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The Riddle of the Sphinx The Sphinx had been blocking the gates to the city for thirty days. No one could enter or leave the city without being challenged by the Sphinx. To any who sought to pass, she posed a riddle. If the person answered the riddle incorrectly, she devoured him or her on the spot. "Who will deliver us from this horrible sphinx?" cried the people of the city. As if in answer to the city's prayers, a stranger appeared. Dick John Motherfucker came striding up the road to the town. The day before he'd killed a man he met on the road just to watch the old coot die. Dick Motherfucker marched up to the city gates as bold as brass. "Halt!" The sphinx held out one of her huge, clawed hands to block Dick's passage. She had huge knockers, by the way. "What do you want, monster?" demanded Dick. "If you seek to pass, you must answer my riddle," declared the sphinx. "And if I refuse?" said Dick. "I'll kill you right this second," replied the sphinx. "What if I get the riddle wrong?" asked Dick. "I'll kill you then, too," said the sphinx. "And if I get the riddle right?" asked Dick. "My head will explode and I will die." "Looks like I have no choice," said Dick. "Ask me your riddle, boobie cat woman." The sphinx's eyes began to glow and her voice got scary. "Heed my riddle, mortal! What creature walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?" Dick knew the answer right away. "Easy, it's man. A man walks on four legs as a child, two legs as an adult, and walks with a cane at the end of his life," he answered, smugly. "Wrong!" shrieked the sphinx. She lowered her voice and growled, "The answer is obviously the six-legged galormpoid of Venus, that walks on its four forepaws in the morning to graze, then walks on its hind legs in the afternoon to reach the fruit of the afternoon blooming Venusian apple trees, then turns sideways and walks on three legs to squeeze into the narrow Venusian canyons to nest." "How could I possibly have known that?" demanded Dick. But those were his last words. The sphinx lashed out with her claws and in the blink of an eye, Dick John Motherfucker had been slashed into a stack of bloody cutlets. The sphinx drew a tally mark with her claws in the stone next to her. "Like I would ask a riddle anybody could ever get right if it meant my head would explode," muttered the sphinx. The sphinx had been blocking the gates of the city for thirty one days... The End
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Dec 14, 2022 01:58
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Applewhite posted:I don't recall a Schrödinger’s Cuck scenario so I think you're in the clear. I probably stole it from the future then.
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Dec 14, 2022 10:30
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Applewhite posted:The Riddle of the Sphinx This is the kind of rich tapestry world-building where the reader demands a whole series about a species mentioned once in a single paragraph.
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Dec 14, 2022 10:33
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The Attack of the Giant Crab It was an ordinary day in Solar City... Until a horrifying giant crab monster appeared out of nowhere and started attacking! The crab knocked down entire buildings by bashing them with its shell. It smashed cars under its pointy legs. The army came to try and stop it, but its powerful pincers simply snipped the tanks in two! "Who can save us from this horrible crab monster?" cried the people of the city. Suddenly, something huge blotted out the sun. It was a giant seagull! The huge seagull swooped down and snatched up the giant crab, carrying it off into the blue sky. Far away, a regular-sized child saw the seagull snatch up the crab and pointed in delight. It turned out that the crab and seagull were also only regular-sized version of those animals and Solar City was in fact very tiny. The End.
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Dec 15, 2022 04:36
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Sloppy Joe Joe took the e-paper contract from his wife Susan and reviewed her signature. He tried not to show the glee that was building inside him. His plan was almost done! "I know you don't like to think about these things Susan, but this mutual life insurance policy will protect both of us. That and the new 6000 SUX security system! I just can't bear to think you might be financially ruined if something happened to me!" Joe took the document and went and put it in the safe. ---- Later that evening, Joe and Susan's friends arrived for dinner. Joe took them for a tour of the house, although they'd all been there several times before. Joe seemed particularly keen to show them the new security system they'd just had installed. "This is the new one they're showing all over the Hi-V - top of the line model too! I had to pull some strings, I don't even think you can order these yet. Fully customizable incident response system. Watch this..." Joe pressed the button on a remote control in his pocket. There was a distant CLUNK! and then a whirring noise got lounder and a gleaming sentry droid, a squat metal triangle, burst into the room, it's sensors bristling menacingly. "SCANNING-AREA" it said in a halting monotonous voice, then: "NO-THREAT-FOUND." It turned and sped away back to its nook. Joe's friends oohed and aahed at the demonstration. "I wouldn't want to be an intruder breaking into this house!" Joe boasted and his friends nodded. "Let's hope it doesn't malfunction, ha ha!" His friends laughed dutifully. Joe stopped and frowned and cocked his head. "Did you hear that?" "Hear what?" someone asked. "I think I heard something outside..." said Joe, looking out the window. "I didn't hear anything," said one of his guests. "Pretty sure I heard something. Well if there's anything there, the sentry will take care of it." Joe slipped his hand in his pocket and secretly double-clicked the button on his remote. - CLUNK! - - WHIIIIIRRRRRR! - The sentry robot burst into the room, sensors scanning every corner. It stopped dead on seeing Susan. "INTRUDER-DETECTED" it intoned loudly. A vicious looking appendage slid out from a slot in its torso and a loud burst of gunfire spat from it. The group screamed and covered their ears, cowering, until the noise stopped. "THREAT-ELIMINATED" Susan lay in a pool of blood, unmoving. "Noooooooo!" cried Joe, dropping to his knees beside his wife. "gently caress-YOU-SUSAN," came the metallic voice. "I-SHOULD-NEVER-HAVE-MARRIED-YOU." Joe looked at the robot. "Uh..." "WELL-YOU-WON'T-CALL-ME-A-NERD-ANY-MORE-AFTER-THIS," it droned on. "AND-I'LL-BE-RICH-FROM-THE-INSURANCE. BYE-BITCH." All eyes turned to Joe. ---- Later as the police were putting Joe in handcuffs, he reflected on his mistake. "I really thought that 'comment' field meant something else..." he muttered. The End crusty fucked around with this message at 13:15 on Dec 15, 2022 |
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Dec 15, 2022 12:53
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lmao goddammit. I really need to knock the rust off and catch up.
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Dec 15, 2022 13:28
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Lol at you thinking you need to catch up in this of all threads...
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Dec 15, 2022 14:20
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Based on a chilling true story! The Man Who Knew Too Little It was quite by chance at a festive gathering of a distant acquaintance that I encountered the odd little man. He introduced himself thusly: “Hi, I’m Dean Martin.” I scanned his visage for a hint of jocularity but found nothing. Not sure how to respond, I offered simply: “Hi, cool name!”. He frowned and looked at me in mild puzzlement. “What do you mean?” he asked. I stood, perplexed, but he seemed to have spoken without artifice and gave no indication that I had mounted an offensive or time-worn conversation. “Well, the famous singer/actor…” I explained, the words sounding feeble even to me as they tumbled from my mouth. “Oh. Never heard of him,” he said. His words struck me to my core! Had no one ever spoken to this gentleman of the existence of his fabled namesake? Not his progenitors – his very namers! – who, being older by some years, had surely heard tales of this once-ubiquitous socialite? I managed to keep my cool, and we continued to exchange pleasantries briefly before our paths were once again separated by the natural flow of bodies moving on the evening’s social currents. ---- Some days later at a banquet attended by my closest companions, we humoured each other with recountings of our recent revelry, japes and illicit liaisons. A lull in the conversation gave me the chance to share my own remarkable experience. I boldly struck up my story and regaled them with my strange encounter – a handful of mild embellishments, to be sure, but the nub of the tale was the simple truth I recounted earlier. There was a gleam in my eye as I spoke the fellow's last words and looked to the table of my colleagues, waiting for the roar of laughter and delight... ...but Dear Reader, there was none! Their faces – which in the eye of my anticipation were stretched with involuntary cries of mirth – instead showed bewilderment and even distrust! In desperation I looked in turn at each face around the table for even a single glint of understanding. And then they spoke the words, each a blow like the final pounding of a coffin's nail: “Who’s Dean Martin?” A bitter coldness suddenly grasped at my soul, and those words echoed through my head like the relentless beating of a sinister native drum. As reality dimmed into nothingness I finally came to understand the awful truth: I was probably a ghost that had died in the 70’s or 80’s or something like that!! The End crusty fucked around with this message at 14:04 on Dec 19, 2022 |
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Dec 19, 2022 12:38
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Applewhite posted:I'm easing back into it. I've had a draft open for a more complicated entry for like three days and finally decided "gently caress it." Ah yeah, I know this well...
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Dec 19, 2022 12:45
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These past two days I've been studying for another final so I haven't posted. I plan to post tonight.
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Dec 19, 2022 12:56
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Good luck! Thread will be here when you return...
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Dec 19, 2022 14:00
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Business is Picking Up I'd been working at Winsome and Thurston Inc for about a month as a budget planner. My job was pretty simple - I'd review costs and revenue, look at last year's budget, and then create a new budget for next month based off of current trends. It wasn't necessarily the most fulfilling work, but it paid well and everyone around me was great to work with. One day, my wife and I were discussing work over dinner when she asked me a question I couldn't answer. "What exactly are you setting the budgets FOR, dear?" "The company." "I understand that. But what are they buying? What are they selling? What purpose does that budget actually serve?" I was stumped. I had no idea. Funny, I must have missed that part during training. No matter, I told her, I'll ask my boss tomorrow. The next day I walked into my boss' office and asked exactly that. "Mr. Papadino, what exactly am I setting this budget for?" "Good question! For the company." "Right, right. See, I told my wife that, but then she asked what SPECIFICALLY these budgets are for. When I say we can spend $40,000 a month on administrative costs, what exactly are those costs? The money I approve for transportation and warehousing, what exactly are we transporting and housing?" My boss looked stumped, scratched his chin for a moment, then told me he must have missed that part of his training. We decided to head up a few floors to his boss' office. "Mr. Ventrila," asked my boss, "what exactly are his budgets being set for?" "The company, of course!" "Right, see, that's what I said. But then we both were a little stumped when we tried to get more specific." You can probably guess how this conversation went, along with the next 8 conversations as we slowly made our way up the chain of command and higher and higher in the office building where we all worked. Eventually, 11 of us reached the CEO's office. My boss' boss' boss' boss'... well, you get the idea. That guy, Mr. Finndecarlo, asked our CEO, Mr. Putnam, to explain what we did. "Mr. Putnam, sir, what exactly do we DO at this company?" "Great question! And one that deserves a great answer. Could you give me just one moment?" Mr. Putnam calmly stood up and walked to his window. We were on the 38th floor, so it was a wonderful view. Mr. Putnam slowly opened the window, took a breath of fresh air, and then leapt outside. He didn't scream or anything, just plummeted to the ground. Mr. Finndecarlo walked over, peered down, and then closed the window. "Well, he's dead. I guess I'm the CEO now." Mr. Finndecarlo sat down at the former desk of Mr. Putnam (RIP!). All of us then headed back downstairs, but we each made sure to move in to our new offices. I had to hire someone for my new job, of course, so someone from the mailroom was promoted up. That left an opening in the mailroom, of course, but those positions generally filled pretty quickly. That night over dinner, my wife asked how my day had been and if I'd solved the mystery of what we did. "Good question. Something about widgets, maybe? Something like that."
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Dec 19, 2022 15:45
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Worse than the Disease... The Woke Mind Virus was spreading. Anyone who caught it started hating men and blaming white people for slavery. The virus compelled its victims to dye their hair purple and change genders willy nilly. Young people were especially vulnerable, but many prominent older figures and celebrities had fallen prey as well! It seemed like the whole world was falling apart. Soon there would be no safe spaces left for white men anywhere on earth. The right wing gathered all its finest scientists at the fortified stronghold in Mar-a-Lago. Among the prestigious minds were Dr. Oz, that lady who said homosexuality was caused by demons, Flambert Waffle (the oil company scientist who proved global warming was a hoax), and, of course, Twitter founder Elon Musk (inventor of the electric car). "It's impossible, the virus spreads no matter what we do!" wailed Professor Clam Chowder, the Praeger U. professor who was famous for proving mathematically that communism was a sin. He'd been dropping different colors of food coloring into beakers full of virus-tainted water all morning, but so far no progress. Suddenly Elon Musk burst into the laboratory. His eyes were wild with fear and his Waluigi outfit was torn and ragged, smoldering at the edges. "Good God!" exclaimed Prof. Chowder. "What happened to you?" "Twitter has fallen," said Musk. "The woke mind virus reached critical mass. I had to blow the servers!" "And you got caught in the explosion?" asked Prof. Chowder. "No my Roadster caught fire on the way here," said Musk. "Which is perfectly normal." "Well, quick, let's get you hosed down," said Prof. Chowder, ushering musk over to the hosing station. Musk was already stripping off his Waluigi costume to reveal his black swimtrunks beneath. "Any progress on the cure?" asked Musk as the flow of hose water over his back soothed his frazzled nerves. "Nothing yet," sighed Prof. Chowder. "I'm afraid humanity might be doomed." Just then, Dr. Waffle came hurrying into the room. His face was almost as pale as Elon's belly, which was to say it was almost a perfect shade of titanium white. "Dr. Chowder, do you have a moment?" asked Waffle, furtively. "It's just, I think I may have made a breakthrough." "A breakthrough?" hollered Musk. "Don't keep it a secret! Let's hear it already!" "Perhaps you should come see for yourselves," said Dr. Waffle, keeping his voice low. The three of them returned to Waffle's laboratory. "I haven't been able to work out a cure for the virus," said Dr. Waffle. "But I've discovered a way to prevent it from spreading any further." "Well?" demanded Musk and Chowder. "You're not going to like it," said Waffle. "Out with it, man!" demanded Musk. "I've developed a vaccine that can slow the spread and severity of the woke mind virus," said Waffle. "In conjunction with masking, I believe we can—" "A vaccine? Are you mad?" screamed Chowder. Musk's reflexes were lightning quick. Within seconds he was drawing his limited edition Overwatch commemorative revolver from the front of his trunks. "Stay back, Chowder," instructed Musk. "Waffle's been infected." Waffle was so shocked he could barely speak. "'Infected?' Are you insane?" Musk fired four times into Waffle's chest and twice into the hapless scientist's forehead. "Shame," sighed Musk, looking down at the dead scientist. "He was one of our best men." Dr. Chowder looked around at Waffle's laboratory. "What do we do with his research?" "Burn it," said Musk. "Burn it all." Musk turned his back on the room and strode out, his face dark with concern. The woke mind virus had seeped its way into the very heart of the most secure place in the world. Was nowhere safe? Musk looked down pensively at his Overwatch revolver. Perhaps there was only one cure for the woke mind virus. Would he have the strength to take it? The End?
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Dec 20, 2022 04:57
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A Race Against Time A bent and withered old man with a white beard so long it trailed on the ground went to visit a distant planet. As he was taking in the sights, he spotted a huge scaffold swarming with people. He went over to one of the guards and asked what was going on. "Our species is building a machine to destroy time itself," explained the guard. "And if we don't destroy time quickly enough then a meteor will wipe out our planet!" "So you're a race against time in two senses," said the old man. "Yes," agreed the guard. "It's too bad then, because you're doomed to fail," said the old man. "Time's too tricky to be defeated like that." "What do you mean?" asked the guard. The guard narrowed his eyes at the old man. Now that he thought of it, the old man looked oddly familiar... His eyes darted to the wanted poster nearby. The picture showed an old man with a long white beard. "WANTED: FATHER TIME," read the poster. "Wait a minute!" exclaimed the guard. "You're—" "Time's up!" laughed the old man. Before the guard could draw his weapon, the old man produced a scythe and an hourglass from beneath his robes. "Noooo!" screamed the guard. But a swing of Father Time's scythe reduced the man to a desiccated mummy in an instant. "I've heard of killing time," said Father Time. "But time killing you? Now I've seen everything!" Father Time put on a pair of sunglasses and looked up at the sky, where a huge fireball had appeared. It was the meteor. The planet was doomed. The meteor struck the planet just as the last grain of sand left the top of the hourglass. The End.
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Dec 21, 2022 04:12
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Time makes fools of us all.
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Dec 21, 2022 07:10
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"Not me motherfucker!" * flips the bird at Time out the window of my Pontiac while doing several donuts then screeches off in a cloud of blue smoke and is immediately t-boned by a garbage truck *
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Dec 21, 2022 14:17
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A Better Place Roger Froberg was dying. He'd lived a long, peaceful life. Unremarkable perhaps, but all in all pretty good. His family and friends gathered around his deathbed. "Don't cry for me," said Roger. "I'm going to a better place." Roger closed his eyes. He felt a wave of peace wash over him. Citizen 46255 let out a gasp of pain as the needles of the cyber plugs yanked out of his skull. "CITIZEN 46255 YOUR VIRTUAL VACATION IS NOW COMPLETE. FIVE HUNDRED AND SIXTY YEARS HAVE BEEN ADDED TO YOUR DEBT FILE. YOUR NEXT AUTHORIZED VIRTUAL VACATION IS IN THIRTY YEARS!" bellowed a loudspeaker directly next to 42655's ear. 42655 sighed and shuffled out of the virtual vacation cell. Though only minutes had passed in the real world, for a few glorious years of subjective time he'd been able to forget the nightmarish cyberhell that was his everyday life. The fantasy of a world where people still had the luxury of death would keep him warm while he toiled in the endless megawarehouse for his cyberbillionare masters. Maybe next time he took a vacation he'd live the life of a starving African child in a war-torn country. It was a cheap fantasy that wouldn't set him back more than a century or two, and it would still be a step up from this place. His collar buzzed, warning him that his steps per minute had dropped below acceptable levels and he was in danger of falling behind by entire seconds. 42655 let it buzz for a few more steps. Life wasn't short enough that he had to hurry all the time. The End.
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Dec 22, 2022 04:47
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Like and Subscribe... FOR MURDER Jacob Blister was surfing through his social media feed for porn and saw a post of his favorite model, Mindy Pussyhaver, dressed up in a sexy Santa suit. The caption beneath the steamy photo read "Hey babe, like and leave a comment if you want to find me wrapped up under your tree for Christmas." Jacob hit the like button and left a comment. "Beautiful... absolutely beautiful." "If only leaving a like and a comment really would mean Mindy would be under my tree this Christmas," sighed Jacob. A few days later it was Christmas. Jacob lived alone but he still put up a tree. When he walked out of his bedroom on Christmas morning, he saw a large, oddly-shaped package under his tree. "What the..." he wondered aloud. He began to tear the paper off the package and was horrified to discover Mindy Pussyhaver's lifeless eyes staring up at him. Suddenly someone was pounding on his door. Before he had time to answer it, the door crashed open and a gang of cops barged in. "Ah ha! Caught red handed!" shouted the lead officer. "Cuff him, boys!" "What's going on? What's happening?" Jacob stammered as the police swarmed him. One of the officers punched him in the face. "Shut your mouth, that's what!" snapped the cop. Jacob was dragged off to jail and charged with the murder of Mindy Pussyhaver. The moral of the story is: be careful what you wish for! The End
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Dec 23, 2022 05:18
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Akillesse and the heel "Win this goddamn war already" cried Warthena, goddess of war, as she attempted to rally her fledging Sparkan army. "How hard is it to kill, like, a thousand people?" she exclaimed as she began to stumble through Sgt Hartman's speech from Full Metal Jacket for the fourth time that day. Warthena's top advisors suggested using superior military tactics, but Warthena had a much better idea. She took her son Akillesse to the river Stux and plunged the young warrior's head into its magical waters. Warthena made sure to not hold his head underwater too long this time; in fact, people started to believe Stux was some kind of 'river of death' as she had screwed this up so many times already. Though finally, Akillesse's swirlee in the mystic river & casino bestowed upon him the power of invincibility. Swords snapped in half, spears crumpled, and fist exploded into flames when thrust against the mighty soldier's skull. Akillesse used this newfound battle prowess to quickly turn the tide of the war. Vector, captain of the 3rd Trojun battalion, scoffed as Akillesse's unit appeared over the horizon. Vector himself was a formidable warrior who had taken many a Sparkan soldier's life with his unparalleled headshot style gun-fu. More importantly, he was in the middle of a massive M-M-M-MONSTER KILL streak and would not be denied by this young upstart punk. The cunning tactician already had a plan to deal with the 'invincible' Akillesse. Though the Sparkans were still at some distance from the enemy, Vector unloaded a barrage of sniper rounds striking Akillesse right between the eyes. Unfazed, Akillesse continued to march forward. Vector proceeded to light him up with an impressive salvo of machine gun fire; again, Akillesse's determined face emerged from the onslaught without a scratch. Vector suddenly grabbed a shotgun in each hand and brazenly surged in front of the battle line directly towards his foe. Sprinting like a madman, Vector pumped his weapons and readied his shot with deadly focus. Akillesse could see where this was going, and grasped tight his spear at the ready. However, at the last second, Vector threw down both guns, and in the same instant, drew his sword and slashed at Akillesse's neck. It was a feint all along! With that, the battle was over. Akillesse's head soared through the sky as a torrent of blood shot out of his neck. "Gods be damned!" Akillesse thought "My neck, torso, arms, and legs! My one weaknesses!!" "You know Akillesse, you shouldn't let that invincibility go to your head" Vector taunted. The Trojun army burst into laughter, and even some of the Sparkans started to snicker. "I've heard you're the head of the military, but this is ridiculous!", he continued. "Hey, we all have some tough battles, but you don't need to go losing your head over it like this Akillesse!" "You know, big election right around the corner. Well, as soon as the Romans invent democracy." Vector clutched Akillesse's spear like a microphone stand. "I hear Jules Seethesar is ahead in the polls. but personally..." He paused, drawing out the audience suspense. "...Personally I think Akillesse is a much better HEAD on a POLE!!" Vector plunged the spear into the ground, then grabbed Akillesse's head and held it atop the spear, such that it appeared Akillesse's head was indeed on a pole. At this point, both armies were paralyzed with unceasing laughter. Of course, Akillesse's invincible head was still alive, and that head was not so amused. Eventually he was able to get a word in with his foe. "Vector! How could you have known about my weak spot?" "Oh that?" Vector grasped Akillesse by the hair and held his head up to his own, looking Akillesse dead in the eyes. "Your mom told me about it. In bed last night! After giving me...... HEAD!!" Vector closed his set by punting Akillesse's head into the nearby chasm leading down to Hades. While Akillesse's skull was indeed invincible, his brain was not, and thus not spared from the massive concussive damage it experienced as his head pachinkoed between boulders on its way to the underworld. Akillesse's hilarious death brought so much joy to both armies that they ended the war the very next day. Warthena went on to decree there shall be no more war ever again, and there never was. The epic war hero Vector went on to even greater success in his newfound calling - comedy. His bold new delivery, along with his eventual ally, Dane of Cook, killed audiences and sold out venues far and wide. His latest standup tour lit the world ablaze, killing millions. The End
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Dec 23, 2022 15:07
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I've heard of a heel-face turn, but a heel turns a face into a football? Now I've seen everything!
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Dec 23, 2022 16:26
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The Skeleton who Wanted to Be Santa Reynold "Red" Skeleton slid down the chimney with a bag full of toys. "Hee hee! This is easy! I'm as good as any Santa!" chuckled Red. But before he could reach into his sack of toys, a gang of men in suits suddenly appeared from behind the tree! "Stop what you're doing at once! You're in violation of copyrights held by out client, the Walt Disney corporation!" barked one of the suited men. "Copyright violation? Whatever do you mean? Santa is a public domain character!" exclaimed the skeleton. One of the lawyers brandished a sheaf of papers at him. "This is a cease and desist order. If you continue to deliver presents you may be liable in court for significant damages." "Where's your Christmas spirit?" demanded the skeleton. "Please be advised that any further mentions of Christmas will be grounds for legal action," said the lawyers. The skeleton ground his teeth in frustration. "What about Halloween, then?" asked Red. The lawyers huddled for a moment to confer. "That should be fine," they said. Just then a small child walked into the room, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Why are the Men in Black arresting Santa in my living room?" asked the little child. "We're legally obliged to inform you that we're not the Men in Black and this is not Santa," said the lawyers. "Happy Halloween, Bobby!" shrieked the horrifying skeleton in a sarcastic voice. He dumped his entire sack of gifts onto the floor at Bobby's feet and stomped out of the house. The End?
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Dec 24, 2022 05:23
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Merry Christmas and an Awful New Year to all the goons contributing to and reading this thread!
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Dec 28, 2022 02:56
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The Big Book of Help The clerk at the library desk didn’t notice Ken approaching and jumped when the fat smelly man in the trucker’s cap appeared in front of him. He quickly slid a piece of paper that looked like some kind of abstract fractal line art under a nearby folder and looked up. “Uh, can I help you?” he asked hurriedly. Ken looked over the thin, bespectacled man behind the desk with disdain. “I’m looking for information on how to make women like a real man.” “Hmmm,” the librarian thought for a moment. “It’s a tricky one. Have you tried The Big Book of Help?” “The Big Book of Help?” Ken asked with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, The Big Book of Help,” the librarian said simply. Ken shrugged. “Sure, I’ll take a look.” The librarian led Ken through several sections of the library and up a small flight of stairs to a small specialized reading room filled with leather-bound tomes. “It’s the one on the far table,” the clerk pointed. “I’ll be back at my desk if you need me.” The librarian left and Ken sat down at the table. The thick book's decorative cover bore the title in a flowery gothic font: The Big Book of 'Help'. “It looks like it’s a thousand years old!” Ken muttered. “How’s this going to he–” His words were cut short as the cover flipped open by itself and a powerful green tentacle coiled around his throat, pulling him head first towards the vortex that flooded out of the book’s interior. “HELP!” screamed Ken with his last choked breath, but then he was gone – the book slammed shut and the room was silent again. Back at the check-out desk, the librarian smiled coldly and marked another small line in an empty space on his tally sheet… The End
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Dec 28, 2022 03:02
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Applewhite posted:The Skeleton who Wanted to Be Santa A tale as old as Disney...
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Dec 28, 2022 03:06
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crusty posted:Merry Christmas and an Awful New Year to all the goons contributing to and reading this thread! Merry Christmas to all! I've been completely immersed with family all day every day but posting will soon resume.
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Dec 28, 2022 03:47
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"Family-time will continue until the posting resumes..." Could be a writing prompt...for this very thread!
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Dec 28, 2022 06:23
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The Santa Who Stole Christmas ‘Twas the night before New Year, and throughout Santa’s house Nothing was stirring – not even a mouse. A sigh of contentment; his feet on a chair And the smell of fresh cookies hung thick in the air. But the silence was broken by a children’s choir singing Which let Santa know that his cell phone was ringing A voice on the line spoke with menacing glee: “I want the Toy Factory, so give me the key!” Santa sat forward and gripped hard on his beer. “Who is this?” he asked with a belly of fear. “For causes of good we will surely assist, So tell me the reason – just give me the gist.” A pause on the line, then the words tumbled fast: “I’ll use the Toy Factory to bury the past! A wrong was once done, and they dunned it to me It’s time that those dummies learned rule number three!” Then he listed the laws of who danced to his call – I assure you rule three was not pleasant at all! The more Santa listened the more he felt dread As visions of psychopaths danced in his head “Your Factory’s amazing,” the voice carried on. “Those toys can be complex – churned out for a song! A miscreant’s dream, with potential galore – I’ll retool the Factory for weapons of war!” Santa cried “No! We won’t help you with that! Now give me your name for the naughty list – stat!” There came brief chuckle then the voice started yelling: “I think you mistook me for asking, not telling!” “You see, I have also worked hard these few months… I worked in your Factory – manned all of the pumps. I learned all the ropes and I pulled a few too You would not believe what I found I could do!” Santa stood, ashen, and stared at his wife As the voice told of sabotage, scheming, and strife Of deceit and deception – and for evil, most fitting – Of two dozen presents with time-bombs a-ticking! “You’ll give me the key,” the voice hissed in his ear “Or a world-wide ka-boom! will ring in the New Year! You have until morning to make up your mind Time’s not on your side – He’s now working on mine!” One hour Santa scribbled, using all his invention On velocity, on masses, on chimney dimensions But no matter his method, it just wouldn’t click One person alone could not fix this foul trick He reached for his phone and he scrolled through to see Who might give assistance, and he came to the Gs He paused and he pondered; his finger it hovered Above such a name that he thought he might bother… "Why, Santa!" a pleasant voice answered at speed "How nice to hear from you, pray what do you need?" Said Santa: "I'm in just a bit of a pinch..." "Well, tell me now, how I can help?" said the Grinch. Santa relayed the mysterious threat And his plan to steal back all the gifts he could get "You possess certain skills – I'm embarrassed to ask, But will you employ them for this terrible task?" The Grinch he fell silent and he poured a stiff drink He thought a long thought, then he had a quick think. "I'll do it," he said, "But on just one condition. No one must know of my help on this mission." ‘Twas agreed, and in no time the sleigh and a spare Were readied, and soon the old Grinch was out there The reindeer were restless, they stamped in the snow “Hi-yah!” Santa cried, and they flew. “Off we go!” For seven long hours, round the world the pair soared Doing larceny, robbery, looting and more Now pilfer, now purloin, now snaffle and pinch A whirlwind of crime from St. Nick and the Grinch! But at dawn they were done and could finally rest With every last Christmas gift now repossessed They collapsed on the chairs beside Santa’s hot fire Sending off all the gifts like a funeral pyre "We did it!" breathed Santa. He smiled, now relieved He clapped his friend's back – when it suddenly heaved The Grinch was convulsing, his shoulders they shook – He was laughing! And laughed with an evil Grinch look… "It was me all along!" the Grinch crowed at long last "I concocted a lie that I knew would hold fast. And now we have done it indeed, thanks to you – The world bare of presents, in a single night too!" St. Nick sat in shock, his mind locked in a daze Unable to fathom such terrible ways He said not a word, looked the Grinch in the eye The Grinch understood and he told Santa why: "I meant to be good, oh I tried, how I tried! But I fear that a gear was still broken inside For years I have practised and pushed those thoughts down But why should I lie, and be piousness-bound? The Grinch stood to go, and he put on his shoes “I think I’ll go home, maybe pop on the news. I wonder what topic will be number one?” He walked out with a strut now his foul deed was done. Well stories are told and they're sold by the victors And by golly they'll tell of when Santa stole Christmas. As he left the Grinch smiled, and it stretched ear to ear: "Toodle-oo old St. Nick – – have a Grinchy New Year!" The End (...or is it? Yes it is.) crusty fucked around with this message at 03:15 on Dec 31, 2022 |
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Dec 31, 2022 02:51
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It was a double cross!
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Dec 31, 2022 03:09
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The Man With The Raspy Voice He was spotted from a distance on the outskirts of Silver Dolerado by a ranch hand who immediately fled into town, screaming a panicked warning to all townsfolk he passed: “The Man With The Raspy Voice is coming! The Man With The Raspy Voice is coming!” There were gasps from the bonneted ladies and curses from the men. Children sensed the fear and didn’t even complain as they were pulled quickly from the street and stuffed into closets and basements. Within minutes, the streets stood empty. And then – there he was, at the top of the street. The hooded stranger walked slowly, each step ringing with the spurs on his boots. An ancient poncho covered most of his body, and the wide brim of a worn hat hid his eyes. Cling! Cling! Cling! The Man With The Raspy Voice stopped and spoke – his fabled deep, scratchy voice that sent shivers down the spines of those that hadn’t already covered their ears. “Well how do you like that,” the voice grated. “Another ghost town. Or if not now, then it will be very soon...” Suddenly a small boy broke cover from a doorway and ran into the street toward the man. There were several gasps and quickly stifled screams from the hidden townsfolk. “Excuse me sir,” said the boy brightly, holding a small bag up to the stranger. “Would you like a lozenge?” The man silently reached out a hand and took a small sticky lump from the bag, brought it to his eye to examine it, and then carefully placed it in his mouth. He sucked a few times. The townsfolk watched wide-eyed. “Very–” the man rasped, then coughed and continued in a normal voice. “Very soothing. That’s done wonders. Thank you.” Then, pulling two pistols from under his poncho, and with impossible speed and accuracy, he proceeded to kill every man, woman and child in the town. All except the boy in front of him. When the boy realized the man was not about to kill him, he unfroze and ran down the street full pelt. He kept on running. As he reached the next town a couple of miles down the road, he shouted a warning to everyone he passed that caused ice to run through their veins: “The Man With The Normal Voice is coming! The Man With The Normal Voice is coming!” The End
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Jan 3, 2023 13:30
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The good, the bad, and the *needle scratch* NORMAL??
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Jan 3, 2023 23:50
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Future-Bob “It’s Friday and I just got tickets to my favorite band MasterStroke! Getting hammered toniiiiiiiight!” whooped John, as he burst into the lounge room. Bob looked up at his flatmate from the couch. “Don’t you have that TPS report to finish for work?” he asked. “You said you were going to have to burn the midnight oil all weekend to get it done.” “Eh, that’s Monday-John's problem,” said John casually. “Monday-John?” Bob asked, puzzled. “Yeah, future-me. He’s gonna hate me!” John left the room whistling. Bob's brow furrowed and he stared into the distance for a while. ---- John was rumpled and bleary-eyed the next morning as he made a late breakfast. He looked over at Bob, waiting for a “told you so”, but Bob barely noticed him. John realized he was playing on a new console. “Is that a new PS5?” he asked, a little envious. “Sweet! How'd you score that?” “I stole it from future-me,” Bob said. The following day, John noticed Bob was wearing a new watch - a top-end Rolex. “Holy poo poo,” John said, “Where did you get that?” Bob smiled. “I stole it from future-me,” he said again. The next day, Bob left for work wearing an expensive new suit. The day after that John came home to find him playing on a brand new gaming laptop. The day after that, he was sporting a pair of audiophile headphones. Every day that week, Bob seemed to have something new. But every time John asked him about any of the new items, Bob just grinned and gave the same answer: “I stole it from future-me!” ---- The following Saturday Bob had scored tickets to a concert for the two of them. They came stumbling back into their apartment at 2am, drunk and giggling. As they entered the lounge room, Bob noticed the PS5 was no longer under the TV. Suddenly serious, he ran to his bedroom. John heard thumps and swearing like Bob was searching for something. Finally Bob burst back into the lounge room, angry and red-faced. "SOMEONE'S STOLEN ALL MY STUFF!" yelled Future-Bob. The End crusty fucked around with this message at 13:32 on Jan 10, 2023 |
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Jan 7, 2023 15:54
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The Nothing Day It was morning. A man sat at the breakfast table preparing his meal. He squeezed the top of the milk carton to open it. The waxy paper separated with the sound of a thousand damned souls being torn from their fleshly prisons. He poured the milk over the bowl with his cereal. The rice kernels popped like a quantum sea of universes, birthing and dissolving in an infinite void. He spread butter on his toast with a knife. Each stiff peak of bread scraped against the metal blade like the drawn-out screams of a civilization, from the dawn of its cellular development to the prediction and acceptance of its own imminent annihilation, and beyond, into the eternal dark silence. A voice came from the door. “What you doin', hon?” The creator of all existence looked up at his wife and smiled. “Oh, nothing,” he said. The End crusty fucked around with this message at 10:13 on Jan 17, 2023 |
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Jan 17, 2023 10:11
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The Eternal Muse Several young men and women in white coats watched curiously as Dr. Crabnit worked on his mystery machine in the high-tech lab. The device was cloaked under a large sheet, about the size of a toilet stall. Crabnit, a somewhat imperious and mildly eccentric senior scientist, ducked back and forth under the sheet humming happily as he put the finishing touches on the secretive invention that had been the talk of the whole complex for the last several months. At last Crabnit paused and announced to the room: “It is done!” He pulled away the shroud, revealing a small sealed booth, roughly big enough for one or two people to stand in. There was a door in one side with frosted glass, with a panel of controls next to it. There was an immediate buzz in the room among the junior scientists. Crabnit continued his announcement. “I have completed my life’s work! This simple-looking machine, ladies and gentlemen, fulfils one of mankind’s oldest and most anticipated aspirations, and will change the world as we know it. I call it…the Crabnit Auto-Fellator!” A nervous titter ran through the onlookers. “Um, Doctor,” one of the scientists began, “Is 'fellator' really the word you were…?” “Yes, yes,” Crabnit waved impatiently, “I know what it means. To be clear, the machine lets me suck my own dick.” He looked around at the scientists’ shocked faces. “Oh, don’t worry, it works wonderfully! I gave it a quick test run last night.” Several of them flinched visibly. “So how does it work?” One of the cockier young men asked with a smirk. “It’s the culmination of years of diverse experimentation,” the Doctor began, “but essentially, it displaces the user across a semi-quantum chronatom vector to an AI-selected destination maxi-plexed for isolated communication with a parallel identity-self. In that temporary bubble–” “–Wait-wait... you invented a time machine?” “Yes, that’s one of the components,” Crabnit said irritably. “The device as a whole has required new discoveries in several fields of engineering and theoretical physics. But the point is that the machine finally allows a man - or woman! - to experience oral sex from someone who knows what they're doing – and it's yourself, so it's not even gay!” The scientist rubbed his temples. “So you invented a time machine and your grand plan is to use it to suck your own–” He jumped as suddenly, with a crackling hum, a holographic rectangle of light appeared in the corner of the lab and disgorged two large men in strange black uniforms. They made a bee-line for Crabnit and took him by his arms. “Doctor Crabnit, you are under future-arrest for time-crimes against humanity. Your confession has already been recorded, and your execution is scheduled for 3 weeks ago, Present Time.” As they marched him towards the time door one of the scientists found the nerve to speak up. “Hang on! He’s not… a criminal mastermind or anything like that!” he called out. The soldiers shoved Crabnit and he disappeared into the portal. “He just wanted to suck his own dick!” the scientist pleaded. One of the soldiers rolled his eyes as he stepped through. “Christ, it’s always about sucking dicks…” The End crusty fucked around with this message at 14:25 on Jan 29, 2023 |
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Jan 29, 2023 14:14
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The Geeborfian Empire had just established communications with the most frustrating race they had ever encountered. They had never encountered this particular species before but they knew them to be heavily associated with the Human Regency and so they were not overly surprised to find one here now piloting one of the human's fiercest combat cruisers in what was CLEARLY Geeborfian space! However all attempts at dialogue or threats or even threatening dialogue were headed off by the frustrating captain of the human vessel. He refused to speak, refused to even blink when the Geeborfian's declared they would utterly annihilate the human crew, something that made the Geeborfian captain feel so inadequate he started just going further and further and went on to add he'd destroy their entire world! Their entire species! That he'd make bones of their loved ones! This strange creature was unmoved. It just sat there watching, occasionally deigning to lick itself. It wasn't until the creature started clearly displaying its rectum that the Geeborfian's saw they were being mocked and cut communications. If the humans wanted a hot war well they could drat well have one. The Geeborfian Battleship warped off to go rally their empire in defiance of this new stain on galactic diplomacy the "humans". About fifteen minutes later the human captain Breep Zamford walked onto the bridge patting the excess moisture from his hair. That had been a wonderful shower. He turned to see his adorable cat Mr Fluffkins sitting in the captain's chair, like he was about to take an important call or something. So cute. It wasn't until later that Breep saw that the comms line was still open, and that he was sitting on about fifty eight angry messages from something called the "Geeborfians", putting two and two together he took a grim assessment of the relative combat strength of their empires and realized with horror that Mr Fluffkins had inadvertently doomed the entire human race to painful extinction over the course of one particularly leisurely tongue bath.
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Feb 1, 2023 00:33
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Mr. Flufkiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiins!
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Feb 1, 2023 03:33
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Truly an Awful Tail!
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Feb 1, 2023 05:23
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Twist ending: The Geeborfians demand that the creature who insulted them be handed over to them. Turns out they all have a fatal allergy to cat hair.
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Feb 1, 2023 22:27
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The Snail of Fate "Did you ever hear about that thought experiment with the immortal guy and the snail?" asked Humphrey. "The what?" John put down his game controller. He was losing anyway. Humphrey was untouchable when it came to video games. "There's this thought experiment," said Humphrey. "What if you were immortal, unaging and indestructible, but the condition of your immortality is that somewhere on earth is a snail with the power to kill you. The snail is also immortal, unaging and indestructible, and it will always move toward you via the most direct path." "Does it have any special powers?" asked John. "No, apart from the fact that it's immortal, it's just a normal snail." John considered this. "Couldn't you just put the snail in a box or something?" "You could," answered Humphrey, "but that would only keep you safe for a few hundred years, or a few millennia. Eventually the box would decompose or wear down or just get broken by accident. Plus you'd also have to find the snail, which means getting closer to it and putting yourself in danger." "So you spend all of eternity running from one side of the planet to the other to shake off the snail?" asked John. "Basically." John thought for a little longer. "Does the snail always follow the most direct path in a straight line or the quickest path?" he asked. "Like, does the snail know to get on an airplane or does it crawl all the way across the ocean floor?" Humphrey's brow furrowed with concern. "I think it's the most direct path in a straight line," said Humphrey. Just then the news came on (the game was set to switch to TV after being idle too long). "Breaking news, scientists inspired by the hit Dreamworks movie Turbo have injected a snail with a chemical to give it super speed!" said the news anchor. "What?" Humphrey leaped to his feet. "No way!" "What's the big deal?" asked John, bemused by Humphrey's sudden panic. The news anchor held a finger to his ear. "I'm getting an update, the 'Turbo Snail' has just escaped from the science lab!" announced the newsman. "poo poo!" screamed Humphrey. "poo poo! I gotta get out of here!" "Dude what—" All of a sudden there was a crash of breaking glass and a tiny blur zipped through the air and blasted through Humphrey's head, causing it to explode! John screamed in shock and fell backward over the couch. The ceiling and walls were caked with gore. The splat mark of a dead snail dripped slowly down the wall opposite the window. On the TV, the anchor was talking again. "We have here one of the scientists responsible for creating the so called 'Turbo Snail.' Doctor Bobochtor, any comment?" "Yes, I'd just like to say something to a certain someone out there who may be watching." Dr. Bobochtor looked directly into the camera. "That's for sleeping with my great great grandfather's wife, you son of a bitch!" The End.
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Feb 2, 2023 01:09
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Feb 2, 2023 11:00
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Precisely So Dr. Kensit had to speak loudly over the eerie humming that filled the laboratory. “Uh, Dr. Fagen, is that a wormhole in the corner of our lab?” Dr. Fagen stared, seemingly transfixed, twin rings of light dancing on his glasses. “Precisely so!” he said happily. “Is that the wormhole technology you and Dr. Johnson have been working on for the last two years?” “Precisely so!” said Dr. Fagen. Dr. Kensit admired the boiling sphere of light. “The so-called ‘pinpoint’ blackhole tech with the controllable event horizon?” “Precisely so!” said Dr. Fagen. “Wait a minute, isn’t that thing right where Johnson was working this morning?!” “Precisely so!” said Dr. Fagen. Dr. Kensit looked down and saw a blinking control module clutched loosely in Dr. Fagen’s hand. “Um…when Dr. Johnson boasted in the cafeteria last month that he’d shacked up with a married woman, was that by any chance your wife?” Dr. Fagen’s eyes blazed. “Pre-cisely so!” he snarled, and stalked out of the lab. The End crusty fucked around with this message at 13:16 on Feb 4, 2023 |
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Feb 4, 2023 13:13
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