The Mezunian

Die Positivität ist das Opium des Volkes, aber der Spott ist das Opium der Verrückten

Boskeopolis Stories: IN THE BELLY OF THE ANIMAL WHOSE DEMEANOR I DON’T QUITE ENJOY

“IN THE BELLY OF THE ANIMAL WHOSE DEMEANOR I DON’T QUITE ENJOY”, or “BOSK-FL5761-BELLY”, as it is abbreviated, is the seventh story of Boskeopolis Stories’s sixth season, and the 94th story overall, written by millenial Jupiterian crustacean J. J. W. Mezun. Autumn and Edgar are eaten by the white supremacist whale while searching Orange Ocean for treasure and spend the story trying to escape.

This story was first published 2022 February 1, but was lost in a server-crash caused by J. J. W. Mezun’s bitter ex-cat hacking into it, making it as-of-now a lost episode, which caused controversy at the time it occured.

There were two known significant versions of this story before it disappeared: the first version had two periods after each chapter title; dialogue was the same color as the rest of the text, surrounded in regular American quotation marks instead of J. J. W. Mezun’s usual unusual formatting wherein he colors dialogue Mulberry Red and puts angle brackets round them; and there was no final “chapter”, leading critics to attack this story for being unrealistic in not explaining how Autumn and Edgar escaped to tell everyone the story, which was presumably how Mezun knew about it, since whales obviously can’t talk — that’s ridiculous. The second revision appeared five minutes after the first version’s midnight ( UTC ) appearance when Mezun hastily logged on to clean up yet more fuck-ups on his part.

There are many inconsistencies in the formatting of the title: while the title on the web page was in all-caps with spaces between each word, the version of the title in the address bar is all lowercase letters with hyphens between words.

According to J. J. W. Mezun, the story took more than four years to finish, which makes him an incredible slacker. Come on, man. The author also claimed that it was inspired by his real-life experience reading Moby Dick while sitting at bus stops, which is clearly complete horse shit.

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Posted in Boskeopolis Stories, Short Stories