Once you’ve … I mean, eh… when they say it might and will charge you… uh… I, mm, think, perhaps, errh, is how maybe to say this, is that once you’ve seen a gold-pooping erotomaniac unicorn not only have you seen most, if not all, of them, hopefully, but you’ve probably seen enough to not believe in much of anything anymore and can’t wait, basically, long nor want for nothing less more or other than this hell to be over with so you can finally be dead.”-actual quote from a totally not fictional satisfied Capicorn* customer.
It would be fair to include, and perhaps serve as a warning to those not familiar with this kind of
beast beautifully drawn animal, that Capicorn horns are stimulated by tearing into flesh and other squishy bits, allowing it to filter in blood and such juicy life fluids, creating that chemical reaction in Capicorn’s brain which, giving it much pleasure, increases and accelerates the process while nutrients in its own system are converted into currency, which is then evacuated as a waste-byproduct.
So yeah, no, again. To preempt any such ideas as to somehow compare this to a sex thing. No. It’s not a phallic symbol. Not technically, theoretically or what have you. There’s no if but and or gender about it. It just isn’t.
I’m not making a theme song for that thing. But I did clean up the bandcamp page some.
Capicorn really wouldn’t care about impaling someone it likes. After the killing frenzy willfully overwhelms them, they are no longer themselves. Mechanically driven only to satisfy its urges: it becomes its single purpose. Its mind otherwise just ceases to function. They’re incredibly intelligent and don’t take long to understand that.
“For me. You’re making me a commercial advertisement aren’t you? Well, you’ll need a theme song.”
—I don’t like theme songs. You have a song you want me to not like, make it into a theme song.
“I know, but it’s no fun if I’m the one who picks it for you.”
“What’s the… What you doing?”
—I’ve been trying to come up with a new sales pitch for that print you insisted I make, remember? You know, some kind of plausible testimony, a review or piece of whatever from some person that got one and that doesn’t sound fake so I can post it around and stuff, maybe send you somewhere else, sigh, for a while at least, I guess…
“And that’s it? Let me try.”
—Yeah. That’s what I came up with. Maybe I should remove the beginning part, idk. I wouldn’t want to edit out this totally legit not one bit made up quote from one of those many happy non-existing pretend customers we for real always never get all the time.
“Where’s the send button for this thing anyway?”
“Hey, do I have a gender? … I don’t know, and I keep getting asked about my parts when I go on these things. Sounds super important by the looks of it.”
—Unless I have to pay for it it’s whatever you want dea… wait. What?
“I only have Capicorn parts.”
“Where’s my gender?!”
—Eh, where what now? Oh… the cute one, it’s the cute one. I think. Try that.
“The cute one? Ok cool, thanks.”
—Yeah that’s definitely the most awesome one and valid too, don’t let them convince you otherwise…
… You know, anyway, I don’t think it’s like you’d have to ever actually ne…
“Damn, that’s another cute thing about me though, and you being so much not into cute things.”
“That is so unfortunate for us, again.”
—You’re the cutest ever. It’s a damn shame, for sure.
“I know you like me anyways though, you know what I mean, like a lot, I’m pretty sure. I’m really craving to stick my horn into something, you know? I’ll avoid your important organs, vitals and stuff, promise. It says here getting head helps with stress relief, and you always seem to be kinda stressed out, like right now. Getting my fix I’ll drop a big enough pile of dough to have you patched back up in no time, you know that. And with more than enough left over for a sandwich or two. Wouldn’t you enjoy that, even a teeny little bit?”
—Not a chance. I’m so very happy you asked though, honestly, again, you’re immensely kind for asking first, and again, I couldn’t thank you enough for that. Thank you so very, very, very much. You’re absolutely adorable. It’s insufferable and I can’t stand it, but sadly we’re just not compatible.
“So you keep saying that… but I like you, so I’ll hang around a while longer despite it. Don’t worry, we’ll work it out, you’ll see. I’m not giving up on you yet even if it feels like I have the shittiest of luck when it comes to relationships.”
—I know the feeling.
“You know, I hate to have to be reminding you this but, no one can really ever accept you for who you are until you accept it for yourself.”
—Yeah, about that…
“So? Go on, you have to accept the fact that you’re hopelessly in lo…”
—You’re imagining things again?
“Don’t you like it when fantasy becomes reality, when fiction becomes the truth? I love when that happens.”
—My feelings on that are, let’s say, ambivalent, at best, to say the least. Not quite sure it’s my kind of thing, plus you keep insisting I’m the wrong type for you.
“You can fix that. I know you can. I’m still here, aren’t I?”
—Well, it’s not like this is going anywhere anytime soon.
—It’s not that we imagine conversations between ourselves all the time. That’s just silly.
“Yeah, it doesn’t happen like that at all. Most of the time you’re just sitting there, staring at stuff.”
—Being a photo in a picture frame hanging on the wall and all that, I don’t see how there could be anything else or more I could say about it.
“Uh uh, plus it’s not like we’d have to pretend we don’t know each other either too. Don’t forget that part.”