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Messages - Doktor Howl

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Duluth, Minnesota.

Hello, Poptard.

God, no wonder he's so bored.

I'm gonna defer to Cain on this one. 

Duluth, Minnesota.

Hello, Poptard.

Plenty of exercise, fresh air, personally fulfilling. It's a good job.


:lulz: Hot diggity!

All that solar energy, and they're still running on fossil fuels? They should have known that was gonna catch up to them eventually. Electricity is only for the worthy.

On the plus side, The City is now perfect.  For me.

Climate change.  Pollution.  War.  The oceans turning to acid.  Resurgent fundamentalism.  All the myriad and horrible signs of our times...

...That don't apply to Tucson.  We are outside of the universe, but we aren't looking in.  No, we have our eyes peeled, while we scurry down the back alleys and into the shadows that give us at least the illusion of concealment.  You don't get caught out in the open here; at least not twice.

Nobody knows how it started, or exactly when.  There were scattered reports from horrified bystanders.  Something with curly hair and a nose ring, some said.  Other said it was a skinny guy with a Jew-fro.  Others said both.  All accounts agreed, however, with the horrific events.  Limbs scattered all over the place, horrible screams, and some lady yelling "DADDY, I WANT A PONY!"

City hall denied everything at first.  They said it was just meth heads or cannibal street urchins...But then something ate the mayor in his own limosine.  The state was contacted and...Well, the line of tanks and APCs in Reid Park, with the clouds of flies circling the hatches?  That tells you how well that worked out.

The radio stations continued broadcasting for a while, mostly tearful preachers bawling into the microphone.  The television only showed the opening credits to Three's Company on infinite repeat.  Logging onto the internet was impossible; smartphones just started hissing out a static-y voice that said things like "WE GOT ALL YOUR FRIENDS.  WE GOT ALL YOUR FAMILY.  SANCTU DEUS SANTORUM."

Those who were just paranoid enough hid for days.  Weeks.   When we came out looking for food, everyone else was gone.  No bodies or anything...Just weird grafitti saying things like "UNPLUG THE WORLD" and "THEY COME THROUGH THE POWERLINES".

My friend Ben said it was the end times, the rapture...And he used to be an atheist.  But he was torn to pieces by feral dogs last week.  Lucky bastard at least died clean.

I'm writing all this down in case this IS just a local event.  Listen to me.  Listen to me.  LISTEN. TO. ME.  When you hear a guy singing some weird "Goodbye, This is the End" song, or a woman's voice telling you WHAT, run.  Just run.  Don't look, and for God's sake, don't turn on anything powered by alternating current.  And as soon as you can, get out of Tucson.  There's nothing here for you.  It's like Silent Hill up in this bitch.


Literate Chaotic / Re: Don't Break The Chain
« on: Yesterday at 07:48:01 pm »
I'm going to do one more today, maybe, and then I'll pick it up again on Monday.

Aw.  I always get a warm, tingling feeling in my pance when you include me in a story.  It's sweet.

I have a very vivid mental picture of you while I wrote that. 

Part 1

EoC pushes the cart.  You are strapped to the cart.  The ball gag is strapped to your mouth.

"MMMM", you say, in a conversational tone.

"Yes, yes," he replies, "But your paperwork was not in order."


"Well, there's not much to be done for it now," he says, as he wrestles the cart up the church steps, "In you go."  He tips the cart foward, and you are upright, facing into the church. 

Oh, and you are also facing LMNO, who smiles at you.  It's a smile that has perhaps too much good cheer.

"Ho ho ho!" He says, "What have we got here?  Another miscreant, perhaps?  Another wretched soul that just couldn't quite manage the social compact?"

"Mmm  MMM Mmmm."

"Well, yes, of course you have an excuse.   Everyone has one of those."  He gets behind the cart and starts pushing you though the nave.  "You know, a few decades ago, I knew a guy like you."


"Didn't end well, I'm afraid.  He tripped on the curb and got sucked up through the bristles of a street-sweeping truck.  Clearly a case of God's will.  But anyway, he always said he was just trying to have a good time.  He kept trying to explain himself...Which never works, and is of course why you are wearing a gag."

"MMM mmm Mmm?"

"You'll find out.  I'd hate to ruin the surprise."

He wheels you through into the apse, and sets the cart upright again.  You watch as he gets a crowbar and starts prying at the flagstones.  He levers a large one up, exposing a narrow staircase. 


"No, there's no Nessies down there.  They're extinct, you may recall, if they ever existed at all."  He walks back behind the cart, and lever it forward.  "Grit your teeth." 

He shoves the cart down the stairs.  There is very little clearance...So little, in fact, that the cart doesn't flip over, as you bounce your way down. 

You emerge in a low-ceilinged crypt.  A tunnel slopes downward on the other side of the room.  A slender woman with long, straight hair walks into your field of view.

"Another dumbass, eh?  This is worse than San Antonio, anymore."


"You knew the risks when you took the job.  Hang on, I'm gonna have a drink."  She picks up a bag, and reaches into it.  Her hand emerges, holding a chem-light.  "What the fuck is this?" She asks, then leans past you toward the stairs.  "WHERE'S THE BOOZE, LMNO?  DO I LOOK LIKE THE KIND OF GAL WHO DRINKS CHEM-LIGHT JUICE?"

There is muffled laughter from up the stairs behind you.

"Oh," she says, "I'm gonna whup on that boy.  But first..."  She pushes the cart into the sloped tunnel. 

You begin to accelerate, as the cart rolls down the strangely cobweb-free tunnel.  Ahead of you, you can see a pinpoint of light, which begins to grow as you draw near.  You are going fast now, frighteningly fast, but you know you deserve this for your crimes.  For your inability to follow simple regulations.  For your big, fat, stupid mouth that you somehow never used to tell a bastard WHAT.

The light is blinding now, and you shoot out of the tunnel and into daylight.  You are rolling down a road, and slowing down as the wheels make a grinding noise on the blacktop.  You settle to a stop.

A blond lady walks up and loosens the straps binding you to the cart.

"Keep the gag in," she says, "Nobody wants to hear it." 

She helps you up, and you look around.  It's very bright outside, cruelly hot, and the street signs say "4th Avenue" and "Speedway".

She smiles at you.  It isn't a nice smile.

"Welcome home," she says.

Literate Chaotic / Re: Don't Break The Chain
« on: Yesterday at 06:54:58 pm »
So I recently learned that there's this thing called "Don't Break The Chain"

I ignored most of the details but the gist of it is that you make one tiny little bit of creativity every day, and try to not miss a day.

This bit of creativity can be anything, but obviously an Internet forum is best suited to writing. And whatever you make can be really, really small. If you're writing, it can be a sentence. It doesn't have to be good in the slightest, or related to whatever you made the previous day.

I'd like people to start using this thread to post the Links in their Chain, as it were. If something causes inspiration and you'd like to expand on something, make a new topic and link back to the post in this thread.

I do want to try this, but I'm on a bit of a hiatus from creativity, on account of burn out.


Being racist is wrong, but there nevertheless is a case for the idea that racial slurs are inherently funny.


I wish to be a cyborg.  I'd like a bionic butthole.

The most interesting aspect of this is that it could enable you to literally shit bricks. At speed.

I'm more interested in RANGE, but yeah.

Well, how far can a missile launcher throw something?

I hadn't considered putting rocket motors on the bricks...

What's a little extra internal machinery? Might as well go all out!

Gives new meaning to "BACKBLAST AREA CLEAR!"

[/army humor]

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