speeding

Oh when you’re down and you’re looking for some cheering up
Then just head right on up to the candy mountain cave
When you get inside you find yourself a cheery land
Such a happy and joy filled and perky merry land
They’ve got lollipops and gummidrops and candy things
Oh so many things that will brighten up your day
It’s impossible to wear a frown in candy town
It’s the neck of lovely candy cave
They’ve got jellybeans and coconut with little hats
Candy rats, chocolate bats, it’s a wonderland of sweets
Buy the candy train to town and hear the candy band
Candy bells, it’s a treat, as they march across the land
Cherry ribbon stream across the sky and to the ground
Turn around, it astounds, it’s a dancing candy treat
In the candy cave imagination runs so free
So now Charlie before you go into the cave.

Yeah.

That's what I've been listening to.

All day.

At first I thought it was bad that I got a unicorn. But now, not I would be fine with like, ten of them, if they would just. Stop. Singing.

I wonder if I can get it drunk.

T.

Your subconscious is really fucked up.

Quite possibly not as fucked up as the last dream... I want to be a cheesecake is hard to top. Okay, maybe more fucked up, but in a different way.



Now that I'm awake... Anyone seen or heard from Ran? Hell, Dino even?

Anyone?

((OOC: Dash had Throne's dream this time.))

So I hear the storm is letting up? This mean we get escape the land of shoes?

I guess on a more important note? I checked around like, all night, but didn't find anyone answering to "Fullmetal."

So... Search party? You guys have any luck? You guys okay?

Oh and, Want, Drake, Ran, thanks.

This is your evil overlord, signing out.

Okay. So.

• Magical journal? Check.
• Shower has been had? Check.
• Actually not-goopy clothing that still doesn't really fit? Check.
• Waking up in the most insane excuse for a social study without any memories or, you know, clothes, and being told the low-down by some poor girl who looked like she was going to faint? Double check.
• Getting practically manhandled around to god knows where without anyone telling me what the hell this is about and ending up writing this next to an endless rack of lady's high heels? GO TIME.

But seriously, magical journal, what the heck is going on?

Uh, and if these things work the way I'm told they are supposed to-- Hello there my fellow lab rats. I guess welcome me to the maze? And, you know, direct me to the cheese and not the sparks.

The name's Dash, by the way. As in dashingly handsome, or dashing to the rescue. You know, I’m good with either.

god I feel like a dork talking to a journal.