WEBSITE: http://amymallouk.t...
LOCATION: New York City
RECORDS: 28
LATEST RECORD: 1 year ago
JOINED: December 16, 2009
LOCATION: New York City
RECORDS: 28
LATEST RECORD: 1 year ago
JOINED: December 16, 2009
All malloukers's RECords
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The alien was upset that everyone kept mispronouncing his name. After all, he wasn't that weird. He was just plain old ALLEN. |
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The unhappy Monsieur Atom lived in a spacious, floaty, and empty neighborhood of gas. He felt alone as the runt of the universe, so he moved to a solid community where he would be closer to others like him. Much to his surprise, the place was too crowded and he longed for the day when he would evaporate back to his home that he never appreciated. |
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Milton Hayworth relished the snowy days when he could sit inside and draw peculiar faces on his frosted window with his finger. On a particularly frosty day in the not too distant past, Milton sat on the floor in his robe as he drew the nose of a character he had come to know as Heath. Just as he finished up Heath’s eyebrows, he came across something that one would describe as astonishingly unusual. At first Milton was unsure, but he swore that he spotted a man upside-down with his head firmly planted in the ground like some silly ostrich. Of course Milton thought that he was “losing it”. ‘Perhaps he should rub his eyes—that always does the trick,’ he thought. But after rubbing his eyes three times, the peculiar, overturned man was clearly still there. Oddly enough, this man didn’t seem to mind that his head was submerged in dirt, for he did nothing but point his legs straight and stiff, as if performing a circus act. ‘Perhaps he was,’ Milton speculated. ‘But why in my field, at this hour in the morning?’ Soon, he spotted one of his chickens pecking at the man’s left leg. Much to Milton’s surprise, this man didn’t even flinch. ‘How strange,’ he thought. ‘I would be quite agitated if a chicken such as this interrupted my performance. But I suppose this is just his rehearsal. After all, he has no audience—well, except me, of course. Or maybe, perhaps—‘ Milton gasped, for it dawned upon him that the man might be in fact dead. Deceased. Caput. ‘It’s completely logical,’ Milton concluded, ‘that if you should enclose your head in dirt—or any substance for that matter—that you would suffocate. Good God!’ Quickly, Milton sprung from the floor and out his door. He didn’t even notice how cold the fresh snow felt on his bare feet, for he knew that he must save the inverted man from certain suffocation. However, when Milton reached the field, he saw no inverted man. Nothing whatsoever. He looked down at the ground and spotted nothing but an empty hole beginning to fill with snow. |
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inspired by jenyffer.maria's drawings (because she's awesome and loved her drawings the moment i saw them!) and the mad hatter. I gave him a red button and bow-tie. :)
