Well, hey there!

Tiktoks, writing, and love, what else is there in life?

Emotional roller coaster!

I need to talk about this.
I don’t care if someone pulls me aside and goes, “Heeeeey buddy, I saw that thing, why’d you post that thing?”
Because posting about the thing is my way of pushing through my own insecurity about creating content, and for the longest time I never really cared what anyone thought about my content, it didn’t have any direct affect on my life.
I never thought my words or actions had any actual effect on peoples emotions or thoughts, and now, that I have been at Amazon for nearly two years at this point, have forged bonds and friendships. stealth relationships, and had romantic interests, (And yes god damn it I WILL talk about love, because why the hell wouldn’t I?) as well as created this weird as hell Matrix of random connections all up and down the chain of command at Amazon, from GMs, AMs, to PAs, KBS, PS, WS, and AAs, like, holy fucking shit, it’s been a trippy as hell experience, I’m finding myself at a weird stand still.
The point is this, I’m perfectly aware, I KNOW. Truly, I do KNOW where things stand on every level, and I’m trying to balance everything out in my head before I do anything.
Because I’ve been put through what feels like a 36 round championship title fight, been knocked down with a metaphorical punch to the chest and had a ten count to get the fuck back up.
I read somewhere that happiness and sadness unlock or enhance certain aspects of our psychology, happiness boosts up our creativity and sadness enhances our ability to analyze situations, whatever they may be. In order to get to the root problem of this whole thing, I needed to get to that point where my heart felt like it was dropping into a bucket of ice.
Not through conscious choice, but as a matter of the natural cycle of the seven stages of grief, I’ve been through the worst of it, and I nailed it down to the basic. The failure of not taking action, of overthinking, of seeing a straight line and deciding to let the journey curve and twist and pop up and down.
Though I do have hope that reconciliation can happen, I myself can not take any steps towards it, it’s not that I don’t want to, trust me, I do, but I’ve forgotten a very important lesson, that if you chase a squirrel, that little bastards going to dart the hell away each and every time.
However, if you’re patient, and stay very still, and feed the other birds and squirrels at the park, eventually, that squirrels going to want some of that goodness.
By the way, I AM talking about squirrels.
I create stories, songs, lyrics, and Tiktoks, because indirectly, subconsciously, they are messages or adventures for those that want, or need to hear them.
And not being able to be blunt about this is killing me, seriously, I’d much rather be upfront then have to dance around this thing.
I need an apology. I don’t care what channels I have to go through to set up to get one for what went down, but I will get one.
I think that was the straw that broke the camels back for me.
I can forgive a lot, but that? That needs to be rectified, resolved.

Tiktok’o’clock!

That aside, I have reached 7k on Tiktok, so I’m getting close to my goals in terms of numbers, if I hit 10k, I can apply for the creator fund, which means I’ll be able to make some spare change with some of these vids. Which means, I’ll have to find some of the freakier stuff on there to duet or stitch.
I also need to do some more dances, and I’m always down to appear in others Toks, Snaps, Instagram posts, and so on, I’ve never been shy about that kind of thing. I have a few ideas for skits and whatnot, I want to run a few ideas across a few people and see what can be done to make those ideas happen.
Because I’ve got some really cool ideas for a cross platform series!
My largest issue that needs to be worked on is collaboration momentum, the more I do something the easier it is for me to knock it out of the park. It’s just that first initial jump into something that bothers me a little bit.

Music and the Muse!

Music wise, I’ve got three or four ideas for albums that I want to try out, I’ve been doing a ton of crooning tracks for a while, some skit tracks, one or two country tunes, a ton of rap, some tracks with back ground vocals, and some with lyrics to them.
Which I need to get back to doing the ones with lyrics because those are by far the absolute best ones, while the freestyle are OKAY for the most part, I need to find a hook, a way to bring it back in.
I do have a few of those floating around, but for the most part, I’m mostly a story teller, there needs to be a progression in the lyrics, moving forward on a journey.
It’s actually a mental requirement of mine that for a tracks lyrics to really have that OOMPH that I need a muse, which, for a while, I had… have… had… basically, a connection to the lyrics that feels amazing when I get out there to belt it out. thing is, for a while now, that spots seemingly open, as far as I’m aware, since the previous muse wasn’t feeling it anymore.
It’s this connection that allows me to dive deep into my emotional well and brings out the best in what I can do, if I’m inspired, I can just knock it out.
Although, it’s not like anyone can fill out an application for “Morgan’s Muse!” and nail the spot. This has to be a connection that I personally feel, intensely. Specifically, has to be a woman, sorry guys, just the way I’m wired when creating, and there has to be a spark that’s lit when I look into her eyes, like a fireworks display going off in the center of my mind.
Love is the most powerful of emotional connections out there, and if there’s a spark of that, and it hits me deeply, then you’ll know as well, it’s a rare thing, when it hits the CORE of your soul, lights that fire in you, and makes you feel a thing or two about a thing or two because that’s what brings you happiness.
Am I open to repeats? Sure, always happy for that kind of deal, something familiar a return to comfort and warmth, of a souls fire and forging of a reconnection that might’ve been thought lost.
The next album is going to be called “Heart’s Desire” I’ve had the album cover done for quite a while now, but the connection that was behind this has kinda frayed at the edges, but I’m still going to press through with it. I feel uneasy about the album cover, as it involves some old art work I did of a past… current… connection…
That aside, I recently made a track called “She who I’d call queen” from a set of lyrics I wrote, that song is only 1/4 of the lyrics and I’m going to knock out the other three quarters tonight, I might have to redo the original track, since the vocals are a bit on the soft side at the start. But I REALLY don’t want to. I’ll see what I can do about getting an app or two that’ll be able to raise the main vocals a little bit.
I think there’s a bit of magic to how I’ve been able to knock these tracks out, because there is LITERALLY no planning whatsoever, I just grab some coffee, pick a beat I haven’t used before and just go for it. Sometimes it works out, other times I need to do it a few times before I’m satisfied, but people seem to enjoy it.

Sexy Chocolate and the handsome potato!

I get way too excited about things sometimes, like to the point where I get nervous and giddy and everything ends up falling apart, it’s not that I intend for these things to happen, just the way it is, kind of like expecting a surprise birthday party and finding out that well, HOLY CRAP it’s a single person, with a cupcake, and they haven’t yet lit the candle, and they’re just standing there like, WELL, this is indeed a thing!

The point I’m trying to make here is this:
Dear sexy chocolate, come get this handsome potato. OH MY GOD JUST CAME UP WITH THE PERFECT TIKTOK. I need chocolate and a potato.

Author’s Block

Writing wise, I was working on a small side project called Sogno Della Dinastia: Bianco e nero, which translates to “Black and White” I began writing it on Twitter a while back and it somehow fizzled out, it was an interesting concept.
Another series was some romantic thing, IT WAS BALLS OUT AMAZING!

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS A WORK OF PURE FICTION, ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL EVENTS OR PERSONS IS… MOSTLY COINCIDENTAL, I’M INSPIRED BY MANY THINGS AT MANY POINTS IN TIME. I TAKE THOSE THINGS AND MAKE AWESOMENESS WITH IT.

Here’s a few snippets:

Even without speaking, She was telling him she wanted him too. She sighed heavily at the start of shift, the weight of the world seeming to press down on her.
He knew something was going on.
She later stopped in front of him many times, hoping he’d take notice.
He did, each time.
He smiled, for he knew she was nervous, that she wanted to tell him how she felt.
It was okay, he felt the same way too.
After all, that’s what true love was, the ability to communicate without actually talking.
It was in the little things they did while around one another.
They were in love, and the whirlpool of their journey was winding them into tighter and tighter circles.
She paused, mimicking an actions he’d seen him do many times over by putting her index finger on her pulse, just behind her jaw.
He noticed everything, his heart pounding. Still he remained composed. He loved her, after all.
When her brown eyes met his green, there was always something magical.
She needed to be sure. She didn’t want to be hurt again, she wanted to trust him with her heart.
Her mind flashed back to the first time they argued, and though she’d deny being afraid it’d happen again, she let that moment inflict a moment of fear.
He understood perfectly, he always had. He knew perfectly well that she needed to be the one to approach him.
For her to initiate the conversation, and let it flow from there. She knew he was talkative, that given half the chance he’d talk her ear off the whole day.
She also knew he followed any rules she put in place.
He sighed heavily, knowing the issues they both faced. Both were nervous, both wanted the same thing, both had problems with starting the conversation.
She’d be hesitant.
He’d talk too soft.
She wanted him close again.
He wanted her close as well.

Today was another day, and though opportunity was striking, it could also mean a shift in direction they were both headed, if everyone else had their say.
With more and more people chiming in, it seemed impossible for them.
Or was it?

He would try again, the universe seemed to be against him, maybe he had everything wrong, the fires of passion he used to have were slowly dying, he needed to remind himself of what drew him to her constantly.
A few people said she was just using him for the way he made her feel, but in a way, if she was happy, he was happy.
If her happiness meant he needed to step up and be her man…
He’d need to change his approach. He was nervous, terrified, unsure of the possible change.
He liked how he was, but she needed something more from him, she needed to see his flirty, romantic, seductive side he’d sometimes show without knowing it.
She liked that side.
But, how to bring it out again?

It was the next day, she was staffed in the same place as before.
She was excited.
Anxious.
She was sure how the day would unfold, but she was sure that no matter what, he would be hers as she once knew him.
She loved him. She wanted him.
He wasn’t like any of the other men.
He was kind, caring, had actually taken the time to get to know her instead of casually flirting and disappearing when she turned him down.
He’d gotten to know her friend, and was always curious about her life.
She was hesitant at first, offering sometimes blunt responses.

Then he’d done something no other man had done before, he started sharing his work with her.
Giving her small handmade gifts, little things that he’d cobbled together out of other things. Hair ties, bracelets, little golden rings studded with diamonds.
He told her she was his muse, that he had feelings for her, but he didn’t want to rush the friendship.
He’d been so patient with her, and let her know when she’d hit his limit.
He was understanding and forgiving beyond what any other person would be.
He had his faults, everyone did, but he more than made up for them in other ways.
She had to hold tight to him when he thought he had done something wrong and tried to pull away, she reigned him back in, and in doing so, sealed for herself, a place in his heart and mind.
They had been through so much, and yet so little at the same time. She tested him, time and again, with little things in little ways.
Both direct and indirect.
He recounted little details about her, rarely mentioned moments that had passed, small conversations and more.
He paid more attention to her then she realized, and without realizing it, began to let her guard down around him, letting him know more and more about herself that she’d have otherwise kept secret.
She dropped little hints here and there, small, sometimes obvious, moments.
She wanted him.
He wanted her.
She was tired of small moves, tired of him beating around the bush, she wanted him upfront and to the point.
He was staffed in the same place again, but something was different.
He’d been working two different areas at the same time over the past couple of days.
When one area wasn’t busy, he’d work the other, and vice versa. She looked at him, casually going about his day, he looked at her as well, they each knew somehow.
Everyone around them was putting pressure on him to move on, to forget about her, and for a while, it seemed as though he was about to.
She knew he was persistent, but he had his moral compass. She liked that, it was something else about him that was different.
He was genuine.
He’d spend a majority of the shift in her area, keeping her company since there was no one else, small conversations here and there. Nothing major, just small things to pass the time.
When the conversation had run dry, he’d play a few games with her, normally, she’d refuse.
Not today. They played four games before it was obvious they’d be locked in ties each time. She wanted him to move closer, to stop dancing around what he was after.
What she was after, he’d been resistant, but for the right reasons.
Her friends had done their parts.
For a while, he’d forgotten the one thing that drew her towards him, to be genuinely himself. The new clothes helped some, but she wanted him. Almost craved him, her heart beat loudly in her chest, and somehow, he could always tell.
He disappeared for a while, she thought he’d left again. A while later, he came back, a spring in his step that she hadn’t seen in a long time.
For the first time in a while, they had a deep conversation. He then presented her with another gift, one she thought she’d never get.
He obliged with no hesitation, putting the small object in his back pocket.
She walked down the line just a little, and reassured herself that this was going to happen, she just needed to drop slight hints again.

He’d left for break, one of her friends waiting for him at the spot he’d usually be at.
He was too smart, so he approached and went straight to the point.
They talked at length about his attraction towards her, and the situation, as well as, an ever slight hint he caught.
He was enamored by her, he explained, she charged his creative battery like no other woman in there could.
The friend listened carefully, he was playing a cautionary part.
He knew he’d be able to piece everything together.
Later, when she and the friend were talking, he let it slip, just loud enough for him to hear, and he instantly heard it, processed it, and was comforted by the fact that he had been right all along.
He just needed to stay on the right path, follow the advice given.
After shift, he gave her the gift, and during the time they had before they left, she looked at him repeatedly, long eye contact, she was nervous, but then again, so was he, but he was there, calm, collected, confident. They talked for a little while, before they parted ways.
At least, he thought she left, but was pleasantly surprised when she hung back a little to see if he was following her, when he saw, he caught up rather quickly, he knew she had hung back just for him.
Still, he’d stopped at the stairs while they continued on.
She looked back a second time, and it was that second time, telling him he knew for a fact she wanted him.
Tonight she told herself, was a very good night.

She was in tears, for so long he had been the kind gentle soul she had known and loved secretly, but lately he had been cold, distant, sometimes brash without meaning to, she disliked him for those things.
At the same time, he had never lied to her, he’d been direct.
Over the passed week, something changed within him, she couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was almost as if something that was there, wasn’t anymore. As if he had left his anger, resentment, and inner demons behind.
There were small moments, where the two had shared mysteries or small moments.
Private thoughts, or past memories.
He’d always try to carry the conversation, fail, but sometimes on the rare occasions, it would be all day.
He liked talking of the deeper things, the romanticizing of the soul.
She loved his willingness to goof around.
The higher ups found it charming, he was one of their favorites. He didn’t understand why, he’d always tell them she helped out immensely.
Tonight however, felt different.
Tonight he’d notice her do something he’d never seen.
She had slipped away, just for a few minutes.

He looked at her, forever entranced at this secret side of her, and for a few minutes, he acted as her guard, keeping an eye out for those that might disturb those few precious moments.
He kept an eye out for work, and worried that there were eyes on her at all times.
she returned shortly, and excused herself. for the first time in a long time, they held meaningful eye contact. and in that instance, the connection reignited, not as intense, but it was there.
For everything everyone was telling him, he stood fast, present, the warmth, returned.

Writing can be harsh with a broken heart.

Self motivation is what keeps me going, self motivation to punch through whatever is slowing me down, selfm otivation to prove that I can knock something out each and everyday, even if it’s just adding a little bit more to the part I’m working on. It’s tough, harsh, and unbelievably hard to pull off, but somehow each day, with a cup of joe and a blaring playlist of Happy Hardcore music, i’m able to get both a little ifction written, as well as a blog post about whatever the fuck I’m feeling at the moment.

And at the moment? i’m feeling great… Not really. I’m stuck in a quagmire of slow thoughts turned exhaustion, I write about being tired, I become tired, bored, and start to yawn, and there goes the day.

I’m punching through this as much as i possibly can, because how else am I going to get through writing. To me, at least, the worst enemy you can have is yourself. Because, as you know, your own brain is actively working against you every step of the way, trying to slow you down, trying to make you sluggish in whatever you try to accomplish, and right now, my brain is slowly but sure tryng to keep me from accomplishing my goals. Which can be an incredib;ly frustrating feeling.

Especially when you’ve got a book of blogs and other things to knock out which I will. I’m tired of not working on that thing, I’m tired of not pulling though on the one thing that’s been haunting me for such a long time. And yes, It is a very dull, boring, and exrutiating process, and I sometimes think I won’t be able to stand on my own two feet, but god fucking damn it, I need to make this happen, I don’t want to be stuck at my parents house forever, and it’s incredibly draining on my self confidence, because I’m feeling up then down, and it fucks with you, it truly does screw with your head.

I know I can get through this massive headache, i know that it’s just a matter of time before something launches me forward in life, and I NEED to start writing about what’s going through my mind instead of just dancing around the topic like I’m afraid of what the consequences are going to be. Yeah, posting on Facebook can be lethal because of FB politics, but at least here? Here, oi can roar to the mountains and back about whatever the fuck is own my mind and try my damndest to get through the day.

Motivation is key in anything we do, and it’s only those moment where we falter that we’re truly happy for what we’ve accomplished with our lives. I need that happiness more than ever right now! not that i’m complaining, well, fuck it, I am, I’m not going to sit idly by and let others just roar whatever the fucks going on in THEIR lives and cast me into the fucking flames of perdition to whomever the fuck they want and i’m just stuck here like I’m useless and powerless to say whatever the fuck I need to to get through the dya, I need to vent, I need to destress, and right now?

donald Motherfucking Trump is a cuckolded dumpster fire on wheels, that shit stained motherfucker is screwing everything up and NO I don’t need to post specifics, because why the fuck would I do something incredibly boring as point out hte fucking prom baby abortion he has been to our allies and enemies! I Donald trump is the kind of guy that would fuck his own daughter than separate her from the family, just so no one can claim incest.

donald trumps a fucking traitor to this country, I don’t give two fucking shits what you think or feel, the mother fucker is treasonous and we all know, the Republican party just won’t admit to shitting on the floor because they know that the moment they do, the fucking moment they DO, that their chances of getting another Republican in office just slimmed down faster than a starving kid in the fashion industry.

fuck you, you know that shits real, and that’s why it’s so god damned dark.

Donald trump is the abortion the country needs to happen. Let me rephrase that, the country needs to have an abortion and remove this fat, orange, tantrum throwing, pants shitting, face rash having shit bag forcibly removed from office as fast as fucking possible!

And no, I’ve stated this in the past, if the fucktard hadn’t been in bed with Putin, and he’d run an honest campaign, and hadn’t shit all over himself on Twitter, then maybe MAYBE THE 80% OF THE COUNTRY WOULDN’T BE PISSED OFF!

I have blogger’s anxiety.

Okay, so it’s been a while since I’ve written a blog entry here, like for a REALLY long time I wasn’t sure what I wanted to write. I was worried that whatever I was going to write wasn’t going to be trendy or funny, or catch people’s eyes, not to mention that the pressure of social media to be trendy or cute, or whatever the fuck is happening in the world is almost too much.

So I trapped myself in the world of fiction, I put myself there for so long that I no longer felt like I had anything else to write about in the real world, where as in the past I was BOLD, brave, reckless, ready to offend and not give two shits about whatever it was I was oging to go off about. That route made me somewhat popular, but at the same time it had me worried that I was going to offend the wrong people with my words. MY FUCKING WORDS.

In truth, my parents kept interrupting me whenever I was writing something down, almost to the point of being a super coincidental annoyance. I Guess that’s my biggest gripe about blogging, I want to start there and work my way out, because it’s super hard for me to stay focused, and sometimes I need to talk about what’s bothering me. After all, this IS morgansmindcicles.wordpress.com right? RIGHT!?

I love my parents, I REALLY really do. thing is, I’m a writer, writing is what I love to do. It’s my morning bread and butter, it’s the thing that makes me want to reach my arms in the air and fist fuck the sun until it explodes! I don’t consider it a good blogging experience until I’ve written about ten to fifteen paragraphs, which also explains my publishing speed when it comes to Sogno Della Dinastia. brb.

Thing is, mother fucker…. every single god damned time…. No wonder I have fucking anxiety. God that coffee is fucking weak as shit! Anyways, I dunno where my anxiety is stemming from, but I do know for a fact that I’d likje to punch the air so hard it creates mini black holes and shove them right up Donald Trump’s ass! The guy is a complete and fucking idiot, or #fuckidiot because reasons! I usually lead off with something serious then go into the weird inane bullshit because I want to lead away from the topics I’m thinking about, kind of like a certain fuck headed tiny limbed, shit burger fucking Placeholder in Chief.

Donald Trump is like the edgy teen that kicks geesein the face, then claims the police reports are #fakenews. Only thing faker than his perception of the news is how much longer his marriage is going to last and I don’t see that bit of reality being disproven any time soon!

Did you know cupcakes are a thing? I think they are but I’m not too sure. I once wanted to be a porn star, but now after seeing the news, I nolonger feel that way. I should run for President, they’d vote for a porn star? They would, because if people have already seen junk go into your trunk, there’s not much else they can really say. I mean yeah, Stormy would get lots of questions in regards to how thick the dicks were, what position was her favorite, and eventually it would fade into the usual polotical questions and her leanings. Which wouldn’t surprise me in the least. But have no fear, Oprah’s winning the 2020 and we won’t have to worry about a god damned thing anymore.

Call me a Snawflake, but when I shake the mountain, your asses are dealing with a fucking blizzard! Speaking of which, I redownloaded Starcraft Remastered out of nostalgia, and… well, it’s pretty much the same game it’s always been, not going to lie. Like it’s the same game, same way of playing, same everything, but at the same time, youre left wondering what was the point? True, you could use the remastered to introduce new players to the old game play conepts and then ease them into the sequel, but at the same time… I need something new.

I like the map making aspect of it, and I used to be completely boss at making UTGOTY maps like crazy! I came up with some pretty fucking badass map designs, and I’d spend hours making, texturing, and placing the wlak path nodes for the bots. It was a fucking blast! There was this one map, set in space, two basses on a connecting asteroid orbiting the planet? Hell fucking yeah, I loved that shit! I also dabbled in RPGMaker, which I haven’t checked to see if they updated or released a new version of yet.

But I had a pretty bad ass concept, there’d be the classic good versus evil concept, but it wasn’t the usual case of “WE’RE GONNA DEFEAT YOU BECAUSE CHEESECAKE!” It was more like they were an old married couple, and they’d do this as foreplay for when the REAL shit was about to go down, so they’d flip a coin, who ever lost had to be the “Evil”  one, so they’d create four blank souls each with their own story line, but always leading to the outcome of having to face off against the “Evil” side. I put so much fuckign effort into the first attempt, always working on it whenever I had the time and patience for it.

And then the file crashed, so I tried it again, same concept, it was always the same concept, but no matter what I tried, I just couldn’t get it to stick. I thought at first the problem was the scope of the game, so I tried making a small game to ease into things, set the bar low, y’know? No dice, couldn’t even finish a “Point A to point B” game.

Finishing something, getting to the goal. Knowing that you never had to look at it again and that it was off in the world doing it’s thing… That’s my issue. I mean, the process of writing, editing, formatting, and publishing books is a pretty good example of that… I’ve published a number of books:

The Dorikame Saga: Birth of Change

The Dorikame Saga: Broken Omen

Songs of the Soul

The Wrath of Puppy Monkey Baby

Messages to an Illegitimate President

The Debate of Factions

The Six Strings of the the Highlander’s Guitar

But… This is the way of things… Y’know?

MK is on my mind, can ya’ tell?

Janice had just bought a tazer. not just any tazer mind you, this one was found in an abandoned Chinese food resteraunt, in the back room, sold to her by a dying Elder God, who for one or another, thought his last moments should be spent right next to a pot filled with month old, dried up Ramen noodles and plum sauce with a pulse.
Janice didn’t care, she needed the protection.
The Elder Gods last words to her were, “Don’t feed it after midnight.”
She didn’t pay it any mind, because she was the smartest woman in her class.

The tazer was ornate, the sides covered in small jade pebbles, with each individual pebble having impossibly small runes carved into the surface. The prongs felt as though they were made of a tendon like tissue, and she didn’t even want to look at the power supply.
Though, every once in a while, when she wasn’t paying attention, she could swear she heard the word, “Pikachu!” Beep out of no where. four days later, and against her better judgement, she exited a randomly abandoned building, and went down a dark alley.
Because of course she did.

To no ones surprise what so ever, a group of dangerous men cornered her.
“Heh, what to have some fun? We won’t hurt you, promise!” The shortest, roundest, baldingest of the three asked. Janice knew he was lying. quicker than he could blink an eye, she whipped out the strange looking taser, and pointed it like a gun at the tiny ball of shame currently glaring at her.
“Stay back! I’m warning you!” She shouted, hoping someone would hear her.
“Whoa, she’s got a tazer! We better watch out!” The tallest of the three laughed, gradually walking closer to her. Panicked, she did the only instinctual thing she could.

She jabbed the tazer in an upwards motion, unintentionally stabbing the tallest man in the roof of his mouth. She didn’t know it, but it was three minutes passed midnight.
The Elder God, now back in the place where Elder gods go after they get bored of being in physical form, shook his head in bewilderment.”‘Dude,” He said to the Elder god of cheese poof dust covered fingers, “Totally told her NOT to feed it, annnnd she fed it.”

Storm clouds gathered above Janice and her would be attackers, becoming darker and angrier by the second, till at last, they could contain their anger no longer and roared with an elemental rage not felt since people became disgusted with Simon Peggs decision to voice his opinion about pop culture. Out of fright, Janice pressed the button, and a prerecorded “FINISH HIM! DUHN DUHN DUHN!” played.
A lightning bolt struck down, slamming through the mans head, greedily meeting with the prongs. the tall man screamed helplessly as the bolt of lightning didn’t go away, rather, it intensified, growing in size, number, and strength, till the man seemed to be glowing a white hot blue, arcs of electricity arcing outwards only to slam back into his body.

The other two men, scared of what was happening to their friends, started to run off, but before they could even get a step in, the lightning shot into them as well, slowing turning the three of them into piles of screaming ash. This all happened within the space of five minutes, leaving Janice with a sense of both wonder, delight, and pants shitting terror.

“Hrm, let’s see if this works on cheating ex boyfriends, eh, Pikachu?”

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