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The case was finally closed. We stared at each other in my office and my palms began to sweat and my heartbeat began to race. 'This is it', I thought to myself. You're finally going to score. All your life you've been waiting for this. I got out of the chair and waddled up to her and looked up into her gorgeous blue eyes after tipping my fedora. She towered over me in her high heels and tight black dress. I licked my lips and moved in for the kiss. She pushed my face away with her entire hand and softly whispered down to me - "No." Then I jizzed in my pants. Cpt.Sean Luc Picard fucked around with this message at 02:35 on May 21, 2014 |
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May 21, 2014 02:30
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| # ? May 2, 2024 14:25 |
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I pulled jacket onto my body and stepped out of my well-organized and warmed to exactly 73.4 degree room into the cold air out-- AGGHHHAAAAAHHHHAAAAAAGAAAGAA GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGAA GGAGGGA AAAHHHHHAFGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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May 21, 2014 02:35
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kazr posted:ffffffffffffffffffggfffffffffff *pounds table, tilts head back, shrieks at top of lungs* *sees copy of Final Fantasy 11 and smiles*
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May 21, 2014 02:47
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Aatrek Spade drew a vape from his neon blue e-cig, glistening like a raspberry ring pop in the light shaft, and said, "Drop the lies, sweetheart. This act is getting old." Aatrek detested things that were old. Because he was a pedophile.
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May 21, 2014 03:12
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the dame's blouse was a shade of blue the exact same as that of the livery of the Royal Blue line operated by the Baltimore and Ohio railroad from 1890 to 1958. "well, you do know how to whistle, don't you? just put your-" i cut her off and tooted repeatedly for several minutes with my wooden train whistle. FreudianSlippers posted:I opened my office door and right away I was met with a thick mist of tobacco, this was a bad sign as I only smoke e-cigs. Someone was waiting for me. "What's the rumpus?" said a man sitting in the shadows. He turned on a lamp and I could see he was pointing a pistol right at me. It was a AMT Hardballer .45 ACP similar to those used by Agent 47 (full name 640509-040147) in the Hitman video games although the guns were referred as Silverballers, often abbreviated to "Ballers", after the first game, Hitman Codename 47, most likely to avoid copyright. It is interesting to note that in the games the Hardballer and Beretta 92s share the same ammunition (pistol ammo), despite being chambered in different cartridges (the Hardballer's .45ACP compared to the Beretta's 9x19mm). This was a poor choice of weapon for the mook as the AMT Hardballer is a inferior clone of the Colt M1911 pistol which was the standard issue sidearm for US armed forces from 1911 to 1985 and was replaced by the 9mm Beretta in the early 90's. The mooks aim was also crooked as he held the gun sideways in the manner popular among "gangstas" and his trigger discipline was severely lacking. figuratively me
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May 21, 2014 03:14
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FreudianSlippers posted:I opened my office door and right away I was met with a thick mist of tobacco, this was a bad sign as I only smoke e-cigs. Someone was waiting for me. "What's the rumpus?" said a man sitting in the shadows. He turned on a lamp and I could see he was pointing a pistol right at me. It was a AMT Hardballer .45 ACP similar to those used by Agent 47 (full name 640509-040147) in the Hitman video games although the guns were referred as Silverballers, often abbreviated to "Ballers", after the first game, Hitman Codename 47, most likely to avoid copyright. It is interesting to note that in the games the Hardballer and Beretta 92s share the same ammunition (pistol ammo), despite being chambered in different cartridges (the Hardballer's .45ACP compared to the Beretta's 9x19mm). This was a poor choice of weapon for the mook as the AMT Hardballer is a inferior clone of the Colt M1911 pistol which was the standard issue sidearm for US armed forces from 1911 to 1985 and was replaced by the 9mm Beretta in the early 90's. The mooks aim was also crooked as he held the gun sideways in the manner popular among "gangstas" and his trigger discipline was severely lacking. lmao
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May 21, 2014 03:17
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thread owns
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May 21, 2014 03:22
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I crouched in the blue glow of my gaming rig. Four monitors, each cycling through its own slideshow of big cats. The dame was on the couch, pouring over a stack of printouts from the library. It was going to be a long night. She rubbed her eyes with a sigh. "My real birth-mother has to be in here somewhere. These go back to 1952. Have you turned up anything?" she said as she turned to me. My brow furrowed with intensity. "Did you know cats are fractals? They're fractals of larger cats, such as lions, tigers, mountain lions (sometimes called pumas or the more archaic catamounts)." I cracked open a Code Red and hefted it to my lips, pausing to say, "We'll solve the case the same way. You are a fractal of your birth mother. From the perspective of time, chronologically, you are a smaller version of her pattern. Timesmall, a little term I invented." I took a long pull from the can.
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May 21, 2014 03:56
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"He left pages of this book all over the crime scene- it just has to mean something," th'lady said, exasperated. "Toots, that book has 1,862 pages, not counting the table of contents and copyright page, and I been through every one of 'em." "You read the whole thing and there's nothing-" "Not the whole thing," I interrupted, "just the page numbers," I said as I held my gaze to a spot on the floor behind her.
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May 21, 2014 04:36
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"Yea, the body was found in three pieces, the head in the 2nd passenger car, one leg in the 3rd, and most of the torso mangled in one of the cargo containers." "Dear God" Sam said, covering his mouth "Is that a EMD F3? I thought the F7s had replaced them."
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May 21, 2014 04:47
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I knew she had a voice like velvet even though we could only communicate throught email because of my crippling social anxiety The sound of the episode of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic was almost -almost - drowned out by the email alert, and I crinkled the corners of my mouth in as close an approximation to a smile as I could muster having no concept of human cocepts like emotions The bitcoin transfer was complete
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May 21, 2014 05:17
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When the dame opened the door, her long legs were the first thing that struck me. They were the same shade of white (#F0F8FF) as Rarity's flank, excluding the cutie mark, and those heels were sure to scuff my floors. With all the hard floor repairs and deep cleaning I'd need to give the office after this visit, I'd have barely anything left this month to donate to Star Citizen. "H-h-how do you d-do?" I asked, rapidly touching everything on my desk before resting my wrist on my oppai mouse-pad. "I'm afraid I'm in a bit of trouble," she replied. "And I think you're the only man who can help me." Standing up and stealthily pinning both pockets of my trench-coat around my leaking boner, I said the only thing I could say to that. "Y-y-you too."
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May 21, 2014 05:25
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I'd always had a thing for women, and they always had a thing for me. I'm a sophisticated man, and women like sophistication. A nice hat and a pipe never steered me wrong. A couple boxes of wine, and it was a done deal. Smooth as silk. That was before she came in, of course. She with the slim red dress that barely concealed that dragon tattoo spiraling up her arm. She stormed into my office with the knife-edged confidence of Hanzo steel. I barely had time to turn off my monitor. I saw her eyes dart, taking in the quick clip of /b/ before it disappeared to the darkest recesses of memory. If it bothered her, she didn't make it known, her smile curled in plaster. She stared at me beneath pixie-cut curls. I stared back, her face gnawing at the edge of my memory until it struck: she was one of the Suicide Girls, a vicious, wild bunch of entertainers at the upscale club downtown. I knew them well. She went by the name Pyre. Pyre broke the ice first, leaning back as she took a drag off her Djarum Vanillas. Her voice, as intoxicating as the smoke-filled haze that followed her, rasped, "I hear you're good at finding things." I tore my eyes away from those legs, those legs that ran on like a bad Dragonball arc. "Some say so. Depends on what you're missing," I replied. The answer seemed to please Pyre, and she continued grinning that grin, tossing my night-addled thoughts to a wheezing affair on the sofa. It had been some time since I'd been able to see to my private dealings, but they nevertheless let me know the lust was still there. "An object important to me," Pyre continued, voice tinged with purpose and thought. "A Pembroke Corgi." I scoffed at the notion. "You need a dogcatcher, m'lady, not an internet detective." Pyre leaned forward, following my eyes as they could not help but glance at her ample bosom. I could feel the sweat coming on, like the bad aftershock of a Double Down during another night of binge drinking. I'd had too many of those nights lately, and she could sense it. Truth was, I was broke. Too much alcohol, too many trinkets scantly clad along the shelves of my wall. I'd had it good once, setting up shop in the basement of my family's ancestral home, but times change, and time doesn't deal in favors. "Oh, but this is no ordinary dog," she hissed. I could almost feel that whisper of air kissing my ear. "He's quite special, and I will reward... handsomely." I gulped, knowing full well I couldn't turn her down. Chivalry may be dead for the rest of the world, but that just meant the honorable of us had to try harder. But, I didn't have to try it for free. It was my turn to lean back, scratching the beard around my neck. "Ah, what the Hell. I'm a fan of yours, so say I cut you a deal. I can do it for five," I smiled, nervously toying with the ponytail at my bag. Who knows? Maybe I could afford to wash it after this. Chasing a dog didn't sound so difficult. Pyre purred, "It's good to know there are still a few white knights in shining armor out there. The world could use a few handy goons like you." "It's no problem. Where'd you say you lost the dog?" "I don't think he was lost. I think he was stolen," she explained. Her mood shifted, just slightly, as the corners of her emerald eyes gave a twitch. "About five blocks from here. I can maybe give you a... private tour at 9?" I nodded, and just like that, she was gone. A dream. No more than the faded image on the pillow of the mind. I tilted back my fedora, trying to process what had happened. Looked like I would need to put on my nice blazer for once. Get outside for a while. Rain pattered against the window behind me. Just another night in Tokyo. Axel Serenity fucked around with this message at 05:46 on May 21, 2014 |
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May 21, 2014 05:31
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"You did a fine job" the dame said as she handed me my payment, a small pastel blue check. 1,035.67 the check read, a prime number. The bitch had double-crossed me.
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May 21, 2014 05:31
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Axel Serenity posted:I'd always had a thing for women, and they always had a thing for me. I'm a sophisticated man, and women like sophistication. A nice hat and a pipe never steered me wrong. A couple boxes of wine, and it was a done deal. Smooth as silk. someone tell me if this is actually funny before i read it
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May 21, 2014 05:45
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"Your old lady's dead toots." Her face fell and there was no consoling her, even when I told her logically 87.6% of all women die far earlier. I placed my finger on her eyebrow comfortingly and said it again, louder, but still nothing. Women. There's no understanding them sometimes.
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May 21, 2014 05:57
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This specificity with exact quantities and temperatures isn't good writing. Autists like routines, but you guys seem to be confusing autism with OCD. I dunno I guess I'm  for noticing and pointing it out.
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May 21, 2014 06:20
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Liquid Dinosaur posted:This specificity with exact quantities and temperatures isn't good writing. Autists like routines, but you guys seem to be confusing autism with OCD. You must have missed the Ulillillia thread
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May 21, 2014 06:23
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Liquid Dinosaur posted:This specificity with exact quantities and temperatures isn't good writing. Autists like routines, but you guys seem to be confusing autism with OCD. Typical palooka, he thought he had me down, that he had the drop on me. He thought wrong. I swung hard from the left and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. He was expecting three right gut shots exactly, an OCD shot, mugs like that don't know what to do with an autistic gumshoe.
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May 21, 2014 06:37
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May 21, 2014 06:40
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Liquid Dinosaur posted:This specificity with exact quantities and temperatures isn't good writing. Autists like routines, but you guys seem to be confusing autism with OCD. pfff...same thing
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May 21, 2014 06:42
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Liquid Dinosaur posted:This specificity with exact quantities and temperatures isn't good writing. Autists like routines, but you guys seem to be confusing autism with OCD. He said, not noticing that he had left an additional space between ''specificity'' and ''with,'' which would make him look extremely foolish in certain literary circles, like one might find on a forum for trains
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May 21, 2014 06:50
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It had been a rough night. Rougher than most. But it was over, for now. "You know what, Benny?" "What's dat, boss?" "I'm starting to think I'm getting too old for this poo poo." I hang up my Naruto headband.
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May 21, 2014 07:09
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"Hey, Sperglord!" were the last words I heard before everything went black. Perhaps taking the back alley shortcut to Games Workshop wasn't such a great idea after all. When I came to, an acne-ridden mook with reflective glasses towered over my bound, impotent body. A flickering Dell monitor nearby displayed a docked ship in EVE - somehow this troll had cracked my account. "Who sent you!? What's this all about?" The scrawny miscreant smugly smirked for a moment before launching into the kind of flame that would leave a lesser netizen in ashes. "You've been a naughty boy, haven't you, Sam? Poking your nose into affairs that don't concern you, asking the wrong sort of questions about the wrong sort of people. You sure you want to know the terrible secret of space?" At that moment, my atheistic euphoria vanished - the GOONS had caught on to me. "Listen, we ca-" "No, Sam, your case ends here. You already know too much about the board's dealings to live. Did you think that you would come out of this a hero, replete with an anime adaptation of your exploits? That the underage girls you shamelessly harass on Gaia would finally accept one of your many marriage proposals? After tonight, after I'm through tanking your karma, nobody will even care when you're gone." I watched, helpless, as he heartlessly told my corp that FurAffinity was for losers and that only the worst dregs of society operated DeviantArt pages. At first, my comrades were speechless, but their collective rage washed over the screen like a Kamehameha wave when the awful neurotypical impostor claimed that the MSpaint portraits of Krystal from Star Fox I uploaded under the name Tsunamidusherfan were just ironic parodies of their revolting fetishes. They kicked me out before he could even finish spewing his virtual venom about Sonic being a game for people who smell of pizza farts. In the blink of an eye, everyone I had ever called friend had abandoned me. A single tear rolled down my face, briefly lingering upon my neatly trimmed neckbeard before splashing onto the vinyl Adventure Time trench coat Mom bought me just last week. Lowtax's lackey snorted as he drew his katana. The sound triggered something primal deep inside - an apish power fueled by the mental purity only an Aspergerian could know - allowing me the strength to demolish the gimp getup that had been holding me in place, rear end up, for at least the past hour. The putrid forum dweller lunged forward, eyes ablaze with fear and hatred, but failed to notice my trusty Hanzo tanto flit out from underneath the third roll on my left side. I wondered, as the Nipponese steel drove into his heart, if that Kali Lowe broad would consider upping the hazard bitcoins or at least paying for a name change. Dr. Casio was a flimsy front anyhow.
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May 21, 2014 07:13
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what do you mean by "proceed with the investigation and stop checking this same thing over and over again" ?
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May 21, 2014 07:29
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I hurried back to Claire's apartment, but found it trashed and my only lead missing. Somebody wasn't playing by the rules. Somebody wasn't playing by the RULES. SOMEBODY WASN'T PLAYING BY THE RULES!! SOMEBODY WASN'T ERUHHHHH ERRRRRRAAH AHAAAAHAHAAA!!12 FRAAATGTTFGHS!
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May 21, 2014 07:37
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I knew there was something up with her as soon as she slunk through the door and down the basement stairs to my office. Primarily it was her gender, females are always trouble especially when you're a nice guy like myself. She yammered on about a kidnapping or some such, she repulsed me. I can smell a double cross from a mile away, and I just knew she really wanted to put feminism in my video games.
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May 21, 2014 07:37
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The raindrops kept falling, drenching the city. My thinkgeek Katana umbrella wasn't doing the job. I tucked into an alleyway to find a moment's respite, a small bit of heat from my custom modified e-cigarette the size of a roll of toilet paper. It was then that I caught my mark by surprise. Chris Roberts. He would spill the release date of the DFM. Oh yes. He would.
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May 21, 2014 07:39
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Of all the Games Workshops, in all the towns, in all the world, a female had to walk into mine . . .
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May 21, 2014 07:40
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Ork of Fiction posted:I hurried back to Claire's apartment, but found it trashed and my only lead missing.
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May 21, 2014 08:12
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Ork of Fiction posted:I hurried back to Claire's apartment, but found it trashed and my only lead missing. i fuckin lols
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May 21, 2014 13:24
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It was damp. Damp like my mood. I hadn't had a case in what seemed like weeks; not even any commission requests for naked, humanized versions of My Little Pony characters. I needed the cash desperately. I was almost out of Code Red. Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door. It was loud, demanding, aggressive. I instantly knew who it was. "SAM?" I heard the dame yell. "SAM? ARE YOU IN THERE?" "JESUS gently caress DON'T YOU KNOCK?" I screamed back, knowing full well the old hag had knocked, my shrill voice cracking from under-use and too many sodas. I hadn't actually said words in days, except to curse to myself over the morons who responded to my posts on deviantart. She entered the room. She looked youthful for her age, her legs still tight and heaving bosoms were still relatively held above her upper torso. This dame definitely jogged. "Sam, I need rent from you for this month. Remember, $300, and in real money not those stupid bitecoins you're always talking about. And Jesus, could you clean this place up? It's filthy." The Oedipal lust was suddenly overcome with rage; my vision hazed, as if I was looking through a full bottle of Code Red. "THEY'RE BITCOINS YOU STUPID BITCH." I shrieked, my ferocity shaking the Cheetos dust from my Support Cliven Bundy shirt which I had made with an iron-on printout and an oversized cheap Gildan and into the air, creating a fine cheesy mist that thankfully obscured my view of the nag. I stuck my tongue out to taste the dust one last time - delicious. It was still fresh. "I knew we should have put you on medication." My mom muttered to herself as she left the room.
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May 21, 2014 13:47
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The dame laughed like I had told a joke, which confused me as I didn't think I had and now the preprogrammed conversation routine I had in my head wouldn't work I began to emit a loud whining noise from my booth in the Golden Corral
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May 21, 2014 14:42
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The kid at the corner was shouting out the headlines of the most recent murder, waving the papers back and forth like semaphore. I donned my trenchcoat, pulled up the collar and walked outside and over to him. "Paper, Mister?" the kid said, I snorted in reply. He handed over one and I quickly grabbed it and turned around, walking briskly back to the safety of my office. "Mister! Sorry Mister! Mister wait!" I spun around, couching slightly in antipation of the surprise attack. I automatically grasped for my katana, but it was NOT THERE!!! drat, I forgot to take it. In sudden fear the flop sweat rose and my face started to glisten in the evening fog. "Mister, sorry but you didn't pay for the paper, this is not money." the pip squeak said. It was just the short kid again, a foe I can easily vanquish. "This ain't money Mister, and I never even seen this white old guy before on it." "THAT IS RON PAUL!" I shouted, "And this is proper money.". I turned and walked away and ignored the kid asking for the money. I paid him, so I am in the right. I better write it down somewhere that I will need to cancel that bitcoin payment if he hasn't claimed it. I'll give him a day.
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May 21, 2014 15:10
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It was a day like any other; I was in the basement checking /r/conspiracy hoping for the last piece of evidence the Jews did 9/11. Then I saw it on InfoWars. There was a bombing in Boston, the suspects were said to be wearing hats and have backpacks. With the sheer number of people at the event and how common hats (1 in 4.32138 own them) and the proliferation of backpacks (3 in 4 people under the age of 20 own one or more) there was only one detective who could find the perpetrators: Sam Sperglord.
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May 21, 2014 15:25
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I knew that for a case like this I'd need a piece. I met the seller in the dark, smoky recesses of the food court at the mall. I'd spent a lot of time here, crawling from one binge at the hobby shop to another at the cinnabon. But I was done with that. They moved the yu-gi-oh cards from the left side of the store to the right, so now I buy them from amazon. And the cinnabon? Well, they'd changed the ratio of sugar to cinnamon they use on their bons. It's different now. They ruined it. My demons haunt me no more. This trip was a reminder, not a temptation. I'd never go back. Why did they move my cards? Just another case I couldn't close. I saw the seller sitting at a table, a table designed for four chairs but missing one so there were only three. I took a chair from a nearby table that had five and moved it back to the table the seller was at. I sat down, making sure to adjust my seat so I was exactly in line with the table. "B-Boner J-Joe 69?" I stammer, staring directly at the bridge of the seller's nose. It's a trick my therapist taught me to make people think I'm making eye contact. Gets em every time. "That's me, kid." The man replies, casual, leaning back in a slouch, brushing cinnabon crumbs off his naruto shirt. I'd seen the shirt before, and thought about buying it, but now I was glad I hadn't. The site had said it was turqoise, but in person it was clearly sea green. "We met on craiglist. I am here to buy. The piece." "I've got it right here kid." he says patting a small, battered briefcase at his side. "I am here to buy it. Also, I am not a kid, Boner Joe 69. I am a man now. My mother said I am a grown man." I try to do something authoritative with my hands, but I am not sure what I'm doing so I put them back in the pockets of my trenchcoat. "Sheesh, don't take it so personal. You got the goods?" "I have the goods. I am assuming the goods you mean are the cards in question. Because they are the only goods I have. I did not bring anything else." "Well, hand em over, let me see." He curls his hand at me. I watch it for a moment. I think about what he said to me. There are crumbs round his mouth and I want him to wipe them off. "N-no, I want to see the piece first." I reply, slamming my hand down on the table. A fat woman and her child look over at me and I mouth sorry to them. I have made a scene. "Fine, jeez." He slides the briefcase over the table. It does not slide well so I pull it towards me from halfway across the table. I snap open the catches, and lay my eyes on the finest piece I've ever seen. "T-the Colas Rail Freight Co-Co Diesel Class 56?" I ask, wanting to be sure. "Yup." "With DCC Sound?" "Yup." "H-h-take the cards." I say, slapping an envelope packed with three rows of five cards down on the table. "Goodbye" I say, closing the briefcase and making to stand up from the table. "Now hold on there, grown man." The seller says, smirking I think. "Why?" "I want to check the cards are all here." He says, greasy hands pawing open the envelope. He will get grease and sugar and cinammon on the cards. "The cards are all there. Goodbye." I say, standing up again "I know, but I want to be sure." "You can count them later" I say, this guy is one tough negotiator. I sit as he counts. He does it very slowly. It does not take that long to see the cards. He puts them back in the envelope in the wrong order. I alternate between fidgeting with my hands and jamming my hands back into my pockets to stop me fidgeting. I stare at a tile on the floor that is the wrong colour, furtively glancing now and then at the seller, and at the woman at the other table who had looked at me before. "Well," he says after too long "Everything seems to be in order here chief." He holds out his hand "I do not touch hands. I am sorry. Goodbye." I stand up from the table to leave, tripping a little over the leg of the chair as I go, but I do not think anyone notices. I clutch the briefcase to me and walk at 90% speed out of the place. This den of iniquity will take nothing more from me.
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May 21, 2014 15:43
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Her hair was the color of plain cheese pizza
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May 21, 2014 15:45
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I had a hunch the answer would become clear once I re-created the crime scene on my minecraft server.
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May 21, 2014 15:58
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The dame would never have chosen Squirtle first, so it must have been murder. Edit: I knew I was dealing with one sick twisted motherfucker, he mixed his bento box compartments. happyhippy fucked around with this message at 16:20 on May 21, 2014 |
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May 21, 2014 16:09
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| # ? May 2, 2024 14:25 |
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It took me several minutes to kick down the door, but I was too late. Eduardo was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, with two neat holes in his chest still sending light strands of smoke into the darkened motel room. Lording over the corpse of the very man she had hired me to protect her from was the female in red, probably with a remorseless look on her face. She turned the gun on me. "Sorry honey, you played your part to a t, but it's curtains for you now" she said in that irresistible Lauren Faust-esque voice. She fired once. I hit the floor, clutching my stomach. I looked at my hand and saw dark blood. She'd shot me in the liver, just like in the 1997 The Jackal remake. I was done for. "W-w-why?" I managed to stammer, being pretty nervous about my impending death. "Oh honey." she said, moving in for the killing shot. "I did it for the goldmine." Before it all went dark forever I heard her whisper one last word... "5'd"
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May 21, 2014 16:59
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