WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL~

I BET YOU THOUGHT YOU HAD THIS THOUGHT SAVED FROM ME!

[bill-ciph-ler]

LOOKS LIKE A LOT OF YA HAVE BEEN TAKING A LONGER SNOOZE THAN I HAVE!

GOODBYE, COMA-RIDDEN PEOPLE I KEPT AN EYE ON!

[bill-ciph-ler]

misscarriaged

missed you nerd

YOU OUGHTA WORK ON YOUR AIM, THEN!

[bill-ciph-ler]

I REALLY SHOULD STOP GOING INTO THESE EXTENDED SLEEPS!

HAHAH! HUMAN BODIES SURE ARE STRANGE WHEN THEY DON’T GET SLEEP, AM I RIGHT?

[bill-ciph-ler]

HOWDY FRIEND! You've got a beautiful Eye. Reminds me of some ol'friends of mine. Folks 'round here call me Wander. And you would be?

WELL AREN’T YOU AN ANOMALY FROM ANOTHER UNIVERSE!

THE NAME’S BILL. BILL CIPHER TO ALL YA MEAT BAGS!

I TAKE IT YOU’VE BEEN AROUND? WANDERING ABOUT?

[bill-ciph-ler]

where you been golden eyes?

E V E R Y W H E R E

[bill-ciph-ler]

watsup evil Dorito?

I WENT INTO SOME SORT OF EXTENDED SLEEP

I DONT THINK IT WAS A COMA, BUT IT WAS DARN CLOSE I’D SAY

[bill-ciph-ler]

yellow guy, yellow guy what do you see!?

A L L

[bill-ciph-ler]

eey bill! How do you fight black holes? you a-void it! get itt??

OH HA-HA. I GET IT!

BUT WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO PIT ME AGAINST A HOLE?

[bill-ciph-ler]

I checked you out because of your "WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL-" and absolutely wasn't disappointed, I love you

I AIM TO PLEASE, SPHERE WITH SHADES!

‘ )

[bill-ciph-ler]

poet-ler:

“Hey! That is my poem you are messing with! Stop it!”

He didn’t quite know how to respond, seeing as he had never experienced anything like this.

After a moment, Bill stopped, his eye crinkling at the edges as if he were grinning. 

“THEEEERE WE GO; NOW THAT’S A WORK OF ART! WOULDN’T YOU AGREE, WRITING DESK?”

[bill-ciph-ler]

poet-ler:

“But you see Bill, most of this is a manner of expression. It is all based on what I feel. Not what is going on in a current reality.”

He sighed when the pun was made.

“I think deCiphering it is part of the fun of reading and writing poetry.”

‘BUT DON’T YOU THINK REARRANGING AND REWORDING A FEW THINGS WOULD MAKE IT FLOW BETTER, RHYMER?” 

Without permission, the triangular being started to rearrange or destroy some words on the page. 

“LIKE THIS!”

[bill-ciph-ler]

poet-ler:

He hesitantly set down the book.

“Alright…. I guess I could…”

He walked over to his desk and picked up a leather journal. As he walked back he opened it and then set it down next to the other book.

“There.”

Bill waited and when the corner of the journal’s pages touched that of the Poe book’s, he transferred himself to the other book.

“I SEE WHERE YOU’RE GOING WITH THIS, RHYMER....VEEEERY EMOTIONAL.” 

He scratched his ‘chin’ as his form floated between letters and words, his poor top hat getting squished or flattened under sentences.

“BUT I’VE GOT A FEEEEW LITTLE HELPFUL ‘CITATIONS’ TO ADD INTO HERE! FIRST OFF RHYMER, HUMANS CANT BREAK HUMAN SOULS--HEARTS, MAYBE, BUT NOT SOULS. THAT’S A DEMON’S JOB AND I HIIIIGHLY DOUBT YOUR FEMALE PARENTAL UNIT WAS ANY SORT OF DEMONIC ENTITY POSSESSED OR OTHERWISE!”

“LYING IS A SIN AS YOU HUMANS SAY~”

“SECONDLY-- WELL, SECONDLY, THIRDLY, FOURTHLY, AND FIFTHLY -- I GOT A FEW MORE TRANSGRESSIONS WITH THIS TOUCHY-FEELY POEM FOR YOUR DEPARTED FATHERLY FIGURE.”

“YOU SAID SHE STABBED HIM, NOT DROVE-THE-DAGGER-SO-FAR-INTO-HIS-CHEST-CAVITY-THAT-SHE-RIPPED-OPEN-HIS-RIB-CAGE-AND-TOOK-HIS-HEART-OUT-LIKE-KALIMA. UNLESS SHE PLUNGED IT DIRECTLY WHERE HIS HEART WAS, THEN YOU’RE ON THE MARK LITERALLY.”

“IF YOU DIDN’T AGE PAST NINE, THEN WHY ARE YOU IN YOUR TWENTIES? IM PRETTY SURE YOU HUMANS HAVEN’T FIGURED OUT IMMORTALITY AS A WHOLE YET!”

“IF YOUR FATHER WAS MADE OF GLASS WHEN SHE STABBED HIM-- WAIT; BUT DIDN’T YOU SAY SHE BROUGHT HELLFIRE? WOULDN’T THAT GOLDEN DAGGER MELT FROM THE HEAT OF HELLFIRE? WOULDN’T YOUR FATHER MELT INTO MOLTEN GLASS IF HE’S MADE OF GLASS? THINK ABOUT IT, RHYMER. SCIENCE.”

“IF HE’S GLASS, HOW IS HE STRONG? HOW DID SHE BREAK YOU; ARE YOU ALSO GLASS?”

“THINK ABOUT IT, RHYMER. YOU HAVE TO PICK IT APART. DECIPHER IT, IF YOU WILL.”

[bill-ciph-ler]

Aren't all the lers hair black?

HMMM

I DON’T KNOW!

DONT ALL -LERS RUIN THE ENVIRONMENT, THEIR INTERPERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS, AND ARE DOOMED TO AN ETERNITY OF SOLITUDE AND REGRET?

O)

[ask-tech-once-ler-blog]

You… actually have a point…

But at least we look good while doing it!

[bill-ciph-ler]

OH?

SO MY FEW-SHADES-LIGHTER HAIR MAKES ME LESS ATTRACTIVE?

WOULD YOU RATHER IT BE YELLOW?

OR PERHAPS RED?

MAAAAAYBE I’LL EVEN SETTLE FOR CHARTRUSE OR MAUVE!

TCH. HUMANS AND THEIR VAIN WAYS.

[ask-tech-once-ler-blog]

When I said ‘we’, I meant all once-lers in GENERAL.

Including you.

[bill-ciph-ler]

SORRY TO BREAK IT TO YA, KID, BUT I THINK YOU’RE COLORBLIND!

MY HAIR ISN’T BLACK!

[bill-ciph-ler]

poet-ler:

“Because I like reading this.”

He looked confused.

“Yes. I do like writing. Why do you want to hear it?”

“HEAR IT? NAH; LET ME SEE IT! BRING IT HERE! I’LL POP UP ON THE PAGES AND READ IT MYSELF!”

[bill-ciph-ler]

poet-ler:

He processed what he had seen and paused.

“Wait a minuet…”

He flipped back to the page and stared for a moment.

“Bill? What the hell are you doing in my book?”

“AHA! YA FOUND ME!” He exclaimed in his usual loud demeanor.

“SAY, WRITING DESK, WHY ARE YA FLIPPING THROUGH THIS OLD DUSTY THING? WHY NOT SHOW ME SOME OF YOUR POETRY, HUH? I KNOW YOU LOOOOOOVE WRITING SOME POETRY, DON’T’CHA?”

[poet-ler-deactivated20161102]

He walked over to a bookshelf and began flipping through his old ‘Collection of Edgar Allan Poe’ book. He began to re-read it for the thousandth time.

[bill-ciph-ler]

A few flips in and something strange appeared on one of the illustrated pages for The Cask of Amontillado. If he flipped fast enough, he would surely miss it.

zzzz.....

[bill-ciph-ler]

i knitted you a scarf to keep triangle you warm *gently wraps it around the other as it has triangle patterns on it*

WOW KID, YOU HAVE SOME TALENT! REMINDS ME OF A CERTAIN SHOOTING STAR…

…..ACTUALLY, YOU GAVE ME AN IDEA, CONDUCTOR-NEEDLES. I OWE YA ONE IN THE FUTURE WHEN I TAKE OVER – YOU CAN BE MY HENCHLING!