Morthol Dryax will make your innards extroverted.

You have just caused Morthol Dryax to overdose on hate.

Mortoho DFryax cna type aty spereds jnvisibnle yto the nake dbuman eye,. Behold the aptiuduyte of Mortho ldryzax.

Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness...

11. I repeat for the 11th time: kneel before Morthol Dryax.

Morthol Dryax hopes that you not only will lose, but that you will lose so hard you will lose everything. Friends, family, material possessions, prior existence.

Morthol Dryax had composed The Agony Symphony years ago, and you will be the final instrument.

Morthol Dryax is eternally unchanging, a paragon of stability like a nail stabbed violently into the map of time-space. Pass.


Enemy.

To err is human.

So very very human.

You have gotten so far. Crawled and clawed your way up to December 31st.

And then bang! You're back on square one, on the first of January. All your progress, gone. All effort, wasted.

You are going to spend the next year, and the year after that, and all the years after that, climbing and trying to finally reach date terrain yet unexplored--and ultimately falling, like a calendaric Sisyphus.

Happy new year, no-one.

((Formspring Favorites are unbelievably useless and annoying. No, I'm not interested in following these ugly strangers with attitude, and I don't want their faces staring at me from the side of my screen. It's like a permanent ad banner right on the periphery of your vision.

Anyway, I'm still waiting for the option to actually be able to access and read people's old responses. But no; Formspring instead spends their time adding new useless crap and breaking what little usability the site's got left.

Definitely one of the most poorly-run sites I know.))

Morthol Dryax does not celebrate Christmas or Papmas, only Yudietide.

It's a holiday where you die, in case that wasn't clear.

No, that's just the bombardment of the swarm of Morthol Dryax's nano-clones.

The only good sandwich is a dead sandwich.

Everyone is equal in the eye-holes of Morthol Dryax. There is no division into the us and the aliens. There is just raw, festering, universal, equally distributed hate.

Costumes that depict your loved ones.

Made of the authentic skin.

...well that was one hell of a boring business meeting.

An adorable garden gnome.

Utterly revolting in its adorableness.

> Morthol Dryax becomes a few hectomillennia younger.

His pudgy belly shrinks half a centimeter, nothing more.

"Morthol Dryax" is what Morthol Dryax's true terrifying name becomes after being filtered through Google Translate 2,456,123 times.