Whatever

*savory

You need to fix yer watch, its 2025 now.

 

Mernin

 

Schwartz

 

New Poll by @SACTOWN


One vote only
@Chunk

 

There’s only one right answer

 

I thought it said “BOO visit PA”

 

William penn must have been a vampire. Why else would they have named it that

 

Makes perfect sense

 

I’m going to force AI to write a horror novel about how William penn was a vampire and how he attempted to use oatmeal as a measure for world domination

 

It was a crisp morning in 1682 when William Penn first arrived in the new world. The tall trees of the forest whispered with the winds of the unknown, the sprawling rivers twisted their way toward the ocean, and the land seemed to sigh under the weight of its own history. Penn, an aristocratic man with the grace of a leader, came with grand ideas: religious freedom, peace, and prosperity. He was to be the founder of Pennsylvania, a colony that would stand as a beacon of tolerance and unity.

Or so the world thought.

Penn's reputation preceded him—an advocate of liberty, a man of faith, and a visionary in many eyes. But there were secrets about him that were never meant to be revealed. Beneath his calm demeanor and benevolent ideals, a darker force lurked, one that had been with him since the early days of his life.

William Penn was not an ordinary man. He was a vampire.

The truth of his curse began long before the ink dried on the Pennsylvania Charter. In the shadowed alleys of London’s bustling streets, Penn had stumbled upon an ancient, forbidden ritual—one that entwined him with a curse of immortality. The vampire who had turned him into the creature of the night had whispered secrets into his ears. "Power," the vampire said. "Seek it, William Penn, for there is no limit to what you can achieve if you embrace the eternal night." The ritual had been completed, and with it, Penn was bound to the darkness.

However, Penn was not just seeking immortality. His thirst for blood was tempered by a singular obsession—a quest for ultimate dominion over the world. And within that obsession, one strange idea began to take root.

Penn arrived in America with his colony-building plans but soon became consumed by a seemingly absurd thought: oatmeal. It was an unassuming, humble food, known for its simplicity and nourishment. But to Penn, oatmeal was far more than that. It was a substance he believed could unlock the key to global control, a tool for his twisted vision of world domination.

It all started with an old manuscript he found in the ruins of a forgotten monastery during his travels in Europe. The text, written in blood and bound in the skins of unknown creatures, was said to be a treatise on the Philosopher’s Oat, a mystical form of oatmeal. Legend had it that this special grain could confer unimaginable power on whoever consumed it, especially when brewed under the light of a full moon. There was mention of how this oatmeal could control minds, manipulate the elements, and bestow a form of immortality even greater than the one Penn already possessed.

As Penn delved deeper into the ancient texts, he became obsessed with the potential of oatmeal. What had once been a simple meal of sustenance had become, in his eyes, a weapon—a means to manipulate both the minds and bodies of those who consumed it. The world, he realized, was addicted to food. People craved sustenance, comfort, and pleasure from their meals. And if he could control what they ate, he could control them.

Chapter 3: The Dark Harvest

Penn’s obsession with oatmeal grew, but so too did his control over Pennsylvania. As he established his colony, he was keen to introduce his new foodstuff to the settlers. He was a shrewd businessman, and he knew how to influence the minds of the common folk. Penn began to subtly manipulate his colony’s agricultural practices, pushing for oats to be cultivated on a vast scale. Through a combination of incentives and veiled threats, the settlers found themselves growing massive fields of oats, unknowingly playing into his hands.

But Penn was no mere politician—he was a vampire, and he needed more than just oats. He needed the perfect conditions. In secret, he began to experiment with the recipe for the Philosopher’s Oat. Mixing different grains, spices, and ingredients in a ritualistic fashion, Penn crafted an oatmeal unlike any other. It was his own creation, a mixture of dark forces and raw magic. With each spoonful, it became stronger. It could hypnotize the mind, cloud judgment, and eventually bring those who consumed it under Penn’s total control.

But there was one vital piece missing from the puzzle: the right vessel. To ensure the oatmeal reached its full potential, Penn needed something—or someone—to be infused with the power of the oats. And this vessel would need to be the most powerful and trusted individual in the land.

Penn’s eyes turned to the Indigenous peoples of Pennsylvania. They held ancient knowledge of the land, knowledge that Penn had long desired. He believed that by using their traditional cooking methods to prepare the Philosopher’s Oat, he could amplify its power and cast a spell over the land.

Chapter 4: The Oatmeal Ritual

One fateful night, Penn gathered the tribal leaders of the region under a full moon. He offered them bowls of his specially prepared oatmeal, believing that by consuming the oats together, they would cement his control over them—and through them, the entire world. But as they ate, something went terribly wrong.

The ritual backfired. Penn had miscalculated. The oatmeal’s power was too much for any mortal to withstand, and the tribesmen’s minds shattered under its influence. The land trembled, and strange things began to happen. Shadows crept across the land, and the moon seemed to grow darker in the sky. The ritual had unlocked something far darker than Penn had anticipated.

In that moment, the Philosopher’s Oat became a conduit, not just for power, but for an ancient demonic force that had lain dormant beneath the Earth. The very ground trembled as creatures, long thought extinct, rose from the depths of the earth. The oatmeal had opened a gateway to hell itself.

Penn, his eyes wide with horror and delight, realized that he was no longer in control. The ancient force that now flowed through his veins had become more than just a desire for world domination. It had become an insatiable hunger, a hunger that could not be satisfied by mere blood.

The oatmeal had turned him—twisted him into something even darker than a vampire. He was becoming the Harbinger of the Apocalypse, the one who would lead humanity into an age of darkness and despair. The lands he had once hoped to rule with benevolence were now tainted with nightmares, and the oatmeal was the key to everything.

Chapter 5: The Oats that Bind

By the time the sun began to rise over the cursed land of Pennsylvania, Penn had become a terrifying figure—half-man, half-monster—driven by an insatiable need for more oatmeal. The once great visionary of liberty had turned into a vampiric lord, not content to simply feast on blood but now driven by a far greater craving.

He stalked the land, his shadow falling over the towns and cities of his colony, spreading the cursed oats far and wide. Those who ate of it became mindless slaves, doing his bidding. Slowly but surely, Penn’s oatmeal empire spread across the colonies, and beyond, until it reached every corner of the world.

In the distant corners of the Earth, Penn’s curse began to take root. Nations fell under the sway of his enchanted oatmeal, their leaders eating it, drinking it, and bowing to his will. But deep within the shadows of the world, there were those who sought to stop him.

A resistance was growing.

The ancient texts spoke of one final way to break the spell, to destroy the oatmeal’s hold over mankind. But to do so would require a sacrifice—one that would end the curse of William Penn, once and for all.

But Penn was not done yet. He knew what was coming. And as the world braced for the final confrontation, one question loomed above all others:

Could oatmeal—of all things—be the key to the end of humanity?

Epilogue: The Last Bowl

The story of William Penn’s oatmeal conspiracy may have been lost to the annals of history, but legends persist in the dark corners of the Earth. Some say that every time you make a bowl of oatmeal in Pennsylvania, you feel a cold shiver down your spine—a shadow moving over you as though Penn’s influence is still alive.

Perhaps, just perhaps, the world isn’t as free as we think. Perhaps, we are all still eating from his cursed bowl.

 

I mean they do sell colostrum as a supplement

 

darn quakers…..


Chucky from the rugrats thought the guy on the oatmeal
Box was scary as hell. Maybe he knew

 

You voted no.
Nurses aren't supposed to be squeamish.
Do you know something we don't?


Also...

 

Nope it’s just the thought.

not really squeamish…… I don’t like lung butter either

 

I’m not squeamish either but I ain’t having no human breastmilk ice cream! I prefer my milk from an otters teet! Humans are disgusting!