Twin tornadoes of insanity. Fraternal twins. As closely related as celery on a stalk, but different. Unique. These tornadoes of insanity careen and collide and crash off everything and one another, spilling syrup and blood, bones and batter.

One is purple, the other blue. One writes his own alphabet. One does it on your face. One was born in the south. One is a child of the deep. One hates lightning. The other eats rain.

Cement slabs are no match for these creatures. Neither is leopard’s salt. You just have to run. Faster and faster. And hope to god you’re welcome at home.

*/eagle cry/*

*/eagle cry/*

Chris Weagel

Chris Weagel writes about the intersection of technology and parenting for Wired Magazine. No he doesn't. He can't stand that shit.

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