I don't think I ever told any of you this, but it was a rather interesting chain of events that brought me here. I had been sitting at work doing my daily routine of downloading porn and flogging the log, when this beautiful woman walked into my office. Now I kind of expected her to start complaining about the fact that there was a picture of some 12 year old asian girl getting a horse dick up the ass on the monitor and my wedding tackle held firmly in my hand. I guess her 90-something years on this planet were interesting ones, for instead of telling me how it was wrong for me to be engaged so, she decided break out some camping equipment she had and started cooking pancakes over a gas stove. Well, if there is anything in this world that I enjoy more than a good wank to underage beastiality, it's pancakes. The smell was completly overpowering... I forgot what I had been doing and turned around, standing too fast without letting go and removing my rod for about the 7th time that week. Needless to say, I was a bit miffed because I knew that I had used the last of my superglue to stick the cat to the celing. With a shrug I threw my dis-member over my back where it glanced off of my lube bottle that had been sitting on top of my monitor. It took a few minutes, but the goo must have shorted out something because the montior imploded with a deafining lack of noise. I never noticed the fire that started engulfing my desk (and french poodle pieces) due to the wonderful taste of the pancakes that I was enjoying. I don't think I ever would have noticed it, if it hadn't been for the fact that the 90-something year old woman ran out of the office screaming about the fire just as I finished a pancake. I instantly considered it my civic duty to track her down and make sure she was ok, since she had taken the pancakes with her. Using my keen sense of smell that I had inherited from my sheepdog father, I followed the 90-something year old woman around the block and down the street, placing me about two blocks away when the first crate of grenades exploded back in my office. It didn't take much longer for me to catch up to her, and with a mighty yell I landed on her back, knocking her to the ground and breaking her left hip. With shouts of "Gimme the pancakes, Bitch!" and "Cook if you want to live!", I continued my morning breakfast of pancakes cooked over a gas stove by a terrified and broken 90-something year old woman. I was completly enjoying my pancakes, and had no moral problems with killing the cop that came to see if we were alright... after all, he should have known better than to ask for a pancake. Well, a few gunfights and many pancakes later, the 90-something year old woman ran out of pancake batter, so of course she had to die. I kind of wandered the street alone for a bit since everyone was either dead or running away. It didn't bother me that I was alone... it kind of felt right that I should be feeling a longing for companionship as well as the longing for pancakes so recently cooked by a 90-something year old woman who is now slumped over dead in the street from a few dozen gunshot wounds to the head.
I still miss those pancakes to this day.
Thwak, you are truly my hero!
This is such a lovely, heart - warming story.
It has everything a zombie could ask for.......blood and gore, and pancakes, and poodles, and body parts all over the place, and more pancakes, and computers, and fire, and pancakes, and mayhem and gunfire and pancakes. I note you also threw in some porn just for yourself. :twisted:
PS: We always wondered what happened to Granny. Her pancakes were wonderful, weren't they? Sigh........
PPS: What flavor was the syrup?
Maple syrup... and only a light brushing at that... didn't want to distract from the taste of the pancakes.
Oh, and I might put up another one of my little life adventures later tonight... depends on how long it takes me to slip away from the ward.
Mmmmmmm.........maple is the best. Butter too I assume?
I await your next story with antici..........pation.
Quote from: SssBella, Oracle of DoomI await your next story with antici.....
Say it! Consti
Quote.....pation.
Thank you! :D
Oh Man........ I really walked into that one. :roll:
I sssssoooooo should have known better with the Karma Manager around.
Publish.
Now.
I agree with the rev, Rev. You should publish.
PS: Where's the promised sequel?
sorry, my brain has kind of been on vacation to Haiti for a bit. I had to go thru and steal a seaplane (to keep from being a pirate of course) to fly there and get it back. Of course the fact that as soon as I landed a freaking shark decided to take a bite out of the tail of the plane didn't help me to get off the island, so I ended up having to steal a boat after all. I started to make my way back, but the whole pirate thing overcame me and the next thing I knew I was naked and upside-down in a keg of rum. Well, It's kind of needless to say, but I didn't exactly take a direct route back after that, since the rum was still with me (and yes, just in case you were wondering, it was the dark side of the rum). I sailed around for a bit, hunting humpback whales with dynamite enhanced harpoons, but after the 4th time completly pissing off a greenpeace boat and having to turn the harpoon on them, I kind of got tired of that whole route. I'm still not for sure what happened next (besides the fact that I found a second, third, fourth, and fifth barrel of rum), but when I woke up in China I was wearing chaps and a barret, not to mention the sore ass. Since I was always fond of chinese food, I decide to pay a little homage to Hugh and I tried to eat the whole country. I guess I shouldn't have started with that nice 19 year old virgin, because the next thing I knew I was being chased by a bunch of angry villagers who where shouting something that I couldn't understand. They only chased me for a few miles, so nothing bad happened there, which is a good thing for them because after about a mile after they gave up I managed to find this nice little military base filled with people that were not quite for sure to do about someone running at them and constantly changing colors. For some reason they decided that the best course of action was to fire at me, but as we all know that is a giant mistake because you should never fire at a being that can move in more than three dimensions. Was kind of interesting watching their reactions as I seemingly vanished from where I had been only to appear a few feet away and still closing. I decided to take pity on them and instead of killing them all in many different ways that are too horrible to describe here, I just left behind my last piece of prarie squid bait... was even funnier watching them react to the hordes that decended upon them that is was to watch them see my antics. For some reason the whole thing reminded me of a week from next tuesday, so I went forward to pay a little visit to Penumbral and warn him about the ensuing case of VD... oh wait... now I know how he already knew about it... damn... should have realized that sooner, huh? Oh well.... the rest of how I got back here to Korea is kind of dull and booring, except for that little bit about the thanksgiving float and the sweedish cheerleaders, but I don't think everyone needs to know why they are having a hard time finding jello at the store. Oh well. I guess I will get a follow up to my first story done soon. It's good to be back everyone.
Hey guys. sorry I havn't been able to post anything here for a bit... been gone lately due to some unforseen circumstances involving aliens and the Bush twins. I would go into it, but I have to go get to the doctors now and see if he has anything for this rash. I will post another story soon.
Oh, you want another story do you? I see how it is. No "where have you been Thwack" or "You ok Thwack?" just right to the "give us the stories Thwack"... well, how about I sit you down right here and give you a little story... a story of your demise! Bet you would like that one, huh? Well how about if I just came over to your house and acted it out for you! Still like it then? thought not. Fuck off!
Hey all. Nice to see that people enjoyed the first one. Should have another up soon... just been a bit busy lately so I havn't had the time to sit down and write something. You should see me on more often these next few weeks. Don't worry, working on a good one for you all now.
Oh sure, sit around and poke fun of the guy with no writing skills. You know, I never asked for anyone to tell me it was good (trust me, I know it wasn't), but you didn't have to be mean and make fun of me for it. I was just trying to do my best to entertain you and maby bring a little bit of laughter into your day. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to have someone make fun of you when you are trying to do your best? Just because I might seem joyfull and maby a bit out there doesn't mean that I don't have feeling too.
heh... heheheh.... here we go.... heheh..
POOP!
heheheh.
But the rat is already dead, why do you want me to hit it again?
is that martha stewart in teh space suit in your avatar?
no, Robert Redford in in there alone.
Glad you're back and posting stories again, Thwak.
Thought about you today when I was eating my pancakes.
Quote from: Rev ThwackOh, you want another story do you? I see how it is. No "where have you been Thwack" or "You ok Thwack?" just right to the "give us the stories Thwack"... well, how about I sit you down right here and give you a little story... a story of your demise! Bet you would like that one, huh? Well how about if I just came over to your house and acted it out for you! Still like it then? thought not. Fuck off!
TELL US ANOTHER F*CKING STORY, OR ELSE!
(http://www.handykult.de/plaudersmilies.de/screams.gif) (http://www.handykult.de/plaudersmilies.de/screams.gif) (http://www.handykult.de/plaudersmilies.de/screams.gif)
Once upon a time The Good Reverend Roger was sitting around asking me to tell him a story, but he forgot to take his pipe out of his mouth before he asked. A man passing by saw this, and asked the good reverend "what the hell are you doing with a pipe? don't you know that as far as style goes, they went out in the '50s, and they are so incredably bad for your health it's completly insane. Hell, it's bad for my health. There you are, killing yourself with all those carcenogenic chemicals contained in the tobacco, which is all fine and dandy because I like all true christians don't care if my fellow man lives or dies, but you are also blowing out foul clouds of smoke that were proven in a governmet study, that I still tout the results of although later proven to be false, is worse for me than you, unlike the smog that comes from my gas guzzeling SUV which only kills the environment and slowly dooms my future lineage. You should be ashamed." before walking away to go get the cops to do something about this injustice. The Good Reverend Roger, being the hero of this soon to be violent story, pulled a rubber chicken from thin air and proclamed, "What the fuck? I was reaching for an uzi, not a rubber chicken." Well, not one to let good comedic value go to waste, the good reverend drew a complicated symbol on the ground, placed the chicken in the center of the symbol, and started chanting in a ancient and mysterious language. The rubber chicken, like all rubber chickens placed in the center of a complicated symbol and chanted over in an ancient and mysterious language, slowly started to move and grow. "Bitchin," exclaimed The Good Reverend Roger, as he took a few steps back to watch the ensuing fun. The chicken continued it's slow growth and began to peck at the ground looking for seeds on which to snack. The more the chicken grew, the more people started to stare, uttering such things as "Holy Fuck!" and "Oh Shit! We're all dead!" The good reverend was overjoyed by the amusing antics of those watching and running from the chicken, considering their screams and cries of terror to be the sweetest music he ever heard, and so he started to hum a little song to himself. The evil no-smoking nazi asshole had just managed to find a police officer and tell him all about the man who was smoking a pipe just to give him cancer. The nice police officer, who was currently fearing death at the hands of a giant rubber chicken and also happened to enjoy a nice cigar every now and then, knew all about these evil no-smoking nazi type of people, and knowing how persistant they can be, drew his pistol and shot the no-smoking nazi in the face. The giant rubber chicken, being a chicken and quite skittish, was afraid of the gunfire and tried to fly away. The giant rubber chicken couldn't fly though, and instead crashed into the ground, vanishing in a puff of smoke. This upset The Good Reverend Roger, until he noticed the blood on the ground and the police officer. The Good Reverend Roger walked away singing a happy little tune to himself knowing that his adventures with the chicken would soon be turned into a story by Rev Thwack and he would be able able to relive the fun time he had.
The End.
Now this is the perfect antidote to a depressing health club full of perky, stupid, chattering, women dressed in pink sweat pants and little white tennis shoes. :twisted:
Give me some good old fashioned blood and mayhem over bright shiny smiles at 4:00 a.m. any damn day of the week. Care if I print this up and pass them out to the 'girls' tonight?
It's like anything I write... I don't care what anyone does with it, as long as whatever it might end up in is also not copyrighted. Always been of the belief that information wants to be free, unless it it handcuffed to a bedpost and being tickle tourted by three buxom blonds from sweeden. Information is kinky like that.
Well, trussst me......there were no buxom swedish blondes there this morning......although there were several bored housewives (a particular weakness of yours, I believe).
I think someone owes it to this information to set it free. Maybe one of my pink suited victims will have her eyes opened.....or not. In any case, it will be fun. Thanks.
any time. of course, I think that the only eye-opening that can happen due to something I wrote being read is the whole stare in disbelief thing. :shock:
Quote from: Rev Thwackany time. of course, I think that the only eye-opening that can happen due to something I wrote being read is the whole stare in disbelief thing. :shock:
Shock and disbelief are beautiful things......and who knows? It may shut them up long enough for me to work out in peace. With any luck, they will permanently shun me. :twisted:
hmm... I think some of my writings from my web site can accomplish that.
I concur. I've been to your website, remember?
yep. Oh, and I have a bunch of new stuff to put up on it. Most likely will not be up until about thanksgiving or so, but will let you know when it is.
kewl 8)
Quote from: SssBella, Oracle of DoomI concur. I've been to your website, remember?
Where is it?
It's the cans... they're conspiring again. There are 4 of them on my desk... well, 5 of them, but the main 4 have shuned the diet coke can. That doesn't matter though.
I don't know what it is that they are planing. I know it's not going to be something good... it never is when the welch's grape cans are involved. Last time they tied me up while I was asleep. I can only sit and wonder in horror as to what they are gunning for this time. You might ask, "why don't you just throw them out?", but it's not that easy. It's never that easy. You see, the trash can helps them. He's the strongest of the bunch, and that's why they are not with him right now. It's a catch-22.... throw them into the garbage can and hope for the best, or leave them here on my desk where they are weaker, but have less work to do. Plus I now have to see them. It starts to get to you. At first, you think it's just your imagination... that can was always facing that direction, the pepsi can was always behind the welch's can. Then you start to realize that you are not just imagining this. It would be easier that way. I can deal with halucinations, they never seem to get to me. But not the cans. I never know what is going to get me first, them, or the nervous waiting... sitting and watching for them to make their move. It's almost enough to make you break down in tears.
The minutes are creeping by slower and slower. This happens every time. The more it starts to get to me, the longer time takes. I only have one hour left before I go... One hour until I can put the cans in the dumpster and be safe. They know this too. Sometimes they wait longer than others, pushing their luck that I am not going to leave early. There have even been a few times that I have managed to escape them that way. I can't count on it though. If I let my guard down, they will make their move. More and more I understand how an inmate on death row must feel... not knowing when the time will come, but knowing that it's not far off. It's never far off, not with the cans. Both of the Welch's cans are empty... their tops broken and their fluids drained. I know that's why they are after me. Tonight, I'm not that worried about them. Tonight the bad ones are the Pepsi cans. They've been broken, they've been drained... I've been using them as spit cups for my dip. I can hear the Pepsi cans tonight. They are usualy all quiet. They plan in almost pure silence. Not tonight though... tonight they want me to know they are coming. I close my eyes to blink and they are closer. I can almost smell their aluminum bodies now. I wish they woud just go ahead and get it over with. My hands are shaking to the point that I can barely type. All I want is for them to leave me alone, but they won't. Tonight, the cans will have their way.
:shock: :shock: :shock:
I'm in love with that story. It will be my next monologue.
I was in your secound story. : ) : )
I'm in love with this story, too. Empty pepsi cans scare me, and cans with tobacco spit are the worst. I shudder to imagine what they do to you, Thwak.
No pancakes???
not all of my stories involve pancakes... just the ones that you like the best.
Well folks, here it is. I have managed to go a day where althought I was active on the forum, I didn't post a story. Looks like today is either a bright or bleak day for Thwackkind, depending entirely of course on how you view such ventures. Yep.... a interesting day indeed.
Kind of surprised I was able to pull it off. Seems like every time I am here I keep hearing that call... the people (well, some of them anyway) want my stories, part of me wants to give my stories, hell, I'm starting to think that the program that runs the board want's them too. It's times like these that a man starts to feel loved... well, that and pressured into something that he used to just do for the hell of it. So, with all this call for them, how did I manage not to submit? Funny you should ask that. You see, althought I was checking up on what was being said and contributing the occasional word association tonight, I was also spending a good bit of my time doing actual work. Yes, and during this work I found out a rather interesting fact. Now, I know that some of you might not believe this, and I know that there are some of you that won't believe that I didn't already know this, but tonight I discovered that if you take an ordinary hamster, give it a frontal lobotomy, inject it with nanobots designed to alter it's DNA in a specific patern, inject it with a slightly radioactive mixture of Vitamin B12 and Red Bull, then wait a few minutes, the hamster will start to grow. Now, keep in mind that this is not considered a dangerous experiment since the hamster has been lobotomized and hence has absolutly no ill will twords anything, except maby the occasional snack. The hamster did continue to grow a bit longer than I expected, which left me with the unenviable task of having to explain to my boss why what used to be my office, along with the rest of the building, is now nothing more than crushed rubble shreaded into nicely small bits that are being used as hamster bedding material. I don't think that he bought my story about aliens from the vast unknown marauding as renegade geneticist, but that didn't matter for long as he was standing in a rather unopportune location and I didn't feel like digging thru the mound of fecal matter that he found himself under.
You know, althought I felt a strong affection for the hamster before, I think I truly love him now that he has buried my boss under a pile of shit. I will always miss the hamster, but at least he tasted good.
I had a hamster once, but all he did was chew his way through the wires of his cage, and escape into a hole in the wall where he lived for quite some time. He finally came out .......and the cat ate him. Very sad.....and not nearly as good an ending as the story above. :cry:
PS: I will stop clamoring for stories now in the hopes that Thwak will continue to churn them out for the pure joy of it, instead of feeling pressured to do so.
Quote from: Rev Thwackheh... heheheh.... here we go.... heheh..
POOP!
heheheh.
Two words...lemon sours
Quote from: SssBella, Oracle of DoomPS: I will stop clamoring for stories now in the hopes that Thwak will continue to churn them out for the pure joy of it, instead of feeling pressured to do so.
Doesn't bother me, was just having a bit of a bad night and ended up taking it out on requests for more stories. I'll try not to do that in the future... oh, and I will try to getting around to putting up another story. I know that I've only put two up so far. I need to stop coming up with excuses as to why I am not posting more stories, huh?
what the hell is this shit? i have no idea what kind of a reverend you are, but you write like you are on drugs. can't believe they would let you preach somewhere. i know my church would run you out in a heartbeat.
:shock:
Ok, whatever asshat did this better hope that I don't find out.... I swear I will sick Hotsuma on you faster than you can blink.
:shock:
ARRHG!!!!!!!!
No matter what I do, I now have that fucking post stuck in my thread! My story corner has been corrupted. The taint of redneck has crept in. This is an evil that cannot be expunged, and what was once my holy ground has been defiled.
For you, my dear readers, I will do my best to carry on, despite this.... A long road waits before me now.
I only hope that I will be able to once again transform this into the nirvana it was.
Quote from: Billy Bobwhat the hell is this shit? i have no idea what kind of a reverend you are, but you write like you are on drugs. can't believe they would let you preach somewhere. i know my church would run you out in a heartbeat.
Wait 'til you get a load of me...
Funny thing is, I *AM* a Reverend in real life.
I'm a fully credentialed Minister in two different churches.
I suppose that it isn't worth pointing out that I am a Pope, is it?
Quote from: Guido FinucciI suppose that it isn't worth pointing out that I am a Pope, is it?
BLOW IT OUT YOUR MITRE, PAPIST!
(http://websmileys.bei.t-online.de/em118.gif)
(a little gear goes click in Riff's head)
Mitre saw! Saaaay...
well, this is disturbing. I know that I have been gone on vacation and havn't logged in for the last month, but at least someeone could have tried to keep my thread alive. Makes me feel like my stories are unwanted and unwelcome here. Guess I will just go sulk in a corner for now.
Wait, that's right, I enjoy torture. I guess I will have to write a new story soon to threaten you all with, huh? Well then, expect one in a day or two, and fear it's coming.
Well, don't pout long, because I've been sitting here waiting for another story.
My fingernails are worn down from the drumming them impatiently
on the computer desk and/or biting them in frustration at such
a long wait between stories.
As for the thread......no point in whining about the lack of stories to someone who isn't even here, Thwak. :roll:
well, yes, but I'm out of pudding, so I have to find something to do.
No pudding? I'm sorry.
But at least you're back and in story telling mode.....I hope.
PS: What flavor pudding are you out of?
all of them. I miss that skunk flavord too... Do you have any idea how hard it is to find?
I guess I'm spoiled, Thwak.
The skunks just seem to show up around here
every evening or so and offer themselves up as pudding ingredients.
It's the damn wild chocolates and butterscotches I have a hard time running down.
Sigh.....we have to find you some pudding to put you in the mood to write more stories.
well, I'm just about to head to lunch, so maby I can find some there.
cool 8)
*Bella crosses her fingers and hopes Thwak finds pudding is being served for lunch today.*
You know, there are times in every man's life where he has to stop and ask himself if he is doing the right thing. For some of us, this is a common occurance... for others, not so common. I was always one of those that very rarely felt the need to ask myself that. I usualy keep a strong set of morals and self guidelines that help me know that whatever I am doing, it's the right answer. I feel that I am a good judge of what is and is not right, and pretty much never feel the need to question myself or my choices. The other night was an exception. Everything started pretty normaly... the bodies had been properly dried before I brought them up from the basement, the chardoney had been properly chilled, the stereo was playing Frank Sinatra as a comfortable listening volume... all in all it was looking like a nice evening. I wasn't bothered when the proximity alarms started going off... I had been expecting the police for some time, and the claymores that I had lined the driveway with took care of that problem and left me with some time to prepare for the further annoyance that the police would try to provide. I turned on the rest of the automated defenses and prepared for the fun. I knew all of this was right... it's hard to doubt what you are doing when you have been directed by the voice of God. The full assault took place about a hour after the police had first tried the raid. Two armored SWAT vans made it past the automated turrets mounted in front of the house, but the eight squad cars that were following were not as lucky. As for the people trying to repell down onto the roof... well, one of their helicopters was taken out by a rocket turret and a few others quickly learned what electrocution feels like, but all in all they fared much better than those trying by ground. Eventualy the survivors found their way inside. As they started working their way thru the house and the myriad of traps their numbers shrank even further, and by the time they reached the outer door for my living room their were only three left. The look of absolute terror on their faces when they realized that they were locked in a room with five adult lions was priceless. I amused myself by trying to predict who would die whenever one of the lions turned their attention to the group. When the first lion died I started to think. I had never ment to cause the death of an innocent creature. This was one of the only traps that I had devised without direction from God, and was the only trap that invovled a living, thinking creature. When I saw the two remaining cops regroup and start to fire at the lions I couldn't help but doubt myself. These beautiful and majestic creatures were being slaughtered, and all because of me. A choice that I had made was costing their lives and destroying their families. Never again would their young see them... and it was all my fault. I couldn't watch anymore and turned off the monitors. The whole time I was collecting the bodies of the cops that had died in the assault my mind kept returning to the images of intelligent life being extinguised. My nomaly cheerfull task of cutting off the heads of the invaders and preparing them to be sent by FedEx to their homes was plauged by thoughts of how I had caused pain and suffering to the mates and young of those five that had died because of me. Never before had I doubed my actions so, and never again would I use an intelligent creature in my actions. It was hard, but I was finaly able to tear my thoughts away from what I had done once God started telling me about his next plan for me and the endless number of Taco Bell workers who had wronged him... I can tell you now, no creature will be harmed to bring about their death.
Hurray! They must have been serving pudding for lunch.
I am content now that there is a new story. 8)
PS: I always knew Taco Bell was an evil place.
no, they didn't have pudding. I just managed to get over the loss of mine.
I'm impressed that you were able to overcome this horrendous obstacle and write another story for us.
well, ya know, some things just have to be done. On that note, I'm off to go kick a puppy.
Dude you are one of my heros.
I don't have role modles. I'm to original for that.
But you have made a place in the place I have for people that I think are worth spending time studying.
Thank you!
I'm not the type of person someone should study... more like the type of person someone should either fear, pity, or psychoanalyze.... maby all three. Do appriciate the sentiment though. Now I would like to see what would have happened if I had turned that in to one of my english teachers when we were doing creative writing. Always was amazed at just how religious a 12th grade english teacher could be. I doubt that she would get the full depth of it, but it would be wonderfull to have seen the reaction. Now I just need to start writing at a higher education level.... time to go back to school.
i used to scare my creative writing/english teachers.
strangely enough my history teachers loved my creative writing assignments(in historical contexts).
ah yes, pwnage at the academic level. so increasingly simple, i had to pwn myself.
Ok, sorry all. There was going to be another new story tonight, but I started to overthink it and killed my creative process. Guess that will teach me to try and use such terrible cruches as plot and development. I guess I will have to go thru and swill a bottle of aftershock then get on the forum so that I can leave you all with a nice little break from the holiday season. I find that a nice chuck of violence and oddities can help to releave the stress of dealing with stressed out norms this time of year. Sure, a nice grenade launcher or machine gun will also help, but reading is a lot less likely to help you find your way to a nice room made with plenty of steel. Of course, this is always the time of year that my reality reaches it's greatest deviations from the group reality that most people trap themselves in. Of course, that's not always a good thing... last year was filled with sky-diving turtles, and even to today I still get a headache whenever I see a turtle. Guess it doesn't always help to be insane.
Quote from: ThwakGuess it doesn't always help to be insane.
It sure doesn't hurt either. :twisted:
Or maybe it does hurt, and I'm just too insane to notice.
Quote from: Rev ThwackI guess I will have to go thru and swill a bottle of aftershock
::passes you bottle of rum::
make it a pirate story
Sorry, but it doesn't work that way my dear. I have to just ride the waves on what comes to me... can't force it to be something it doesn't want to. I figure I never write the stories myself, I just pick them up the same way I pick up other stuff (ask Bella if clarification is needed).
hmm.... Ask Bella..... I think we might have a good new section here, should she be willing. What say you Bella, ready to prove that you are more twisted than Dear Abby could ever imagine?
O hear ya on the writing thing
I need to let it come to me, I cant force it
If I CAN then the story is just flat
no one needs that
riding the chao with a freind or two, my mind leaked into your mind leaked into her mind leaked upon the ever expanding esperantoing elucidation that was/is/will be the here and now and there and yesterday and on our way from whence we came is where we're going, lacking hindsight but full of foresight, this doesn;t work but that certainly does.
our stroy begins at the end of the epic. george had been there at teh end, watchign as the magnamious weeny hero saved the day after learning the importance of goodness, truth and fellowship. except one thing, he, the hero, had forgotten an all too important debt he owed to george, the one that had brought george here on this the greatest day known in the entire history of great days, when all that was wrong was now right, and all that had pssed would be relcoated to the bottom do no open vaults of memory, and to the froward ays peopel would look in merry delight. except theywere all horribly wrong, for the hero had forgotten one very improtant thing, a ratehr small debt, but to whome the debtee, it had been of the utmost importance, for all teh evil in the world could have perished or flourished, and it would not have mattered as so miuch as this debt was repaid, and so george was here to reclaim that debt withinterest. he had waded through t venomous swamps of talkarith, draggedhimself over the ancient wastelands of nargarazion, and crawled through the foetid hjungle of asbestoes, and this ahd onyl been the beggining of his story. for indeed, he had remmebered a small whipsering, "come with me, we'll go adventure," to which george had replied, "sounds great! i'll jsut apck soem lunch", and to which a further reply had come"ok i'll wait for you", when george had returned to that very spot a mere ten minutes later, teh hero had gone off dragged on against his own will by the courageous and brave, to eventually swave the day by incidental accident, improabable and against all odds, achieving the utterly impossible. george was not impressed. and so he approached the weenie hero, making hsi way through the crowd gathered to adore his great deeds, and savour his salvation of the whole of creation, wherein george was the only bitter and unjoyous one out of the bucnh, having slayed a thousand demons without a word of praise, saved a thousand babies from the cannibalistic tarigar without so much as a helping hand, sealed the gates to the lower region of the 27 living hells without so much as a thank you, and having having single handedly repelled teh eleventy three armies of utlimate doom sent forth to rid all that is from all that is wihotu so much as 'nice job'. and so thinking of all the ingratitude he had recieve, all the trials and tribulations he had endured, and all the ill bodings he had been given, he approached the podium, looking the hero straight in the eye as that weenie gave his victory speech. the hero did not recognise george, but george barely recognised himself. george stepped up tot he podium and said "hello barney' barney replied, why hello er good sir, what can i do for you?"(the journeys and trials george had undertaken had scarred and disfigured him) "you didn;t wait for me." wait for you? who are you? what are you on about? get off my stage!"
and george, giving barny the village weeny and hero to the world the blackest of looks, blacker than the 8 most wicked evils could muster on a bad hair day after their girlfreinds had left for the mailmen, and took a small object from behind his back, and stuffed it in barney's face. falling backwards even before the creamed ahd touched his fair skin, bareny began weeping and scurrying into a corner, screaming don't be mean to me!!!" george, feelign satisifed that hsi debt had been repaid, began the logn joureny home, hoping for a long hot bath, and a cold beer.
::applaudes::
even with the typos that was great
I like the eleventy three armies of ultimate doom the best
wow... I had been waiting for someone to join in on the storytelling. Nice Job.
8) A Barney story. This is great 8)
Quote from: Malaul The Caffeinatrixx::applaudes::
even with the typos that was great
I like the eleventy three armies of ultimate doom the best
Shhhh.....don't tell anyone, but those aren't typos....
he spells that way on purpose.
PS: I also like the eleventy three armies of ultimate doom best.
you guys should start a story where people can just add on to it at the end
not that three word story nonsence in that other thread
I betcha we got some really twisted stories
Quote from: SssBella, Oracle of Doom
PS: I also like the eleventy three armies of ultimate doom best.
we rule
Quote from: Rev ThwackSorry, but it doesn't work that way my dear. I have to just ride the waves on what comes to me... can't force it to be something it doesn't want to. I figure I never write the stories myself, I just pick them up the same way I pick up other stuff (ask Bella if clarification is needed).
hmm.... Ask Bella..... I think we might have a good new section here, should she be willing. What say you Bella, ready to prove that you are more twisted than Dear Abby could ever imagine?
Yes, you do have a way of "picking up stuff", Thwak.....and not always what one would wish you to pick up, either.
Hmmm.......'Ask Bella'.
You really reckon people here think I'm less twisted than Dear Abby?
Sounds like good clean evil fun, though. Why not?
Dear Bella
lately Ive been having pain when I pee.
should I worry?
- signed OWCHY!!!!
Dear Owchy!!!!
You poor thing.
This is indeed a serious problem....
I'll have to search through all my books, consult my familiar spirits,
and do a lot of trance work to find the answer for you.
It shouldn't take more than three or four days.
PS: I'm starting a new "Ask Bella" thread, because Thwak's story corner is too good
to mess up with my twisted evil, although well-meaning, advice column.
PPS: In the meantime, whatever you do......don't pee!
Hey Thwak.....any new stories in the works yet?
I'm doing my best to be patient, but you know how
demanding zombies can be.
*Bella tries her best to look patient, even the midst of story withdrawal.*
GIVE ME PANCAKE STORIES OR GIVE ME DEATH!
Hurray! Someone else wants more stories, too!!!
I thought we all wanted storys?
PANNNNNNNCAKES!
We do all want stories, malaul, but how will Thwak know that unless we care enough to nag him?
So that makes three who want stories enough to beg?
Good 8)
drag him into the kitchen and stuff soem pancakes down his throat. that'll teach him not to give us stories!
Quote from: Horabs gone wild2:Jamaicadrag him into the kitchen and stuff soem pancakes down his throat. that'll teach him not to give us stories!
I volunteer to have pancakes stuffed into my mouth......
it's just about dinner time and pancakes sound good on a cold
rainy day like today.
PS: Or should I be like the rabbit who wanted to be thrown into the briar patch and say "Please don't take me into the kitchen and stuff pancakes into my mouth."? :twisted:
Pink eye sucks. It makes you want to take a spoon and dig your eyeball out of it's socket.
Someone have a aloe plant that I can shove in it?
Hey there, Thwak......I'm glad you're back.
Have you been sick with pink eye?
I had that once and it sucks big time.
Someone's been reading about knifey spooney...I can tell.
the lube free game for all of the family to enjoy.
sounds like somebody here is from west virginia.
I hope your eyes will be well enough for you to write another story soon.
I've been having Thwak story withdrawal pains lately.
Hmm.... you know, that sounds like something that Dear Bella might be able to help you with.
Quote from: Rev ThwackHmm.... you know, that sounds like something that Dear Bella might be able to help you with.
Nope. She's hopeless at it.
PS: You didn't say if you're feeling better yet.
Quote from: Rev ThwackI don't think I ever told any of you this, but it was a rather interesting chain of events that brought me here. I had been sitting at work doing my daily routine of downloading porn and flogging the log, when this beautiful woman walked into my office. Now I kind of expected her to start complaining about the fact that there was a picture of some 12 year old asian girl getting a horse dick up the ass on the monitor and my wedding tackle held firmly in my hand. I guess her 90-something years on this planet were interesting ones, for instead of telling me how it was wrong for me to be engaged so, she decided break out some camping equipment she had and started cooking pancakes over a gas stove. Well, if there is anything in this world that I enjoy more than a good wank to underage beastiality, it's pancakes. The smell was completly overpowering... I forgot what I had been doing and turned around, standing too fast without letting go and removing my rod for about the 7th time that week. Needless to say, I was a bit miffed because I knew that I had used the last of my superglue to stick the cat to the celing. With a shrug I threw my dis-member over my back where it glanced off of my lube bottle that had been sitting on top of my monitor. It took a few minutes, but the goo must have shorted out something because the montior imploded with a deafining lack of noise. I never noticed the fire that started engulfing my desk (and french poodle pieces) due to the wonderful taste of the pancakes that I was enjoying. I don't think I ever would have noticed it, if it hadn't been for the fact that the 90-something year old woman ran out of the office screaming about the fire just as I finished a pancake. I instantly considered it my civic duty to track her down and make sure she was ok, since she had taken the pancakes with her. Using my keen sense of smell that I had inherited from my sheepdog father, I followed the 90-something year old woman around the block and down the street, placing me about two blocks away when the first crate of grenades exploded back in my office. It didn't take much longer for me to catch up to her, and with a mighty yell I landed on her back, knocking her to the ground and breaking her left hip. With shouts of "Gimme the pancakes, Bitch!" and "Cook if you want to live!", I continued my morning breakfast of pancakes cooked over a gas stove by a terrified and broken 90-something year old woman. I was completly enjoying my pancakes, and had no moral problems with killing the cop that came to see if we were alright... after all, he should have known better than to ask for a pancake. Well, a few gunfights and many pancakes later, the 90-something year old woman ran out of pancake batter, so of course she had to die. I kind of wandered the street alone for a bit since everyone was either dead or running away. It didn't bother me that I was alone... it kind of felt right that I should be feeling a longing for companionship as well as the longing for pancakes so recently cooked by a 90-something year old woman who is now slumped over dead in the street from a few dozen gunshot wounds to the head.
I still miss those pancakes to this day.
That story was better than hentai pokemon fanfiction...
and thats saying a lot!!!
Yeah, isn't it great?
This is why we clamor for more stories.
Speaking of clamoring............I want another story, please!
Ok, but it's not going to be a good one.
blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood ever blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood feel blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood 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I just read these other stories and they're great.
Nice and evil - just the way I like 'em.
evil? Oh shit... never intended for any of them to be evil. Damn... Bella, Penumbral, hope you two don't mind, but it looks like I am going to have to eat my stories. I don't want people taking them the wrong way. :lol:
Nooooo..........My friend, Mal meant that as compliment, I'm sure.
He likes me because I'm evil....so please don't eat your stories.
I'll hold my breath and pout if you do. :evil:
EDIT: PS: Mwahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
I just went in and stole all your stories.
No point in eating them now, Thwak because they're
mine all mine......and I'm keeping them. :twisted:
Well, in that case I am going to have to take a cue from Darl McBride. Expect my lawyers to be contacting you shortly about misappropriation of my IP.
Your lawyers, huh?
I can only imagine what your lawyers must be like. :twisted:
I'm quite sure they are susceptible to bribery and extortion.
Not that a sweet little zombie like me would ever resort
to such underhanded tactics.
well, I'm sure they are too, but I have no idea what you can use to bribe them.... what in the hell would you use to bribe a mars rover with anyway? I use them because they don't ask for anything in payment, except to be reformated every now and then. You should see them in action though... they have all these neat little attachments to wow the jury with and when they present the pictures they take and show how they use the little dial on top of them to get a true color approximation out of their black and white photos... wow.... I've never seen a jury fall into a lawyers hands like that before.... well, maby not hands, but attachment arm. Of course, if things seem to be going bad, all they have to do is start transmitting data back to NASA until everyone gets so tired of their beeping sound that they give in. I swear, these are the best lawyers I have ever had... next to Godzilla, of course, but the courts won't let me retain him anymore.... he kind of killed a few too many judges.
Hmmm...sounds like a challenge alright.
And much as I like a challenge, I'm awfully lazy.
So, I'll just sic devil squerrel on the lot of you if you sue me. :twisted:
She's young and has lots of energy....why I remember that one time when she and Godzilla got into it.....you should have seen the mayhem
those two caused. She's really into robotics lately, too.....this should be fun.
oh shit.....
Umm.....
how about no lawyers?
running, running, running.....
Kewl 8)
I just called her off.....so you're safe, Thwak.
For now, anyway.
Distracted her with nachos, which always puts her in a good mood,
and a cruise with her mother in the silver mustang I so covet.
ok, back active in the forums again, but no story in a while.
Why you ask? Well, it's because I've been spending most of my free time lately working on a video to "Danger Woman" using footage from Red Vs. Blue. Part of the reason I'm doing this is to get more experience in editing video. I'm about to start working on a different way of telling my stories... some concepts can't be expressed in just words, so I am going to try and see if I can use a combination of all the different technology computers have to offer today to tell the whole thing. If you think things were interesting before, just wait.
Quote from: Rev Thwackok, back active in the forums again, but no story in a while.
Why you ask? Well, it's because I've been spending most of my free time lately working on a video to "Danger Woman" using footage from Red Vs. Blue. Part of the reason I'm doing this is to get more experience in editing video. I'm about to start working on a different way of telling my stories... some concepts can't be expressed in just words, so I am going to try and see if I can use a combination of all the different technology computers have to offer today to tell the whole thing. If you think things were interesting before, just wait.
EXCUSES!!!! we want STORIES!!!
:twisted:
Quote from: Malaul The CaffeinatrixXxQuote from: Rev Thwackok, back active in the forums again, but no story in a while.
Why you ask? Well, it's because I've been spending most of my free time lately working on a video to "Danger Woman" using footage from Red Vs. Blue. Part of the reason I'm doing this is to get more experience in editing video. I'm about to start working on a different way of telling my stories... some concepts can't be expressed in just words, so I am going to try and see if I can use a combination of all the different technology computers have to offer today to tell the whole thing. If you think things were interesting before, just wait.
EXCUSES!!!! we want STORIES!!!
:twisted:
Yeah!!! More stories! NOW!!!!
please
::whispers to bella:: maybe is we offer a bribe?
I'm scared to try that, malaul.
The last time I tried to bribe him,
he wanted all the pancakes in the world.
what if I offer to mail him some? think that'da work? or if I offered a backrub?
Go with the backrub, sweetie.
I doubt he could resist a backrub.
PS: Watch yourself.....he's dangerous.
Quote from: SssBella, Oracle of DoomGo with the backrub, sweetie.
I doubt he could resist a backrub.
PS; Watch yourself.....he's dangerous.
Ill try that thenp/s - so am I
Quote from: Malaul The CaffeinatrixXxQuote from: SssBella, Oracle of DoomGo with the backrub, sweetie.
I doubt he could resist a backrub.
PS; Watch yourself.....he's dangerous.
Ill try that then
p/s - so am I
CoolSo you are, my dear.
I wish I could be a fly on the wall.
Ok, hopefully I will get some stories going soon here... I've been a bit wiped out mentally lately due to other projects, but the itch to write is still there. Once I start diving this spring then things should pick up a lot... the ocean always helps clear out my mind.
a fly on the wall, or an observer in the room?
Quote from: Rev ThwackOk, hopefully I will get some stories going soon here... I've been a bit wiped out mentally lately due to other projects, but the itch to write is still there. Once I start diving this spring then things should pick up a lot... the ocean always helps clear out my mind.
a fly on the wall, or an observer in the room?
That's better.
Diving is cool, but we need some more stories.
how about a gazer in a crystal ball?
You know, sees all, tells all.
Quote from: Rev Thwack
a fly on the wall, or an observer in the room?
maybe she can hold the camera?
Quote from: Malaul The CaffeinatrixXxQuote from: Rev Thwack
a fly on the wall, or an observer in the room?
maybe she can hold the camera?
NO! I don't even want to know about it, k?
Quote from: SssBella, Oracle of DoomQuote from: Malaul The CaffeinatrixXxQuote from: Rev Thwack
a fly on the wall, or an observer in the room?
maybe she can hold the camera?
NO! I don't even want to know about it, k?
heheheheheheee, you know you wanna KIDDING KIDDING!!:wink: ::decides to leave poor bella alone::
*stabs Thwack repeatedly until he posts more stories*
Quote from: St. Hugh, KSC*stabs Thwack repeatedly until he posts more stories*
Thank you, Hugh 8)
I've been sitting here for days on end.....just waiting for more stories!
Makes me cranky :evil:
*takes ten thousand innocent bystanders hostage and continues to repeatedly stab Thwack to persuade him to post more stories*
my offers of back rubs arent good enough I see
I tried bella
::shrug::
Quote from: Malaul The CaffeinatrixXxmy offers of back rubs arent good enough I see
I tried bella
::shrug::
S'okay. We all tried, Honey.
My best guess is Thwak's so busy dreaming about tropical
islands somewhere that he can't keep his mind on his storytelling.
Quote from: SssBella, Oracle of DoomQuote from: Malaul The CaffeinatrixXxmy offers of back rubs arent good enough I see
I tried bella
::shrug::
S'okay. We all tried, Honey.
My best guess is Thwak's so busy dreaming about tropical
islands somewhere that he can't keep his mind on his storytelling.
that and scuba ::shudder::
naa.. It's closer to "Thwack's so busy with work that he barely has time to log on anymore."
Quote from: Rev Thwacknaa.. It's closer to "Thwack's so busy with work that he barely has time to log on anymore."
K, I'll try to patient and wait for more stories.....sigh.
Quote from: Rev Thwacknaa.. It's closer to "Thwack's so busy with work that he barely has time to log on anymore."
I was wondering what happened to you
Its weird to not see you on line...
Good luck with work
In a small town there is no time for patients. A persons life just sites and ends. Here at these state I wait for something something to hold on to something that will give me a reason to stay alive long enough for the weekend where booze and girls wait. Sometimes there are pancake in the mornings or some nice old lady porn on the local PBS but mostly its skool the drowning pit of hell I awake every morning in sweat and spew and scream in terror too. The only things left for me are Twacks stories and now I don,Äôt know if I believe in those anymore.
Quote from: PenumbralIn a small town there is no time for patients. A persons life just sites and ends. Here at these state I wait for something something to hold on to something that will give me a reason to stay alive long enough for the weekend where booze and girls wait. Sometimes there are pancake in the mornings or some nice old lady porn on the local PBS but mostly its skool the drowning pit of hell I awake every morning in sweat and spew and scream in terror too. The only things left for me are Twacks stories and now I don,Äôt know if I believe in those anymore.
Go to his website, Penumbral......there's lots more stories there.
I have read the all. I am a wealth of stories in a void of none.
I'M BACK, THWACK!
GIMME SOME DAMN PANCAKE STORIES! NOW!
Please.
Quote from: The Good Reverend RogerI'M BACK, THWACK!
GIMME SOME DAMN PANCAKE STORIES! NOW!
Please.
We're waiting for Thwak to get back, too.
He went to his Grandma's funeral and won't be around
for another week or so. :cry:
Quote from: SssBella, Oracle of DoomQuote from: The Good Reverend RogerI'M BACK, THWACK!
GIMME SOME DAMN PANCAKE STORIES! NOW!
Please.
We're waiting for Thwak to get back, too.
He went to his Grandma's funeral and won't be around
for another week or so. :cry:
That sucks. How is he doing?
Don't know.
Haven't heard anything since he said he was leaving for Georgia.
I was just thinking of dropping him an email or something.
it seems very quiet qith him gone,
I dont like it
:cry:
if I knew where he was in georgia Ide totally go kidnap him!!!
Quote from: Malaulit seems very quiet qith him gone,
I dont like it
:cry:
if I knew where he was in georgia Ide totally go kidnap him!!!
Me, too.
I don't like it either.
Quote from: SssBella, Oracle of DoomQuote from: Malaulit seems very quiet qith him gone,
I dont like it
:cry:
if I knew where he was in georgia Ide totally go kidnap him!!!
Me, too.
I don't like it either.
Do you remembe when he said hed be back? I cant find the thread or the PM that says it
I wanna say the 29th or something....
I think that's the date he's leaving, actually.
So it will be at least another day or so before he's back
on the forums again.
::counts down days on her calander::
:)
well thwack, your back online somewhere, maybe you will stop in and say hello to those who miss you
::nudge::
I miss him, too.
geeze, you two keep missing like that and you are eventualy going to get me to show you how to shoot. We can't have you wasting the ammo.
I'm a good shot.
Even have my own little pearl handled gun.
Only problem is, I don't like guns.
I'm glad to see you back here again, though.
How was the trip home?
PANCAKE STORIES. NOW.
\
(http://www.sssbella.com/PHOTO017.bmp)
trip wasn't too bad, except for having an aunt die the same night that we burried my grandmother.... that kind of sucked. Other than that though, was pretty decent. I had a chance to visit a lot of family and friends that I hadn't seen in the last 4 years.
Oh yea, and stories will be coming shortly.
Sorry to hear about your aunt, but I'm glad the rest of the trip was pretty good.
PS: Good about the forthcoming stories.
well, might be good, but with the way my mind has been running now, trying to type one would end up with about 6 or 7 of them being mixed together, leaving something that even the good reverend would have a hard time trying to follow.
Follow? I just like bouncing along with the confusion!
Quote from: Rev Thwackwell, might be good, but with the way my mind has been running now, trying to type one would end up with about 6 or 7 of them being mixed together, leaving something that even the good reverend would have a hard time trying to follow.
The Good Reverend understands the unhinged mind quite nicely, thank you. Proceed.
The Good Reverend,
Knows the face of decadence.
Quote from: SMFabalFollow? I just like bouncing along with the confusion!
Me, too. Lack of confusion merely confuses me.
Quote from: SssBella, Oracle of DoomQuote from: SMFabalFollow? I just like bouncing along with the confusion!
Me, too. Lack of confusion merely confuses me.
Confusion will do that.
Confusion is my native state of being.
::sigh::
where are the stories>
I fear I am turning grey from lack of stories
Me, too.
I'm turning grumpy from lack of stories. :evil:
you cant be grumpy!!!
IMMMMMM grumpy!!
why can you be doc or sneezy!!
:evil:
Okay, then..........I'll be cranky and you be grumpy. :roll:
Either way, we both want more stories!!!
The sooner the better the faster the quicker!!
darn it bella, I was TRYING to pick a fight with you, but NOOO OOOOOOO
you hadda go and be SWEET about it!!!
Sheesh,!!!!!! :roll: :cry:
Quote from: Malauldarn it bella, I was TRYING to pick a fight with you, but NOOO OOOOOOO
you hadda go and be SWEET about it!!!
Sheesh,!!!!!! :roll: :cry:
Wrong!
I'm not feeling the least bit sweet today......just too lazy to fight about it.
PANCAKES! NOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWW!
I'm sorry all, but that portion of my brain responsible for the pancake and other stories seems to be in hibernation while the rest of my head figures itself out. I've been in kind of an akward mental state lately, what with most of soscietys mental programing being erased bit by bit and a few other changes that are going on in the way that I percieve and interact with reality. Don't worry, you will all get your stories soon, just maby not in written form.
The form in which the stories arrive is irrelevant.
It's the stories themselves that are important, Thwak.
Stories. Stories. With Zombies, perhaps?
Welcome To
Rev. Thwack's Psychic Story Corner
Beaming stories to your brain 24/7, wether you like it or not.
Cooolah!
Someone help, Hugh is chasing me!
Quote from: Rev ThwackWelcome 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.
Quote from: Rev ThwackSomeone help, Hugh is chasing me!
Nut.
Quote from: St. Hugh, KSCQuote from: Rev ThwackSomeone help, Hugh is chasing me!
Nut.
Nope, I'm a rivet. people drive me thru hot steel. I keep your skyscrapers together.
Quote from: Rev ThwackQuote from: St. Hugh, KSCQuote from: Rev ThwackSomeone 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.
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.
Quote from: PenumbralKids 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.
Quote from: Rev ThwackQuote from: PenumbralKids 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.
Im gonna write anouther story for here.
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.
This is just psychotic enough to work.
: )
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.
Quote from: Rev ThwackIt 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.
OH THWACK!!!
its SOOO good to see you back here!!!!
yea, I think it's good for me to see myself too.
Not talking about back here, just... you know.... having some sort of concisnes about me.
Still trying to figure out what happend and how to describe it, but when you wake up one day and it's almost a month later and nobody around you acts like anything different happened, you start to wonder.
yeah
Ide say soo
This is one of my favorite stories so far.
Brilliant.
It ends in the same fasion mine dose, but all the better.
That night I was wondering the street not too unlike many nights I had spent before. Tonight I was as much inquisitive about what it was I was to do, as I was a part of it. This questioning of the destiny of the night continued until I came upon a house on the east site of St Claire Avenue. It was a very secluded house about half a mile down its own road that was off from the main street. The house was big but not a mansion just large to my standards, but since I had never really known proper housing trying to judge anything about one was beyond the realm of expertise. I went around the house till I came along to the back. I found a small window of witch to possible peak though and later make my entrance. Looking into the room I saw a young lady hardly older then me. She even at this time of night was busy franticly writing away at a piece of paper writing some or another stories about some or another places and people. I waited another few minutes studying the girl. She was neither tall nor short, skinny or fat, her hair was a light yellowish color as well as the shirt she was wearing. Over the shirt she had a loose fitting leather jacket. And like the majority of the people at that time was wearing a blue denim pants. I decided now was the time for me to make my entrance into this poor young ladies life. I climbed through the window and walked toward her seemingly unnoticed. Then all the sudden as if by some spontaneous magic the girl flung herself around catching me quite off guard she grabbed me like a vise right on my genitals. I was very taken aback. She took my body, because we all know if our genitals are being yanked around your bodies tries its beast to hurry and speed up to catch the uncontrolled body part, to the bed she had occupying the room threw me on top of it with great vigor. She then without my permission proceeded to hastily unbutton and zip my trousers pulling then not quite down half way so they where at that awkward position where you can’t quite move right, and if you do any sudden jerking with your body you would be very likely to fall atop your head. She then seemed to quickly and effortlessly shed the jeans she was wearing all while I laid there half naked not knowing how to react and not being quick enough to react at all. She then proceeded to grab either side of the blanket on her bed jump on top of me and through the blanket on top after her. So this put me in a situation where I was under a blanket and under an also half naked girl. I was very uncomfortable because this had nothing to do with the plan I had set aside for this night. Oh and how awkward situations only get more awkward. I felt her hand again near my genital regions but this time not in a manner destructive to my health. This time I really think she was trying to arouse me. Me being a man and nothing more found to my very distaste that sexual arousement was something in this case I could not doge. I was tangled in a bed dominated by a girl I had no knowledge of, and none of this I wanted. Then I had that feeling cold yet worm adrenalin rushes to all parts of your body a tingle in my extremities. I knew I was being raped. She had such dexterity to do this unawkwardly underneath the cover of a blanket. Shock over came me. I could not move I tried to flop around in the bed to get her or the blankets off me. All this did was get the blanket out from under me and get more blanket on top of me. This was not sex in the motion just sex in the act. I attempted to draw out, turn or just hit her all to get her off me. None of this seemed to work. She was in complete control of the situation. She then came out rolled to the side and started to recite something it seemed like poetry. I would have attempted to at this time leave or at least regain some control, but the words she spoke had me completely enthralled. It was poetry, but poetry of power. More like magic then any mere words of the English language. She spoke things so profound I found myself at a lack of movement. She spoke of life and death sex and abstinence all as if they where part of the same event. In the course of that night she would go though five such stories and after each one she would sexually abuse me more. But I was in a trance of words. This whole world I had left behind for the dream that was poetry. No this was not poetry it was words. Words beautifully strung together to stop life from progressing. This was above poetry. After the fifth story I was able to finally escape that bed and retrieve my pants from my ankles, pull them high enough and run out that window again. As I left that house looking back on the nights events I wondered what the name of that girl was. The question didn’t bother me too long for I soon remembered I could just check the obituaries in not to distant future to find the name of the word stringing rapist that had me that night. For I had completed a least a small fraction of my plans for that night and I was sure that on the marrow the mystery girl would be found dead with a new hole I had put into her head.
Cool.
I'm glad you revived this thread.
Thwack's gonna be proud of you when he reads this story.
I think it's one of your best so far.
This is my favorite part:
"But I was in a trance of words. This whole world I had left behind for the dream that was poetry. No this was not poetry it was words. Words beautifully strung together to stop life from progressing. This was above poetry."
Currently, it seemed that i was sitting with john edwards on my right and dick cheney on my left. they were sitting in front of me waiting for me to say the thing in which i hadn't a clue yet felt compelled to say. sadly, or better yet tragically, their roles were reversed from the ones that i had found to be their egos from the pretty little light box called television that i sacrifice live cheerios to everynight before i go to bed. dick cheney or 'el dickerino' as he was known at the local Carlos O'kelly's when we went there one night for his sixtieth or fiftieth or twenty-third or all five of his birthdays and he got totally sloshed and started to dance around and wouldn't stop until everyone called him that and let me tell you hoo boy that was a scene, was staring at me with this big pie-eating grin. not because he himself liked pie thus making him the anti-pie-st but because he was genuinely if not glitteringly happy to see me. though that's not the reason i was there, for i couldn't up until then have given a dorito about a man who was such an enigma, such a paradox, such a...such a...okay so then i became totally in love with him and i asked him out and we spent that one night in tahiti or timbucktu but now he doesn't respond to the messages i leave on his answering machine. but that's probably because it's twenty minutes of non stop screaming about the massive obelisk that moved in next door and now was turning all of my friends into space babies and they were all like: "dude it's fun to be a space baby....the embryo..think about it dude!" and in a vague way this gets back to john edwards who up to this moment has been sitting there void and devoid of his usual happy-go-i'm a lawyer grin and had instead this general distaste for his enviroment and me of all people! how rude! i attend mass orgies! what more can they want from me??? i'm only five men trapped in a small pistachio's body! these are not the hands of a warrior! TIMMY DON'T BE A HERO!!! and then i finally remembered what it was that i was to say to them, and i said it, though i don't remember it now. John or nhoj as it is spelt backwards, started in on his debate speech but i didn't pay attension for i was writing on a sticky not to the soon-be lover 'el dickerino': "Talk about family values." and i passed it to him. But the galactic teacher made me read it in fron of class and by then everone knew that i liked boys and that straight people were infecting the school yet that doesn't have anything to do with me liking boys because i'm a vegetarian. and i don't eat meat. but my boyfriend says otherwise, if i had a boyfriend. Dammit i haven't been this giddy since ross(eary) perot. cheney then hands me a discount coupon to safe muffins on a carpet cleaner for the dog juice that negativland told me to get, and a
GIANT MONSTER ATTACKS THE HARBOR AND EVERYONE RUNS AND SCREAMS AND EATS ICE SCREAM BECAUSE I DO!
it's late. i'm tired. and now that this story is all character development and nothing else and it's too long to erase, i say adoo. don't ask me why, i just adoo.
Pen..... any words I might choose can not do this justice.
Bravo.
See? Told ya he'd be proud. 8)
:D
Quote from: SssBella, Oracle of DoomThwak, you are truly my hero!
This is such a lovely, heart - warming story.
It has everything a zombie could ask for.......blood and gore, and pancakes, and poodles, and body parts all over the place, and more pancakes, and computers, and fire, and pancakes, and mayhem and gunfire and pancakes. I note you also threw in some porn just for yourself. :twisted:
well duh
Quote from: PenumbralBrilliant.
It ends in the same fasion mine dose, but all the better.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA, YOURE A PIECE OF TOAST
Quote from: Hey-ya-yiQuote from: PenumbralBrilliant.
It ends in the same fasion mine dose, but all the better.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA, YOURE A PIECE OF TOAST
Mortal Toast in a Toaster.
Just wanted to say I'm sorry for being gone for so long. I'm out of the army now and back home, so I should be on more, but I also have the search for a job, the rebirth of me as a college student, and two books I'm working on that are going to occupy some of my time. If anyone would be willing to lend a critical brain to my books, let me know which one or both that you would be interested in. One is going to be my a sci-fi one in my usual style of writing, the other more of a book about my father.
Oh yea, and I'm going to be keeping my web page updated more often now too.
'm an apreciator of wrinting, so if a have the time, i'd be willing to give you a crtically honest pov on it.
gald your back in one piece.
yay!
my other bf is back!
i can help you with stories
as long as you don't mind the small type
glad you are out of w's clutches, too
Hi, Thwack!
It took me a minute to recognize you without the uniform.
Congrats on your new life and I'm really glad you're home all safe and sound.
Looking forward to the upcoming website updates, and you know I'll be happy to read anything you write.
well, most likely going to dump the book that was going to be on my father... the more I started thinking about him and trying to remember stuff dealing with him, the more I got pissed off and wanted nothing to do with him. I should get the first chapter in my book done in the next few days and have it sent out to the three of you by new years. Thanks guys, and it's good to be back.
Sometimes in your life you just have to give up. You spend so much of your life fighting for things that just don't matter, never really getting anywhere because as soon as you manage to accomplish some sort of landmark you had set, you turn around and find yourself another one. You managed to find that perfect job, now if you could only get that raise and promotion. You bought that house you had always been wanting, but you think that it would look better if you repainted it... maby you could also add on a room or two... then there is that house you saw a few blocks over that would be great to get. You've got a nice car, but you figure that maby in a year or two you can trade it in on one of those foreign luxury imports you've had your eye on.
This is how we live our lives, constantly in search of the next hot new thing, and if you don't know what that is, just turn on your tv... the companies are happy to tell you. The basketball star who won the big game last night is on there, more than happy to tell you how having that new 67 inch plasma tv with the built in theater speakers helped him beat out the competiton. There is the french model, who assures you that if you buy the brand of clothing he wears that scantly clad women will flock to you, offering their loyalty and their body. A few channels over you can listen to the bodybuilder tell how a piece of equipment featuring quadra-action resistance and selectable load levels allowed him to loose 200 pounds and become the man he is today. It's so simple. No need to think about it or make decisions, all you have to do is listen and order these items that will make your life infinatly better than it is now.
All of this movement.... the constant path of progress. You sit and try to go forward because it's the only viable option. You know that you have to keep moving, because if you don't then you are just sitting stagnant, doing nothing but waiting for the inevitable end. You have to keep moving, the progress shows you are alive... not doing so would just be accepting death. You don't just think this, you know it's true. It's the way things have always been... you've seen it and been taught it your whole life.
That was how I lived... just like everyone else. I was just another mindless drone amongst the masses... a sheep playing my good little part in following the rest of the heard. It's funny though, what you can learn when then programing scociety has filled you with starts to fall apart. That's when you will start to realize that life isn't about playing by their rules, but by playing your own game. Then you realize that it's ok if you don't have that luxuary car, live in a small, run down apartment building, don't even own a tv, and work small odd jobs on a temporary basis. Then you are free to make real progress. Then you can shake things up and have an impact on the world around you. It's then that you can say "I am a sentient human being, outside the system, and I'm about to show you things you never before thought possible" while standing on top of a building, naked and holding a severed cow head in one hand and a picture of Jesus smoking a joint with buddah in the other.
[/end pt1]
Thwack! :P Where the hell have you been?
Nevermind....I'm glad you're back.
This is how I'm always going to picture you now, you know.
Quote from: Rev Thwackwhile standing on top of a building, naked and holding a severed cow head in one hand and a picture of Jesus smoking a joint with buddah in the other.
well, I would post a picture of me doing that, but I still havn't been able to find the pic of el' savior & the chubby one with everything enjoying a nice bit of nature's own.
Quote from: Rev ThwackThen you realize that it's ok if you don't have that luxuary car, live in a small, run down apartment building, don't even own a tv, and work small odd jobs on a temporary basis. Then you are free to make real progress.
Shhh.
Don't let the conservatives hear you say this, you heretic.
Hip, Hip, HURRAY, Hip, Hip, HURRAY, now you have to burn the blinders, when the light gets too bright, you may be tempted to put them back on. The only way out is through, and you made it through, congrats.
bump.
regarding the OP: it is a testament to modern social programming that although nothing makes sense, the one thing my brain keeps flagging as "a little off" is that a 90-something year-old woman is referred to as "beautiful."
Quote from: vexati0n on October 07, 2007, 10:27:25 PM
bump.
regarding the OP: it is a testament to modern social programming that although nothing makes sense, the one thing my brain keeps flagging as "a little off" is that a 90-something year-old woman is referred to as "beautiful."
Troof. I wondered if I had misread it or something.
man am i embarrassed by my old writings.
Quote from: Penumbral on October 08, 2007, 03:03:48 AM
man am i embarrassed by my old writings.
if its anything to you, the latter writing was among the first things i saved from the board. y'know, in case of boardwide apocalypse. or when im not feeling fucked up enough