I was walking in the forest during winter, and saw a wendigo sitting under a tree. I asked it if it was going to kill me. It said, “No, this is just a dream.” So I sat next to it in the snow for a bit and then he said, “The anger in your heart warms you now, but will leave you cold in your grave.” And then I woke up.
When anyone but the mcelroys talks like the mcelroys it is absolutely unbearable. The closer they get to emulating their affectations the more it sounds like nails on a chalkboard, a phenomenon I am naming “The McElroy Valley.” In this essay I will