P. Kirby > Recent Status Updates

"If you are no longer Pestilence the Conqueror, then what you like me to call you?" I ask...

Todd. He's totally a Todd.

That electricity would begin to work as it ought, that batteries would hold a charge and perhaps even the Internet would eventually come back.

If electricity works, at least some of the time, batteries would work. If you're gonna break science; explain why it's broken and how. Lazy writing.

"What will you do when all the people are gone?"

Yeah. What will he do after he's killed everybody? What's the point of the other horsemen if he can wipe everyone out?

He's [Death] quite handsome, I realize. Just like his brother.

Well, of course he is. Three more horsemen; three more Biblical fanfic wankfests.

These violent delights have violent ends...

NO! No, no, no! This shitty book and its asinine heroine do not have the right to quote that line. In a brilliant, nuance examination of moral ambiguity like the TV series, Westworld, it's perfect. But...no...not in this hot mess.

Someone planted a bomb.

Finally! Aside from American being the land of gun idolatry, we're probably gonna be ingenious with grenades and bombs.

Pestilence came here with a grisly task, and he armored himself against the atrocity of it by convincing himself that humans were monsters. And we proved him right every time we attacked him.

Because we should just be all, "Please kill us"? I was wrong earlier. This. This is peak stupid in the novel.

I lead Trixie through the door after me, careful not to jostle Pestilence's slumped body in the process.

Author knows fuck all about horses and didn't bother to research. Or have someone in the know edit this thing. A large horse with a man slumped over him won't fit through a standard doorway,

When will the media figure out that the horseman cannot be killed? When will people stop sacrificing their lives to end an immortal thing?

Ah, honey, we've found your super power. It's the ability to kill irony.

His dark mood only worsens. "Of course you have. Why I expected any better of you is a testament to my cursed idealism."

LOL. The harbinger of the pox is upset because he put his magical pee-pee in vagina that had lost its freshness seal.

"It's not that fascinating. I am not that fascinating."

I agree.

But this is more than just some crush, and there's no pretending otherwise. I like the way Pestilence talks, the way he thinks. I like his compliments, I like his consideration. I like his gallantry, his gentleness.

He's soo gentle and compassionate when he's shooting people with arrows and killing them with a horrible disease.

"You're a good man, Pestilence," I admit. And therein lies my problem. He's not a nice man, he's not a peaceful man, but he's a good man.

I think we have hit peak stupid in this book.

Electricity Score.

For a world without reliable electricity, there seems to be a lot of convenient current available.

Pestilence is the enemy. I can never forget that.

Sure you will. You're like an unfunny, stupid, horny Dory the fish.

The horseman looks vulnerable and guileless and even little unsure of himself.
He meets my eyes, adn I see that he thinks he's done something wrong.
That gets to me. I touch his face.

Yeah. He's been very naughty. Whack him with a rolled-up newspaper and put him outside.

They're kissing again. Do we have to read the kissing parts?

"This is not lust I feel, dear Sara. And I hope you are half as frightened of it as I am."

LOL. So still rewatching Guardians of the Galaxy 2 and that scene were Drax uses the flight suit and says, "My nipples." :D

"As far as gender goes," he continues, "only the feeble human mind could imagine a superior being, then have the audacity to shape that being in their own image--and to give it a gender.

This. This is the only intelligent thing in this novel. *Claps.*

"You did this on purpose," I accuse.
"I did what?" the horseman asks...
"Found us a small tent."

No. Your lazy writer did this. It's call "contrivance."

I stare dumbly at him, my mind taking a ridiculous long time to ome to terms with the fact that the horseman is strong enough to manipulate metal.

I can crush an aluminum can! I HAZ SUPPA POWERZ! Taking a break from rewatching Guardians of the Galaxy 2 to observe that Sara is still too stupid to live.

All at once, he jerks my face forward and kisses me.

She just vomited; vomit breath kiss=sex-say.

I pet Trixies' white fur.

Kittens have "fur"; horses have "hair," you suppurating wound on the face of humanity.

Well, that and the fact that his shirt is still hanging open from collar to navel, exposing his glowing tattoos and muscular torso. You'd have to be dead not to react to that sight.

So, I'm watching, for like the fourth time Guardians of the Galaxy 2. And that scene where Rocket tries to explain the death button to Groot? Hilarious. "Does anyone have some tape?"

He gets shot up a dozen times, and yet he complains about a little alcohol in his wounds?
"This is disinfectant."
"I can clean my wounds well enough without your crude methods."
Oh, that's right.

This woman is like a human Dory (Finding Nemo); a horny, stupid Dory.

Bullet holes litter his arms, his legs, and his chest. His face, however, had been left untouched. That's why I hadn't noticed. I'd been so transfixed by his beauty and his intensity.--intensity he'd focused on me--that I hadn't noticed.

Basically, dude, because you're purty, she'd let you bleed to death. Good thing you've got self-healing powers.

The horseman effortlessly cut all these people down. Ho does anyone make a stand against this sort of power? It's too great, too unstoppable.

Yeah, why or why are you trying to kill my Hitler boyfriend? It's page 122 and we haven't bumped uglies yet.

Another gunshot follows the first, then several more as a few doomed individuals try their hand at vigilante justice."

Oh, noes! Mean peoplez shooting at my hawt genocidal boyfriend!

...so many, many people died that first day--from car crashes, from planes falling out of the sky, from life-supporting machines giving out, and so many strange scenarios no one ever saw coming.

This is some lazy ass word building. "Bad stuff happened, but I'm too lazy to research the actual implications of tech breakdown, so here's some shit I cooked up in two minutes."

So, yes, he did make it for me. The same man that just delivered death made me a sandwich because he noticed I hadn't eaten.

I'm pretty sure Hitler treated his dogs well, too.