, augggh!
Wait, shoot. Jimmy says I’m supposed to aim for the one in the red shirt. Aren’t they all..? Ughhhh, now how do I decide?
Richard Ford Burley is a doctoral candidate in English at Boston College, where he’s writing about remix culture and the processes that generate texts in the Middle Ages and on the internet. In his spare time he writes about science, skepticism, and feminism (and sci-fi cover art) here at This Week In Tomorrow.