Things Were Easier Before You Became a Giant Fucking Mantis

by Matthew A. Clarke

We were able to evacuate the willow-arch before it was torn to shreds by diving to our right, but the priest—frozen in terror at the scene unfolding around us—was resurrected as a mound of holy fertiliser.

My first thought was that my entire life had been built on lies. Father hadn’t been murdered by a manti-woman—he’d had consensual, unprotected sex with one while full-well knowing the risks involved.

classic childhood trauma

We’re smashin’ greens tonight, in an anti-manti paradise,

good grief, mantis racism