terrifying, isn't she?
not as terrifying as this:
i know she doesn't have a mouth or eyelashes, and no, she doesn't talk. but just look at those eyes. those wiry arms. little organza is going to glare at you and wave her twiggy fingers at you in an everso dramatic manner.chris suggests i use the scraps of my stylish green fabric there to construct little offspring-slugs. but if i did that i'd want to build miniature skateboards for them. and sew hideous mohawks to their heads. and that just might be a little too much.
so we might say this is organza before she marries mr. nousu and populates his spaceship with grungy punk slugs. this is organza before she has access to endless gobs of cosmetics, bottomless piles of fuzzy slippers, and string after string of false eyelashes. this is organza as a slimy fat debutante, flirting her way disgustingly across the galaxy.
i'm going to stuff her in an envelope and mail her to the kid who dared to dream up such a monstrosity. maybe he'll introduce her to her sixteenth cousin four times removed, jabba.
2 comments:
I feel obligated to say, 'You psycho.' :P
heh. she's more your character than mine.
(thank heaven)
:p
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