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huh, Whats uh-nothino got this Feeling Just like somene was watching US. 03 it's just your imagination Your Parents are pone all wgeksnd cikt
huh, Whats uh-nothino got this Feeling Just like somene was watching US. 03 it's just your imagination Your Parents are pone all wgeksnd cikt

Ruined Childhood
grownup calvin and hobbes suzy perkins stuffed tiger teenager makeout bae come over my parents aren't home imagination imaginary friend

三 SHOW LISI Sesame Street WXXIHD 1011 THU, 10:00- 11:00 am 22% Full 6:45 pm MORE INFORMATION Situation, Brief Nudity, Graphic Language, Graphic Violence, Language, Mild Violence, Nudity, R---, Strong Sexual, PAGE 2:3 Record length 1 hr Will delete in about 44 hr PRESS BACK TO LIST
三 SHOW LISI Sesame Street WXXIHD 1011 THU, 10:00- 11:00 am 22% Full 6:45 pm MORE INFORMATION Situation, Brief Nudity, Graphic Language, Graphic Violence, Language, Mild Violence, Nudity, R---, Strong Sexual, PAGE 2:3 Record length 1 hr Will delete in about 44 hr PRESS BACK TO LIST

Ruined Childhood
elmo sesame street fail

THE SECRET GARDEN mE To THE SECRET GARDE N WHAT IS THIS PLACE O) IN HegE IS LIKE- WAIT YouRE RIGHT You CAN WALK? FEEL CRAZY COLIN YouRE LIk FREAKING ME OUT I'M FREAKING Now IIu iti SIR- THE CHILDREN HAUE FouND THE GARDEN I USEO TD FIND HER IN THERE DAYS AFTER SHED DISA PPEAR, RoLlING oN THE GRouNO SHE LoVE D THAT GARDE N MY LATE WIFE S TALKING T。 NO ONE 815C ITS STREWN EVERyWHERE
THE SECRET GARDEN mE To THE SECRET GARDE N WHAT IS THIS PLACE O) IN HegE IS LIKE- WAIT YouRE RIGHT You CAN WALK? FEEL CRAZY COLIN YouRE LIk FREAKING ME OUT I'M FREAKING Now IIu iti SIR- THE CHILDREN HAUE FouND THE GARDEN I USEO TD FIND HER IN THERE DAYS AFTER SHED DISA PPEAR, RoLlING oN THE GRouNO SHE LoVE D THAT GARDE N MY LATE WIFE S TALKING T。 NO ONE 815C ITS STREWN EVERyWHERE

Ruined Childhood
kate beaton hark a vagrant secret garden

Charlie Brown...how ironic.

RACISM Sometimes it's subtle.
RACISM Sometimes it's subtle.

Ruined Childhood
racism thanks giving black people demotivational poster snoopy comic:peanuts

Disney Knows and Disney Doesn't Care

HERE COMES GOOFY! LET'S TR OUR VENTRILOQUISM GAG ON HIM! HE OUGHTA BE Hi MICKEY! HI, GOOFY! WORK IT ON 2 WELL, FER GOSH SAKES! SURPRISED? S PRISED? WHO? ME? NO! WHAT AT? HELLO GOOFY, PLUTO! OL' PAL How il SURE! wHAT OF COURSE I BUTUNDERSTAND PLUTOS A DOG! AN' HES MATTER AT PLUTO, YA BIG NINNY! DIDN'T YA HEAR HIM TALK? OF IT ? WHATS TH DON'T YA UNDERSTAND?WUNNERFUL OF YUH? WHATS ABOUT THAT?
HERE COMES GOOFY! LET'S TR OUR VENTRILOQUISM GAG ON HIM! HE OUGHTA BE Hi MICKEY! HI, GOOFY! WORK IT ON 2 WELL, FER GOSH SAKES! SURPRISED? S PRISED? WHO? ME? NO! WHAT AT? HELLO GOOFY, PLUTO! OL' PAL How il SURE! wHAT OF COURSE I BUTUNDERSTAND PLUTOS A DOG! AN' HES MATTER AT PLUTO, YA BIG NINNY! DIDN'T YA HEAR HIM TALK? OF IT ? WHATS TH DON'T YA UNDERSTAND?WUNNERFUL OF YUH? WHATS ABOUT THAT?

Ruined Childhood
disney ruined childhood

Mister Patches

My grandma gave me Mister Patches when I was just four years old and still afraid of the dark. "Just hold it close when the lights go out and make sure you don't let go" she'd whispered in my ear, as she handed me the disheveled teddy bear. Mister Patches was a veteran of two World Wars, and it showed: he had a button for an eye and a square of tricolette fabric on his belly. He had plaid armpits and the ends of his feet were clad in felt. His smile was crooked, the black thread that originally outlined his mouth long since torn, replaced halfway through by a bright blue thread. It made his mouth look funny, like he was smiling two different kinds of smiles "One" my grandma said, pointing at the black-thread half "is for children that have good-dreams. The other" she turned Mister Patches, showing the mad zig-zag of blue "is for bogeymen, which Mister Patches eats." Following her instructions to the letter, I did sleep with Mister Patches holding him close and never once leaving him out of my sight as I slept. And true to her promise, Mister Patches dispelled my fear of the dark and swept away the bogeymen, standing fiercely at my side. By the time I was six, I had known little else but peace and his comforting presence The bogeymen came back in full force on my seventh birthday, when I had thought myself to old to need Mister Patches' help It started as whispers beneath my bed and tiny sounds from the creaking hou he s it settled. It began with long shadows a ing cars, throwing odd shadows on the face Ig pa ng r features progressed, within a week, into moaning from behind the wall and odd tearing sounds coming from somewhere inside the ceiling Mister Patches was lying on my bed beside me, when l opened my eyes searched for him. Tiny bits of thread hung loosely from the ricolette square on his belly, the cotton stuffing slightly gutted couldn't put down exactly how I had known, but I could tell that his glass eye was transfixed on my bedroom wall: at the tiny crack, indistinguishable in the darkness. I couldn't exactly see it, but I could make out the tiny bit of thread that had been somehow sewn into the plaster, holding it together l daren't tell my parents, for fear of being scolded and I couldn't call my grandmother, for fear of not believing me, of hurting her feelings when she'd see the tear on Mister Patches, thinking it had been the result by my clumsiness For a month, I had slept fitfully, fearing the odd sounds in the darkness, with Mister Patches by my side, his threading growing all the more ragged, the felt on his right foot gutted. The crack on the wall had expanded, held in place tenuously by brightly-colored thread. But from the tiny opening, I could clearly hear the sound of something shuffling sily, its breathing ragged with anticipation. When I awoke to fin armpits, their tiny squares sewn into the wall where the crack had widened the most, I mustered the strength to tiptoe out of my room and into the e plaid armpit patches torn from below h ng room l grandma. I knew that she would prob be but I daren ce my parents the next da stand othe Ig f the strange whispers Halfway through dialing her number, there was a roar and a sound like something tearing (not like fabric or felt, but more like the sound of some impossibly powerful gust of air, tearing doors from their hinges) Something screamed upstairs, another thing cackled. There was the sound of threads popping and something that sounded very much like a bag full of sand, slamming against the floorboards. When my parents rushed into my room, they found me there, clutching at the gutted Mister Patches, my tiny hand struggling to stuff the cotton back inside the fabric. His glass eye had gone, im was Mister Pa elt ing hanging The crack on the plaster was no longer there, but I knew that s I gave him a proper funeral, the kind that storybooks said wa oldiers. My grandma was there to attend, as s ld her the my favorite ews. We bundled Mister Patches carefully i bedsheets and lowered him into the grave set in the garden. She died llowing da f a stroke eyes transfixed on the wall of her bedroom, where there had been a tiny, almost undistinguishable crack. I grew up since then, learned to overcome my fear on own. But sometimes, hear the sounds that the house makes in the dead of night and the whispers from beneath the floorboards. There's a crack on my wall, faintly outlined against the plaster that I can't plug no matter how hard I might try. Sometimes, something snarls at me from the tiny s and I find myself praying I still had Mister Patches
My grandma gave me Mister Patches when I was just four years old and still afraid of the dark. "Just hold it close when the lights go out and make sure you don't let go" she'd whispered in my ear, as she handed me the disheveled teddy bear. Mister Patches was a veteran of two World Wars, and it showed: he had a button for an eye and a square of tricolette fabric on his belly. He had plaid armpits and the ends of his feet were clad in felt. His smile was crooked, the black thread that originally outlined his mouth long since torn, replaced halfway through by a bright blue thread. It made his mouth look funny, like he was smiling two different kinds of smiles "One" my grandma said, pointing at the black-thread half "is for children that have good-dreams. The other" she turned Mister Patches, showing the mad zig-zag of blue "is for bogeymen, which Mister Patches eats." Following her instructions to the letter, I did sleep with Mister Patches holding him close and never once leaving him out of my sight as I slept. And true to her promise, Mister Patches dispelled my fear of the dark and swept away the bogeymen, standing fiercely at my side. By the time I was six, I had known little else but peace and his comforting presence The bogeymen came back in full force on my seventh birthday, when I had thought myself to old to need Mister Patches' help It started as whispers beneath my bed and tiny sounds from the creaking hou he s it settled. It began with long shadows a ing cars, throwing odd shadows on the face Ig pa ng r features progressed, within a week, into moaning from behind the wall and odd tearing sounds coming from somewhere inside the ceiling Mister Patches was lying on my bed beside me, when l opened my eyes searched for him. Tiny bits of thread hung loosely from the ricolette square on his belly, the cotton stuffing slightly gutted couldn't put down exactly how I had known, but I could tell that his glass eye was transfixed on my bedroom wall: at the tiny crack, indistinguishable in the darkness. I couldn't exactly see it, but I could make out the tiny bit of thread that had been somehow sewn into the plaster, holding it together l daren't tell my parents, for fear of being scolded and I couldn't call my grandmother, for fear of not believing me, of hurting her feelings when she'd see the tear on Mister Patches, thinking it had been the result by my clumsiness For a month, I had slept fitfully, fearing the odd sounds in the darkness, with Mister Patches by my side, his threading growing all the more ragged, the felt on his right foot gutted. The crack on the wall had expanded, held in place tenuously by brightly-colored thread. But from the tiny opening, I could clearly hear the sound of something shuffling sily, its breathing ragged with anticipation. When I awoke to fin armpits, their tiny squares sewn into the wall where the crack had widened the most, I mustered the strength to tiptoe out of my room and into the e plaid armpit patches torn from below h ng room l grandma. I knew that she would prob be but I daren ce my parents the next da stand othe Ig f the strange whispers Halfway through dialing her number, there was a roar and a sound like something tearing (not like fabric or felt, but more like the sound of some impossibly powerful gust of air, tearing doors from their hinges) Something screamed upstairs, another thing cackled. There was the sound of threads popping and something that sounded very much like a bag full of sand, slamming against the floorboards. When my parents rushed into my room, they found me there, clutching at the gutted Mister Patches, my tiny hand struggling to stuff the cotton back inside the fabric. His glass eye had gone, im was Mister Pa elt ing hanging The crack on the plaster was no longer there, but I knew that s I gave him a proper funeral, the kind that storybooks said wa oldiers. My grandma was there to attend, as s ld her the my favorite ews. We bundled Mister Patches carefully i bedsheets and lowered him into the grave set in the garden. She died llowing da f a stroke eyes transfixed on the wall of her bedroom, where there had been a tiny, almost undistinguishable crack. I grew up since then, learned to overcome my fear on own. But sometimes, hear the sounds that the house makes in the dead of night and the whispers from beneath the floorboards. There's a crack on my wall, faintly outlined against the plaster that I can't plug no matter how hard I might try. Sometimes, something snarls at me from the tiny s and I find myself praying I still had Mister Patches

Ruined Childhood
bear story ruined childhood

Archie's Girls Betty Veronica TAKE ME TO YOU駅 REEFER GOOD GRIEF BETTY COOPERI WHAT ON EARTH HAPPENED TO YOL? MAN, BROTHER REGGIE GAVE ME SOME FAR OHT BROWNIES, AND NOW I'M FEELIN GROOVY, MAN AND I SHARE SOME FREE LOVE FOXY MAMA? dannygayhealani betty cooper tried pot once and now she's gay
Archie's Girls Betty Veronica TAKE ME TO YOU駅 REEFER GOOD GRIEF BETTY COOPERI WHAT ON EARTH HAPPENED TO YOL? MAN, BROTHER REGGIE GAVE ME SOME FAR OHT BROWNIES, AND NOW I'M FEELIN GROOVY, MAN AND I SHARE SOME FREE LOVE FOXY MAMA? dannygayhealani betty cooper tried pot once and now she's gay

Ruined Childhood


Ruined Childhood

Superman the Dick.

GIRL FRIEND 12 COMICS DC LOIs LANE STEP-SISTER, AFTER YOU CLEAN THE FLOOR AND THE DISHES, GO TO SLEEP IN THE BARN WE'RE WHEN LOIS LANE BECAME CINDERELLA! GOING TO A GRAND BALL. I WAS A FOOL TO LET SUPERMAN TAKE ME HERE IN THE PAST TO RE-LIVE THE LIFE OF CINDERELLA! ALL THIS STUFF ABOUT Y GOING TO THE BALL AND MEETING PRINCE CHARMING IS BUNK
GIRL FRIEND 12 COMICS DC LOIs LANE STEP-SISTER, AFTER YOU CLEAN THE FLOOR AND THE DISHES, GO TO SLEEP IN THE BARN WE'RE WHEN LOIS LANE BECAME CINDERELLA! GOING TO A GRAND BALL. I WAS A FOOL TO LET SUPERMAN TAKE ME HERE IN THE PAST TO RE-LIVE THE LIFE OF CINDERELLA! ALL THIS STUFF ABOUT Y GOING TO THE BALL AND MEETING PRINCE CHARMING IS BUNK

Ruined Childhood

Think about it

If Spongebob lives in a circular pineapple then why does the inside have corners?
If Spongebob lives in a circular pineapple then why does the inside have corners?

Ruined Childhood
spongebob childhood ruined pineapple corners


Ruined Childhood
ruined childhood

GO-GO GADGET PIMP HAND
GO-GO GADGET PIMP HAND

Ruined Childhood
ruined childhood

Mario's Flagpole Rising

MARIO anthropocene man WORLD TIME ×08 1-1
MARIO anthropocene man WORLD TIME ×08 1-1

Ruined Childhood
dance girl nintendo gif mario super animated sexy mario bross anthropocene man pole dance bross

Ruined Childhood Arthur

囗 Just touch it, Arthur,it will be our little secret
囗 Just touch it, Arthur,it will be our little secret

Ruined Childhood
ruined childhood

Oh, look! It's time to play Twister

NTALKATIVE is the best nudist mixer I've been to in long time I haven't met so many seniors since my stay at the hospital coughs* I'm glad you're having a good time Oh, look! It's time to play twister.

Ruined Childhood
untalkative bunny nudists seniors

Mulan in a nutshell


Ruined Childhood
ruined childhood mulan fa mulan

An Unicef adversting (ft. The Smurfs)


Ruined Childhood
war ruined childhood unicef the smurfs

The Incredible Edible [CHOCOBO]

HERD nuGGETS DRUMMETTE LEG DRUMSTICK THIGH ERERST FILLET EGD The Incredible Edible CHOCOBO sunny SIDE UP
HERD nuGGETS DRUMMETTE LEG DRUMSTICK THIGH ERERST FILLET EGD The Incredible Edible CHOCOBO sunny SIDE UP

Ruined Childhood
ruined childhood lolgraphs final fantasy chocobo pixel art

[YOSHI] Tastes Like Chicken

HERD SWEETERERDS TONGUE STEL LEG DRUMSTICK THIGH ERERST FILLET 類 SUNNY SIDE UP YOSHI Tastes Like Chickern LAUR EDILED
HERD SWEETERERDS TONGUE STEL LEG DRUMSTICK THIGH ERERST FILLET 類 SUNNY SIDE UP YOSHI Tastes Like Chickern LAUR EDILED

Ruined Childhood
nintendo ruined childhood lolgraphs mario yoshi pixel art

[KOOPA] It's What's For Supper

CHUCE RuMP RIE RORSTRIEEVE ROASTBOUSER RIES HOOPA SOUP TOP Rump- Rump TIP. ROOPR HUEES EOTTOm RumPs EY E OF RuMP SHRoom STERK CHUCK RORST ERISHET HOOPA Its Whats for Supper PRIRS WELL WITH Mushrooms Carnivorou SHIRT STEAK T-B0nE CROun LonTENDERLan Rrd Wine ID Grill or brailrill or brail
CHUCE RuMP RIE RORSTRIEEVE ROASTBOUSER RIES HOOPA SOUP TOP Rump- Rump TIP. ROOPR HUEES EOTTOm RumPs EY E OF RuMP SHRoom STERK CHUCK RORST ERISHET HOOPA Its Whats for Supper PRIRS WELL WITH Mushrooms Carnivorou SHIRT STEAK T-B0nE CROun LonTENDERLan Rrd Wine ID Grill or brailrill or brail

Ruined Childhood
nintendo ruined childhood lolgraphs mario bowser pixel art