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![Amelia A. Acme's Stiff Delivery Variety Show [+Short Story]](http://d.furaffinity.net/art/oceanbreathesalty/1760248091/1760241874.oceanbreathesalty_image_2025-10-11_224807081.png "Click to change the View")
I belong on the stage. Most people go their whole lives thinking this, I get to spend just about an eternity dealing with it. I don't know how long its been. I've performed my "Halloween Night Debut" so many times I'd have memorized the lines even without the puppeteer shoving them down my throat. One of the few thoughts I'm left to stew on as I debase myself is wondering if this is all one unending time loop, or if I've somehow spent decades doing this. Perhaps I'm only every conscious as my strings are pulled. Perhaps the moment they set down the strings and I go limp, my entire existence flickers out until I'm played with next again. How much have I missed? How much have I forgotten?
I remember my name, of course. Whatever is doing this clearly wants to keep me just aware enough to enjoy the chafing discomfort in my soul. It wants me to know that I was once flesh and bone and not always this hapless, gangly lump of cloth stuffed with sand and dangled off strings. There was a person- I was a person. But it's been so long, the laughs are so loud. It's so much easier to just tell the awful jokes and bask in the moment of my audience's joy. I know deep down they're not laughing at my jokes- they're laughing at me- the greatest joke of all. Something who once was someone now left to humiliate herself over and over, playing out scenes of my own embarassment and failure that blur the lines between fictional fabrications and my own actual memory. How long will it be until all I can remember is being this dumb hyena, left with only the dull sense of knowledge that I should be something else, so much more?
A stabbing chill runs through my body as my idle movement is ceased. I stand at attention, my faux paws never even touching the floor of the stage. My few, scant moments of 'warmup' time had passed. It was time for my show. I could already feel all those insipid lines clawing their way up my throat. My mouth didn't even open anymore and yet this curse managed to maintain the feeling of forcing words from it. My inner monologue gets slower as it is continuously interrupted by the laughter that now loops in my head. No time for doubt, no time for agency, I belong on the stage...
Amelia A. Acme's full of jokes. Her favorite is that she used to be a person once! You might find her routine groan worthy at first, but the longer you listen and the more you watch- the easier it is to laugh along with this wooden humor and the more you want to stay...
A warmup from earlier stuck on my brain enough that I wound up refining the design and doing a little bit of writing to go with it. Always a sucker for a bad end where the subject now is fated to inflict similar fates on others. That said, anyone wanna hear a joke~? Because this won't be the last performance you see from Amelia A. Acme...
I remember my name, of course. Whatever is doing this clearly wants to keep me just aware enough to enjoy the chafing discomfort in my soul. It wants me to know that I was once flesh and bone and not always this hapless, gangly lump of cloth stuffed with sand and dangled off strings. There was a person- I was a person. But it's been so long, the laughs are so loud. It's so much easier to just tell the awful jokes and bask in the moment of my audience's joy. I know deep down they're not laughing at my jokes- they're laughing at me- the greatest joke of all. Something who once was someone now left to humiliate herself over and over, playing out scenes of my own embarassment and failure that blur the lines between fictional fabrications and my own actual memory. How long will it be until all I can remember is being this dumb hyena, left with only the dull sense of knowledge that I should be something else, so much more?
A stabbing chill runs through my body as my idle movement is ceased. I stand at attention, my faux paws never even touching the floor of the stage. My few, scant moments of 'warmup' time had passed. It was time for my show. I could already feel all those insipid lines clawing their way up my throat. My mouth didn't even open anymore and yet this curse managed to maintain the feeling of forcing words from it. My inner monologue gets slower as it is continuously interrupted by the laughter that now loops in my head. No time for doubt, no time for agency, I belong on the stage...
Amelia A. Acme's full of jokes. Her favorite is that she used to be a person once! You might find her routine groan worthy at first, but the longer you listen and the more you watch- the easier it is to laugh along with this wooden humor and the more you want to stay...
A warmup from earlier stuck on my brain enough that I wound up refining the design and doing a little bit of writing to go with it. Always a sucker for a bad end where the subject now is fated to inflict similar fates on others. That said, anyone wanna hear a joke~? Because this won't be the last performance you see from Amelia A. Acme...
Category Pixel Art / Transformation
Species Hyena
Size 841 x 1048px
File Size 780.8 kB
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