My smut

[P3nT4gR4m]

is 'preposition' a euphemism for 'cock'? or should I have listened more in english class?

[LMNO]

Yes.

[P3nT4gR4m]

You just answered an eitherorinism with a dangling affirmative

(okay you got me I'm making this shit up)

[Triple Zero]

is 'preposition' a euphemism for 'cock'?

if it isn't, my 4th grade english teacher certainly has some splaining to do 

[Genocide Device]

lol I said I was a writer... I never said I was good at it... all the same these things do need to be pointed out but besides arguing over whether or not one can tantalize (basically meaning teas) their pallet (by which I refer to the back of the tong), my grammar sux ass and I,Äôll never get it right if I,Äôm not beeten about the head and neck evey time I fuck it up,Ķ so have at it.

Any who, what about the actual piece its self,Ķ any thing to say there?

[Genocide Device]

Lol god I suck.. and by tong,Ķ I would of cores me tongue

[Genocide Device]

Oh, ok then.

“Son, ya’ll look justa’bout have’n had ta’ watched yer dog die.” The long and shallow accentuations of her southern draw does little more than remind me of the depths to which I have been banished.

They have lived their entire life busting ass for tips they only get if their customer leaves les pissed off and callow than as they came.

“I’m suffering from a pore perspective on one big fucking moral dilemma.”

Maybe he should throw the sex and violence back in, to distract us from this sort of stuff.

Sex and violence?  I can do that,Ķ but I think you misses the part at the end where he mentions he just got done fucking the daughter of a woman he brutally raped and tortured thirteen years ago

[hunter s.durden]

Go back to school for English.
If that's not an option, do just what you're doing. Take criticism and transform it in skills.

That last paragraph (3 posts back) was an abortion.

We'll get through this buddy.

[P3nT4gR4m]

Firefox has an inline spellchecker - that'll get you at least half way there

[Genocide Device]

Hee hee hee  Spell checkers don,Äôt pick up on homonyms and bad word placement,Ķ  the biggest problem is that the whole piece is over 250 pages and after a while of reading and re-reading,Ķ the eyes grow tiered to silly mistakes of this nature,Ķ I will post another part and let you guys have some more fun.


I hate my job.  I know all people say that, all people say they hate their job.  I mean come on let,Äôs face it, work sucks.  Now, I,Äôm not try,Äôn to minimize other people,Äôs pain but I guaranty my job sucks worse than just about ninety-nine point nine percent of the jobs in this world.  I mean being tied here to this desk has got to be one of the most painful experiences of my life and I ain,Äôt kidding.  As a matter of fact, I think that any job in this world even the slightest bit worse than mine is in my field of work.  I know what you,Äôre probably thinking right now, you,Äôre thinking ,Äúoh come on, how can your job possibly suck so bad.,Äù  In a world of corporate slave driving and downsizing how could it any worse than any other job.  I mean there are people tending sports shoe factories in third world countries for a nickel an hour right?  Well I imagine their job must be like torture but my job is torture.  No really, I mean literally.  When I said I was tied here to this desk I wasn,Äôt kidding.  I am literally tied down to this desk and I,Äôve been dealing with a fucking psycho for three days of hell.  He just got done cleaning up after his last victim and I imagine I,Äôm next.  God I hate Mondays. 
   I manage to lift my head up just enough to see how she is doing.  Don,Äôt see her breathing, must be dead.  Good for her though, better that way.  When I,Äôm done here I,Äôll come back for her and make sure she gets the proper passage to her final destination.  She is a saint really and though I know she couldn,Äôt fathom nor appreciate her value to my work, at the very least she deserves to be properly laid to rest after what this sick fuck put her through.  Finally he,Äôs done slobbering over her and dismounts.  Hope she was gone before he finished with her.
   ,ÄúOh yeah, she was a tasty bitch.  Yeah.,Äù He says licking her still and glazed eye ball.  ,ÄúTight as a virgin and the way she bleeds,Ķ,Äù he breathes heavily for a second, then takes a moment to wander over to me.  The solitary light bulb that hangs above illuminates the grayish pail skin sagging off his body; it is soaked in her blood.
   ,ÄúOh the way she bleeds,Ķ it,Äôs,Ķ fuck man it,Äôs like glass roses melted into wine.,Äù Poetic, but still fucking sick.
   Even in this compromised position, all I can concentrate on is the fact that it smells like cat piss in this little dungeon of his.  His long, stringy, greasy hair brushing over the back of my neck.  A few moments of this before hot wet and sticky soaks through the back of my expensive business shirt.  That,Äôs okay, I didn,Äôt pay for it, it was provided by my employer.  Really, I just don,Äôt want mister happy,Äôs love juices dripping all over me.
   ,ÄúFuck, oh yeah fuck me,Ķyeah, oh I can tell you like that don,Äôt you,Ķ,Äù taking this moment to gloat, he rubs himself on my back in his cum.
   ,ÄúYou sick fuck!!!,Äù I cry out, making sure to add the proper huffing with the undertones of helpless whimpering. ,ÄúI,Äôll fucking kill you!  You bastard!,Äù
   He,Äôs been eating up my performance for the last three days and it has been quite the show.  The ,Äúno don,Äôt hurt her,Äù and ,Äútake me instead, let them go,Äù plus the every so often the ,Äúyou sick fuck, I,Äôll kill you,Äù shpeal.  They all love killing the hero last.  The most valiant and brave is always the best to brake last.  They revel in it and rub it in your face like a beaten dog.  Oh look Mr. Hero, another victim you couldn,Äôt save.  The rest all die first because I pretend to give a shit about their lives.  Man I am such a fucking tool.  But hay, it works and it gets the job done.  Maybe one of these days I,Äôll get an academy award for my performance.  It will probably be an honorable mention when I,Äôm long dead and no one is left to praise my daily sacrifices,Ķ not that any one would in my line of work but that,Äôs the job.  They could at the very least pay me fore my work but then they would just say penance is my payment.
   ,ÄúYeah that,Äôs right talk dirty to me bitch!,Äù he cackles for a moment ,Äúfuck it gets me so hot, you talking like that.,Äù
   His clammy claw like hand gets the grip of death on my face.  Squeezing my cheeks he torques my head to look at him.
   ,ÄúI really don,Äôt dig guys my self but I think the master prefers them.,Äù  He shoots me a toothy smile of jagged yellow and brown rot.  ,ÄúOh and when the master is pleased,Ķ,Äù he whispers sensually through his cracking sores covered lips.  Fuck knows what I have contracted from this creep.  No matter, I,Äôll just have the apothecary take care of it when I get back.  First, I got to teach this little pervert a lesson.
   He unties the restraint that,Äôs been pinning me to this desk.  I take this moment to make a show of force; looking like I really want to escape.  Really I do but I,Äôm not finished just yet.  It,Äôs his master I have come for, not him.  Sending his ugly ass to hell will be a nice reward but his master is what I really want.  That,Äôs my job you see.  Get to the root of the cancer and kill it all.  Every little sycophant and hell spawn.  Can,Äôt leave this little nest without making sure another one won,Äôt just pop up in its place.  That,Äôs what we call little slices of haven like this, nests.  It,Äôs simple really, evil makes a nest and then spawns.  Must be handy having trained pets like me to do the dirty work of God without question.  Oh I,Äôm sure I could just leave but believe me there are worse things out there than my job; at least that,Äôs what I keep telling my self, it,Äôs one of the only reason I keep going.
   Happy drag,Äôs my chair away from the light, over the greasy damp cement floor, towards the dark undefined walls of his little dungeon.  I struggle some more for show and start to work my self up for the next step of removing this nest.  Happy is pleased with my performance and rewards it by rubbing himself while leering at me with his empty dead eyes.  A line of drool drizzles down the side of his cheek as he breathes heavily in and out with eager trembles.
   ,ÄúYeah that,Äôs right you fight, you all taste better when you do that.  He will fuck your soul then eat it.  And if he likes you he will fuck me next.  Yeah, fuck me hard with your soul dripping off his dick,Ķ yeah.,Äù My friend is obviously getting a little over excited now and turns to the dark empty tunnel behind him.  It looks like it opens into a cave about fifty yards up,Ķ no telling at this distance.
   ,ÄúYeah he,Äôll come, he likes you brave types.,Äù Staring into the tunnel, his voice becomes distant, hallow, even a little impassioned.  ,ÄúHe will come and make me whole.,Äù
   As my friend gets lost in the moment I take this opportunity to begin the final cleansing process.  Now believe it or not, this part hurts a hell of a lot more than most of the nest leading up to now and if you can,Äôt tell, it,Äôs been no trip to fantasy island.  Muscle by muscle a small steal jig works its way down the lining of my skin from the top of my shoulder down into the palm of my hand.   There, I begin to force it out, slicing the skin serrated inch after serrated inch.  A little Houdini trick to go along with all the miss direction.  I have gotten use to it by now but it still hurts.  It,Äôs not even the worst of the tool,Äôs I have on me right now, tucked some were under my skin.  Slowly I begin to cut the duct tape that has me bound to the chair. 
A hot breath of air rushes down the dark tunnel and my friend happy seems to be in some sort of trance.  He,Äôs mumbling something.  Bet if I could see his face, his eyes would be rolled into the back of his head,Ķ this job gets so fucking clich?©.  It,Äôs like scenes from a really bad gore movie.  The tape is almost done but I can,Äôt be too hasty.  I must make sure his master comes first before I act.  My weapon of choice, a carnafex, begins it make its way out of the other wrist.  Off down the tunnel something begins to stir.  I slip from my bonds and jamb the carnafex into the back of happy,Äôs scull at the point where it meets the neck.  The approach of his master becomes apparent as he collapses to the floor like a bag of drowned rats.  I drop to my knees and begin forcing my self to regurgitate a small cross and pestle in my stomach.  His masters approache hastens.  I take a vile of holy water from the cross and smash it over the pestle.  Down the tunnel I can make out the sight of his master,Ķ big mother fucker too.  Looks like a Dreton, maybe a Diedder: spider like demons with the bodies of men.  No it,Äôs some form of incubus so it must be a Dreton.  Those are Asian in origin I think,Ķ doesn,Äôt matter he,Äôs going back to hell any way.  I recite the incantation over the pestle.  I bless it.  The demon strikes.  The pestle ignites into a brilliant light.  The demon is paralyzed.  I strike with my carnafex.  The nightmare is over.  I hate Mondays.

[Messier Undertree]

That last paragraph (3 posts back) was pure Engrish gold

Fixed.

[P3nT4gR4m]

Hee hee hee  Spell checkers don,Äôt pick up on homonyms and bad word placement,Ķ  the biggest problem is that the whole piece is over 250 pages and after a while of reading and re-reading,Ķ the eyes grow tiered to silly mistakes of this nature,Ķ I will post another part and let you guys have some more fun.


I hate my job.  I know all people say that, all people say they hate their job.  I mean come on let,Äôs face it, work sucks.  Now, I,Äôm not try,Äôn to minimize other people,Äôs pain but I guaranty my job sucks worse than just about ninety-nine point nine percent of the jobs in this world.  I mean being tied here to this desk has got to be one of the most painful experiences of my life and I ain,Äôt kidding.  As a matter of fact, I think that any job in this world even the slightest bit worse than mine is in my field of work.  I know what you,Äôre probably thinking right now, you,Äôre thinking ,Äúoh come on, how can your job possibly suck so bad.,Äù  In a world of corporate slave driving and downsizing how could it any worse than any other job.  I mean there are people tending sports shoe factories in third world countries for a nickel an hour right?  Well I imagine their job must be like torture but my job is torture.  No really, I mean literally.  When I said I was tied here to this desk I wasn,Äôt kidding.  I am literally tied down to this desk and I,Äôve been dealing with a fucking psycho for three days of hell.  He just got done cleaning up after his last victim and I imagine I,Äôm next.  God I hate Mondays. 
   I manage to lift my head up just enough to see how she is doing.  Don,Äôt see her breathing, must be dead.  Good for her though, better that way.  When I,Äôm done here I,Äôll come back for her and make sure she gets the proper passage to her final destination.  She is a saint really and though I know she couldn,Äôt fathom nor appreciate her value to my work, at the very least she deserves to be properly laid to rest after what this sick fuck put her through.  Finally he,Äôs done slobbering over her and dismounts.  Hope she was gone before he finished with her.
   ,ÄúOh yeah, she was a tasty bitch.  Yeah.,Äù He says licking her still and glazed eye ball.  ,ÄúTight as a virgin and the way she bleeds,Ķ,Äù he breathes heavily for a second, then takes a moment to wander over to me.  The solitary light bulb that hangs above illuminates the grayish pail skin sagging off his body; it is soaked in her blood.
   ,ÄúOh the way she bleeds,Ķ it,Äôs,Ķ fuck man it,Äôs like glass roses melted into wine.,Äù Poetic, but still fucking sick.
   Even in this compromised position, all I can concentrate on is the fact that it smells like cat piss in this little dungeon of his.  His long, stringy, greasy hair brushing over the back of my neck.  A few moments of this before hot wet and sticky soaks through the back of my expensive business shirt.  That,Äôs okay, I didn,Äôt pay for it, it was provided by my employer.  Really, I just don,Äôt want mister happy,Äôs love juices dripping all over me.
   ,ÄúFuck, oh yeah fuck me,Ķyeah, oh I can tell you like that don,Äôt you,Ķ,Äù taking this moment to gloat, he rubs himself on my back in his cum.
   ,ÄúYou sick fuck!!!,Äù I cry out, making sure to add the proper huffing with the undertones of helpless whimpering. ,ÄúI,Äôll fucking kill you!  You bastard!,Äù
   He,Äôs been eating up my performance for the last three days and it has been quite the show.  The ,Äúno don,Äôt hurt her,Äù and ,Äútake me instead, let them go,Äù plus the every so often the ,Äúyou sick fuck, I,Äôll kill you,Äù shpeal.  They all love killing the hero last.  The most valiant and brave is always the best to brake last.  They revel in it and rub it in your face like a beaten dog.  Oh look Mr. Hero, another victim you couldn,Äôt save.  The rest all die first because I pretend to give a shit about their lives.  Man I am such a fucking tool.  But hay, it works and it gets the job done.  Maybe one of these days I,Äôll get an academy award for my performance.  It will probably be an honorable mention when I,Äôm long dead and no one is left to praise my daily sacrifices,Ķ not that any one would in my line of work but that,Äôs the job.  They could at the very least pay me fore my work but then they would just say penance is my payment.
   ,ÄúYeah that,Äôs right talk dirty to me bitch!,Äù he cackles for a moment ,Äúfuck it gets me so hot, you talking like that.,Äù
   His clammy claw like hand gets the grip of death on my face.  Squeezing my cheeks he torques my head to look at him.
   ,ÄúI really don,Äôt dig guys my self but I think the master prefers them.,Äù  He shoots me a toothy smile of jagged yellow and brown rot.  ,ÄúOh and when the master is pleased,Ķ,Äù he whispers sensually through his cracking sores covered lips.  Fuck knows what I have contracted from this creep.  No matter, I,Äôll just have the apothecary take care of it when I get back.  First, I got to teach this little pervert a lesson.
   He unties the restraint that,Äôs been pinning me to this desk.  I take this moment to make a show of force; looking like I really want to escape.  Really I do but I,Äôm not finished just yet.  It,Äôs his master I have come for, not him.  Sending his ugly ass to hell will be a nice reward but his master is what I really want.  That,Äôs my job you see.  Get to the root of the cancer and kill it all.  Every little sycophant and hell spawn.  Can,Äôt leave this little nest without making sure another one won,Äôt just pop up in its place.  That,Äôs what we call little slices of haven like this, nests.  It,Äôs simple really, evil makes a nest and then spawns.  Must be handy having trained pets like me to do the dirty work of God without question.  Oh I,Äôm sure I could just leave but believe me there are worse things out there than my job; at least that,Äôs what I keep telling my self, it,Äôs one of the only reason I keep going.
   Happy drag,Äôs my chair away from the light, over the greasy damp cement floor, towards the dark undefined walls of his little dungeon.  I struggle some more for show and start to work my self up for the next step of removing this nest.  Happy is pleased with my performance and rewards it by rubbing himself while leering at me with his empty dead eyes.  A line of drool drizzles down the side of his cheek as he breathes heavily in and out with eager trembles.
   ,ÄúYeah that,Äôs right you fight, you all taste better when you do that.  He will fuck your soul then eat it.  And if he likes you he will fuck me next.  Yeah, fuck me hard with your soul dripping off his dick,Ķ yeah.,Äù My friend is obviously getting a little over excited now and turns to the dark empty tunnel behind him.  It looks like it opens into a cave about fifty yards up,Ķ no telling at this distance.
   ,ÄúYeah he,Äôll come, he likes you brave types.,Äù Staring into the tunnel, his voice becomes distant, hallow, even a little impassioned.  ,ÄúHe will come and make me whole.,Äù
   As my friend gets lost in the moment I take this opportunity to begin the final cleansing process.  Now believe it or not, this part hurts a hell of a lot more than most of the nest leading up to now and if you can,Äôt tell, it,Äôs been no trip to fantasy island.  Muscle by muscle a small steal jig works its way down the lining of my skin from the top of my shoulder down into the palm of my hand.   There, I begin to force it out, slicing the skin serrated inch after serrated inch.  A little Houdini trick to go along with all the miss direction.  I have gotten use to it by now but it still hurts.  It,Äôs not even the worst of the tool,Äôs I have on me right now, tucked some were under my skin.  Slowly I begin to cut the duct tape that has me bound to the chair. 
A hot breath of air rushes down the dark tunnel and my friend happy seems to be in some sort of trance.  He,Äôs mumbling something.  Bet if I could see his face, his eyes would be rolled into the back of his head,Ķ this job gets so fucking clich?©.  It,Äôs like scenes from a really bad gore movie.  The tape is almost done but I can,Äôt be too hasty.  I must make sure his master comes first before I act.  My weapon of choice, a carnafex, begins it make its way out of the other wrist.  Off down the tunnel something begins to stir.  I slip from my bonds and jamb the carnafex into the back of happy,Äôs scull at the point where it meets the neck.  The approach of his master becomes apparent as he collapses to the floor like a bag of drowned rats.  I drop to my knees and begin forcing my self to regurgitate a small cross and pestle in my stomach.  His masters approache hastens.  I take a vile of holy water from the cross and smash it over the pestle.  Down the tunnel I can make out the sight of his master,Ķ big mother fucker too.  Looks like a Dreton, maybe a Diedder: spider like demons with the bodies of men.  No it,Äôs some form of incubus so it must be a Dreton.  Those are Asian in origin I think,Ķ doesn,Äôt matter he,Äôs going back to hell any way.  I recite the incantation over the pestle.  I bless it.  The demon strikes.  The pestle ignites into a brilliant light.  The demon is paralyzed.  I strike with my carnafex.  The nightmare is over.  I hate Mondays.

It's almost as if Clive Barker met Dr Seuss and then they gangraped a dyslexic person.

[Genocide Device]

It's almost as if Clive Barker met Dr Seuss and then they gangraped a dyslexic person.

I have learned from years of lexdysia that it exists for no other reason than for the amusement of others 

[P3nT4gR4m]

Agreed. It's kinda like tourettes in that sense.

[Cain]

I would suggest Open Office (Spell Checker) and more paragraphs instead of indentations.  Indents are much harder to read, especially on the internet.  Beyond that, I would also say read this in order to help give more fluidity and presence to your writing style: http://www.lifehack.org/articles/lifehack/fifty-50-tools-which-can-help-you-in-writing.html

Cain,
was also crap at writing, once upon a time.