avatar for 563R4wr

563R4wr

Points needed for next level: 20 Level

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    Przewalski
  • Location

    Rawr'z Of The Universe
  • Member Since

    Nov. 04, 2011

I’m R4wr Hope Everyone Has a Nice Kongregate Experience I Have been so far and I Will Update you fellow kongregaters on the Rawring Mistakes of the universe.
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R4wr Haz Spoken. Think On What you Read Here.

Mah Favorite Site : Icanhascheezburger.com
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Rainbow Dash Fan!
Applejack?
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Here is how to make a bunch of lettering things

>:3>:3>:3>:3>:3>:3 ©®™ Rawr Rawr Rawr Rawr
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The Pie of Rising Evil

So golden-brown, its crust all ridged, peach filling to me calls. The Pie of Rising Evil: Woe! It will consume us all!

The baker, mad as anything, the recipe arranged. Much more than peaches he put in, I fear he’s quite deranged!

A weapon-smith by day, he bakes when twilight dims the land. And in his forge, the anvil’s place is where his oven stands.

Inscrutably he wields his whisk: he blends and beats with speed. Ingredients beyond my ken, though he knows what it needs.

The dough is made of this and that, the filling’s made of these. Thought what “those” are we can not know, I’m sure that they will please.

Or would, if it were not for that which makes me quake with fear. I do not know what makes it glow, or how it’s coming near!

I blink my eyes; it’s moved two feet! my Mouth opens to scream! Its molten filling dribbles out, a steaming, peachy stream.

Two crusty lips are smiling wide, a mouth made of split dough all lined inside with fruit and things i do not want to know.

Its poisoned whispers fill my mind, sweet clouds of steam embrace. The hisses promise me delight, from just one lethal taste.

Two gaping steam-slits glare at me; the wounds predict my own. And yet the scent deliciously soothes fear of the unknown.

The baker is no longer there; I know not where hes gone. And all that’s left besides the pie: me and a fork, alone.

I’m sure not all experiments made by this baker-mage, progress to such a deathly-sweet, dark, culinary stage.

And yet I cannot think of that; a Hunger moves my feet, towards the Pie, my fork outstretched. My only thought: to eat!

It seems the Pie, too, is agreed that we both must share a meal. Its mouth and mine both open wide; then pain is all I feel.

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