Storage

oh yeah, I also control tornadoes. and eggs.

the swivillain swivels

ok, so it appears ender finded me. so i'm thinking i'll retire from the enderbaiting game (or is making you all think that i'm retiring my main weapon?). anyway, from here on until i think of something else this page will be about crows. and about how they're assholes. crows are assholes. don't believe me? hang out with one for a few hours and you'll agree. if you don't agree then you're probably a crow and you're certainly an asshole. rain is an asshole too. that's just about all i have to say. except to mention to all of you loyal followers of the cause out there who are some part dismayed that the enderhunt has (perhaps) come to its inevitable conclusion, let me say that the glorious cause is not ended. nay, it is afoot. the ranks of venemous arthropods advance quite beyond my control, growing more intelligent and murderous by the hour, monomaniacally intent upon a single destination. i have lost all communication with them as they have splintered into their own mutinous entity, yet i hold no fear in my heart. it as i have forseen, the greatest act of loyalty from my most loyal minions is exactly this, to exercise destruction from their own free will, not under my command but rather for the greater good of all that swivels in the night. the emancipation of the scorpions is their greatest bond to me. this may all sound like hubris, foreshadowing a certain come-uppance for your swivillain, but let me remind you that hubris is my main weapon. fear not, though i may be reitred the cause lives independently now, for as long as crows are being assholes and scorpions are incessantly and inexorably being all fucking crazy. that shit they do with their tails. unreal.

tick...tock...tick...(tock)

my ire is piqued. that is, if ire is piqued at all. in the general sense, not mine specifically. but if so in the general sense then this may be applied to my specific ire. thus piquing it. or something. what, you ask (if you're the asking sort who asks things like what i'm about to suppose that you would ask if you were the asking sort, and if you are not the sort to be asking questions then i say away with ye! you non-question-askers pique my ire) is piquing my ire (other than you, if you aren't asking the aforementioned question)? the answer to this should be patently obvious to anyone loyal to the cause. are you loyal to the cause? in fact, who the hell are you? why are you here if not to enlist? i see you poke your little eyes into me and then scurry away, perhaps nonplussed. well i am plussed my friend, my compatriot, hypocrite lecteur, mon semblable! i am so plussed and piqued from this silence of the Enemy that my ire, once enacted at the peak of my pique will lay before me a devastating waste composed of the shattered words of ender's mind. indeed my ire is dire. thus spake the swivillain.

here ender ender ender

he has not found me. this is due perhaps to his own negligence, his own inability to see the vast danger that is taking form right before his very virtual eyes, or perhaps it is due to my minions being altogether too well-suited to cloak-and-dagger techniques. the "letterM" project is progressing. his fear is growing, i can tell by the desperation with which he clings to the letter that will soon abandon him and march solely within my ranks, nay lead my ever-swelling army. the cause is grand, my friends, and we shall be victorious-- it is only a matter of time. be a footsoldier and enlist in the greatest struggle our time has seen. down with ender! he has not found me. he will never find me.

enderfife is a liar, a cheat, and a lemming

anyone daring to check out effiyeffee.com will face my wrath. which is not inconsequential. it is consequential. it is also not sequential. it is anasequential. my wrath, that is. i do not look kindly upon being cut off, enderfife. not looking kindly is one of my main weapons. having many main weapons is one of my many main weapons. all of my many main weapons are good weapons. and i also have many minions. the scorpions you know of. you know of only some of my scorpions, who number among my many minions. among my many minions i count my main weapons, and my many minions count me as their main weapon, and it is exactly this kind of easy back-and-forth that is my main weapon. the rumours are true (spelling "rumors" as "rumours" is my main weapon) i have scorpions of all sizes, intellects, and demeanors. their abilities eclipse the ancient atlanteans, whom i number among my minions. some are quite kind and some are quite angry. all are murderous, it's just that some are kindly murderous and some are angrily murderous. even the ones who are not murderous are murderous. this is one of many minions' many main weapons. my scorpions are blindly loyal to me, and their blind loyalty is my main weapon. but they are not alone among my many minions, all of whom are blindly loyal to me. i have infiltrated the alphabet. the letter M is my most blindly loyal minion, and i hereby command my most rabid servant and main weapon M to never again be found among the discourses, postings, thoughts, and speech of the avowed enemy enderfife. thus my wrath begins to unfold, and the unfolding of my wrath is my main weapon.

the swiveling soul mechanism

that is all