That's not even a little bit like what it's about.
Troll Kingdom
This is a sample guest message. Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!
My Blood Runs Cold Issues
- Thread starter The Question
- Start date
That's not even a little bit like what it's about.
Loktar
Internet God
Sure, sure I understand. *wink, wink*
(Don't want to be paying them royalties for ripping off their song)
It has nothing whatsoever to do with any song. "My blood runs/ran cold" was a common saying long before the song came around; that's where the lyric came from.
http://idioms.thefreedictionary.com/blood+run+cold
The title is a twist on that meaning and a description of the main protagonist's character arc, which goes from that meaning to the meaning of the phrase "cold-blooded".
(I know, you're trolling. And here I am counter-trolling with an actual, serious answer.
)
http://idioms.thefreedictionary.com/blood+run+cold
The title is a twist on that meaning and a description of the main protagonist's character arc, which goes from that meaning to the meaning of the phrase "cold-blooded".
(I know, you're trolling. And here I am counter-trolling with an actual, serious answer.
)
Loktar
Internet God
It has nothing whatsoever to do with any song. "My blood runs/ran cold" was a common saying long before the song came around; that's where the lyric came from.
http://idioms.thefreedictionary.com/blood+run+cold
The title is a twist on that meaning and a description of the main protagonist's character arc, which goes from that meaning to the meaning of the phrase "cold-blooded".
(I know, you're trolling. And here I am counter-trolling with an actual, serious answer.
THERE ARE SERIOUS ANSWERS IN TROLLING! SIT IN A CORNER AND WATCH VIDEOS OF GTURDNER AND VOLPWNED SUCKING EACH OTHER OFF AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU SAID!
'Gear
RIP 1970~2018
That would make my blood run cold.
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
I made you troll yourself. HO, HO, HO. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
The song used the phrase because the phrase pre-dated the song by quite a long while.
Use your hand. Just remember, while you're doing it, to yell, "La-Laaaaaaaaaa WHACKBUTT!"
Loktar
Internet God
I used my Dad's hand instead and alternately whispered "Gross. creepy. Gross."
FLAPDOODLE!
BITCH!
issed:
BITCH!
issed:
But on a more serious note, this:
And now there’s someone standing beside me while I sit here on this cold, hard wooden seat. I don’t want to look. I can’t not look. It’s her. Kellen McPherson was her name. She’s just standing there looking at me. There’s a dime sized hole in her forehead still. There’s tears on her cheeks. There’s tears on mine, too. I thought I had run out of tears, but I always find more when she comes calling.
“I’m sorry, Mister.” she says. “I didn’t mean it. Honest I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
My heart is clenched as tight as a fist, and there’s another one forming in my throat. I know how this parley goes. It goes the same way every time. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to stop it. I earned it. I have it coming. “Didn’t mean what, little angel?” I ask.
“The bad thing.” she sniffles and wipes her nose on her forearm. “I don’t know what it was, but I musta done a bad thing to make you shoot me like that. I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t mean it.”
I can’t hold out any more. I drop my face into my hands, and both those fists knot up until they’re as small and hard as the bullet that took that innocent life. I feel her hand on the back of my head. She’s dead, and I’m the miserable god damned son of a bitch who killed her, and she’s trying to comfort me. She just keeps whispering, “I’m sorry, Mister. I’m sorry.”
I’ll never be done being sorry.
And now there’s someone standing beside me while I sit here on this cold, hard wooden seat. I don’t want to look. I can’t not look. It’s her. Kellen McPherson was her name. She’s just standing there looking at me. There’s a dime sized hole in her forehead still. There’s tears on her cheeks. There’s tears on mine, too. I thought I had run out of tears, but I always find more when she comes calling.
“I’m sorry, Mister.” she says. “I didn’t mean it. Honest I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
My heart is clenched as tight as a fist, and there’s another one forming in my throat. I know how this parley goes. It goes the same way every time. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to stop it. I earned it. I have it coming. “Didn’t mean what, little angel?” I ask.
“The bad thing.” she sniffles and wipes her nose on her forearm. “I don’t know what it was, but I musta done a bad thing to make you shoot me like that. I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t mean it.”
I can’t hold out any more. I drop my face into my hands, and both those fists knot up until they’re as small and hard as the bullet that took that innocent life. I feel her hand on the back of my head. She’s dead, and I’m the miserable god damned son of a bitch who killed her, and she’s trying to comfort me. She just keeps whispering, “I’m sorry, Mister. I’m sorry.”
I’ll never be done being sorry.
'Gear
RIP 1970~2018
Not to worry - Kellen McPherson is a stupid-ass, try-hard name anyway.
Lol@Kellen McFurson
Getting a boner is no excuse to stop reading.