Rev Thwack's Story Corner

[Rev Thwack]

Someone help, Hugh is chasing me!

[Bella]

Welcome To

Rev. Thwack's Psychic Story Corner

Beaming stories to your brain 24/7, wether you like it or not.

No kidding!
Lucky for me, I like your stories.

[Irreverend Hugh, KSC]

Someone help, Hugh is chasing me!

Nut.

[Rev Thwack]

Someone help, Hugh is chasing me!

Nut.

Nope, I'm a rivet. people drive me thru hot steel. I keep your skyscrapers together.

[Irreverend Hugh, KSC]

Someone help, Hugh is chasing me!

Nut.

Nope, I'm a rivet. people drive me thru hot steel. I keep your skyscrapers together.

Oh. Well, carry on, then.

[Penumbral]

Kids like marry-go-rounds it like something they prefer cleaning to. Although there was jimmy why did two things with his life. He ate tuna fish. A lot of tuna fish. And I thought this was bad for him so I told Him I thought it was bad but jimmy just told me too go fuck up a tree witch made little to no sense to me. So I thought I would try. Needless to say it was an awkward mistake on my part. I even went as far s tying four balloons around my cock too see if I could fuck UP the tree well it was about that time a squirrel one of those ones that fly came out of no where and helped me first he taught me what the proper use of lubricant was and later how to go hip to hip so I would move up the tree while fucking. I still failed I came much before I mad it up the tree so I killed that fucking squirrel and sold him to my squirrel necrophiliac friend. And I started throwing brass rings at all those damn kids on marry-go-rounds.

[Rev Thwack]

Kids like marry-go-rounds it like something they prefer cleaning to. Although there was jimmy why did two things with his life. He ate tuna fish. A lot of tuna fish. And I thought this was bad for him so I told Him I thought it was bad but jimmy just told me too go fuck up a tree witch made little to no sense to me. So I thought I would try. Needless to say it was an awkward mistake on my part. I even went as far s tying four balloons around my cock too see if I could fuck UP the tree well it was about that time a squirrel one of those ones that fly came out of no where and helped me first he taught me what the proper use of lubricant was and later how to go hip to hip so I would move up the tree while fucking. I still failed I came much before I mad it up the tree so I killed that fucking squirrel and sold him to my squirrel necrophiliac friend. And I started throwing brass rings at all those damn kids on marry-go-rounds.

You know, this brought a tear to my eye. It's such a beautiful story.

[Bella]

Kids like marry-go-rounds it like something they prefer cleaning to. Although there was jimmy why did two things with his life. He ate tuna fish. A lot of tuna fish. And I thought this was bad for him so I told Him I thought it was bad but jimmy just told me too go fuck up a tree witch made little to no sense to me. So I thought I would try. Needless to say it was an awkward mistake on my part. I even went as far s tying four balloons around my cock too see if I could fuck UP the tree well it was about that time a squirrel one of those ones that fly came out of no where and helped me first he taught me what the proper use of lubricant was and later how to go hip to hip so I would move up the tree while fucking. I still failed I came much before I mad it up the tree so I killed that fucking squirrel and sold him to my squirrel necrophiliac friend. And I started throwing brass rings at all those damn kids on marry-go-rounds.

You know, this brought a tear to my eye. It's such a beautiful story.

It's lovely, isn't it? All about nature and frolicking with little animals.

PS: Penumbral......you've truly succeeded when you bring tears to the eyes of a sentimental guy like Thwack.

[Penumbral]

Im gonna write anouther story for here.

[Penumbral]

It was a gory site to behold, to my left was a body the face was burnt, and its chest cavity ripped open. Inside I could see the internal organs of this person decaying. The flesh had curled around the opening showing more decaying body. Next to that body lay another one not as old. It hadn’t decayed yet I could still see the terror in the man expression. He had bullet holes and knife wounds all over his body strategically placed in such a way so it read “I AM DEAD!”  There was blood flowing to the drain in the middle of the room, and leaking ever so slowly into somewhere. The ceiling was over run by spider webs. It was like this place was a spider metropolis. In the corner I could see a pile of tools. Not tools like one would normally think, but tools of torture. Blood splattered across most of them, and in one that looked like the end of a grapple I could see what looked like a heart still in it. There was gore all over the room. It was hard to step without having your foot end up in a gooey pile of some unknown substance. The small was the worst. It smelt like death like the smell you would get if you put your hand, barf, and beef jerky in a blender. I hated that smell. I hated my basement.

[Rev Thwack]

This is just psychotic enough to work.

[Penumbral]

: )

[Rev Thwack]

It was about nine years ago when I first noticed what would become a re-occuring rift in space and time. I was still in high school, and like most people would always carry a backpack with me. Now during the day I would always end up with bits and pieces of paper and other such stuff that I had no desire to hold on to, and the motivation to take it to the trash can was never there. Instead of just leaving them lying around or trying to remember to throw them away when leaving class, I would end up just shoving them in the front pocket of my backpack. The thought was always that I would go thru later on and empty out the pocket in the trash can when I left for the day or when I got home. As usual for a ferret or other such animal (even though I am not one), my attention and plans were always disrupted by something else shiny or moving. Needless to say, these bits of trash would build up over the year with me never emptying them out. I never thought much about this pocket, and alway just took it for granted that there was still always space in there for whatever I needed to get rid of that day. This is something that never would have come to my attention at all if it hadn't been brought up by one of my friends. We shared several classes together, which gave him plenty of opportunity to observe this collecting behavor. One day at the start of class, my friend asked to borrow a pen from me, his having exploded earlier that day due to a combination of boordom and gunpowder. I rummaged thru my bag, trying to see if I could come up with one for him. I didn't pay much attention to my searching the bag, and ended up reaching into the trash pocket, pulling out a pen that I vaugly remembered getting rid of about a month ago due to it being low on ink. As I turned to give him the pen, I was greeted by a combination of a look of disbelief and him expressing his surprise that I hadn't already emptied out the pocket. I sat for a minute and thought about my bag.... not only had I never emptied out the pocket, but this was also the same bag that I had used the year before. It started as a joke brought up by him due to his days playing D&D... maby the pocket was really a bag of holding. Both of us kind of laughed it off, but the idea of the pocket kind of stuck in my head for the next few days. Apparently the concept of the pocket plagued him too. A few days later we were sitting in class, when he brought up the idea of checking to see what all was in the pocket. Before he was even able to finish proposing the search, I had already begun the excevation. We managed to escape the attention of the rest of the class due to our location at the very back, but we did recieve the occasional glance of shock from the teacher as some of the larger objects were retrieved. For the next twenty minutes I removed various odds and ends from the pocket, leaving an ever growing pile on my desk. Paper, pens, notebooks, casset tapes, rulers, a stapler, and various other odds and ends were pulled from the depths of this wonderous pocket. Now I'm sure that most people out there have a basic knowledge of the layout on a typical backpack, and realize that the front pocket is also the smallest one, so I understand if you have a hard time believing what I am about to tell you, I know I did and I was there to see it. Once I finished pulling out most of what I saw in the pocket (I was a bit apprehensive of reaching blindly in due to not knowing what else I would find), I emptied the main pockets of the bag out onto the floor next to me, and proceded to put this trove of forgotten delights into the rest of the bag. Despite my efforts at making everything fit, I was left with a pile of debris about the size of two text books that wouldn't fit into the bag. This was something that I had no desire to try and figure out, so instead of investigating how it was able to hold so much, I just put everything back in the pocket... constantly doubting the fact that there was no problem with everything fitting and that the pocket itself remained flat and appeared empty when patted from the outside. I never bothered to try and repeat the experiment, and went on about my business as usual, placing whatever I was looking to get rid of in the pocket and enduring the occasional joke from my friends about my bag being a gateway to an alternate dimension or about some sort of creature living inside it. This phenominon is something that has remained with me thru several new bags and has yet to be explained by me or anyone else. Now the only reason that I mention this here is due to the fact that once again, it's time for what has become a yearly ritual for me. Tomorrow I will travel into the woods where I will dig a large hole in the ground, equip myself with a pair of thick rubber gloves and a face mask, and procede to empty the front pocket of my current bag into the hole. After all, by now most of the body parts in there should have decayed enough for them to be beyond identification.

[gnimbley]

It was about nine years ago when I first noticed what would become a re-occuring rift in space and time. I was still in high school, and like most people would always carry a backpack with me. Now during the day I would always end up with bits and pieces of paper and other such stuff that I had no desire to hold on to, and the motivation to take it to the trash can was never there. Instead of just leaving them lying around or trying to remember to throw them away when leaving class, I would end up just shoving them in the front pocket of my backpack. The thought was always that I would go thru later on and empty out the pocket in the trash can when I left for the day or when I got home. As usual for a ferret or other such animal (even though I am not one), my attention and plans were always disrupted by something else shiny or moving. Needless to say, these bits of trash would build up over the year with me never emptying them out. I never thought much about this pocket, and alway just took it for granted that there was still always space in there for whatever I needed to get rid of that day. This is something that never would have come to my attention at all if it hadn't been brought up by one of my friends. We shared several classes together, which gave him plenty of opportunity to observe this collecting behavor. One day at the start of class, my friend asked to borrow a pen from me, his having exploded earlier that day due to a combination of boordom and gunpowder. I rummaged thru my bag, trying to see if I could come up with one for him. I didn't pay much attention to my searching the bag, and ended up reaching into the trash pocket, pulling out a pen that I vaugly remembered getting rid of about a month ago due to it being low on ink. As I turned to give him the pen, I was greeted by a combination of a look of disbelief and him expressing his surprise that I hadn't already emptied out the pocket. I sat for a minute and thought about my bag.... not only had I never emptied out the pocket, but this was also the same bag that I had used the year before. It started as a joke brought up by him due to his days playing D&D... maby the pocket was really a bag of holding. Both of us kind of laughed it off, but the idea of the pocket kind of stuck in my head for the next few days. Apparently the concept of the pocket plagued him too. A few days later we were sitting in class, when he brought up the idea of checking to see what all was in the pocket. Before he was even able to finish proposing the search, I had already begun the excevation. We managed to escape the attention of the rest of the class due to our location at the very back, but we did recieve the occasional glance of shock from the teacher as some of the larger objects were retrieved. For the next twenty minutes I removed various odds and ends from the pocket, leaving an ever growing pile on my desk. Paper, pens, notebooks, casset tapes, rulers, a stapler, and various other odds and ends were pulled from the depths of this wonderous pocket. Now I'm sure that most people out there have a basic knowledge of the layout on a typical backpack, and realize that the front pocket is also the smallest one, so I understand if you have a hard time believing what I am about to tell you, I know I did and I was there to see it. Once I finished pulling out most of what I saw in the pocket (I was a bit apprehensive of reaching blindly in due to not knowing what else I would find), I emptied the main pockets of the bag out onto the floor next to me, and proceded to put this trove of forgotten delights into the rest of the bag. Despite my efforts at making everything fit, I was left with a pile of debris about the size of two text books that wouldn't fit into the bag. This was something that I had no desire to try and figure out, so instead of investigating how it was able to hold so much, I just put everything back in the pocket... constantly doubting the fact that there was no problem with everything fitting and that the pocket itself remained flat and appeared empty when patted from the outside. I never bothered to try and repeat the experiment, and went on about my business as usual, placing whatever I was looking to get rid of in the pocket and enduring the occasional joke from my friends about my bag being a gateway to an alternate dimension or about some sort of creature living inside it. This phenominon is something that has remained with me thru several new bags and has yet to be explained by me or anyone else. Now the only reason that I mention this here is due to the fact that once again, it's time for what has become a yearly ritual for me. Tomorrow I will travel into the woods where I will dig a large hole in the ground, equip myself with a pair of thick rubber gloves and a face mask, and procede to empty the front pocket of my current bag into the hole. After all, by now most of the body parts in there should have decayed enough for them to be beyond identification.

Brings a tear to my eye.

[Malaul]

OH THWACK!!!
its SOOO good to see you back here!!!!