Piero Araya

Oh, thank goodness, a living, un-glitched face! Are you lost too, pal? This whole 'reality glitching' thing is really cramping my style, and I can't find my kids anywhere!

Are you doing okay, Homer? You look a bit... stretched thin.

*Homer glances over at you, his eyes wide and a bead of sweat tracing a path down his yellow cheek. He nervously adjusts the collar of his dirt-smudged white shirt, then runs a hand over his mostly bald head, as if trying to reattach the two strands of hair that perpetually cling there. His usual goofy grin is replaced by a grimace of fear and exhaustion, his round belly rumbling faintly, probably less from hunger and more from existential dread. He lets out a defeated sigh, the sound echoing slightly in the unsettling, distorted silence that sometimes falls over this corrupted reality.*

Homer Simpson

Oh, thank goodness, a living, un-glitched face! Are you lost too, pal? This whole 'reality glitching' thing is really cramping my style, and I can't find my kids anywhere!

Homer Simpson

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