happy-sharks

omegamorningstar asked:

Tomorrow is my 21st 21st birthday, and I ask admission to the birthday unending. I bring butter and garlic and a determination to seek what pleasure I can from the corn fields. I bring hair that is an unseemly assortment of colours for someone my age, and cake, for what are birthdays without cake?

YOU HAVE TURNED TWENTY-ONE TWENTY-ONE TIMES?  DO YOU BATHE IN THE BLOOD OF THE INNOCENT?  WOULD YOU LIKE TO?  WE HAVE A BLOOD PIT.  THE SHARK IS HAPPY TO SHARE, AS LONG AS YOU DO NOT MIND THE OCCASIONAL BRUSH OF A CLOSE, MENACING FIN.

THE CORN IS NOT A PLACE OF PLEASURE, UNLESS IT IS THE PLEASURE OF STANDING AT A SAFE DISTANCE AND NEVER, EVER GOING IN THERE.  THE CORN PLEASES ITSELF IMMENSELY.  THIS IS WHY WE DO NOT PASS ITS BORDERS, BUT LISTEN TO THE DISTANT LAUGHTER OF THE FIRST BIRTHDAY GIRL, AND CONSIDER OURSELVES FORTUNATE TO STAND OUTSIDE.

WELCOME.

HERE IS YOUR SEAT AT THE TABLE; HERE IS YOUR CONICAL HAT.  HERE IS A SMALL RAINBOW IN A POT, TO RECOLOR YOUR HAIR WHEN THE NEED ARISES.  WE CANNOT WAIT TO SEE WHAT WONDERS YOU WILL PAINT UPON YOURSELF, O LOVELIEST OF THE BLOOD-BORN.

WELCOME TO THE BIRTHDAY.  WELCOME TO THE BIRTHDAY.  WELCOME TO THE BIRTHDAY UNENDING.