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#1999
1999 was the year, My wonderful show was out. You can watch me torture children, Hear them cry and shout. Come and help me be apart of this, We'll all have fun. Now excuse me while I get this job done...
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Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 5:09 PM UTC
Mr. Bear ( From the creepypasta story called "1999")
You make me wish I could travel back in time..
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May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 6:26 PM UTC
1999
MARTIN LANDAU HAS PASSED AWAY THIS TAPE WILL SELF DESTRUCT HE WAS THE ORIGINAL ETHAN HAWK WHEN DISGUISES WERE A MUST WHEN SPACE TRAVEL WAS IN THE FUTURE WE HAD SPACE 1999 MARTIN LANDAU WAS THE LEAD A GREAT ACTOR OF HIS TIME LIVE LONG AND PROSPER SPOK USE TO SAY LANDAU TURNED THIS ROLE DOWN ONLY IF HE KNEW WHAT STAR TREK WOULD BE A CULT FOLLOWING AND SO PROFOUND.
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Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
MARTIN LANDAU
Bill lit up a cigarette, began to dress. The young punk on the bed yakked about left wing crap. Bill turned off his hearing, the *** had been good, the talk not. He buttoned up his collar, tied his tie. Exhaled the smoke, put on his shoes. Walked to the small kitchen, flipped on the radio, put on the kettle. The young punk got off the bed, dressed, gazed at the older man in the kitchen, classic **** from the radio. Bill offered coffee and toast. The young punk said: ok, sat in a chair, pushed fingers through black hair, shoulder length. Bill took in the Debussy, turned on the toaster, made coffee. The kid was talking away, lit up, watched Bill's back, the shooter in an holster over the shoulder. Bill laid down the coffee and toast, sat opposite the punk, gentle spoke. The punk had liked the *** ate the toast, sipped the coffee, feared the shooter. The Debussy ended, Bach ***** music, punk yawned. Are you a cop? the punk asked. No, Bill said, in business. Business? the punk wondered what sort, exhaled smoke. Worldwide stuff, Bill said, musing on the arranged suicide **** in Iraq, dead is dead.
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Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
DEAD IS DEAD 1999.
In the end, I never really climbed- Them, they gave me panic attacks, Razors loped my flesh and I ran in Circles over a reverse nightmare, Spiral staircase, awful storeys, They all scooted to 1999. I want to climb down my 1999, burn And not be smolder in an ashtray. I hope to fall asleep, away from The city, away from my guava trees. I have my history of walking, Suddenly lost without postage stamps. Will you take me to Ferris wheel? Push me down the spiral staircase, And sleep next to my 1999? Will you? Will you take me to Ferris wheel? Push me down the spiral staircase, And sleep next to my 1999? Will you? “Some other day”
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Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC
Some other day
it was the kind of year that lasted longer than the ones around it, at least for some people and i guess that i cant really say what kind of year it was because how am i supposed to remember that far into my childhood? i was little. littler than i can remember being and it's been sixteen years since then and i keep trying to calculate the weight i have gained since 1999. and what i've lost, who i've found, since 1999 we were a tangle of potential. since 1999 i lost weight, i gained weight, i gained heavy strain on my shoulders and i didnt carry water buckets at camp because i thought i'd thrown out my shoulder, since 1999 i have been existing but i dont think that all of the time i've been exposed to the elements counts as being as alive as i am when i'm the only sober one at the park, when the boy next to me is whacked out on codeine cough syrup and asks me to punch him as hard as i can i will try to remember 1999, when i couldnt remember existing.
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Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC
the year 1999