A challenge

[Minxys]

Let's play a game.

Yesterday, my friend told me to write about something. I asked for some direction, and he said clouds, so I wrote all this.

My favorite ones were out that day. The ones that cover the whole sky. Whenever I step outside those days, I always amble slowly, because everything feels different. Time feels different. The color green feels different. I feel different. I always feel sanguine, and walk around with a demure smile beneath my umbrella. Very little can wake me from dreamland on those days, because I spend the whole day walking around in it. I listen to different music. It's as if another person stepped out of my skin to play for the day. I always feel creativity rumbling in my nerves on those days. More fascinating to me than anything is my romantic flair that is always drawn to the rain. Somehow, I half expect the beginning of some love story to unfold in front of me while I'm prancing around. Maybe the prancing and giddiness stems from the fact that San Diego only gets a few inches of rain within the span of a couple weeks annually. I guess that would give rain some sort of allure as a special event which would warrant dancing and glowing from the cheeks. Maybe it is that excitement in itself which mimics the feeling of falling in love. Maybe this is all just a throwback to when humans once gave their deference to their terrestrial mother upon just another sign of how she breathes life in us all.

So I challenge the next poster to write about something that they could never bear to part with, but if they post, they have to suggest something for the next person to write, and see where this all takes us.

[P3nT4gR4m]

bawwwwww stop treating n00bs, pinealists, furries, gothtards, etc like that it's making me vag all sandy!

[Manta Obscura]

So I challenge the next poster to write about something that they could never bear to part with, but if they post, they have to suggest something for the next person to write, and see where this all takes us.

Testicles are sacred, and I love mine dearly.

Though they are slightly silly-looking, hanging like flesh-colored fruit from a sideways tree, they nonetheless inspire some of the greatest effects the body can muster. The hormones that pulse from them enliven me, give me sexual rigor and make me feel giddy inside. During those midnight moments in my marriage bed, they help to bring to life the intimacy that my lover and I feel for each other. They are one half of the wellspring of conception, the giver of life to the progeny of our loins, just as we all, too, sprang in half from the loins of our fathers.

When I am old and gray they will shrivel, surely, but they will remain, ever-vigilant reminders of the energy, passion and sexuality I once knew. And as I slip into the endless coma of death, surrounded by my yet-unborn sons, I will go with no one else but my boys.

~The End~

The next poster has to write about the flu, from the germ's point of view.

[Payne]

We must seize the means of production from the tyrannical macrocosmical entities! We must sneak into their blood streams, and into their lungs and their noses also!

We must attack the white blood cells, and we must resist the anti-'flu medication they may try to rain down upon us!

We must create a dictatorship of the microcosmical, and spread these words to all other microscopic entities throughout the world!

VIRUSES OF THE WORLD, UNITE! YOU HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE BUT YOUR INCREDIBLE POINTLESSNESS!

nt: An artistic appreciation of that green mold you get on a loaf of bread that you are sure you bought only yesterday, but is obviously well past it's sell by date.