Rev Thwack's Story Corner

[Horab Fibslager]

is that martha stewart in teh space suit in your avatar?

[Rev Thwack]

no, Robert Redford in in there alone.

[Bella]

Glad you're back and posting stories again, Thwak.
Thought about you today when I was eating my pancakes.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

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!

TELL US ANOTHER F*CKING STORY, OR ELSE!

[Rev Thwack]

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.

[Bella]

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.  

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?

[Rev Thwack]

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.

[Bella]

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.

[Rev Thwack]

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.

[Bella]

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 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.

[Rev Thwack]

hmm... I think some of my writings from my web site can accomplish that.

[Bella]

I concur.  I've been to your website, remember?

[Rev Thwack]

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.

[Bella]

kewl

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I concur.  I've been to your website, remember?

Where is it?