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PandaDenim

A Story Project!

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There's already a few stories floating around in the trash. Dismal wrote something about a bathroom bar, gotothebathroom wrote some epic about a bear fucking a fish, Cotton wrote some allegory about blackscissors and datasupa wrote some over-simplified story about the round of bans that occured circa spring 08.

Hope this helps.

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The other day I woke up and the world was strangely quiet. I got ready for the day and set out to get some breakfast. I walked and walked but I didn't see anyone on the streets.

Then I woke up again, and got ready again. This time I walked outside and there were people outside. I saw someone who looked like my friend Randy from behind. I walked over to greet him, but when he turned around he was not Randy. His face was similar to that of a mannequin, except when I looked at his face I did not see Randy; I saw collectively every face and personality I've ever experienced in my life...

But that did not matter. The stranger was poorly dressed, and that was all that mattered. I neg repped him and decided to go back inside to recollect my thoughts. I browsed Sufu and started some bad threads. I made one just to tell people about that strange mannequin I had just seen.

I decided I could not face this reality, so I whipped out my DS and played Pokemon. I was on my way to the Peasantvilletown Gym, walking through the tall grass, until...

I woke up from the stupidest dream I had ever had and carried on my day as normally.

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Or so I thought. It seemed as if I was caught in an infinite recursion of bad dreams. I was in a bad dream within a bad dream, starting bad threads within bad threads. They were meta threads, but they were still bad threads, no matter how often I woke up and thought I was finally in the real world again, where I could post a thread worth reading. But every night I went to sleep, and every morning I woke up, still trapped in a dream of terrible threads. I had nightmares within the bad dreams, dreaming that I would be stuck making bad threads forever, and would never be accepted by the online fashion community. One time, I dreamt that I had become a thread. A terrible thread. A crappy thread. A thread made of crap. When I woke up, I was terrified. It hadn't been a dream. I hadn't become a shit thread, but just a piece of shit. I was a piece of shit. Literally made of shit.

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