No, it can't be... Another JOURNAL ENTRY?

Ja, een ander blok van uitgebreid vuilnis voor iedereen aan disembowel uw ogen op!

Oui, un autre bloc de déchets prolongés pour tout le vous pour disembowel vos yeux au moment !

Ja ein anderer Block des ausgedehnten Abfalls für die ganze Sie auf disembowel Ihre Augen!

Ναι, ένας άλλος φραγμός των εκτεταμένων σκουπιδιών για όλους σας στο disembowel τα μάτια σας επάνω!

Sì, un altro blocco di rifiuti estesi affinchè tutti voi disembowel i vostri occhi su!

Sim, um outro bloco de rubbish prolongado para que você disembowel seus olhos upon!

¡Sí, otro bloque de los desperdicios extendidos para que usted disembowel sus ojos sobre!

是, 延长的垃圾其它块使你们大家取出内脏您的眼睛!

And for those who lack the skill of being a multilinguist:

Yes, another block of extended rubbish for all of you to disembowel your eyes upon!

Huzzah, indeed, it is. And probably another epic load of waste to be dumped within the pages of this online log of perfectly useless events of my indefinitely strange life. So anyway, I was sitting at my desk as usual, when I discovered someone was knocking on the nearby window. Well, not someone, but something. Except it was acting in such a way, I was fooled into thinking it was actually someone, which, I'm glad to say, it wasn't. My eyes were gazing upon... a sock. Yes, a sock. And it was flailing itself upon the glass, over and over again. Of course, my window did not take lightly to this and was frantically trying to shoo it away, without much luck. I kept watching it for another eight and a half hours before realising that the sock in fact was trying to tell me something! But by then the window had already worn down so much, one more blow and it would have shattered. If not for my valiant flying pig, who soared down at the last minute, snapped the pathetic footwear between its jaws and saved me some glazier funds. The pig then crashed through the window itself. Oh boy. Minding the broken shards on the ground, I took one last look at the remains of my window, then hurried over to where my pig was lying, unconscious from its awkward landing. The sock was apprehensively prying itself from within the pig's mouth, half covered in spittle. It attempted to cough violently, but failed miserably from its lack of a thoracic cavity and lungs. I reached out and picked it up as softly as I could. I hadn't noticed before, but as I examined the fabric closer, I saw to my surprise that the material appeared to be moving. And when I inspected it even closer, I found that the whole sock was in fact made entirely of spaghetti! With this newly established information, I ate the sock. I closed my eyes as I experienced the delectable delish; for over a minute, all my senses were concentrated on the one taste, that of mouthwatering, over exquisite divinity of spaghetti. When my eyelids finally crept open, I knew something was wrong. I looked around me. No longer was I thinking of spaghetti, the scene my retinas perceived had completely abolished any afterthoughts. No longer did anything look familiar to me. Where was my room? Where had my desk gone? My flying pig? The broken window was the least of my worries. I finally registered the unaccustomed particularities of my surroundings. I looked up. The sky, or at least I thought it was the sky, bared an unusual hue of purple. But it moved and rippled like water, as if some strange deity had upturned the horizon and lifted the ocean into the air. In the distance, I saw a never-ending procession of mountains in such deformed shapes, no two peaks looked the same. What more, smoke seemed to emit from holes dotting the mountainsides at random intervals. And as the sides sloped deeper and closer, it began to melt into a glutinous substance, of which a vast expanse extended from what appeared to be the base. Large bubbles littered the whole area of glob, bursting when the air inside became too much for it to hold. As I drew my eyesight closer and closer towards where I stood, my view of the gooey terrain was blocked by the edge of a cliff, a few metres away from me. I thought to myself, I must be at the edge of some sort of headland, so I turned around expecting more land, when, to my astonishment and horror, my eyes met the same spectacle as before. A ghastly idea crept into my mind as I looked hastily in all directions at once. Surely it couldn't be true, I contemplated, surely... But I had known from the very second I'd turned around, that it was the grim reality.

I was trapped on a desolate islet surrounded by cliff drops to a measureless sea of gelatinous gunk, bound by behemothic mountains, in an unknown alien world!



Moral: Never eat spaghetti without first checking the expiry date, especially if it comes in the shape of a sock.