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Hello, CC. On-and-off lurker; first time poster. I have some writing credentials but if you've seen anything of mine it's probably comics: Raymondo Person, EEGRA (videogames), Hilarity Comics (on the web and in Dark Horse Presents), that one with the Koala and the Dingo that explains how voting works in Australia, and others. If you've seen any of my videos, it's probably the EEGRA one where Brian Crecente reviews Super Smash Bros. Brawl. My current thing is me reading stories to you, the internet, one story each day for 32 days. Today is day 23. Here's the youtube playlist Here's the tag on my tumblr Here's the category on my website The posts on my website include the full text of each story, so that's the link for you if you'd rather read than be read to. I recommend the videos though; I decided to make them because of how well my occasional live readings went at comedy and cabaret/variety nights. I'm funny on a semi-professional level. I'm semi-funny, professionally. I named this project Insufficient Stories. The stories are mostly very short indeed (the shortest is eight words) but tend to get longer as the series progresses (the longest is a hair over 1900). They're funny, sometimes very odd, and sometimes extremely crass. I mean I will swear at you; swear words with come out of your computer speakers. Also some ridiculous and bizarre sex, very occasionally. Some of the stories are satirical, or direct parodies, but not all of them. For now I won't talk about 'em any more, except to post a few examples. Comments or questions of any kind will be very welcome, but my main reason for posting here is just to share these stories with more people! I think/hope some of the CC crowd might get a kick out of them. Happy to talk more about the origins of the project, specific stories, etc., but only if folks are interested. Thanks! * * * Oliver Twist Oliver and a hundred other orphans lived in misery. To pass the time, they made Oliver ask Harry Secombe for a second helping of gruel. “Please sir,” Oliver stammered, meekly proffering his bowl, “can I have some more?” “More?!” bellowed Harry Secombe, his eyeballs inflated with passion. “Of course you may have more, you poor, weak child! I didn’t realise you were so hungry. Who else would like some more?” Soon every boy was enjoying a fresh bowl of piping hot gruel. Then there were fat sausages, and creamy mashed potato, and trifle for dessert. Merriment filled the hall, and Harry Secombe’s cheeks were so rosy, and his laughter so jolly, it seemed to the orphans that Father Christmas was among them. Harry Secombe threw his arms wide. “Parents for everybody!” he cried. * * * Heaving Romance They met tumultuously. Soon Ronaldo clutched her bosoms like a man, and she surrendered her rude bits. That spring, and every spring thereafter, they were married. * * * Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure It was a loving autumn morning. I dropped into 221B Baker Street to borrow a cup of cocaine, and was taken aback at the sight of a gleaming white refrigerator floating around the sitting room. “Ah, Watson,” came a familiar voice, and I realised the refrigerator was in fact the gargantuan forehead of my esteemed friend Mr Sherlock Holmes. “Come in, will you.” “I am in, Holmes.” “So I deduced,” he replied intelligently, “from looking at you and seeing that you are here.” Turning to the fireplace opposite me, he casually played a minuet on his ukulele, drop-kicked it into the fire, and continued: “I see that you came here by hansom cab to-day, and your driver was hard of hearing.” “That’s right!” I exclaimed, my funny little eyebrows leaping comically. “Furthermore,” said Holmes, “I observe that you left your own residence in haste, following a marital spat regarding which side you ought to part your hair on.” “Gadzooks, Holmes!” I sputtered oafishly, my saliva spraying forth in astonishment. “Correct again!” “Recently, you purchased as a pet a pomeranian puppy with peach-yellow patches, naming it Archibald – only to then discover that the animal is female.” My eyeballs bulged impossibly from their sockets, so startling my lips that they tried to escape my face: leaping forth from the stupidly gawping mouth, and sticking there, protruding and fishlike. Moved by amazement at the precise accuracy of my friend’s deductions, I made tiny hops from one fat leg to the other, back and forth like a performing pig. My polka-dot necktie came untucked from my trousers and rolled itself up, like a cut piano string. I was dumb with excitement, and although Holmes was still facing the mantle, it was all I could do to jiggle my blobby round head about and hope this resembled an enthusiastic nod. But the master detective had not finished yet. “For luncheon yesterday,” he declared, “you ate steak and kidney pie, but the overpowering scent of a new lavender potpourri diminished your enjoyment of the meal. Two Thursdays ago, you trod on a cat. When you were eight years old, you suffered a sprain of the right elbow upon falling eleven feet from a bonsai tree. You trim your nose hairs with scissors properly intended for your wife’s toenails, and your favourite colour is green.” The force of my own surprise lifted my entire egg-shaped body into the air, and I fell backwards into a wheelbarrow full of mulberries. Then my head fell off. “Good gracious, Holmes!” I spurted. “Great flapping bottoms!” I blurted. My rudimentary legs wiggled in the air, as I struggled to regain verticality. “Jehovah’s jolly green genitals, Mary’s memorable mammaries, and the consecrated oval office of Christ! Your every inference is correct to the last detail. Having barely glanced at me since I entered the room, you have nonetheless extrapolated my biography. How did you do it, Holmes, and how, unfailingly and unerringly, do you do it?” At last my companion turned to face me, and fixed his steel grey eyes upon my own. “My dear Watson, it could not be simpler. You see, I am a wizard.” And he painted rainbows in the air with his finger. * * * Hitler’s Kitten Hitler had a kitten growing from the side of his neck. He poked at his Froot Loops lamely, unable to focus his thoughts. “I have powers,” rasped the kitten. Hitler felt as though he was an inch away from the world; as though he had woken up and remained asleep. The kitten purred, but perhaps it was Hitler’s neighbour mowing the lawn. The next day, Hitler was tending his vegetable garden and found buried treasure. He was rich forever! The kitten screamed inside his mind. #
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Feb 3, 2015 14:20
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This guy is banned now so he probably won't see this, but holy poo poo is this writing terrible and not funny at all. I hope he is in school for something else.
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Mar 27, 2015 19:27
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Well at least he ran out of adverbs halfway through.
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Mar 28, 2015 18:25
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crabrock posted:This guy is banned now so he probably won't see this, but holy poo poo is this writing terrible and not funny at all. I hope he is in school for something else. I dunno, I thought "Parents for everybody!" was kind of funny 
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Mar 28, 2015 22:38
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crabrock posted:This guy is banned now so he probably won't see this, but holy poo poo is this writing terrible and not funny at all. I hope he is in school for something else. it's pretty lololol monkeycheeeeeeeese but it's so far over the top it was a bit funny. wait is he banned what
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Mar 31, 2015 03:22
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