Blame Artax!

The NeverEnding Story is a childhood classic with a neverending potential for discussion. Last week, we discussed how it’s all Artax’s fault that the generation that saw this as children turned out to be completely fucked up. Stupid horse! If you’d just stayed cheerful in the Swamps of Sadness (what, they don’t have bubblegum pop playlists in Fantasia?) you’d have made it out alive, a generation would not have wasted their adolescence pretending to be Fiona Apple and Trent Reznor, and Atreyu would have saved the world a helluva lot faster, you goddam waste of alfalfa!

Emo pony doesn’t care about your sugar. Life IS lumps, sweetie.

This week, we bring you the last thoughts of the late Artax, emo basketcase and (formerly) living proof that man’s best friend is a dog, not a goddam equine.

I’m feeling pretty crummy, if I’m honest with myself. And sort of…melon…what’s that word? Melatonin? Melancholy, that’s it. Boy, I gotta start doing the crossword again, my vocab’s gone to shit.

‘Course I never was the sharpest nail in the horseshoe.

Is the mud getting deeper or is it just me? It is just me. Atreyu! I’m, like, four feet tall all of a sudden. What the heck?

It…it just gets worse from there. Go on. Read the whole thing.