|
He looked upon his dominion. In his tracks lay furlongs of death and destruction heavy with the stench of decay. It had taken thirty-five years of his life but finally he stood at the precipice of his ambition. With trembling fingers he grabbed the cup. Painstakingly he pulled the lever, slow at first to assure the flow would not overwhelm him. As he continued he grew bolder, moving the cup in a circular motion. In the end the universe was only this ;a man and a self-serve chocolate and vanilla sundae.
Literally A Person fucked around with this message at 17:44 on Jun 8, 2017 |
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 17:02
|
|
|
|
| # ? Jun 6, 2024 03:10 |
|
|
John Smith wandered through the gardens, seeing his wife and son nearby. He ran towards them, eager to be reunited with his loved ones. When he arrived, he greeted them with a warm smile and words, even though their backs were turned. Then they turned around and John Smith had found out that they were not his wife and son. Rather, they were burglars. Armed burglars.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 17:12
|
|
|
His fingers trembled as he unbuttoned his jeans and slowly, carefully slipped them off. He knew exactly what was coming next and couldn't wait... he had been looking forward to this after a long day of work. Climbing into bed with a smile on his face, the tired old man clicked off the light and went to sleep.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 17:13
|
|
|
My friend wouldn't shut up about how much he loved poo poo posters. Imagine the look on his face when I nailed one up on his bedroom wall.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 17:24
|
|
|
This is something Jane had never done before. The viscera sloughed off her knife as it rent the flesh. "Such bloody work," she happily clucked. Within an half-hour her work was done. As the body lay cooling on the wooden slab Jane washes up, indifferent to the inhumanity of the past. A man enters the house; Jane smiles. "Hey James! We're having chicken tonight, what kinda' veggies do you want?"
Literally A Person fucked around with this message at 17:45 on Jun 8, 2017 |
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 17:29
|
|
|
I went to poop...and it landed on the toilet seat!!
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 17:31
|
|
|
You make it awfully difficult to quote your stories when they are in quotes themselves! Anyway, she clucked. Was she a chicken, too? Is that the twist?!
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 17:44
|
|
|
Tomato Burger posted:You make it awfully difficult to quote your stories when they are in quotes themselves! Yes. duh.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 17:45
|
|
|
The mouse raced. Day and night it left the comfort of its nest to scavenge each and every piece. Working on instinct alone, traveling miles in a day the mouse was undeterred by the pitfalls and terrors that waited outside in the open. Weeks passed, then months. Slowly the assorted tassels and trinkets began to take shape. A torrent of ancestral knowledge led the mouse to this moment. Yet, upon looking at its creation it could not conceive of a function. It could not understand the grand majesty of a stately 1985 Chevy Nova Hatchback.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 18:16
|
|
|
For sale: baby shoes, never worn
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 18:18
|
|
|
RaySmuckles posted:For sale: baby shoes, never worn No, our baby is not dead. Ze just doesn't identify as the gender for which the shoes were designed, and we respect ze's choice
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 18:19
|
|
|
Tomato Burger posted:Imagine the look on his face when I nailed one up on his bedroom wall. turn your monitor OFF
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 19:11
|
|
|
One time I was having sex with the OP's mom and she was like, oh yeah give it to me in the way I like. Which is hard btw, and so I went nuts on her cooter, just treating it like an object, messing it up into all kinds of fun shapes and whatnot. And she's screaming and being like yeah oh daddy plow it and I'm like ok Jesus and she came all over the place and we had to get cleaners. But anyway, you can basically walk in her vagina and look around now, you're welcome. The twist in this paragraph is that i'm gay
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 19:24
|
|
|
FisheyStix posted:One time I was having sex with the OP's mom and she was like, oh yeah give it to me in the way I like. Which is hard btw, and so I went nuts on her cooter, just treating it like an object, messing it up into all kinds of fun shapes and whatnot. And she's screaming and being like yeah oh daddy plow it and I'm like ok Jesus and she came all over the place and we had to get cleaners. But anyway, you can basically walk in her vagina and look around now, you're welcome. The twist in this paragraph is that i'm gay Awsome something awful dot com poster FisheyStix walked out the front door. The poor bitch fell in a tiger pit. As it lay dying on a spike it looks up seeking to strike out against the world. "I am a good post...er..." It's eyes close. To never open again.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 19:29
|
|
|
What was a spike doing in a tiger pit?  Look man, writing is a craft. You can't just have inconsistencies like this in your work.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 19:30
|
|
|
FisheyStix posted:What was a spike doing in a tiger pit? Finally, some honest criticism. Now I will completely ignore it and continue to be a hack.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 19:31
|
|
|
She fell back into the bed, her large breasts bouncing as she did. Sliding a finger under her lace thong, she slipped it down, fluidly removed the red silk underwear, and threw it at his face, with a playful giggle. He looked down at what was soon to be his; all of the years that he had fantasized about her, especially as they would coyly make and break eye contact in the elevator before she darted off at the fourth floor, heading to her condo, while he would ride the elevator up the next two floors, heart racing, and salivating in an almost Pavlovian response. Even in the dark, he could see her outline against the silk sheets, and she was different than all of the other women he had bedded in this room. This was the woman he always wanted, the one who would complete him. He eased on top of her and kissed her breasts, tongue darting back and forth across her nipples. She exhaled sharply and dug her nails into his back, and then whispered in an aching tone, "gently caress me, Three Olives. gently caress me."
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 19:34
|
|
|
Count Freebasie posted:She fell back into the bed, her large breasts bouncing as she did. Sliding a finger under her lace thong, she slipped it down, fluidly removed the red silk underwear, and threw it at his face, with a playful giggle. He looked down at what was soon to be his; all of the years that he had fantasized about her, especially as they would coyly make and break eye contact in the elevator before she darted off at the fourth floor, heading to her condo, while he would ride the elevator up the next two floors, heart racing, and salivating in an almost Pavlovian response. Even in the dark, he could see her outline against the silk sheets, and she was different than all of the other women he had bedded in this room. This was the woman he always wanted, the one who would complete him. He eased on top of her and kissed her breasts, tongue darting back and forth across her nipples. She exhaled sharply and dug her nails into his back, and then whispered in an aching tone, "gently caress me, Three Olives. gently caress me." 
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 19:36
|
|
|
I remember being at a sleepover at a friend's. We had spent the night watching Top Gun, eating pizza, and playing video games. Pretty sweet times. But then we're in the middle of talking about girls we like, and he asks me if I've ever wrestled with a boner. Like, while hard. I tell him I haven't. He tries to kiss me and pin me all at the same time. Fortunately, I'm wearing a Spider-Man onesie my mom had basically forced me to pack for the sleepover. He can't get quite get it off. So instead, he starts getting undressed and going ham on himself. Like, he's dealing with the whole hog. Everything. His wiener and his butt both. I'm crying and telling him I just want to watch House Party. It's bananas, this molestation. He eventually finishes, and we both spend the rest of the night pretending to sleep. I haven't spoken to him in a while, but the memory is never far from my mind. I was only 23 years old.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 20:16
|
|
|
"Hi honey, I'm home!" came from above. Something Awful poster John struggled, frantically reaching for his monitor's off switch as steps closed in and his door began to creak. In a corner of his eye, he saw a horribly swollen trunk of a limb reaching out towards him.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 20:20
|
|
|
The ruddy looking throng looked up. Their eyes glowed eerily and never blinked. More and more poured out into the street clogging thoroughfares and rendering the roads useless. He knew there had to be an answer, some kind of link. Why these people and not others? Treading carefully he entered a deserted house. Trash strewn and filthy the stench was unfathomable. The only light source in the room was the glow of a monitor turned toward the opposite wall. He reached out and turned the monitor. His face twisted in horror as the image on the screen burned into his brain. Something Awful Dot Com.
Literally A Person fucked around with this message at 20:37 on Jun 8, 2017 |
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 20:32
|
|
|
Nighttime in the city. Leaning against a wrought-iron lampost, Detective Mike Warburg pulled a cigarette from the inside of his trenchcoat. His face briefly illuminated by the flare of a flame, he tossed the spent match onto the grime-encrusted sidewalk. The full moon was hidden behind opaque black clouds, like a false promise. No cars on the rain-slicked street. The detective looked across the street at the Blue Lantern. If Chinese triads had taken the girl, she would have been moved through here. Ostensibly a pawn shop, it was --to those in the know-- secretly a gambling ring, opium den, and brothel. It was also the headquarters for the local ringleader: a man with a scar on his left eyelid named Wong Chung Ho who made up in aggression and brutality what he lacked in stature. Warburg took another puff from the cigarette, cupping it between the his middle and ring finger in the German style. He thought of everything that brought him to this point. Not just in the two weeks he'd spent on this case, but every single fowl-up, gently caress-up and wasted opportunity that landed him where he was now. If he could find the girl, he thought, it might not be redemption, but it would be something. He reached inside the outer pocket of his trenchcoat and felt the cold iron of his Smith & Wesson revolver. They don't use these on the force anymore. drat shame. His hands felt the grip and the trigger-guard. Six shots. Six blue chips for the high-stakes poker game of collecting information. Enough to shoot his way through some Triads if he had to leave through the backdoor. He put the cigarette out on the drizzly lampost and flicked it to the ground. Hands in his pockets, face downcast behind the open collar of his trenchcoat, he walked directly across the street. He would've looked like any of the others poor white suckers come to get cheated at the tables by Chung Ho and his rat-pack of rice goons. The bouncer outside had a Fu Manchu goatee and a tattoo of a dragon on his shoulder. Of course he did. They always did. "Is...is this the way to the...the gambling?" The detective asked, hands still in his pockets. The bouncer nodded and opened the outer storm door, which whined on its rusty hinges. "Watch step going down" he said in heavily accented English. Poor bastard didn't even pat him down. Warburg pushed open the inner door and slipped through the treshhold like a cat's shadow. His sock-and-sandal-clad foot slipped on the first step. A step he wasn't expecting. He tumbled forward, the revolver slipping out of his pocket and bouncing down the steps in front of him. The revolver he just bought that day. The revolver he'd never shot. Down he tumbled over the creaking wooden steps, his head smacking the corner of the safety railing at the bottom. He died. The End. B. Birdsworth fucked around with this message at 20:53 on Jun 8, 2017 |
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 20:38
|
|
|
"poo poo," he said shittily.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 20:40
|
|
|
I was sitting at my usual place at the bar when she walked in. The gams on her! A skirt with a pretty head of curly blond hair. I was just about to make my move when her husband walked in, slapped her in the face, and then dragged her out. It all happened so fast the only thing I could think to do was order a gin and tonic, with a twist of lime.
FlimFlam Imam fucked around with this message at 20:47 on Jun 8, 2017 |
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 20:43
|
|
|
B. Birdsworth posted:Six blue chips for the high-stakes poker game of collecting information. I loving lost it.  B. Birdsworth posted:The revolver he just bought that day. The revolver he'd never shot. Down he tumbled over the creaking wooden steps, his head smacking the corner of the safety railing at the bottom. He died. 
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 20:44
|
|
|
Once there was this autistic high school boy who had a pet pig. He got bullied a lot, and one day the bullies kidnapped his pig and killed and ate it and livestreamed it and everybody at school laughed at his pain because he lived in a pig town so animal cruelty was considered awesome. A few weeks later he kidnapped the bullies' little brother and killed and ate him and livestreamed it. He spent 10 years in a hospital for the criminally insane painting beatific pictures of pigs, and then he died from an undetected aortic dissection. The End
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 20:56
|
|
|
He stepped onto the crowded elevator in a hypnotic daze from the urban confusion, and without thinking the untamed apeman of the forest farted. It didn't stink much to his relief. He got so comfortable he leaned over and cracked a joke to the guy next to him "someone must have stepped on a frog hurrr harrr durrrrr". But then, then it stank, badly. Split pea soup was all the apeman remembered. 17 floors to go. 
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 21:03
|
|
|
Mike dialed 911 and explained the emergency. "Dispatch will be there right away. Not!"
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 21:03
|
|
|
Macasaurus posted:turn your monitor OFF The twist is that it was a literal poster about poo poo, not a human shitposter nailed to the wall! 
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 21:59
|
|
|
There was a ghost but it was dead the whole time!!!
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 22:02
|
|
|
biological superpubescence after one's felt death
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 22:56
|
|
|
It was the culmination of all his hard work, all his efforts, but he was finally getting his college degree. He imagined himself showing up in a few years at his reunion, brushing with the people who called him garbage and stupid and casually telling them he'd had a bachelor's. As he thought about it more, as his diploma was moments away from sliding into his hand, he thought, "Why stop here? Why not really rub it in their faces to show up to the reunion with a Master's degree? A PhD?" The hum of the printer finally went silent and he stared at the "University of Pheonix" degree. With a slight fearful hesitation he felt himself become sick in a way he hadn't felt in years... Pheonix. PHEONIX?! He quickly went and looked up all his records, his web history, his transcripts, his payments... This wasn't the University of Phoenix, it was the University of Pheonix! This degree wasn't worth the 30c in paper and ink it was printed with!
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 23:03
|
|
|
B. Birdsworth posted:Nighttime in the city. Whole lotta paragraphs there for a one-paragraph story. The twist: it was a good story!
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 23:04
|
|
|
RaySmuckles posted:For sale: baby shoes, never worn Dead baby shoes for sale
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 23:20
|
|
|
Most of these are just scenes and not stories A story is defined by having a beginning, a middle, and a dude eating a toddler over twitch.tv
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 23:25
|
|
|
Nigmaetcetera posted:Most of these are just scenes and not stories I love semantics! Now write a loving scene.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 23:26
|
|
|
Literally A Person posted:I love semantics! Now write a loving scene. The autistic highschool dude walked into the smoky bar. The wallpaper stuck to the walls with great trepidation and was more bubble than not. He drew his breath in and savored the bittersweet scent of decades of cigarette smoking, only recently forbidden by state legislation. His pet pig Wonton trailed beside him, lackadaisically devouring the old cigarette butts and peanut shells on the floor, a floor which had seen too much blood in far too short a time. Perhaps things could've been alleviated by a simple drain in the floor. Instead, the bartenders cum janitors simply moved the blood of their violent patrons around, allowing it to fester and tease their nostrils with the sickly-sweet scent of rot. Then the McKenzie twins killed and ate his pig and they all had a luau and the whole bar laughed at him, so he killed and ate lil Jr. McKenzie and the whole bar thought it was somewhat less funny. The End
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 23:39
|
|
|
Nigmaetcetera posted:Perhaps things could've been alleviated by a simple drain in the floor. Not only do I love semantics, I also love this sentence.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2017 23:41
|
|
|
i must compose posted:I went to poop...and it landed on the toilet seat!! If poops were posts you'd be the Banksy of every nightclub shitter
|
|
#
?
Jun 9, 2017 00:36
|
|
|
|
| # ? Jun 6, 2024 03:10 |
|
|
"There," I finally said as I dropped the box of books at the top of the stairs with a muffled thud, "I think that's the last of it." It was our dream home. Ten bedrooms, four baths, and half the price of the other houses in the neighbourhood. There were even enough outlets in the kitchen for every appliance we had! Finally, I had the quiet I needed to write and the room our family needed to grow. Exhausted from the afternoon's work, I leaned against the sill of one of the oddly-shaped windows. "Hey, what did the previous owner do for a living again? Some kind of contractor?" Those were the last words I ever said to her. On the pitched ceiling above me, the drywall had begun to crack.
|
|
#
?
Jun 9, 2017 02:35
|
|
