The K5000 has been brought down in less than a day.
Once a critical mass of friday fun day participants had been catalogued, located, and contacted, the now grownup Jans started learning the chant backwards. It was their best and only guess left at disconnecting their RMP grafts, which were initially put in place by the K5000 with the chant and the help of the nuns.
muffins virtue muffins me send am first demons your eat me demon virtue
your am or first demons your eat Mthyuh virtue a send demons your send
your send or first me eat demons your muffin virtue virtue a am am i Mthyuh i
demons your send or first me eat Mthyuh muffin virtue a am i virtue a am i
Peg's flesh lays once again steaming and broken of dignity
this time strewn across 100 yards of beach like a massive
alligator die-off and on, deeply, into the remains of a seaside thrill park
A Wherris feel is employed to load and distribute carfuls of her
tissue into a slowly progressing line of open lorry beds
This is how broken her body is. It's difficult to make out the basic architecture, either the original one born of prehistory or the second one, conceived and constructed by the radical Jans who infiltrated the Mthyuh Preservation Society (MPS) Inter-special Workgroup (IW). Instead of bringing back god,
they had reached back in time to abduct and torture the daughter of god
they did it not even out of curiosity but rather to please the MPS preece
by filling their wats with incense comfort illusion beyond relic living
relic that can be worn and operated as one with the deities worshippers
relics that can be reproduced and ranched for their precious sluff
relics of a time when just the monster was enough
There is surprisingly little to show for any parts of the K5000 that were not also parts of Peg: a few stone needles, a reimagined public oracle dispenser donut, sun-powered through hundreds of eyelid panels, most of which disintegrated on impact. They look like enormous dead lice among the tangled jungles and prickly coppices that were Peg's eyelashes.
We're sitting in the kitchen and we're more afraid now to go out than
while the machine was overhead because at least then life was predictable
Now our bodies seem not so cheap but more likely to succumb
To everything except for what they just got free of
But we'll succumb freely and maybe one day life will truly be all about choices
by Phyllis [embedded] Sports N' Sex Crimes Bugle