GYSO Reviews Part 28 - Too Short

Published: 2023-12-03

The died.

Thim: Alright, that’s done and dusted. I’ll just smack my hands together right here and call this a finished blog post. This was almost too easy.

Thim gets up from his computer, satisfied at another two-week’s worth of work is done. He sighs, stretches, wary from long hours spent coiled up on his slightly burnt organic hemp beanbag chair. What a chad. He wonders if those white beans on the floor are from the beanbag chair, but doesn’t care enough to check them, instead allowing a slight anxiety to settle in his belly.

(In actuality, the white beans are fungus among us ඞ)

(Is this past tense or present tense. Cus’ I’m pretty tense right now tbh…)

Going into the kitchen to get his breakfast in order, Thim stretches against the door post. He’s doing a lot of stretching today because he read a blog post in the past about keeping tension out of his body.

(Thim’s physical apperance would be described here, but we have fucking standards on this goddamn blog. Not in a way where we will mockingly “rate” his appearance, or whatever, we’re trying to be adults here. Just imagine Thim stretching or something, I don’t care what you think he looks like.)

“Hey, what’s up Henry?” Says Thim, heading foot-long into a femoris rectus stretch.

Henry, who is just an aloe vera plant, waves in the wind that only blows inside Thim’s house for dramatic moments like this.

“You said it buddy. Here, let me get you some of dat water, hella yah.”

Thim stretches over to the watering can and waters Henry, who then is watered.

“You must be thankful, having survived all the commotion here. I can’t even find anything decent to eat here, the only thing those two idiots left behind was five five-dollar foot-longs, and not the edible kind if you know what I mean.”

Henry knows what he means, and makes an expression that looks something like: 🪴

Thim stretches over to the fridge and chugs the pink lemonaid directly from the carton, stretching his back all the while.

(With all this stretching, one is left wondering if it’s a really tiny kitchen, Thim is really long ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), or something else entirely…)

He leaves the kitchen that Henry is apprently in, and moves outside in only his underwear because he lives in a mansion with literally one neighbor who nobody remembers or cares about. To be fair, that neighbour might have fled the country or something since the attack on the GYSO mansion. More like fled the narrative. Good one. Thanks.

“Wow what a great day to not write for www.getyourskillson.com,” he says, stretching towards the sky. Which is pretty much visible from the kitchen since Snag’darr crashed into the wall in the next door, and the whole SWAT team or whatever came crashing from the sky with parachutes. The heating bill is largely unaffected since it might be the middle of summer (haven’t decided yet).

“Wow it’s great being in the middle of summer,” says Thim.

(Okay now it’s the middle of summer. The sky changes like you slept in a damn Minecraft bed and the seas shift their tide, killing hundreds and causing large logistical issues with delayed ships. ( ͠° ͟ʖ ͠°))

Snag’darr flies over the mansion, probably going somehwere. Thim waves awkwardly as he remembers he’s literally wearing nothing but GYSO-themed underwear, buy now. That’s fine, since the bowel movements started catching up now that he’s been moving around a bit. Good thing he’s been stretching, and has plenty of fiber for no reason wahtsoever. We’ll stop this part of the story, though, since we don’t need any more details…

Anyways. Thim finishes his morning (mourning, considering the corpses) routine, and goes right back to his computer like a true chad.

“What the fuck…?” He asks, seeing the text write itself for this blog post.

“… seeing the text write itse- WHAT IS HAPPENING, BRO? Let’s test this. Dumba rumba stoopid toopid. Whomp whomp dicky licky little banana puding. Wow it works. I don’t have to write GYSO! It’ll just follow my life and write itself.”

At that exact moment, GYSO stops writing itself.

Thim: Damn it! Fuck this shit I’m out.