Duotone voivodership



                                            >>26287283

                                            Anon:"That's ART. Ever watched someting like..."

                                            Twi:"What"

                                            Anon:"Internal semiotics?"

                                            Cheerilee:"What does it means? Pissing on the scene in front of ponies?"

                                            >Anon is pissing again

                                            >Anon:"Ah. Eh. Su. Per. Low. Da!"

                                            >Twilight:"We don't understand ,this is silly, is that supposed to be art?"

                                            >Anon:"In my world it is. Well, it is not, but some claim it is, but I think it's not."


                                            >Cheerilee's staring, and feels like giving a SMART advice. like, "Did you exercise your urethra with a sound? That should help voiding faster"


                                            "Miss Cheerilee, do I have to take notes about this?"

                                            >Cheerilee:"YES. Observe, anon said it's art, write what you see and what you understand."


                                            >I pissed her off earlier

                                            >Cheerilee's yelling at Anon:"You're empty are you? Yeh I knew it. Stop forcing yourself you'll piss blood and that's no good."

                                            >Twi:"Your performance was not art, you just pissed, so what?"

                                            "True, he just pissed, no drama, no creativity, no comedy."

                                            >Chererilee's pointing at me "Even Silverspoon can piss harder than you!"

                                            "What"

                                            >she's eyeing me

                                            >Anon:"My point is that... My statement, uh, I don't think it's a contest."

                                            >Cheerilee:"Drop your notepad and go piss on that scene."

                                            "nope."


                                            "I don't want to, it's disgusting."

                                            >Twilight:"come on. make something creative out of it. I think anypony can beat Anon on that one."


                                            "Pissing on the planks is not my special talent"

                                            >Chee:"What is it then?"

                                            "...it is confidential"

                                            >Chee:"you're fired."

                                            "you're still mad because you cut yourself with one of these neurotoxic vaccines you wanted to inject us, or is is stating to aaaah no. no ."

                                            >for the info. Twi is using her magic on me, carrying me on the scene for the special talent contest.

                                            >Twilight:"Just do something better than Anon, show us what your special talent is!"


                                            "I can program things on a computer."


                                            >big silence

                                            >Anon:"What language? C++ HTML, Java, PHP?"

                                            "Anon what?"

                                            >the two mares are waiting

                                            "what am I supposed to do? Sing? Draw?"


                                            >Twilight:"Anon's performance was awful,you can do better. Anon. Look!"

                                            "like what?"

                                            >Cheerilee:"Bodily performance. It's not what you can sing, write, or something that counts."


                                            >[brain empty and devoid of any thought right now.]

                                            >flip back

                                            >raise tail and show my butt

                                            >wink my clit a bit

                                            >Twi sighs sarcastically:"Okay"

                                            >force my bladder to squeeze

                                            >Twi:"We all can piss, how is that a special talent, or make you different from others?"

                                            "I thought that's what you wanted to see!"

                                            >Cheerilee:"make a different pose then!"


                                            >lay down on the floor

                                            >spread my legs

                                            >piss

                                            "I am the son. I am the sun. I'm mother earth, creator of life.."

                                            >Cheerilee:"THIS SUCKS."

                                            "fuck you!"

                                            >Cheerilee:"THIS IS BETTER. Anon. explain my student what postmodern art is all about"


                                            >Anon:"it's being the most retarded and sell the worst to the galleries and be observed by degenerated hipsters."


                                            "I didn't ate anything, I could take a dump on the floor"

                                            >Anon:"that was already done. I think it's copyrighted by the performer, an israeli man quoting the holy bible while defecating on a doll."

                                            "this is disgusting. I'll try a thing."


                                            >go to the backstage

                                            >look around

                                            >find a box full of old toys and props

                                            >pick a random thing

                                            >rush in the toilets with it

                                            >it's some random pony doll

                                            >clean it with soap then with boiling hot water.

                                            >put it on my vagina

                                            >jump on the sink

                                            >do my best but make an epic maneuver

                                            >put my genitalia in front of the pipework and fill my bladder with tap water as much as I can

                                            >cannot hold it anymore

                                            >insert the pony in my vagina

                                            >i wanna pee so hard i'm gonna explode

                                            >rush back on the scene.

                                            >cite some random philosophical nonsense about the origin of life

                                            >start pissing as hard as I could, it's tap water.

                                            >I think I just peed on Twilight

                                            >try to pull out that pony toy out of my vagina

                                            >Twi:"The fuck."

                                            "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa... AAAAH!"

                                            >]plop sound[

                                            "I came you, Celestia"

                                            >piss on the pony toy

                                            "I feed you. I am mother earth!"


                                            >Cheerilee:"THIS IS AWFUL."

                                            "Yes it is, that's the point."

                                            >Twilight:"I love it"


                                            "I hate you. all."

                                            >lay on the floor

                                            >piss

                                            >a trail of water coming out of my urethra is going higher and higher

                                            >close my eyes and fall asleep


                                            >keep peeing anyways

                                            "and you have murdered me..."


                                            >Cheerilee:"Overdone!"


                                            "You really... We really had to go through all of this in order to get a positive reaction from you?"

                                            >Miss Cheerilee:"I just like the way Anon is making it obvious and you seem not to care at all, you're like, a rock, I was even thinking if you were alive, that's a good performance"

                                            >Twilight: "It was disturbing, doing something illegal in front of an audience, since Silverspoon is a filly, it 'makes myself question, what are we doing, we see things but we cannot do something or act, that's a very qurkening situation, and that's fascinating."

                                            "ok, but... are we sure we have tried other forms of art before this one?"

                                            >Cheerilee:"Work on this, what's the title of your performance? Have you thought about it?"

                                            >Anon:"Duotone voivodership"

                                            "exactly."

                                            >Cheerilee:"fascinating."


                                            >>26288824

                                            "Glad you like, I'm calling it, 'this is how we kill death' and it needs to be improved, this is just a work in progress."

                                            >There's another hipster pony with eyes wide large applauding

                                            >"You two clearly are incredible, amazing! What were your other works? Where did you study?"

                                            >Anon:"I worked for ten years at the Conservatoire de l'expression temporelle of Paris before achieving this. And Silverspoon, here, comes from the Manehattan School of Postmodern Art."

                                            "I sold my poop for a thousand bits once."

                                            >"And what will be the sequel of Duotone voivodership?"

                                            "That performance will be called 'inner screams' a postmodernist look on the industry of war and the end of the world. We're going to make it on this gallery tonight at 9pm. entry is fifty bits, we thought we could advertise this more, but in fact we prefer to keep only people who truly know ART to be in there. You understand, right?"

                                            >hipsterpone's nose is bleeding

                                            "But you can spread the info around you, that will be interesting to have a slightly more cosmopolitain public to enjoy our work."

                                            >Hipsterpone:"Sure... We'll meet tonight then, I can't wait..."

                                            "Tell your genuine artist friends that the VIP seats are 100 bits!"


                                            >in the meantime

                                            >some beatnik pony:"For you, what is the limit for art? At which point art is no longer considered art?"

                                            >Anon:"I predict that someday, an artist will kill somepony, and call it art. That's where you cross the line"


                                            >just done raping a human wandering in the streets.

                                            >I could have killed him but that would be just a plain murder.

                                            >get back inside this temple of faggotry again

                                            >so many ponies....

                                            >untie my mane, just so I look less recognizable

                                            >try to find ideas

                                            >pick some disguisement, one is a nazi germaneigh uniform

                                            >there's also a box that says cal 5.55 automatic

                                            >carry it with me.

                                            >climb on the scene.

                                            >think about doing something these ponies will find disturbing as hell

                                            >look at the scene

                                            >all these hipster ponies basically came to see a filly getting raped. those who aren't are pretentious assholes who hate art. who think art should be ended

                                            >trot around my box

                                            >try to open it

                                            >everypony is watching me doing it

                                            >recite some random gibberish in german or something lilke,

                                            "Trümms en, hou, trümmstrovien "

                                            >i'm hurting myself trying to break the lock on this thing.

                                            >big silence

                                            "Trümms lenn rinnzekete hoegensfrütt brojie… hou!"

                                            >keep smashing the lock and it's starting to wobble.

                                            >hipster:"that's breezie poetry or some"

                                            >beatnick:"hsssh!"

                                            "Hüt sen voode, Ponkestrelentäart poni!"

                                            >manage to open the crate. revealing a completely disassembled assault rifle.

                                            >awkwardly begin to build it while reciting my gibberish


                                            >screw the barrel into the whatever it is called

                                            "Fümms bö wä tää zää Uu, pögiff, kwiiee."

                                            >fuck that shit, the charger won't stay in place

                                            "Dedesnn nn rrrrr, Ii Ee, mpiff tillff toooo, tillll, Jüü-Kaa?"

                                            >this time i'm good. the spring seems to stay in.

                                            "Rinnzekete bee bee nnz krr müüüü, ziiuu ennze ziiuu rinnzkrrmüüüü,"

                                            >place the magazine into the slot, and arm the rifle in front of all the crowd to see.

                                            >push the trigger from times to times. everytime the mag either falls on the ground or something is not going right with how I assembled this thing.

                                            >it's usually humorous but everytime i fuck up, i find a way to build this thing better

                                            >every time i test it on the crowd so far.

                                            >not a single of them is moving

                                            >they are contemplating

                                            "Rakete bee bee."

                                            >it fucking looks ready as fuck. put the switch from safe. to semi and full automatic

                                            >Twilight is not doing anything to stop me.

                                            "Rrummpff tillff toooo?"

                                            >please someone tell me to stop, do something.

                                            "Ziiuu ennze ziiuu nnzkrrmüüüü, ziiuu ennze inner screams ziiuu rinnzkrrmüüüü ?"

                                            >point the rifle at one of the ponies in the crowd, one that's got a smug face.

                                            >press the trigger

                                            >BLAM! one round fired.

                                            >recoil of this thing made me fall back

                                            >holy shit i ki--- i actually wounded that pony on his shoulder

                                            >he's rolling on the floor. as the hipsters are clueless, most are looking worried, amazed. all doors are open. they can all run the fuck away from that psycho pony in a nazi costume any time


                                            >get back up, helping myself with the stock of the rifle

                                            "Hüt sen voode, Ponkestrelentäart rinnzkrrmüüüü?"

                                            >point at the crowd again, this time I'm adjusting the scope so

                                            >BLAM

                                            >missed everypony.

                                            >gibberish

                                            >re-adjust the sight,

                                            >press the trigger as I'm pointing it at one of them who looks amazed

                                            >clak...

                                            >okay it's jammed

                                            >try to solve it

                                            >shit. i mist fix this...


                                            >managed to eject the cartridge that was stuck in the chamber

                                            >reload

                                            >start firing in the crowd

                                            >2, 3 ponies wounded.

                                            >some are starting to run away.

                                            >others are coming closer, smiling. they expect they are getting shot

                                            >shoot at them.

                                            >i think i killed that pony

                                            >but hell the rifle is meant to be operated by royal guards, not fillies, i get blown a couple of meters behind every time i press the trigger.

                                            >action - reaction

                                            >Anon's just in the background, doing nothing.

                                            >i keep shooting every single of these ponies. not a single one will actually stop me?

                                            >why didn't they stop me before i made it functional?

                                            >some are screaming. others are laughing. this is just plain fucked up.

                                            >no more ammo.

                                            >4 deads. 11 wounded.

                                            >dismantle the rifle and throw it at these fucking ponies taking pictures as i tried to kill them.

                                            >throw stuff at them as hard as i can

                                            >even the fucking crate

                                            >piss in front of them


                                            "thank you."

                                            >they're clapping happily

                                            >some are evacuating the dead bodies, or taking care of the wounded.

                                            >"That was pure genius! PURE genius, it means a lot about gun violence and war in the world, I think that's my interpretation"

                                            "i wanted to kill everybody in this place, but i had not enough ammo."

                                            >"ow... It might not be perfect but it was still pretty. that presence."

                                            >get the fuck out of here

                                            >i killed ponies because they gathered around when i was firing. they wanted to die.


                                            >i should think of something else

                                            >Twilight:"Cheerilee,. what do you think?"

                                            >Cheerilee:"...Mph. Not as good as Duotone."

                                            >Twi:"That was completely different. But it had to get done once."