— Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane (via larmoyante)
You know that time when your friend introduces you to a new guys she’s been talking to and you’re super open minded about him and then he opens his mouth and you instantly get the urge to just scoop his eyeballs out with a melon baller
And I had this whole elaborate story brewing in my mind as I drove home—- how, after being melon balled into inevitable blindness I’d have to get him a seeing eye dog, except those are such sweet animals and as such should not be subjected to this particular specimen, so I’d have to get him like a seeing eye hippo and it would then thrash everywhere and squash him and eat him.
I mean I only had like one beer, folks. This was purely spurred from my own brain under the influence of excessive agitation from a human meatball.
Sometimes, I’m just not a people person. Dat’s alright. Now goodnight, gimme me cat.
Oh, i love this.
— Anton Chekhov, About Love and Other Stories (via larmoyante)