Numbers and Letters

The city is a lady, a very slender lady with curves made of asphalt and a groin made of cars. Every time you drive somewhere, you are in her womb. Think about that for a second: Every time you leave a car, you are being born. There's something about the psychology of an eldritch nature, wouldn't you say? I wouldn't. I have no face to say anything with.

The Blog Wherein No Faces Are Worn, Second Part

My trip onto the internet bore no fruit until I gave up searching for anything on Mr. Grott, got bored, and decided to Google my own name. The first result was for something called the "Slender Man Mythos." I stroked my faceless chin in puzzlement as I read up on that. And then I did a search for "Marble Hornets," and you wanna know what I find? You don't wanna know what I found. To make a long story short, there is an entire community devoted to writing fanfiction about me.

My head went faint. Words no longer had meaning. I began to wonder when they ever had meaning to begin with. So I did a google search on linguistics. Went from there to the etymology of "exegesis." Looked up what that word actually meant. Good stuff.

Then a thought hit me: Was I truly responding to the abnihilisation of the etym by usurping the head case of endo-ontology with an identical head case of e-searches? I was only propagating the Market-Place King's reign over history! That would not do. I am no egg, dammit, and I am no postman. I am an ace detective. Who is only a postman on weekends.

So I went back to that mythos thing. Made an account there by the name of "Mister Charles." Before I knew it, I had officially infiltrated the cyber-zone. I felt abbreviations enter my head at a mile a minute: zomg the rofl on these subwoofers is ttly ttlr, m i rite u fookin mong? JPNDTS! H3H3H3H3H3H3H.

1 4M TYP1NG W1TH T3H 1337 5934K NAO. 1 N33D 4 D91NK. BRB.