We had just sat down for our meal of large bread in basket and apples when mother and father brought out the books.
They did not read from the books every time we ate, but enough to make every meal a source of tension. Growing hunger became a source of dread, of physical illness, as my body learned that the approach of the family meal could mean the reading of the book.
They said it was to praise and thank something greater than ourselves, but I always wondered why it was that our praise was never earned, but always demanded.
Our mother and father were true followers, I needed only to see their untarnished bodies to know their holiness, if it could be called that.
We sang the hymns and, as I had learned I must do, I forced myself to feel joy, to turn myself into something like a machine. I was sitting to my father’s left, he did not know the tricks I leveraged and thought I was true and kept me close to him.
My brother had always struggled with the hymns, I had worried for him as time after time it seemed he slipped further. This time I heard a quaver in his voice, and broke my own note to glance at him. His hands were melting into themselves, a blending of flesh like wax that he struggled to ignore, even as the pain took his focus. I felt another finger grow from my own hand, and knew that offering him help would be my own undoing.
I closed my eyes and put my hand on my fathers thigh, and sang all the louder. By the end of our song I no longer had a brother, but the flesh that could still flinch was taken outside and buried.
I have since looked closer at the original image
Please, do not look too close. Too some, witnessing is an invitation.
To perceive is to remember. To remember is to dissolve into Nothing. From Nothing comes The One.
Love to gather my mutant children around the table so my wife can shriek curses from the BOBY MEGOLY
This is what happens when they get Rockwell to illustrate Lovecraftian fiction.
We already had a show like this
I know it’s passé to make fun of AI hands but this is fucking ridiculous
Eeyyyy, every night we have a panettone with a glass of chinotto and read Boby Pascoly
is it important that the family be polydactyls?
Ah yes I too fondly recall eating that famously upper middle class dinner, bread and apple
Dear Jesus thank you for this delicious meal of bread and apples.
and the glasses filled with air
and I think that one kid on the left is about to eat a harmonica
Why is the kid on the top right touching his dad’s dick?
He’s a Cumtown fan
Woke AI is turning the drawings gay
Extra finger
While screaming in ecstasy mind you.
Conservatives are just lame
BOBV PASCOLY
the wholly babbleI found a YouTube link in your comment. Here are links to the same video on alternative frontends that protect your privacy:
Let us read from the Booy Pasooly
Isn’t that just Moral Orel?
Those cheeks are looking ROSY
Are they sick?
Trying to eat dinner with the highest fever of my life. Slipping in and out of delirium while my family only feeds me bread and apples.
also, the wife character must have large bazongas
