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Calvin and hobbes blacked and whited out8/27/2023 ![]() “Tigers will do anything for human flesh.” An unknown voice. Ariadne, experienced from her days as a balloon-inflater at the local carnival, was the first to recover enough to say anything. Exhausted, the crew stopped to take a breath. Several minutes of frenzied sprinting came to a halt when the remaining crew realized that Hobbes had long stopped chasing them. Ariadne was extremely annoyed by the two of them, but couldn’t resist her own little jab, though she whispered it so they wouldn’t hear, “I guess no one really can read his… poker face.” She chuckled to herself, pleased, and ran harder. All of this Arthur saw over his shoulder as he ran, and he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, pausing for emphasis, “I guess Eames… lost face.”Ĭobb ran screaming by his teammates and slowed briefly to say, “Well, I always thought he was a bit… two-faced.” He passed them feeling better about himself. Blood splattered the formerly lush, green surroundings, and the screams of the now very ugly, very faceless Eames pierced the air like a burst of flatulence at a humid funeral. Hobbes pounced on the poor narcissist and tore his face off, sinew by sinew. Though Arthur and Ariadne had the good sense to follow Cobb’s lead and sprint away, Eames had paused for just a second to admire his reflection in a nearby pool of water. A pair of glowing, yellow eyes illuminated a wet, flared nose and two absurdly sharp rows of fangs that were partially obscured by a foul, thick breath which floated up and encased the creature’s black-striped, orange head. The loud crunching sounds of his meal were cut short by a bone-chilling growl coming from the nearby jungle. “Honey Nut Cheerios! Holy shit, that’s awesome.” Arthur was more impressed than last week when he’d found out Cher was still alive. She cracked a rare smile when Arthur said the preparations were complete.Ī few button presses later and the crew found themselves asleep and dreaming together of a steamy tropical jungle, beneath a massive tree that upon closer inspection was sprouting fruit filled with… Whenever the crew needed someone to hot-wire a car or store an uncomfortable amount of clowns, Ariadne was simply the best person to go to. Her days working at the local carnival made her a jack-of-all-trades. The sole woman on their team, Ariadne, named after Prince’s second mistress, leaned against the doorway and swore absentmindedly. Arthur snatched it away, rubbed it clean, and slid it back on his eye, muttering, “Damn it, Eaves, I really wish you’d stop doing that.” Even in case they needed to sex their way out of trouble, as they were forced to that moist, sticky weekend in Beirut, Cobb had invited Eames, the narcissistic, lecherous sexual dynamo, who was currently admiring his own reflection in a contact lens he’d stolen recently. Cobb wasn’t team leader for nothing, he’d planned ahead for every contingency. But Cobb knew it wouldn’t be that simple. It had already put a massive strain on their son’s marriage to Susie Derkins, and she’d taken everything he’d owned in the divorce, including his daughter, Spiderman-Winterfell. It was cute when he was six, but at thirty-four, his parents were concerned about his attachment to the adorable stuffed tiger. Their mission was simple: perform inception on Calvin, and make him put aside his imaginary friend, Hobbes. ![]() Hidden under a comprehensive collection of vintage dream pornography were all manner of odd devices, tubes and crystallized orifices that would put Cobb and his team into a shared dream-state, sending them into Calvin’s now middle-aged mind. Arthur, prepare to send us in.”Īrthur, Cobb’s right-hand man and the team physician, obediently walked over to the target and opened the heavy silver case he carried carefully in his right hand. From time to time, he would pull several out with a greasy tug and make horse sounds. ![]() As he snored, he scratched his bulging stomach and toyed with the hairs around his belly-button. ![]() Being hired to perform inception was one thing, but some people simply seemed beyond help. His toes traced figure-eights in the air.ĭom Cobb was disgusted by the sight. His hairy man-legs spilled out of his black shorts and over the edge, nearly touching the ground. I wrote this for a campus humor magazine, and decided to put it up here too.Ī grown man with blond hair and a severely undersized, striped, red shirt lay unconscious on a racecar bed several sizes too small for him. ![]()
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