Matt Grows Weary of Bein' a Bit of a Creeper

Your friendly (or at least scruffy) neighborhood Mattness here. 
 
Listen, there's only so much time one can spend in a ditch just kinda staring and generally milling around before residents of even Blackbottom get ready to call the cops. 
 
It also turns out that "I thought I saw my past self playing in the creek yesterday with some kinda ghetto-ass robot" doesn't sound as good outside my head as it sounded inside it. 
 
I'm gonna have some sleep and beer, hopefully not in that order. 
 
Keep your eyes peeled for temporal anomalies on 46th, I guess, and let me and Bo know if you want it (coplessly) investigated. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Introducing The BBP Blog

Cool, thanks for bein' here! I'll be porting stuff over from the Blue Dopamine Doomscroll Hellscape page and showing a bit of love to our OGs. Don't worry--we'll keep that page but for now, mostly just as a link between y'all and, uh... well, this. In lieu of an actual post, have an ASCII butt: (  )(  )
Read more

An Eyeful of Terrance

Bo checking in. Got called out for a Bigfoot sighting tonight. Normally my answer is, "Wrong forests," but Judy had a blackberry cobbler coming out of the oven, so I figured I'd at least go out for that.   Unfortunately we weren't aware her husband had also gotten into the blackberries and made wine. Then fortified it. Then stripped nekkid and ran around the back forty growling at Lord knows what.   The good news is that I got fresh hot cobbler; the bad news is I also got an eyeful of Terrance. I guess the other good news is that there is no Bigfoot in Hixson tonight (or, you know, any other night).
Read more

Once-Upon-a-Matt

Matt here, checking in.    There's nothing to do here and nowhere to go because everything in Blackbottom is meticulously engineered to incentive poverty and ya boi is broke as shit , so I was walking around because so far, that's free, when I saw a kid in the ditches on 46th Street who looked exactly like Once-Upon-A-Matt.  Seriously, this kid had shoulder-length black hair, an ill-advised wallet chain, and a Lacuna Coil shirt that I'd bet he's going to grow out of around sophomore year of college, if I had two pennies to bet.  I thought maybe it was just an echo. Time repeating itself, like it's failing its own calibration and trying to correct being out of phase. Like that Civil War soldier I got to watch get shot every night in the backyard when I lived in Dawson, Alabama. Or like one of the handfuls of quasidecent explanations of the Mandela Effect.  But I don't remember doing the stuff he was doing.  Now, generally, that's no surprise. As a kid, I pla...
Read more