Monday, 20 June 2011

Oh, You Son of A ...


The blog was down all weekend. Not that any of would have known, seeing as somebody has been posting in our abscence.


Mmm ... no. Doesn't have the same ring as Slenderfucker.

I'll come up with a nickname yet.


... Yes.

I quite like that.

Bitch will do nicely.

So, the sumbitch who decided that we needed to be 'punished' decided to do so by trapping us all in a dead zone. No internet, no service.

As if we weren't lacking in those already.

On top of that, we had cases of what I will now refer to as Slendersickness up the wazoo. Lyle locked himself in his tent and is currently coughing up two lungs and a liver's worth of blood and bile, (as black as the fucking night, of course) and Alex has this splitting headache and has curled up in a ball somewhere in the middle of camp and Walter has been ... well, he's been Walter, but a wall emotes more than that man and that's only because you can paint a wall.

Two more people are dead.

As Elliott puts it.


Not by Slender, oh no, not even at the hands of the little bitch who thinks it's cute to

Calm, Suze, caaaaaaaalm ...

TL;DR suicide. Lucky bastards got out before Slender could get to them.

If only we could all be so lucky.

They were ... in love. Deeply so. Disgustingly so. Goo-goo-ga-ga eyes and 'I wub you more' 'no, I wub you more!' and promises of being together for as long as they lived and bluh bluh huge waste of time.


I guess they were right about being together for as long as they lived.

But what they got was far from what I'd consider a fairytale ending.

But that's what you get for being stalked by an eldritch abomination, isn't it?

Sometimes there are no happy endings.

We found them hung with belts on the other side of the thicket around camp. I'm not the first and certainly not the last one to tell you this forest is a maze, so I'm not going to lie to you when I say that I doubt that they actually decided to ... end it there. Judging by the note we found in Jennifer's tent the morning of, (Saturday, thanks for asking.) they didn't want to be found. She rattled off some Bible verses and said something about being 'together in paradise' and I really couldn't care less.

But maybe I'm just bitter.

Well fuck me me with a rusted railroad spike you didn't read this post expecting anything less than a rant and a cluster f bomb to put every Michael Bay movie ever to shame, did you?

Recaps are Alex's job, if I recall correctly.

Come to think of it, I should ask him about that. Somebody needs to be able to deliver in this shitstorm of panic and angst and god knows what else.

Quickly losing patience,


  1. Petty names will get you nowhere, Susan~! Isn't it adorable how you try to hide that you're terrified? Come into the trees. I'll be sure that you'll scream properly for me.

    And as fun as toting this account has been, I'm debating setting up something a bit less.... cumbersome. Hope you're prepared for the week to come, Subjects. And good luck; you're going to need it.

  2. Kinky.

    Get the fuck off my boyfriend's account.

  3. As much as I hate to appease a temper tantrum, here's to you, Susan~! Surely, all I want is for all my beloved to be happy.