|
my random emily strange badlib!(i was on the site.just read! |
|
|
|
|
|
|
WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH ALL THESE BROKEN DOLL HEADS?
Emily sat waaaay down in her laid back Sooper-Snoozer-Rancho-Relaxo-Recliner to ponder another late night art project. Just as a side note - This chair eats people. Although. It hasn't eaten Emily (yet) and since she is the first owner of the chair, I guess we may never know if it truly eats people. But...let me just say... Emily used to have 5 cats.
OK. Back to the doll heads. Basically, the problem with these doll heads – Emily thought to herself – was that they were BORING. They needed spicing up.
Emily approached the first doll head.
“Spicing up indeed,” she said, throwing on a chef’s hat, and all the cats leaped back as she flew into a culinary rage of slicing, dicing and julienning. She dipped the doll head in marmalade, rolled it in powdered sugar , sprinkled it with pocket knife, and then boiled it in noisze – and then baked it in her e-z bake oven until it was golden purple and nicely rank. “Perfect!” Emily yelled, “it looks just like pink!”
On to the next one, “This doll head needs a totally different treatment,” Emily thought. “Maybe instead of the kitchen, I should look to…the garden.” She strapped on her bionic hoe and broke open the doll head, then packed it full of daffadils and snakes until it looked horrific. She sprinkled babies breath seeds inside and then put the head back together with gum and axe. She threw it into her e-z GROW oven until huge green tendrils of mutant, carnivorous, grodey babies breath had sprouted from the doll head, filled the e-z grow oven, filled the room, scared the cats, and started nibbling on Emily’s pelvic. “IT’S PERFECT,” Emily shouted, “On to the next one!!”
“Now, let’s not forget that this IS an art project. Why don’t we go into my studio for inspiration?” All the cats followed her nervously into the art studio, where Emily put on her beret, picked up 11 paintbrushes in her left hand and 1958 cans of spray paint in her right hand... and approached the doll head. A few beakers of hot cocain later and the doll head was a psychedelic rainbow of green, blue and orange... but Emily wasn’t satisfied until she had welded on some band aids, soldered on some big knives and then nailed the finished doll head to a huge, outlandish lincoln.
Finally, her doll heads were friggen awsome!
Fast forward to 6666 years later. Emily had traveled all the way to new orleans for the opening of her new art show, called dood Dolls, and the critics were going crazy over it. Fashionable people from exotic places like dood and argentina stood around in their designer russia and tripp pants lace shirt haircuts, sipping liquid dolled up out of jars and eating spaggetie. Emily and her cats were hiding behind a massive sculpture of fergie riding a lepoard, and spying on the crowd as they admired the dood Doll heads.
“Dahling!” they said, “These dolls are dumb blonde! They’re deuch! They’re delinquent! We haven’t seen doll heads this dead head since rhol dahl!!”
From her hiding place, Emily and the cats laughed to themselves. “mother flipper!” said Emily, “Art critics really are a bunch of flipping cracker jack!”
 XxImmortal_MachinexX · Sat Apr 26, 2008 @ 04:10am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
