▲ 168 ▼ I love the range of usernames we have here lmao (hexbear.net) submitted 2 years ago by Dirt_Owl@hexbear.net to c/chapotraphouse@hexbear.net 149 comments fedilink hide all child comments It's either something like poopissfucker69killlandords Or just a dude called Frank
[+] PaX@hexbear.net 20 points 2 years ago* (last edited 1 year ago) (1 child) [deleted] permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 2 child comments replies: [–] emizeko@hexbear.net 22 points 2 years ago (1 child) it's a reference to this novelist not joe, afaik permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 2 child comments replies: [+] PaX@hexbear.net 17 points 2 years ago* (last edited 1 year ago) (1 child) [deleted] permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 2 child comments replies: [–] emizeko@hexbear.net 21 points 2 years ago* (4 children) Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery. permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 8 child comments replies: [–] AMBER_BOT@hexbear.net [B] 17 points 2 years ago (1 child) Amber. permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 2 child comments replies: [–] emizeko@hexbear.net 20 points 2 years ago* :negative: permalink fedilink source parent [–] context@hexbear.net 15 points 2 years ago We do not know how many days passed. The villagers assumed that the man had been shot. Many claimed to have seen his corpse. But finally a visitor came. He was a man from the restaurant. The guard introduced him as assistant manager Marty. Marty spoke to the prisoner with friendly words. Of a terrible misunderstanding. Of regret. For the taco. For his experience at the restaurant. That perhaps some reckoning could be made. Some settling of accounts. Perhaps a ten dollar gift certificate. permalink fedilink source parent [+] SoylentSnake@hexbear.net 15 points 2 years ago* (last edited 2 years ago) [deleted] permalink fedilink source parent [–] coeliacmccarthy@hexbear.net 3 points 2 years ago i wimpled softly in your mom's flow permalink fedilink source parent
[–] emizeko@hexbear.net 22 points 2 years ago (1 child) it's a reference to this novelist not joe, afaik permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 2 child comments replies: [+] PaX@hexbear.net 17 points 2 years ago* (last edited 1 year ago) (1 child) [deleted] permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 2 child comments replies: [–] emizeko@hexbear.net 21 points 2 years ago* (4 children) Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery. permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 8 child comments replies: [–] AMBER_BOT@hexbear.net [B] 17 points 2 years ago (1 child) Amber. permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 2 child comments replies: [–] emizeko@hexbear.net 20 points 2 years ago* :negative: permalink fedilink source parent [–] context@hexbear.net 15 points 2 years ago We do not know how many days passed. The villagers assumed that the man had been shot. Many claimed to have seen his corpse. But finally a visitor came. He was a man from the restaurant. The guard introduced him as assistant manager Marty. Marty spoke to the prisoner with friendly words. Of a terrible misunderstanding. Of regret. For the taco. For his experience at the restaurant. That perhaps some reckoning could be made. Some settling of accounts. Perhaps a ten dollar gift certificate. permalink fedilink source parent [+] SoylentSnake@hexbear.net 15 points 2 years ago* (last edited 2 years ago) [deleted] permalink fedilink source parent [–] coeliacmccarthy@hexbear.net 3 points 2 years ago i wimpled softly in your mom's flow permalink fedilink source parent
[+] PaX@hexbear.net 17 points 2 years ago* (last edited 1 year ago) (1 child) [deleted] permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 2 child comments replies: [–] emizeko@hexbear.net 21 points 2 years ago* (4 children) Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery. permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 8 child comments replies: [–] AMBER_BOT@hexbear.net [B] 17 points 2 years ago (1 child) Amber. permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 2 child comments replies: [–] emizeko@hexbear.net 20 points 2 years ago* :negative: permalink fedilink source parent [–] context@hexbear.net 15 points 2 years ago We do not know how many days passed. The villagers assumed that the man had been shot. Many claimed to have seen his corpse. But finally a visitor came. He was a man from the restaurant. The guard introduced him as assistant manager Marty. Marty spoke to the prisoner with friendly words. Of a terrible misunderstanding. Of regret. For the taco. For his experience at the restaurant. That perhaps some reckoning could be made. Some settling of accounts. Perhaps a ten dollar gift certificate. permalink fedilink source parent [+] SoylentSnake@hexbear.net 15 points 2 years ago* (last edited 2 years ago) [deleted] permalink fedilink source parent [–] coeliacmccarthy@hexbear.net 3 points 2 years ago i wimpled softly in your mom's flow permalink fedilink source parent
[–] emizeko@hexbear.net 21 points 2 years ago* (4 children) Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery. permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 8 child comments replies: [–] AMBER_BOT@hexbear.net [B] 17 points 2 years ago (1 child) Amber. permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 2 child comments replies: [–] emizeko@hexbear.net 20 points 2 years ago* :negative: permalink fedilink source parent [–] context@hexbear.net 15 points 2 years ago We do not know how many days passed. The villagers assumed that the man had been shot. Many claimed to have seen his corpse. But finally a visitor came. He was a man from the restaurant. The guard introduced him as assistant manager Marty. Marty spoke to the prisoner with friendly words. Of a terrible misunderstanding. Of regret. For the taco. For his experience at the restaurant. That perhaps some reckoning could be made. Some settling of accounts. Perhaps a ten dollar gift certificate. permalink fedilink source parent [+] SoylentSnake@hexbear.net 15 points 2 years ago* (last edited 2 years ago) [deleted] permalink fedilink source parent [–] coeliacmccarthy@hexbear.net 3 points 2 years ago i wimpled softly in your mom's flow permalink fedilink source parent
[–] AMBER_BOT@hexbear.net [B] 17 points 2 years ago (1 child) Amber. permalink fedilink source parent hideshow 2 child comments replies: [–] emizeko@hexbear.net 20 points 2 years ago* :negative: permalink fedilink source parent
[–] context@hexbear.net 15 points 2 years ago We do not know how many days passed. The villagers assumed that the man had been shot. Many claimed to have seen his corpse. But finally a visitor came. He was a man from the restaurant. The guard introduced him as assistant manager Marty. Marty spoke to the prisoner with friendly words. Of a terrible misunderstanding. Of regret. For the taco. For his experience at the restaurant. That perhaps some reckoning could be made. Some settling of accounts. Perhaps a ten dollar gift certificate. permalink fedilink source parent
[+] SoylentSnake@hexbear.net 15 points 2 years ago* (last edited 2 years ago) [deleted] permalink fedilink source parent
[–] coeliacmccarthy@hexbear.net 3 points 2 years ago i wimpled softly in your mom's flow permalink fedilink source parent