Thursday, December 29, 2011

first post

This will be photos of written letters, the names may be changed but the details are basically true.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

ponies and such

Ronny loved ponies. They were like regular horses, only smaller. This made them naturally more adorable and Ronny would just melt when one of those baby horses would look his way. Those big eyes with that short frame made him weak in the knees.

Kathryn loved Ronny. He was clumsy and never had anything even remotely approaching “grace” in his life. He had a problematic love for ponies, of all things, and he was lanky and homely. To most people, Ronny would have been grossly out of his league with Kathryn. She didn’t care though because his habits and his faults (many they may be) were ultimately what attracted her to hideous Ronny in the first place.

Ronny’s love for ponies recently lost him a job. See, he wasn’t a particularly intelligent man but when it came to repairing an engine, no hands were smarter than Ronny’s. The only problem was that Ronny plastered his work space with pictures of ponies in various poses. He was looked up to for his abilities, looked down on because of his strange fascination with those baby horses.

His coworkers got over Ronny’s horsey love pretty quickly but every once in a while a customer would come in the shop and hassle Ronny about his ponies. They would, at least, question why there were 73 different ponies prancing around an auto shop. Normally this was easy to explain because the owner’s son had some sort of mental disorder and he hung around the shop often after school. A simple shrug and a nod in the kid’s direction quelled most questions about the overabundance of prancing ponies. The poor child took a lot of the pony blame. On the other hand, if Ronny overheard any insults about his beloved ponies, he’d become visibly upset. If anyone trash talked ponies, it felt to Ronny as if they were trash talking him!

Thursday, December 8, 2011

hood with the fur

Dearest [redacted],

I’ve been watching you for a very long time. Well, not always me personally, but you’ve been watched by myself or one of my “team” your entire life. Keep in mind that life, to me, starts after your egress from your mother’s nether regions. I don’t get down with that kind of messy situation. I probably should because it’s kind of what I do but when my old lady popped a critter out, she made me be there and I did pretty well until the slimy bugger got too close and I vomited on it. In itself, this wasn’t a terribly traumatic event, now the aftermath of blood and guts and bile made the inside of the hospital room look like someone had bombed the slaughterhouse. It was like the devil’s wet dream.

At any rate, once you got all cleaned up from tromping down your mother’s lady tube, that’s when I come in to the picture, your “always-voyeur.” I see you when you’re sleeping, I actually watch you most then because I can slowly satisfy myself whereas when you’re awake you’ll often do something to “soften the blow”, so to speak. What my team does to themselves while watching you, I can’t even imagine. I’m pretty sure that Sven, the elf, is into the butt play pretty hard so your guess is as good as mine. That reminds me, if you’re ever here in my neck of the woods, no matter what he says do NOT take your pants off around Rudolph. See, he’s got no fingers or thumbs and consequently can’t work a button or zipper or belt. I rock all three because of one drunken night a few years back when I accepted an invite to a rousing game of strip poker. Blitzen, Cupid, Rudolph, and I were playing for a few hours. They would cut off some tufts of fur whenever they lost a hand and my magic tended to give me the advantage so I was winning for a while, until the drank started to set in. I lost a few in a row until I was down to my knickers. Cupid and Blitzen said they needed to hit the little deer room and got up to leave. After the door shut, I heard two quick clicks. First was the lock on the door and next were the lights in the room. Next thing I knew I was being mounted like a Picasso painting. Arms pinned to the wall by a pair of fiendishly sharp hooves, pants gone off to god knows where at this point. All I really remember was terror and a pulsing red light which flickered until it’s glow eventually saturated the whole room and I finally blacked out.