Aliens and Creatures from the past and present

Beaks enjoy looking at peoples gardens with their beaky eye, they are also hoarding animals that like to stockpile 70s badges, hb pencils and herbal placebos.
 

This is a moohear. It's a cow herding drone from the year 2305. Unfortunately all cows were annihilated in the great galactic war with the Asphalian empire in 2264 so all but a few moohears were deactivated. This particular one escaped through a time space singularity that ruptured open in a back alley in Mevagissey and ended up in the present day.

 

Threeface was originally an inanimate charm object carved by a homeless albino man and sold to a gullible American tourist. The American tourist transpired to be a chief executive of Pfizer Inc. Following Pfizers aggressive lawsuit against non-profit orgainisation Happycorp (suppliers of carefree love at a competitive price) for using the letter 'p' in its company name, resident shaman of Happycorp put a hex on Threeface in retaliation. Threeface is thus now ranked #34 on the all time list of most annoying inanimate objects with split personality disorders

 

This is x-crob, a futuristically styled half machine, half box. It's functions include stability on two wheels, being able to move its eyes to follow movement, containment of items no greater than 28cm length, waving of arms and limited speech.


 

magnetic love reversal

Socks, socks, mountains of socks. Everywhere around my face there are socks, tormenting me with their colours and stitched cottons. And their faces, they also shine with glorious beams of something shiny and pretty. Like angel ladies from the pianola fields of margentile.

Magic beans

Glistening in the starlit sky, a magic bean fell from the night. It was late in Quanlibook village and the residents were asleep in their beds, dreaming dreams of faraway places. Sockface was outside talking to the trees and a purple glint falling to the ground caught its eye. It was the magic bean. Sockface hopped to it and peered down with its button eyes. It was a juicy purple bean that glowed, lighting up the soil beneath with a deep hue. Sockface ate the bean.

In a surge of beaniness Sockface grew to a million meters, cackling socky noises. It grew and grew and grew until it was three million meters high. That was when Sockface bumped his head on the moon. The moon rumbled and groaned and shouted at Sockface. "FUCK YOU MAN, I'M TRYING TO SLEEP HERE' the moon wailed. As it awoke, a long rocky, crater encrusted moon tentacle slapped the giant Sockface in the knitwear. Sockface headbutted the moon in the face and made it wobble out of orbit. The sock then shrunk to its previous size. The moon finally settled a hundred thousand miles further out of orbit from earth. It caused a multitude of horrific natural disasters from the gravity shift and many, many people died. Sockface said good night to the trees and went to sleep

Returns

Well, trips a yonder to a mysterious land in the east prevented Sockface to update its blog. For many a week, Sockface ventured through the terrains of an outer system planet called Marmindia VII. It was a strange land of ghost seekers, hunting ethereal demons in the forest. Sockface was fishing along the mountain ranges for an Octopoid Moonswimmer. It appeared one night, floating through the low lying fog. Sockface primed his doomsday device. Five seconds later the planet Marmindia was enveloped by a black hole. Floating in his death-proof bubble, Sockface towed the Octopoid back in a big net. The Moonswimmer has zero mass and so isn't affected by the gravitational pull of a singularity. Sockface flew home and used the Octopoid to detect and free lost souls, trapped between life and death. After setting free to the afterlife the 177 billion souls that died in the Marmindia Doomsday, Sockface saved a number of other trapped spirits. In the end, it was a net gain of 5 souls.

The first was Hilary McBuffon, an elderly lady who had a stroke whilst straining on the toilet. Her decaying corpse was not found for 34 years.

The second and third were monkeys who jumped into a quantum fissure.

The forth trapped soul belonged to Ivan Harzinger, serial paedophile and rapist

The fifth was the ghost that was haunting the house of Sockface. The ghost was called Melvin and liked to watch Saturday morning cookery shows on the telebox. Melvin would then spend the rest of the day watching videotapes of adverts circa 1993.

mini eggs

Sockface doesnt like eggs, they make it puke bile all over the faces of surrounding humans. Although the thought of consuming an under developed chicken fetus makes Sockface a sad panda, there is a type of egg it likes. It went to the shops today and used some pennies to buy bits of food. 'Mini eggs' are unlike the eggs of chickens, "What are these sweet delights, shop-man?" Sockface enquired to the friendly shop assistant. "Karl Shopman. That's my name. Call me Shopman" she replied. "Ok, Karl. What is this egg?" Sockface asked again. "I already tried to explain to you - I dont speak the english you retarded sack of scrotums. will you just go away and die?" Karl said, with her poultry accent. Karl was a peacock. She fluttered her feathers in disgust and continued restocking the vodka section, drinking every other bottle. So Sockface used its amazing imagination brain to work out that mini eggs are not squeezed out from peacocks. Or any other type of cock. Or vag. They are in fact processed in a mechanical love machine that looks a lot like a caterpillar.

Videoblog deconstructed

Sockface is getting lazy sitting on its cute little botty and not actually writing stuff on this, there, here imaginary webspace thing. Well Socky McFaceyface is going to facefuck you with his buttonboard to do that thing now.

Sockface went for a walk one day in December. There were plentiful people strolling down along the tramtracks in Flananabanfanbanangland streetroad park and they tickled each others ears, giggling like a bunch of dyslexic elf children. "I'm scared of penguins" said Sockface to a small pensioner lady, who picked up a spider and ate it. She had a shrivelled up face and sat on a plastic bench with her legs wide open. She said to Sockface "Young man, would you carefully touch my bloody scrape" and lifted up her dress, revealing her dusty vag. "No madame gash, for I am allergic to pubes" Sockface replied, whilst peeling a lime. Sockface swaggered into the fruit shop and picked up a packed punnet of plump pears. "Fiftwelve eleventeen please" the shopkeep announced. "I DON'T LIKE PEARS!" screamed Sockface, throwing the punnet into the face of the down syndrome child who stood beside him. Sockface ran all the way home, sneezed thrice and went to sleep.