ciocolab blogs

260428 0625
I dreamed last night that we were characters in a video game.
We were an experiment trapped inside our own dreamworld for eternity.
The people finally found Kyon, and being the benevolent creator that they are, they healed everyone’s wounds effortlessly.
And then there was me, waiting to be discovered.
In the trailer, there was an idealized self of mine practicing alchemy, wearing some kind of armor.

They asked me, someone who just suddenly appeared in an elevator:
– Who are you?
So I replied:
– I am Cantor.
Video reviews called me “great design, but one-dimensional/cliché”. I was a little bummed, to be honest. What else could I have done?
Well, I invited the protagonists over for a visit.
And there he was.
In front of the ivy walls, the most beautiful NPC of my life, a book shopkeeper. He looked up and said something to me, scripted.
Only when I touch him could I inject some personality that I remember of the “real” Frederick.
Nevertheless, I rested my head on his lap, and let him brush his hands against my hair. My man was like a lifesized doll.
***
Upon watching the recordings when we woke up, he isn’t quite sad, but he’s not happy either.
F: Now, now. Co-consciousness is VERY hard.
He caresses my hair.
F: You’ve been taking Kyon’s work for granted, haven’t you?
C: Hmm… I probably have. It’s just so peaceful when Kyon is around.

1035
Cantor is intrigued again.
C: Why do you pronounce our full name as “Tom Sheriff Something”?

There is a voice in our head that is probably supposed to read aloud the critical information we’re writing in case we get it wrong, you see. Maybe that’s why we almost never make spelling mistakes.

K: *shrugs* …I don’t know man. Maybe I watched a Tom and Jerry episode or something.

1520
C: Ask away, Mr. Shopkeeper.
F: Why books?
C: I have books.
F: Why did I die before you do?
C: Hm. That is a hard question…
[…]

1541
Ah… what could be better in an alchemist’s daily life than having a pair of bards as your master?
C: Master, I am so sorry–
K: Uh-uh. Not enough.
🎵 The imprints of your balls…
L: 🪕
K: 🎵 The imprints of your balls. *changes chords*
C: Ah. It resolved.
K: 🎵 The imprints of your balls,… *changes chords*
L: 🪕
C: *facepalm* It’s a two-chord loop. The classic.
F: *dying laughing* The imprints of his balls!!! *out of breath*

1715
Cantor joins the banjo band with the old classic: “I Feel Like a Squeezed Rubber Chicken”.
Meanwhile, Emmett is hysterical at the fact that at least two of HANU’s entrance exam (?) valedictorians are queer.
E: That means we’re a bunch of gays!!
K: Nice try, American. *aims nerf gun at them* But your reasoning is shit.

Human down. Bird leaves the scene.
K: I gotta ask the French Canadian Mary next. *mumbles* And her Appalachian mom, too. Wait… am I the mom, or is she the mom?

Child doesn’t like poutine, but she likes pouting.

A while ago…
K: Say it, my child, and I’ll spare ya the nerf.
E: Guh…
K: Say it. North Carolina. “Yur aing’t shii.”
E: NO!!!

BANG!
That’s how it happened.