LUCASSSSSSS
The internet‘s only official webpage
WELCOME, YOU, TO ME.
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SORRY TO SEE YOU HERE!
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A GRANDE OLDE STORYE:
Once, six weeks ago, there was a tall boy with a face so dense with features you couldn’t count the noses. Vance (his name was Vance) had a pet bird which he had superglued a bulldog clip to, so he could attach it to his clothes when he went for his morning run.
I think it’s important to note that the bird was fine with all of this. In fact, the bulldog clip thing was the bird’s idea. “Make me a clippable abomination” it had boomed at him from the foot of his bed one evening, waking Vance from his two year coma and causing him to shit fourteen litres of turd across his mattress.
But I digress. Back to the story…
Vance (the boy, remember) was on his morning run. The wind was whistling through his many nostrils as he ran. Like a sort of “EEEERRT!” sound, but much higher pitched than what I’ve written there.
And the bird was whistling too. The resulting noise was horrible; a discordant mess of F-sharp, G, and B-flat!
Long story short, it won the Eurovision Song Contest today GOD DAMN IT I’M SO ANGRY THE END.
Ohh… Jesus, sorry.
Just ignore those gifs.
I’m not affiliated with Pilates.
Here, I’ll clear the air with a drawing of Marilyn Monroe.
Ah damn it. I thought I’d do a better job than that. I probably should have brought up a reference picture. I’m not even sure what side of her face she has that beauty boil on.
Oh well. Onwards and up ‘em, that’s what I always say.
Probably time this page had a button. Even the blandest of web pages have a button somewhere.
Here’s a button:
Ooh, actually, I could use buttons to make a game! Like a choose-your-own-story type adventure. You’d love that.
And a one and a two and a…
I just saw all this empty space down the side of the page here and thought maybe I should use it, but I don’t really have anything to say right now. So please feel free to disregard this text.
An Interactive STORYE:
You are on a gravel path. To the East lies a dense forest. To the South lies a large tree with crooked branches. North is a babbling ravine and West leads to an ominous looking brown castle. Above you, Kronos the Wizard cackles in a deeply disconcerting manner as he hovers on his flat circular magic platform.
“Where will you go when you have nowhere to be?” Kronos taunts.
He has a point. You decide to stay put.
Made on mmm