RM Treaty, Vol 1: Trag and Argo

[wease]

No reconciling. Forever feud.

[dad]

Shut the hell up, idiot.

I will deal with this later.

Now that I've had some time to think, I forgive you. It's likely you were scared. Scared of change. Scared of something your already emaciated mental acuity couldn't fathom.

I understand completely.

I will not be as forgiving next time.

[dad]

now then, let's heal some RM hearts.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

F*ck this board.

[dad]

wow.

[epilogue]

Maybe Trag said you shouldn't base your personality off of the floating plastic bag scene from American Beauty.

Jesus Christ, this is hilarious. AL isn't sufficient.

[epilogue]

I've had actual beef with trag in the past but I respect the hell out of him.

I've never had any actual beef with Argo and I respect the hell out of him.

So...

[Malloy]

would someone briefly summarise the argo v trag feud and the argo v mickey feud? why do those i love hate each other?

[epilogue]

would someone briefly summarise the argo v trag feud and the argo v mickey feud? why do those i love hate each other?

I don't think any of these feuds are actually real. If that's helpuful.

[Ello Sailor]

Shut the hell up, idiot.

I will deal with this later.

Now that I've had some time to think, I forgive you. It's likely you were scared. Scared of change. Scared of something your already emaciated mental acuity couldn't fathom.

I understand completely.

I will not be as forgiving next time.

I'm mostly scared of your dogshit taste in music. You twee ass, bitch ass, bitch.

[epilogue]

Why would anyone ever forgive Ello?

[Malloy]

would someone briefly summarise the argo v trag feud and the argo v mickey feud? why do those i love hate each other?

I don't think any of these feuds are actually real. If that's helpuful.

my preliminary research corroborates your position. i was almost perspiring freely

[dad]

Shut the hell up, idiot.

I will deal with this later.

Now that I've had some time to think, I forgive you. It's likely you were scared. Scared of change. Scared of something your already emaciated mental acuity couldn't fathom.

I understand completely.

I will not be as forgiving next time.

I'm mostly scared of your dogshit taste in music. You twee ass, bitch ass, bitch.

There he is. There's my beautifully skanky, boy.

What a sweetheart.

[spike]

Maybe Trag said you shouldn't base your personality off of the floating plastic bag scene from American Beauty.

[spike]

would someone briefly summarise the argo v trag feud and the argo v mickey feud? why do those i love hate each other?

I don't think any of these feuds are actually real. If that's helpuful.

my preliminary research corroborates your position. i was almost perspiring freely

Argo tickled trag’s taint once

[Ello Sailor]

Why would anyone ever forgive Ello?

I give great hugs.

[epilogue]

Why would anyone ever forgive Ello?

I give great hugs.

I doubt it

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[epilogue]

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.