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About Digital Art / Professional Josh Buckland31/Male/United States Recent Activity
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Josh Buckland
Artist | Professional | Digital Art
United States
A young something-or-other from an oppressive Commonwealth state in Uncle Sam's pissing pot, Josh 'Kamikaze' Buckland is the kind of up-and-coming young talent that compels wayward adolescent girls to wrench pin-ups from their Tiger Beat magazines and fawn lustily over them until they plummet headlong into moral decadence.

From his humble beginnings euthanizing surplus chinchillas for PetSmart, to his self-made Roller Derby empire, Buckland's climb to internationally acclaimed deity has been both abysmal and prolific. Home-wrecker, Blacksmith, Freelance Lobotomist, Rapscallion, Hobo, and Glam Rocker are but a few of the impressive titles to appear on his resumé.

Clawing and wailing, Buckland was spat out into this hellishly surreal realm on 24 June, Nineteen-Hundred and Eighty-Four, weighing Thirty-five pounds and Seventeen ounces. After blinding a midwife and permanently crippling two nurses, he bravely fled the sanitarium and sought refuge at the local butcher's, where he was clothed, fed, and coached in the fine art of bovine abortion. In his Fifteenth year, he was discovered performing live demonstrations in the local village square. Internationally renowned veterinary instructionist Dr. Quincy S. P. Calicranstonson III recognized immediately the awesome internal glow alight within Buckland's superfluous, supple body, and took him on as his ward and apprentice.

Within Twelve short years, this cataclysmically comely prodigy had won the hearts and stolen the souls of literally trillions the world over. The 1997 Virgin Suicide Pandemic has often been attributed to the spike in Buckland's popularity during this period.

This October marks the One-Hundred and Fifty-Second anniversary of the pagan ceremonial rites that summoned Josh 'Kamikaze' Buckland out of abhorrent oblivion and into the arms of his adoring fans some One-Hundred and Twenty-Five years later. In honor of this momentous occasion, Buckland will enter his awe-inspiring larval stage LIVE, in front of the entire Earth's population. The event will be simulcast in Four different languages, and those not fluent will be volunteered as live sacrifices. This envied multitude will be slowly dissolved in Bucklandfly's digestive juices for Eleven months, after which He will reemerge as the Reborn Demiurge and Devourer of the Cosmos.

Vote Bucklandfly, 2016.
She sauntered in through the parlor, all sex and Tiffany, like a surreal Victoria's Secret ad on opium, moving her hips exaggeratedly as she did and touching herself in a way I was meant to believe was incidental. She wasn't in the kind of shape she kidded herself she was, but the expensive packaging was enough to keep her proud, and the narcissism kept her deluded. I wondered briefly just which of us it was she was trying to convince.
She poured that sad-kitten gaze all over me, and for a second, I nearly forgot all that history; the delusions and the chaos, the lies and betrayal. As she tossed her raven hair over her shoulder, she unzipped her teeth and poured out a laugh thick enough do dig your fingers into. I winced. From across the room, she looked like Botticelli's 'Birth of Venus' in 24-carat. From where I stood, with her breasts framing my tie and the stale stench of nicotine stinging my eyes, she looked like something made up to be seen from across the room.
"I knew you'd come," she said in that hushed, sex-line warble, "you can't get enough of me."
I leaned in until our noses touch and clamped my hands over the roundness of her shoulders.
"Honey, I had my fill of you when Roosevelt started his first term. You're a tramp, an easy make, and not even a good one. You play like you've got men in your hand, but sister, I wouldn't set foot in your greasy palm if there were an open bar in it. You're cheap, you're fake, you're nasty, and I don't trust you as far as I could lob a Buick. And if you don't move your tits out of my general vicinity, I'll have to get mean."
She spit in my face and shoved me, hard. She reached for the closest available missile, which happened to be a five-pound ashtray, and launched it at my head, clipping my ear and plunging through the drywall behind me like a wrecking-ball.
"You dirty heel, who do you think you are?! I know you want this body! I know I'm all you think about when you lie next to her. I'm what you COULD be getting! What's the idea coming 'round here being ugly to me like that?!"
I laughed and brushed the powdered sheet rock from my jacket.
"I came 'round to borrow a cup of milk."


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Gracious-GTS-Molly Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thnx for the watch
Buckland-Fly84 Featured By Owner Dec 20, 2015  Professional Digital Artist
Of course! Love your work!
footlover2011 Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2015
Happy birthday
Buckland-Fly84 Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2015  Professional Digital Artist
Thank you!
jrputz Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2014
"Happy Birthday"
Buckland-Fly84 Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2015  Professional Digital Artist
mysterious006 Featured By Owner Jul 8, 2013  Student General Artist
jrputz Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2013
"Happy Birthday"
LethalKitten Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2013
Thanks for the fav!
Buckland-Fly84 Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2013  Professional Digital Artist
Thanks for kicking ass.
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