Register a SA Forums Account here!
JOINING THE SA FORUMS WILL REMOVE THIS BIG AD, THE ANNOYING UNDERLINED ADS, AND STUPID INTERSTITIAL ADS!!!

You can: log in, read the tech support FAQ, or request your lost password. This dumb message (and those ads) will appear on every screen until you register! Get rid of this crap by registering your own SA Forums Account and joining roughly 150,000 Goons, for the one-time price of $9.95! We charge money because it costs us money per month for bills, and since we don't believe in showing ads to our users, we try to make the money back through forum registrations.
 
  • Post
  • Reply
Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
These scientists need to stop loving each others' wives.

Adbot
ADBOT LOVES YOU

reignofevil
Nov 7, 2008
That doesn't seem like a very scientific attitude what they need to do is establish a control wife.

reignofevil
Nov 7, 2008
"And so that's why I came to see these ruins when I did, they're fossils now... just like me!" finished Professor Oldman, archeologist extraordinaire.

"I don't think you're so old, Professor Oldman" said his sexy younger assistant Trina while she toyed with a single lock of her hair. Trina was what the scientific community liked to say "just under that Tom Cruise limit" which was to say she was 24. Professor Oldman was eighty years old which completely coincidentally is exactly how old Harrison Ford is right now.

"Oh Trina don't be so foolish. My days of besting those filthy huns-"

"We call them Germans now-"

"And those filthy drunken Ivans! I don't trust a Soviet to this day!" Again the assistant tried to correct Professor Oldman that in fact the proper term had been "Russian" since the fall of the Soviet Union almost thirty years ago but Oldman plowed right through.


"Tussling with them was probably my greatest adventure! Even greater than when I shot my way through that nest of filthy savages-"

"Okay okay that's it. We're the beating-us-over-the-head committee and we get the point: Indiana Jones is inappropriate for his role in this era and casting him with an eighty year old man is completely bonkers even if the entire idea wasn't totally offensive. Also the idea Trina is actually into his gross old man body is weird as hell. Is there ANYTHING ELSE?"

Professor Oldman's eyes went wide "How dare you interrupt me when I'm satirizing!"

Trina however looked grateful to have had the beating-us-over-the-head committee burst in like they did and interrupt the scene. "Actually I think that about covers everything. Thank you so much for getting out here on such short notice I really thought I was gonna have to gently caress this decrepit old man!"

The director of the scene tossed his headset aside and started waving his hands like an umpire at a baseball game hashing things out with a belligerent coach.

"You still gotta gently caress him!"

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
Cuck Hunt

Dr. Waggle burst into the laboratory in a state of excitement.

"Behold, my latest invention!" announced Dr. Waggle, holding aloft a pistol covered in tubes and blinking lights. "A gun that can only kill people who are sleeping with my wife!"

"That's ridiculous," said Dr. Shupe. "How do you know it only kills people who have been sleeping with your wife?"

"Observe," said Dr. Waggle.

He pointed the pistol at Dr. Shupe and pulled the trigger. There was a deafening BANG! and Dr. Shupe collapsed across the workbench, scattering flasks and tubes full of colored liquid all over the floor.

"You see?" said Dr. Waggle, addressing the other scientists in the room, who were all staring, horrified at what had just happened. "I happen to know Dr. Shupe was sleeping with my wife, so the gun killed him. But observe what happens when I point the gun at someone I know is not sleeping with my wife."

Dr. Waggle swung the pistol around and pointed it at Dr. Penderson, who was a lady. The gun fired and Dr. Penderson screamed before slumping over, dead.

"Oh," said Dr. Waggle, somewhat distressed. "I guess Dr. Penderson must have been sleeping with my wife also..."

He pointed the gun at another scientist, who tried to run, but too late. Dr. Waggle shot him in the back. Everyone else started screaming and running.

"Him too?" Dr. Waggle was on the verge of panic, now. "Was everyone in this lab sleeping with my wife?"

He leveled the gun and fired again.

***
Police lights flashed outside the laboratory building as a cordon of officers took positions around the exits.

One of the officers lifted a bullhorn to his mouth.

"All right, Waggle, come out with your hands up, no one else needs to get hurt!" he yelled.

"Who else has been sleeping with my wife?" shouted Waggle as he stalked the halls, firing his gun at anyone he could find. "You? Are you sleeping with my wife?"

"No! No I swear!" cried a man in a labcoat. "I just started working here!"

A shot rang out.

"Liar!" screamed Dr. Waggle. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, his hair fanned out in a crazy halo around his head.

He passed a window and spotted the police outside.

"It's over, Waggle," called the officer with the bullhorn. "We have you surrounded."

"It is all over," sighed Dr. Waggle. "I have nothing left to live for."

He slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor. Lifting the gun to his head, he said "At least I know the gun will work on me."

He pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Dr. Waggle stared down at the gun in shock. He turned it over in his hands, examining the circuitry.

"Oh," Dr. Waggle laughed. "I accidentally reversed the polarity! The gun only kills people who haven't been sleeping with my wife! Boy do I feel silly!"

The police led Dr. Waggle out in handcuffs. Dr. Waggle's wife watched it happen on the news while she was in bed with Dr. Shupe.

"I sure picked the right day to send my android to work instead of me," said Dr. Shupe.

"Shut up and let's have sex again," said Mrs. Waggle.

The End.

crusty
Apr 16, 2015

Crustacean
Sometimes scientific accidents lead to our most profound discoveries.

A Fancy Hat
Nov 18, 2016

Always remember that the former President was dumber than the dumbest person you've ever met by a wide margin

3 Junior Ninjas Kick Butt!

Tommy, Pete, and Rocky were 3 brothers who had one thing in common - they LOVED ninjas! Every day, they practiced their ninjas moves in the backyard. Tommy became a master of the sword, Pete was the best bo staff user around, and Rocky wielded a mighty pair of nunchaku like an expert.

One day their Dad came to them with bad news.

"Kids, I'm going to be busy for a few weeks out of town. I need you guys to really focus on you schoolwork, okay? Your mom's going to be here by herself, I can't have you guys getting detention again."

"Don't worry Dad," said Tommy. He was the oldest of the 3 and the defacto leader. "Detention is BOGUS! We'll help out around here!"

The 3 Junior Ninja's Dad bid his farewells and headed to the airport, leaving Mom and the 3 kids alone. The kids were used to their Dad travelling a lot for work, sure, but this was the longest he'd be gone in years.

"Mom?" asked Rocky, the youngest of the 3 brothers. "Is Dad going to call us tonight?"

"No, Rocky. Your Dad's... well, your Dad's job isn't a normal job. There are some people, some very dangerous people, who want to hurt your Dad. All because he told the truth in court."

"The truth is totally radical though, Mom!"

"Sure, sure. But sometimes the truth means you rat out your former business partner to get off scot-free. But I'm rambling now. Get to bed, kids. Tomorrow's a school day."

"LAME!" said all 3 brothers in unison before rushing upstairs to brush their teeth and prepare for bed. Sleeping in their triple bunk beds, the 3 Junior Ninjas quickly fell asleep. However, they were quickly awakened by the sound of someone walking around downstairs. More than one person, in fact, judging by the whispered conversations they could hear.

"Dudes! I think the 3 Junior Ninjas need to step into action!" said Tommy. His two brothers agreed and all 3 of them dressed in their ninja garb and snuck downstairs, weapons in hand. There, they found a scary sight. 5 men with guns had broken in and were searching through the house, pulling drawers out, flipping furniture, and even slicing open pillows. The brothers looked at each other and smiled.

"IT'S NINJA TIME!" they yelled out in unison, startling the intruders.

Tommy rushed forward, swinging his sword. One of the robbers pointed his gun but Tommy was too fast, swiftly slicing off his arm with a powerful swing of the blade. The robber fell to the ground screaming as blood sprayed from his shoulder.

"GRODY TO THE MAX!!" Tommy yelled as blood coated his ninja suit.

The other intruders began to scatter but it was too late. Pete began violently thrashing them all with his bo staff, making sure to aim his most powerful hits for the genital region and the face. 3 more intruders fell to the ground screaming as Tommy joined his brother and began carefully slicing the already disabled intruders with his blade.

"Woah! Sashimi!" he laughed as he expertly dissected the screaming victims. Only one escaped from the 3 Junior Ninjas' initial attack. He was running across the yard, hoping to make it to the getaway vehicle. Suddenly, a stone hit him in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground.

"Hey lame-o! I'm up here!"

Rocky was sitting on a branch in a tree that overlooked the yard. He deftly leapt to the ground, nunchaku in hand, and began clobbering the final robber. Mercifully, most of his blows were aimed at the head, and the robber quickly faded out of consciousness. The 3 Junior Ninjas met back up, bloody weapons in hand, and performed a perfect leaping high-five.

"We did it, bros! The house is safe!"

"Hey," asks Rocky, "who's hungry? I could go for some pizza right now!"

The 3 brothers laughed and headed back to the house, eager to order some Pizza Hut pizza.

"Wait a minute," asked Pete, who was generally the most level-headed brother. "Mom's gonna be TICKED! Look at this mess!"

"Well, we better order that pizza quick then, dudes! Extra pepperoni for me!"

Stepping over the mutilated carcass, the 3 brothers happily headed back into their house.

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
Step aside, PJ Masks! There's a new kids' super team in town!

FreudianSlippers
Apr 12, 2010

Shooting and Fucking
are the same thing!

In the Forest

Three men sat around a campfire in the wild untamed forests of Upper Maine. One was an elderly professor science called Dr. Herbert Weiz, to his left sat the famed outdoorsman and hunter Sam Joe Walker. The two were old acquaintances and Sam Joe had long wanted to get the old man out of his stuffy study and into the wilderness so he could learn there is more to the world than science.

Stoking the fire was Eagle Sits the old native guide that they brought along for his intimidate knowledge of the area around the lake. The lake being in the center of the forest and full of water that the foreboding trees slurped heavily with their gnarled veinous roots for sustenance.

Suddenly the native guide flinched at a strange sound in the trees.

"What's wrong with your Injun?" the doctor asked his hunting partner.

"It is said by my people that in this forest dwells a Bilagàana." said Eagle Sits "we must be careful not to disturb it as it is very dangerous".

The old academic became very curious "What is this Bilge creature the Injun speaks of?" he said to his compatriot in arms.

Sam Joe Walker shrugged his shoulders "I spose it's more'fa spirit than critter. His people believe it is evil and sinister and not to be disturbed by such follies as not respectin' the forest nuff or by whistling on the hunt." he said with a thick and outdoorsy accent of someone who knows what a 'Guy Point' is.

"Nonsense! The Injuns were a primitive people. If they could not invent automobiles or compose Opera or build Leaning Towers of Pisas how could they have had secret zoological knowledge beyond us! Let alone of creatures not possessing physical corporeal bodies!" said Dr.Weiz his moustache quivering with indignation.

The guide smiled wisely and nodded his head in a sage and mystical manner. Then he spoke "Me and my people we are a simple people incapable of such lofty feats as the railroad, the Radio, or pizza pie but there is more to this world than pure science can explain".

The scientist shook his head dismissively "Poppycock! Science is everything abs everything is Science. Besides I whistled Yankee Doodle half the day yesterday and I've yet to be beset upon by any evil spirits." He said with a hubristic confidence.

After night fell and the cold silent darkness fell over the forest Eagle Sits made their camp putting up their humble yet sheltering abodes of tents made of stretched material fastened on to poles and furthered secured via strings and ropes tied to poles that he hammered into the ground with frequent rhythmic blows of a hammer.

During the night Weiz slept fitfully as he dreamt of sinister misshapen shapes writhing and undulating in the gloomy shadows between the towering trees. He awoke drenched in lurid sweat and tried to convince himself

He burst out of the tent in a panicked frenzy knocking over the half burned campfire as he did sending fiery sparks into the very canvas of the tents which burst into infernal blazes of burning fire. As he ran he could not only hear the slithering movements of the evil spirits around him but also the tortured shrieks of his traveling companions as they were singed alive like common sausages.

He ran until dawn until he reached the watery shores of the lake where he knelt for a drink to quench the thirst of his dry throat and mouth. Dr. Weiz looked into the clear still water of the lake. In it he saw the horrible misshapen image of the Bilagàana, the same visage he had seen in his dream and he realised that he himself was the Bilagàana itself.

The True Monster was man all along!

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
I never see that ending coming, even when I'm the one writing the story!

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
Getting Reincarnated into a Fantasy World Where I'm Not Allowed to Die Isn't All It's Cracked Up To Be

My name is Tamashiro Hito and I'm a 25 year old NEET.

Or at least I was before I DIED!

That's right, I got hit by a truck on the one day a week I leave my apartment to buy candy. Go figure, right?

The next thing I knew I was standing in the middle of a spotlight in a dark room.

"Hello?" I called.

A second spotlight came on, illuminating a girl sitting on a throne. I was still so disoriented from suddenly finding myself in this place it didn't even register to me that the girl was a total babe.

"Where am I? Who are you?" I asked.

"You're in the afterlife," said the babe. "I'm Sakura, I'm the goddess on duty for this sector of space."

"The afterlife!" I exclaimed. I started feeling my face and body. I pressed my fingers to my wrist. No pulse. "Does that mean I'm d-d—"

"Dead? I'm afraid so," said Sakura. "But don't worry, even though you totally wasted your life and never did anything for anyone and nobody will even miss you, you're not going to hell or anything."

"Well, thanks for that," I said, sarcastically. Who did she think she was judging me like that? "So what happens now?"

"Now you have a choice," said the totally hot babe, who I just realized had really huge boobs. "Your soul can dissipate and become one with the universe, or you can be reincarnated."

"If I reincarnate, do I get to pick what I come back as?" I asked.

"We try to honor mortal requests as much as possible," said the busty girl. "If you ask for something crazy like becoming a god or an extinct animal it's not gonna happen, though."

"Can I reincarnate into a fantasy world with magic and dragons and stuff?" I asked. "The world where I lived was so boring!"

"Well, magic isn't real, so it isn't possible to reincarnate you into a magical world," she said.

I sighed. It figured.

"But it's a big universe and there's a lot of simulated worlds out there," the sexy goddess continued. "A few of those simulated realities are so sophisticated, they can actually support living souls, even though their bodies are only data. Of those simulated realities, there are a few which closely resemble settings described in fantasy fiction of your world."

"Will I be able to tell the difference?" I asked.

"No, it will be as real as real can be, except there will be magic and dragons and stuff," said Sakura.

"Hot dog!" I yelled. "Sign me up!"

"Done."

She snapped her fingers and suddenly I was standing in a forest glade surrounded by fireflies! I was only wearing starter gear of course, but I figured I could work my way up.

I followed the trail out of the forest and made my way to a nearby town, where I got set up at the local adventurer's guild. I got my adventuring license and everything was going great until I actually started my first quest and an orc chopped my head off.

I woke up in that same forest glade, back in my starter gear. I walked back to town and started all over again.

That was so long ago I stopped counting the years. I've died hundreds of times. Sometimes when I wake up, there's other people respawning at the same time as me, like if my whole party dies at the same moment we all wake up in the glade together. I always wake up in the same rags with a rusty dagger on my belt.

I got so sick of getting killed on quests that tried to give up on adventuring and live a quiet life. It's actually possible to live out a life in this world without having any adventures at all. I lived for eighty years like that and died of old age, but I still woke up again in the same forest glade!

Because my body is data, I never really die, so I never did run into that goddess again. These days I pray to her every day to let me die for real, but she either doesn't hear me or doesn't care.

My soul is trapped on a server somewhere in space. I guess I'm stuck here until whatever star the computer is orbiting explodes.

If there's an alien civilization out there monitoring this simulation I'm begging you to delete me from this world or at least enable permadeath.

My name is Tamashiro Hito and I'm trapped in a fantasy world where I can't die.

(Not) The End.

FreudianSlippers
Apr 12, 2010

Shooting and Fucking
are the same thing!

Groundbreaking stuff.

Raises a lot of questions what it means to be Human dead or alive.

super sweet best pal
Nov 18, 2009

Maybe he should find religion, maybe be one of those Buddhist monks that completely detach themselves from the material world and slowly mummify while still alive.

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
The Finger

The apartment was prefect except for one little problem: there was a portrait of an ugly man giving the finger to the viewer hung up in the living room where everyone could see it.

"You may redecorate any way you want," said the landlord, "but the painting has to stay exactly where it is. You can't move it or cover it in any way."

"Why not?" asked John Jones. "It's hideous!"

"Those are the terms of the lease, take it or leave it," said the landlord.

There were no other acceptable apartments in John's price range, so he took it.

At first he tried to ignore the painting, but it was always there, in the corner of his eye, flipping him off.

John often found himself giving the finger back to the painting, forgetting briefly that the painting couldn't actually see him or be offended. Despite this, John sometimes got the impression from the smirk on the ugly man in the painting that getting John angry like that was exactly what the man wanted.

The first time John brought a woman back to the apartment, she took one look at the painting and laughed.

"Weird taste in art," she said.

"It's not mine, it's in the lease," he replied.

"It's hideous. I feel like he's flipping me off personally. Take it down," said the woman.

"I'm not allowed," said John. "I signed an agreement with the landlord saying I won't take it down."

"Well at least cover it up!"

"I can't do that either," said John.

"Your landlord will never know, just do it while I'm here," she was starting to get aggravated now.

"I... I shouldn't," John said, limply.

The woman was furious. "You won't even cover up a stupid painting for me? gently caress you!"

She stormed out, leaving John stammering as she slammed the door in his face.

That night, John was plagued by nightmares. The ugly man in the painting was jeering at him and flipping him off. He dreamed the man was in the room with him. John shouted abuse at the ugly man, screaming at him to leave, but the man just laughed and flipped him off.

John couldn't even look at the hideous painting the following day. That evening, he resolved to get rid of it.

"gently caress the landlord," said John.

He climbed up on a chair and pried the painting off the wall. It was much heavier than he expected, and the weight overbalanced him.

"Auugh!" John screamed as he fell backward off the chair. The painting landed on top of him, the ugly man's leering, jeering face smirking directly into his. John tried to get up, but discovered he couldn't move or even feel his arms or legs! He called for help, but nobody came.

He lay there all night. At some point he must have slept, because he dreamed that the painting was talking to him. The ugly man was mocking him again.

Sunlight filtered through the canvas and John knew it must be morning.

"I'm going to die under here," John moaned.

Then he heard the sound of a heavy keychain jingling in the lock.

"Help! Help!" cried John.

A moment later he heard the door open. Rough fingers hooked around the heavy, gilded frame of the painting and lifted it away. It was the landlord.

"I told you not to take the painting down," said the landlord. "It's too heavy, people kept injuring themselves. Now you've ended up just like the others."

The landlord shook his head sadly.

"The others?" asked John.

"All my past tenants paralyzed themselves trying to take down the painting. Don't worry, I take good care of them, though. You all live together in my basement," explained the landlord. There was a strange glint in his eye. "You're one of my pets now. One of my pretties."

"No!" screamed John. "Noooooo! Let me go!"

John shouted and screamed as the landlord loaded him up into an empty wheelchair and rolled him backwards out of the room.

Back on the wall, the ugly little man sneered at John while flipping him off.

The End.

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
The Ghost in the Sewer

"Jimmy, watch out, there's a scary ghost clown living in the sewer," warned Jimmy's friends.

Jimmy just laughed at them.

"I'm not afraid of any smelly old ghost!" laughed Jimmy.

The very next day, Jimmy spotted an open manhole.

If the sewer was open, maybe the ghost clown could get out, thought Jimmy.

"I'm not s-scared," said Jimmy. "Ghost clowns aren't real."

But Jimmy was wrong. The ghost clown was... RIGHT BEHIND HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The End.

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
Orange You Glad You Can Read Minds?

One day an orange in the supermarket discovered it had the telepathic ability to read minds. What it learned terrified it.

"They want to eat me. They look at me and think how delicious I am. What kinds of monsters are these?" thought the orange.

The orange itself was blind and deaf, but it could see and hear everything going on around it as long as there was a person nearby. None of the other oranges appeared to be able to read minds. The orange tried to communicate with them telepathically, but got no response. The orange was unique and alone.

Every time a person saw it and thought about buying a bag of oranges to take home and devour, the orange began to panic.

It wasn't long before the orange's worst fears came true: somebody was reaching for the bag the orange was in!

"Don't reach for this bag, reach for a different bag!" yelled the orange telepathically.

The person paused with a look of confusion, then picked a different bag of oranges instead.

That was when the orange discovered it didn't just have the power to read the minds of the people around it, it could also control minds!

The orange commanded anyone who came seeking oranges to pick up a different bag instead.

Eventually, there was only the bag with the telepathic orange left on the display.

Then something terrible happened: someone bumped the display and the bag fell into his cart by accident!

The parson walking by wasn't thinking about buying oranges, and wasn't looking at the orange's bag, so the orange didn't notice what had happened until it read the cashier's mind and saw him scanning the bag.

"Oh no! I'm going to be eaten!" thought the orange, desperately.

Things were moving so fast it took the orange several seconds to gather its thoughts. By then it was out the door, rolling into the parking lot.

Desperately, the orange cast its mind around for someone or something that could help. It found someone nearby and reached into their mind.

"Stop the man with the bag of oranges!" it cried. "Stop them! Kill them!"

"Hey, you!" shouted the stranger.

"Huh?" the man with the oranges replied.

"Leave those oranges alone!" screamed the stranger. He leaped on the orange's captor like a wild animal, tearing at the man's throat with his teeth.

"Aaaaugh! Auuugh!" screamed the man as hot blood spurted from his neck.

In the ensuing struggle, the shopping cart got knocked away and rolled out of the parking lot into the grass, where it tipped over, spilling its contents everywhere.

The orange tumbled loose and rolled through the grass.

"At last, I'm safe and free," thought the orange. "Now I can live forever!"

A few days later the orange began to rot and before long it was nothing but mush.

***

One day an orange sapling growing next to a supermarket parking lot discovered it had the telepathic ability to read minds....

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
Author's note: any resemblance to real, actual 45th American Presidents is purely coincidental.

The Tweeter

President Trumbo was tweeting again.

"A soldier Came up to me and said 'Thank you, Master. Thank you for making Christmas Legal again!' Very proud day for America." tweeted the president.

Just then a genie appeared.

"President Trumbo, I am here to grant you your greatest wish," declared the genie. "From now on, everything you Tweet will come true."

"Everything I tweet is already true," said President Trumbo, confused. "I make the greatest tweets. Twitter would stop existing if I stopped tweeting."

"That's the spirit," said the genie.

The genie vanished in a flash of light.

"Just had a great meeting with I dream of Jeannie, she said to me, 'mister president sir your Father secretly loved You and only pretended To Hate You to make you strong,' hashtag MyPillow," said the president out loud as he typed the sentence with his thumbs.

Just then actress Barbara Eden, who played Jeannie in the American sitcom I Dream of Jeannie stepped into the presidential bathroom. President Trambo let out a huge blast of surprised cheeseburger diarrhea.

"How did you get past my guards? Who are you?" he demanded.

"Mister president, sir," said Barbara Eden. "Your father secretly loved you and only pretended to hate you to make you strong."

"What? Really?" the president stood up off the toilet and grabbed Barbara's shoulders. "Did he really say that?"

Barbara seemed to come out of some kind of trance.

"W-what am I doing here?" she asked. "AAAAH! Let go of me!"

Barbara ran screaming from the bathroom, leaving the president standing there with poo poo all over his legs.

"I am hereby ordering that the white house be protected from intruders by planting Land Mines all over the White House Lawn!" tweeted Trumbo.

Secret Service agents immediately got to work planting land mines all around the White House.

Later, after he'd changed into an ill-fitting suit that made him look like an arthritic orangutan and a necktie so long it trailed on the floor, president Trumbo got to work watching TV.

One of the president's critics was on the news denouncing the president's recent executive order banning homosexuals from renting cars without a note from a straight person.

"I think the president's recent executive order isn't very nice," said Senator Milquetoast ((D) Minnesota).

President Trumbo immediately flew into a rage and took out his phone to begin tweeting.

"Senator 'Melissa' Milquetoast is just another example of the cabal of underground socialist lizard people secretly plotting to destroy my presidentcy," tweeted President Trumbo. "Their plans are nearly complete and soon you will see them come after me. I am the only thing preventing the lizard monsters from implementing universal healthcase!"

Satisfied that he had utterly destroyed senator Milquetoast, President Trumbo sat back in his chair and smiled a poo poo-eating grin.

Just then the Secret Service agents to the president's right and left pulled off their masks to reveal lizard faces underneath.

"Hisss!" hissed the lizard men. "You know too much! You will not stand in the way of our planssss to destroy your presidency!"

"What the—" exclaimed President Trumbo.

"Sssson, all Americans will have universal healthcassssse!" screeched the lizards. "Which is what we lizard men call healthcare!"

President Trumbo reached for his phone to tweet for help, but the lizard men were too quick. One of them knocked his phone away with his tail while the other squirted deadly venom into Trumbo's eyes.

"Aaaah!" screamed Trumbo. "My beautiful, perfect eyes!"

Trumbo flailed around blindly, bolting out of his chair and smashing right through the window. He plummeted two stories onto a land mine and exploded into gory chunks.

The lizards watched dispassionately from the broken window.

"Now nothing thing stands in the way of our plansssss," said one of the lizards. "Ssssoon, every American will have healthcassse."

President Trumbo's phone lay on the carpet, buzzing constantly with alerts that his latest tweet had received over fifty likes.

The End.

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
I know these stories are bad even by my standards but I've been out of practice for a long time.

reignofevil
Nov 7, 2008
The Corn War

Mexico was making noise about banning genetically modified corn. This was an unacceptable situation for a variety of reasons, for starters they weren't going to be allowing any to be shipped across the borders anymore either, and it would mean anyone who wanted to sell corn products in Mexico would have to source completely GMO free corn seed and replant their entire crop from scratch, which would be expensive and might not grow as densely or well as the modified corn. So, needless to say, America geared up for a Corn War.

Everybody knew the stakes. Buttered popcorn in every theater. Corn on the cob in every cafeteria. Corn syrup in everything else. This was more than just about profits this was about the spirit of what it meant to be American. Worth fighting and dying for.

So the war commenced post haste, nobody really tried to stop it since everybody knew where they stood and why we had to have this fight. The losses started to mount. Casualties were tremendous. Hot spots popping off all over the front lines. Every battalion was calling for reinforcements, the war had created an inescapable shortage of fresh colonels. An entire generation of fighting men, once viewed as the cream of the crop were now just shucked husks piled upon one another covering acre after acre of southern texan farmland. It was clear that the U.S. Government was going to be responsible for providing seconds for an entire company of demoralized soldiers.

An army marches on its stomach, and the Seconds Company was no exception. Made up of fresh and table-ready soldiers, Seconds Company was ordered to march south across the United States and into the Mexican Contested Area. Second's Company expected to find itself given quarters and rations by the patriotic Texan population but when they came to cross into the state they found just deserts. Lacking even the requisite supplies to keep itself fed Seconds Company's Second in Command (Colonel Cornpop "Pops" Brunchable) made the unorthodox suggestion of making corned beef, which was met with general approval from the rank and file members of the mealitary.

The discussion had to be tabled however when Seconds Company found itself under attack. Combat was Seconds Company's bread and butter and so they were convinced they could take any attacker and serve them up for dinner in short order. Colonel Pops lead a heated defense as the advancing Seconds Company Caravan pushed forward even under aerial bombardment. His family had borne a long line of Colonels before him, he had been bread for this mission. Pops started chipping away at the incoming fighters, trying his best to take a big enough bite out of their numbers that Seconds Company could carry the day. Next thing Pops knew a bullet that flew past him had landed in the gut of his best friend, Cheese Johnson. Cheese had been a real whiz at figuring for artillery strikes. Now he he had a sour expression on his face as he tried to hold his own wound shut.

Colonel Pops went red with rage. He was beyond reason. He knew that when things like this happened you had to dress the wound so he pulled out the bottle of Hidden Valley he kept in his belt and he started pouring it directly into Cheese's bleeding guts. Cheese struggled against the sterilizing effects of the ranch dressing but Pops held him in place, his eyes glazing over with a thousand yard stare that could only be understood by a man who had wok'd one thousand miles in his shoes. God drat it they would win this loving Corn War. At any cost.

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
lmao goddamn it

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
The Immortal Machine

Cubert Penn, twenty five year old billionaire tech mogul, had finally done it. He was the first man to download his consciousness into a machine body.

"You fools, pitiful, mortal fools!" laughed the now-invincible Cubert. "I shall live forever in a perpetually young and beautiful android body while you pitiful mortals rot away in your frail flesh bodies!"

To make sure no one could ever challenge him, Cubert bought out the company that had developed the machine download tech and had it dismantled.

"There is only room for one machine god on this earth!" laughed Cubert.

As Cubert's fortune and power continued to grow, he traveled the world showing off his amazing machine body.

Cubert Penn bends steel bar with bare hands!

Cubert Penn goes on spacewalk in personal spaceship without a suit!

Cubert Penn dives to the bottom of Loch Ness seeking Loch Ness Monster!

People called him selfish for keeping all this wonderful technology to himself. Others called him an abomination. Cubert just laughed knowing that everyone who criticized him would die eventually.

After about ten years, Cubert noticed his joints were creaking and sticking. He hired the best engineers in the world to examine the problem.

"The plastic components of your joints have begun to deteriorate," explained the engineers. "They'll need to be replaced."

"Fine, fine!" said Cubert impatiently. "Easily done."

"Other parts of your body are also showing signs of wear and tear," said the engineers. "You're going to need regular maintenance if you want your body to last another ten years, much less forever."

So Cubert hired a permanent team of robotics experts to maintain his body.

It was tedious. He ended up needing maintenance nearly three times a year. More times than most people went to the doctor for regular checkups, but it was worth it, Cubert thought, because he was in a perpetually young and beautiful body that would last until the end of time and never die.

Twenty years later, Cubert's body had begun to seriously malfunction. His joints locked up at random times, his vision would freeze or leave trails and artifacts, and he was having trouble speaking normally.

"What do I pay you fools for!" raged Cubert. "Why is my body breaking down!"

"It's not a mechanical problem," said the maintenance team. "Everything is in perfect working order."

"O-o-o-o-obviousllllllllllllly n-n-not!" stuttered Cubert.

"Hmm..." the engineers said.

They opened up Cubert's head and looked inside.

"Here's the problem," said the engineers. "The laminate layers of your optical storage memory disks have begun to degrade and separate."

"Can you transfer the data to new disks?" asked Cubert.

"Even if you hadn't destroyed the consciousness transfer technology, the data degradation has progressed too far," said the engineers. "A copy would just exacerbate the problem."

"H-how long do I have?" asked Cubert.

"A few months, maybe a year before total data loss," sighed the engineers.

Cubert screamed and raged. He grabbed the lead engineer by the neck and crushed his throat. The rest of the team fled as fast as they could while Cubert smashed up the lab and ran amok through his mansion, killing everyone he could get his hands on.

The stress of his rampage was too much for his computer core and Cubert's brain shut down. His lifeless body collapsed on the blood-splattered floor of his opulent entrance hall.

Cubert Penn, the immortal billionaire, died at age fifty five.

The End.

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
The Ghost Who Went Too Fast

"I feel the need, the need for speed!" declared Booh Ghostington, who was a ghost.

"Was Booh Ghostington your name when you were alive?" asked the lady from Ghost O' Clock News.

"I'd rather talk about my attempt to break the undead speed record," said Booh, peevishly.

Booh turned to the ghost rocket behind him.

"By using this specially designed rocket, I intend to travel even faster than the many ghosts currently circling the earth onboard the International Space Station," explained Booh.

"Are you nervous?" asked the news lady.

"What's the worst that could happen? I'm already dead, said Booh.

Booh put on his ghost goggles borrowed from the ghost of an old timey pilot and climbed into the cockpit of the ghost rocket.

3...

2...

1...

Blastoff!

Booh's rocket soared into the sky. Unfettered by either gravity or air friction it accelerated at blinding speed. Within a few seconds Booh had beaten the ghost speed record.

"I've done it I've done it!" cheered Booh.

Unfortunately, the blaze of spectral energy from Booh's ghost rocket awakened the Old One slumbering on the dark side of the moon.

The ancient entity was unbelievably horrible and scary, with big tentacles and ten thousand sucking mouths that gibbered inanely. It turned its bleary, yellow eyes to the flare of Booh's rocket. After ten thousand years of slumber, it hungered.

Booh screamed as horrifying tentacles wrapped around his ship.

"Ahhhhhh!" screamed Booh. "Ahhhhhhhhhh!"

Booh and his ship were devoured by the Old One, but the beast was awake now, and it was still hungry...

The End?

super sweet best pal
Nov 18, 2009

Booh Nye the Science Guy

reignofevil
Nov 7, 2008
After the uprising

Karl Poggers was an average citizen of the Socialist Republik of the United Statez of Amerikka. Now to the average reader that might not seem like such an average citizen but I assure you after the great overthrow of the capitalist ruling class there was a long degree of discussion amongst peers and it was ultimately decided we would be calling it that now.

So anyway. Karl looked pretty much like the other members of his generation, he was about fifty five now (having been born in the 2010's) and like most of his contemporaries he still dressed like he had overthrown capitalism yesterday. For starters after the fall of Boston the revolutionary guerillas there had accidentally sparked a fad of tattooing "Eat The Rich" and "DEATH TO BOURGEOISIE" onto your forehead and cheeks. And believe me for the first ten years or so having major political figures, television personalities and basically everyone who was anyone out in the street sporting one was very self congratulatory. Millions of people who had collectively documented how loving proud of it they were in billions of social media posts and for a little while it seemed like everyone would be tattooing how much they hated rich people to their faces quite possibly even longer than the human race had actually endured rich people.

But. That was the first ten years. Things happen. Society doesn't stay still. Amerikka was growing after the agreement to marry Canada. The social safety net was stronger than it had ever been and now the fused country was benefiting from combined government services and enhanced public works projects along the increasingly important "wet zone" where you could still grow the decadent western crops as the south grew more inhospitable. In spite of the damage done by hydrocarbons the peaceful and cooperative spirit of the human race (and not to forget the guiding hand of the Republik Socialistaz!) meant Amerikka was actually prospering in spite of the worsening climate and now an entire generation was born who had never even known capitalism.

These things take time though, as Karl discovered. These children born into the post revolution world had to accept the fads and traditions of the generation before them, at least until they became teenagers. And as teenagers they thought the whole face tattoos and the memorial services on Revolution Day and even Bring Your Guillotine To Work Day were laughable. They would see people of Karl's generation walk down the street and laugh because he wasn't indulging in the latest teen-bopping cyber-futurist glow-tattoo or semi-ironic digital watches. They started calling the heroes of his generation war surplus.

After the revolution college credentials had been pretty much eradicated for service jobs and were primarily maintained for STEM fields. Obviously professional standards after capitalism died had changed somewhat and those who had marked themselves with "DEATH TO THE RICH!" were, for a time, even given preferential treatment for powerful positions. Karl himself had not been lazy, he hadn't been significantly injured in the revolution and the only thing that had been holding him back from advancing in the old bourgeoisie society was his status as a member of the lower class. So once all of the barriers keeping him from pursuing a respectable career had been taken down he was able to advance quickly. The years progressed, soon those teens who had never known capitalism became adults who had never known capitalism. And Karl who had been the revolutionary helping to overthrow capitalism became the careered member of the financial sector who was overseeing their application for a home loan from the government.

The young couple with bright hair and hopeful eyes felt a certain revolutionary spirit die as they heard that they would not be able to qualify for a flat rate mortgage by a middle aged man with "BURN THE BANKERS" written on his forehead.

reignofevil fucked around with this message at 15:08 on Mar 30, 2023

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
The revolution will not be teller-advised.

reignofevil
Nov 7, 2008
Miscarried the one

One of the most unpleasant things in human history is finding out something is ahead of schedule when you were really hoping to put it off entirely. The long-foretold collision of the Milky Way and Andromeda galaxies was once such event. After the historic achievements of nuclear fission and 5G wireless connectivity it was looked upon as one of the rare complete fuckups to the record the scientific method. Without further sugarcoating it- the calculations for when this expected galactic event would occur had simply been hideously incorrect for as long as the calculations had been being ran. There was some complicated scientific mumbowhatsit involving how the event had been misplotted to a logarithmic scale and that the occurrence resulted in a rare blind spot in the general astronomical models in which nothing else had ever been noticed to be wrong enough with the initial screwup to actually test and correct the issue.

Having said all of that in the initial paper documenting the expected collision's timeframe (which for those wondering was published to be about 4.5 billion years from now) there was found to have also been a miscarried one in its initial equations. This explanation was significantly more widely reported and thus the average person's understanding of how things had been so tragically incorrectly assessed ended up being that some egghead moron left a one on in the billions place and that such nerds always deserved to be both scorned and ostracized for their hubris. If you're wondering about things like "well why did Andromeda look like it was really far away for so long" or "how could any of that have resulted from their initial trajectories after the big bang in this kind of timeframe" I encourage you to sit down and have a nice drink and not worry so much friend.

So about when they would be expecting that collision. The answer turned out to be much sooner but not necessarily immediate cause for alarm. The planet had one hundred years until the galaxies smacked into each other. A sigh of relief for anyone intending to maintain a drinking habit or a gambling problem but cold comfort for anyone who actually wanted to do the whole "generations of people live after us" thing.

What's the worry, you ask? After all an event of this magnitude would be stunning yes but surely it would be almost unheard of for anything to actually fly in close enough to cause any real harm to the earth. Well. About that. Enter Barnaby 1.

Barnaby 1 is a medium sized planet mostly covered in ocean, much like Earth. And it was part of a greater star system with about five major planets plus itself, including a rather large gas giant which was even named after a big fart in the native Barnabian tongue. Much like Earth. And to a slightly more prosperous degree than Earth it was covered in about 8.5 billion Barnabians. And there was one more unfortunate thing that Barnaby 1 shared with Earth, and it was that they were on a merging trajectory that meant both planets were going to slam into eachother with absolute certainty. The universes ultimate eight ball to the corner pocket. The likelihood of an event such as this was measured against googleplexes but 1) nobody actually knew what that was and 2) it mas mostly statisticians saying that this was too unlikely to actually be happening and everyone had been practicing ignoring them since the beginning of time on both planets.

It did however create a bit of a problem. As any modestly literate person well knows the human race today does not have the capacity to save itself from even a somewhat big asteroid, none the less a planet of about the same size. We would need something a hell of a lot bigger than hydrogen bombs to even start scratching the surface, literally. Absolutely nothing we can actually do can crack our core, which is not only quite large but also primarily composed of iron which is pretty tough to snap in half in the best of times. And Barnaby was just as lean and mean as the Earth was when it came to size and density. Anyway for further research on this matter there's a website about blowing up the earth you can probably google up without too much trouble and see some fun infortainment articles about possible options regarding a problem of this magnitude.

Because, as the philosophers among us noted, even if we could blow it up. Or crack it cleanly in half so it flew past us on either side. Or hell just knock something big enough into it to throw it off course with us, we're talking about killing eight billion people. That is slightly more people than we have on earth right now. And the Barnabians are having this same conversation, they have to be. Luckily they really don't have anything on hand to swat our planet either, being so analogous and all. Suffice to say if anyone has the right to it wouldn't the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?

gently caress that, responded the average person. We should blow it the gently caress up. gently caress Barnaby they don't even got Jesus over there.

And so the stage was set. Two planets worth of peoples. Obviously throughout the human race different approaches were looked at. Contacting the Barnabians was on the table but there wasn't exactly a hell of a lot they could do other than politely request that neither side look at the other like a walnut that needed nuclear-cracking. The scientists making contact smiled and nodded but deep down they knew that in meetings they weren't invited to- deep in Washington- that the numbers for exactly that were being ran. Without really knowing we had to assume it was probably a mutual betrayal, otherwise it turns out we weren't great people!

One hundred years might be long enough to research and develop something big enough to blow up Barnaby 1. It would take antimatter production on a scale never before seen or attempted but if they could simply ball enough of it into the path of the planet in the vacuum of space- even if it wasn't enough to annihilate the whole thing- it had a decent chance of pushing it into Mars* which was deemed an acceptable trade even if Elon was planning to sue.

*Obviously in our vast solar system the next likely target for anything about to hit earth would be mars. I won't even have this questioned.


But the human race was not entirely the cold military minds analyzing this danger. Another plan floated more publicly was a mutual evacuation. The problems with this were twofold, the first is that everywhere worth evacuating to in the solar system loving sucks. Mars was a real problem point because it was now serving dual roles in this evacuation plan as a possible hideaway for the human race or a possible sinkhole for the entire planet of Barnaby to fuckball itself into. Everyone pretty much agreed though that Mars was a firm second place to Clementine, a sister planet in the same star system as Barnaby. It had oxygen due to an abundance of carbon monoxide eating slime molds, it was in a relatively habitable zone with a short but survivable season for plant growth, but it had no actual land area whatsoever. It was an ocean world, perhaps explaining why it had never evolved its own rival to the Barnabians. Suffice to say with a little bit of geoengineering this would be perfect and the reality of the oncoming collision meant there would be an optimal period to move everyone over to Clementine and ride out the Andromeda passthrough safe as houses in our new galaxy home. There was just the one problem though, and that was that pretty much everyone was forced to agree that Clementine belonged more to Barnaby 1 than it belonged to Earth and they were being tight lipped about sharing. The human race for its own part was being impulsive and occasionally sending threats of death and destruction along with its pleas that everyone remain calm.

The human race was giving off mixed messages. Communications said things honestly weren't looking much better on Barnaby. Five years had passed since the human race had discovered that they had miscarried a one to such tragic ends.

Over these years the human economy and the Barnabian economy had each been fully retooled into research and production of what was for all intents and purposes a moonshot project. Getting the entire human race into orbit, along with the things we'd need to survive and the things needed to build floating platforms all over a potentially hostile planet that would be flying through at an unfathomably fast rate. Fast enough that the only hope was to get out in front of Clementine and let her pass into the citizen's fleet's trajectory. A tall order considering nothing like that existed and the expected flythrough point was between jupiter and saturn.

The other side of the project was the antimatter division. They were ostensibly working on the fuel needed to get everyone off of Earth and out past the asteroid belt but the field seemed prone to attracting military types who believed the whole project would be rearranged at the last minute to wipe out the Barnabians, other times the story was that they were only going to threaten the Barnabians with the antimatter until they forced compliance on the Clementine question, which had somehow shifted from how 16 billion people were going to live on a planet you couldn't actually stand on to the question of how the humans were going to keep Clementine as our exclusive new home and leave Barnaby 1 to destroy itself against the Earth.

Years passed. The math got checked and rechecked. Astronomers watched Barnaby approach with a worried eye as it grew larger and larger on their telescope. Soon it had been seventy years of painful development but the ships were ready. The antimatter was ready. Even a casual onlooker could see Barnaby in the sky now and that had been the case for years. It was no secret that Barnaby 1 had built ships as well, and rumor had it they were armed. It was tense. Sayng goodbye to the beaches of home, to the warm breeze and to the calls of free birds under the open sky- the human race consigned itself to ships and launched itself off of its own planet. There was a great deal of congratulation because we got off our planet slightly faster than the Barnabians did, their lethargy taken as weakness. The human race began the long slow drive out to saturn. Space was inhospitable. Some of them didn't make it. The Barnabian's had a much kinder trip being both closer and slightly better prepared. They arrived at Clementine before it had even broken the boundary of Pluto. If you're wondering if having the Barnabian sun this close to our own system was loving all the frozen poo poo in the Kuiper belt and whatnot up it absolutely was. But with absolutely no opposition before them, the Barnabian's opted not to land.

Some in the human fleet saw this as an aggressive move. They said that this was when we needed to use our missiles which we had lied about making so that they couldn't spring upon us with their missiles they had lied about making. Others though had seen the ferry scene in The Dark Knight and so they knew that actually the play here was to have faith in the other group and hope for the common good of both parties to win out and for nobody to pull the trigger on blowing eachother up. So the human race waited not knowing if it would be a tacky peace or if it would be a pointless war. Honestly either option seemed unsatisfying but life isn't always a narrative.

As the human race arrived they began high level diplomatic talks. Up until this point the conversation had been pretty much "We're gonna go live on your planet!' 'Not if we don't tell you it's okay!' 'You don't have any sovereign authority over Clementine to tell us we need to ask!' 'It's in OUR star system! Go live on mars!' 'Mars sucks!'

And it went around and around like that. Anyway the Barnabian's seemed amicable enough to talk. It turned out their version of Spock had famously said The Responsibility of the Many is to Account for the Few and that was just fantastic news for everybody. The planet could certainly accommodate since it had so much freely available fish who had evolved to feed on the oxygenating slime molds, the only real problem is that water is corrosive and that both societies were gonna have to carefully maintain their stuff at literally all times lest chemical spills get everywhere and gently caress this good thing up for everybody. At the prospect of a government built out of the backbone of a strong EPA the human race came closer to initiating a total genocidal missile barrage than they ever had before in this entire ordeal, but luckily during the tense negotiations regarding steel refining rights in the lower east hemisphere both societies discovered to their shock that Barnaby 1 and Earth had flown right on past eachother.

"But... But that's impossible!" and indeed when the humans checked their calendars in disbelief they found it truly was December 25th, it had been a Christmas Miracle! They must have miscounted the days and forgot to add one somewhere in all this hubub! God bless us every one!

reignofevil fucked around with this message at 22:08 on Apr 1, 2023

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
And Tiny Tim, who did NOT get exploded in a planetary collision...

reignofevil
Nov 7, 2008
Man Versus Machine: Part 1

"I demand to know why you've placed us on this primitive world instead of our advanced Federationlike Starship!" shouted Captain Strike Forcewall of the F.S.S. Busybody.

"I'll tell you-" said Tell-All, the mysterious godlike being who had encountered the F.S.S. Busybody in space and waylaid it.

"You had better tell me everything!" Captain Strike further commanded.

"If you'd just give me a moment!" said Tell-All who was eager to explain everything. So after a few deep breaths and some pointed silence Tell-All continued.

"You've been brought down to the surface to engage in a battle of wits against the most insidious of all technological construct. Machine Learning. You will engage with the machines in a series of battles each day, and after each day they will attempt to learn and grow more adapted to combating your tactics."

Strike smiled as he looked upon his powerful crew of Federationlike officers. "We will surely best the machines!"

Tell-All chuckled. "Oh no, you aren't fighting until you win, you're fighting until you lose."

Strike didn't like that nearly as much. Tell-All disappeared soon after and then it was just the organic crew of the F.S.S. Busybody alone with the machines. The Busybody crew mostly kept to themselves on the other side of the valley, seeing no reason to engage with the heavily armed and armored machines that were still learning that basic things like rainfall or squirrels did not constitute an enemy attack and did not require an armed response. One night a particularly loud clap of thunder set off a response at the machine camp and they accidentally set their own newly constructed oil-refinery ablaze, seemingly the algorithm had not yet been trained to notice as they just let is smoulder to the ground. Strike Forcewall found himself wandering the ashes of burnt jungle left in the wake of the fire and thinking about what Tell-All had said. They had to keep fighting this battle until they lost it.

He glanced over at an algorithmically controlled mobile ground to air missile launcher, spinning itself helplessly in a circle after it had become tipped over in the mud.

This is gonna be the toughest battle I've ever fought.

reignofevil fucked around with this message at 01:40 on Apr 3, 2023

reignofevil
Nov 7, 2008
Deal from Strength

They told the former president Donald Trump that he'd be going in the big house on 34 counts of being too cool to be honest on his campaign filings and they said that felony charges were a big deal and that he should behave lest he end up behind bars for a long time. What they didn't know what that while he was President of the United States, Trump had watched tons and tons of youtube videos about prison and he was fully prepared to serve his entire nickle. The election would handle itself, The Trump Organization would be in capable hands and Barron Trump had gone all lib since he got to high school anyway. What mattered now was making sure that his fellow inmates understood he was the big dog of the yard. He went up to the biggest guy in the cafeteria.

"Hey Fat Tony! You better stay out my grill!"

"Actually my name is Pete-"

Trump slugged him in the gut, Fat Tony doubled over the cafeteria table and then Trump hit him with some of his best slang dis talk.

"West side story!"

Fat Tony coughed a bit and then sat himself up onto his backside.

"Dude, chill out. This is just a white collar prison. We don't actually do th-"

A full on kick brought him all the way out of the seated position and out onto the floor. By this point the guards were asking Trump politely to stop assaulting the hedge fund manager.

"This isn't over!" Trump yelled out to the general population. "Trump RUNS this town! Fall in line or fall off!" and with that he was being taken off to solitary confinement to be kept in total isolation with only a diet coke machine and his secret service protection for company. Trump resolved that tomorrow he was going to bootstrap himself into a drug smuggling ring by finding out how much bar soap he could fit into his rectum.

reignofevil
Nov 7, 2008
Up on the Roof

The day the school announced they would be leaving the access to the roof unlocked from now on because kids seemed to enjoy hanging out up there in anime was the day that Toshi Miyahashi realized something had gone very wrong in the fundamental arc of the universe somewhere. For starters it was a complete safety hazard and the only thing it would really encourage students to do up there was fight and smoke. Heck, that was all they were doing half the time if you ever actually WATCHED any anime to begin with!

Toshi didn't like the idea and he liked it even less when the school faculty had all of the students on the roof at once for an impromptu school assembly about how great of a space the roof had been all of this time and how students were certainly going to love studying up here. The principal made some awkward remarks about how all of the students probably saw themselves as anime protagonists already and he just wanted to make sure they were ready to face any elite 4 that may be upon their journey. The student body was suitably embarrassed for him.

"Well you won't catch ME studying on the roof that's for sure!" Toshi said to himself.

That night he fell asleep and found himself drawn to the roof of the school. "Tooooooshi" the roof seemed to be calling out to him. "Toshi the roof will be super animeeeeeeee"

"No!" Toshi cried out in his sleep, sweat pouring from his brow, "I won't do it! I won't go up on the roof!"

Toshi tossed and turned, not getting an ounce of rest as the prospect that he would somehow be forced to go up on the school roof drove him to further and further from the safe and sane life he had once known, the life when the school had practiced the sensible policy of keeping that part of the school locked off to everybody except maybe the janitor.

The next day when he started making his way back to school he noticed the sky was dark with thick rain clouds. He had scarcely made it inside when the rains broke and started drowning the entire landscape in harsh loud torrents of rain. Moments later the intercom once more made an announcement, the nearby Jamsworth Dam had overflown its bounds and the only chance for the school faculty and students to survive was for everybody to go stand up on the roof and wait for rescue.

Toshi hated this. He hated it so much. When the principal added over the intercom that this was probably like something that happened in naruto or something he hated it EVEN MORE. This was NOTHING like ANYTHING that had EVER happened in Naruto. And whatmore now he had to go on the roof and stand in the middle of the rain. What a miserable day!

So against all odds and his better judgement Toshi went up on the roof with the other students and the school principal and all the teachers and the janitor, Marco. Toshi was wet. The roof was crowded. There was flood water going around the school on either side trapping everyone in place. It was terrible. Suddenly a large chunk of indeterminate billboard broke off and started washing toward the school! It was heading for Marco who was the only other named character in the story but then it completely missed him and hit the school principal instead, knocking him precariously into the water! The principal was only barely hanging on because Marco had extended a mop at the last second-

"Help me Toshi!" Cried the principal "It's your moment to finally be a big time anime protagonist!"

"Why are you so stuck on this Anime Thing?" Toshi cried back

"I'd really like some help holding on to this guy-" Marco yelled out to Toshi, his grip clearly slipping as his thick yellow gloves started to slide right off his hands.

"Well I'd really like it if I wasn't feeling so much weird pressure that I don't understand!" Toshi yelled out to Marco, who really didn't know what to say in response to that

"That's called growing up Toshi!" yelled out the principal which really wasn't super helpful. "Growing up just like in an Anime!"

"You might be too cringe to live!" Toshi yelled back, all of the other students nodded or otherwise made it clear they pretty much agreed.

"Would you just save my life already! God you try and relate to these loving kids with their anime crap and this is what they do for ya"

Just then Marco let the principal go, sending him spiraling off into the whirling abyss of wastewater and debris that was downriver of the school.

"That's for taking the Lord's name in vain." Marco said matter of factly. All the students cheered because it was a religious school.

reignofevil fucked around with this message at 14:39 on Apr 9, 2023

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
Happy Easter, everyone!

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
How I Began My New Life on Dragon World

"We're so sorry for what you experienced on Earth," said Zorbaz. "Really. Completely unacceptable."

"It's amazing you stuck it out as long as you did," agreed Flimbor. "You exceeded every expectation. We're all very impressed."

I vaguely recalled I'd been here many times before. I was standing before the Spirit Council, a board of beings responsible for managing the transmigration of mortal souls. If you think of them as angels or gods (small g) you'd probably be mostly right. By their own admission they're not all-powerful or all-knowing, but as far as mortal souls are concerned they're close enough to both there's no real difference. They can answer any question about the material world a mortal could dream up, and probably make any change a mortal could imagine. They're the only beings with a permanent existence in the spirit realm as well.

For the moment, they'd taken the form of nondescript human bureaucrats, but their appearances were dreamlike, impermanent, and constantly shifting. Every so often I would catch glimpses of different things behind or beneath their human facades. Beings far older and bigger than could fit inside a human form. When I'd been before them last time, they'd looked like whatever type of being I'd just been.

We don't retain the memories of all our previous lives in the spirit realm, just the most recent one.

"We try to place every soul in the body and situation best calculated to maximize their happiness and the happiness of those around them," said Weemwom. "We placed you in a human body on Earth because that was the type of life your last placement would have most enjoyed. Obviously something went terribly wrong."

"An invasive concept called 'capitalism' has taken root on the planet and really screwed everything up," sighed Zorbaz. He shook his head with disappointment. "It's made it very difficult for almost everyone. Frankly the whole planet is pretty much a write off. We estimate that within the next two or three centuries it won't be able to support any life more complex than invertebrates."

The others all nodded in grim agreement.

I couldn't argue with them there. I didn't consider my life on Earth to be especially miserable compared to most people. I lived a middle class life in the United States. I never knew hunger and rarely any physical danger, but I was confronted all the time by the knowledge of the misery and suffering of others, and no matter what I did, I never seemed to make anything any better. It was all I could do to stay afloat myself.

"Because of the troubles down there, we've been offering all the souls from Earth a generous compensation package," said Flimbor. "We've picked out a new planet for you to live on we think you're really going to love."

"More than that, you'll get to keep the memories of your previous life," added Weemwom. "It wouldn't really be much of a compensation if you couldn't appreciate how much better and happier you were in your new life than your old one."

"Now, according to your file, you had a number of uhh... sexual fantasies that occupied a significant, even disproportionate amount of your daily thoughts." Zorbaz squinted at the papers in my file. "It says here you were particularly fond of dragons and 'futanari?' Am I correct?"

I nodded. Maybe when I was alive I would have been embarrassed or ashamed to have my weirdo kinks read aloud like that, but somehow in that moment I was beyond caring. Besides, I'm sure they'd seen much, much weirder poo poo in the course of eternity.

"There's a race of sapient beings who resemble dragons from your Earth culture, but endowed with startlingly human-looking breasts," said Flimbor. "What's more, these beings have a third sexual morphism that resembles the female of the species, but has the genital and gonad configuration of a male. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in?"

Were they kidding? Hell yeah.

An image of one of the beings appeared in the air above the council. It was a dragon of the four-limbed variety, so the forelimbs functioned as wings while in flight, and as secondary forelegs while on the ground, like a pterodactyl. The creature was covered in a mixture of scales and feathers, with a crest of bright plumage on the top of the head and a long, lizardlike tail behind frilled with a vertical blade of feathers for what I presumed was for steering in flight. It mostly looked like a cross between a lizard and a bird, with a little bit of goat thrown in for the horns and ears.

And yup, it had boobs alright. Just a big old pair of badonkers stuck onto its chest like someone had glued oranges to the chest of a dinosaur. If you've ever seen a picture of a pangolin's tits, it was kind of like that. They did look just like human boobs though.

I'll be honest as big a pervert as I am, it wasn't really that sexy, but it did look fun as hell. "Sign me up," I told them.

I was escorted to a space filled with thousands of narrow plinths arranged in a grid. On each plinth stood a small sculpture of a different dragon. I remembered this place, only the last time I'd been here, each plinth had held the sculpture of a nude human. I was supposed to pick which one I wanted for my future body.

"These are all the dragons who are scheduled to be born within your window of availability," said Weemwom.

Mortal souls can only exist for a brief period in the spirit realm as cogent entities before dissipating. There was no obligation to reincarnate, but it wasn't possible to remain as yourself. Stay too long in the spirit realm and your soul will dissolve and rejoin the energy of the universe. Many mortals choose to dissipate rather than be reincarnated, and I think everyone chooses this eventually. Your energy rejoins the spirit cloud and floats around until it's precipitated into a new soul in a sort of cosmic water cycle, but the unique self that was you is lost forever.

Maybe someday I'll let myself dissolve, but not before I get to try out life as a big-titted dragon.

"We've filtered out all the bodies with serious congenital diseases and deformities." Weemwom gestured across the available selection of dragons. "Those are reserved for... remedial cases and special requests. All the bodies you see here can lead healthy lives of average or above average lifespan, depending of course on your choices and circumstances."

The dragons came in a rainbow of colors. Some were vibrant and festive, while others were dour brown or pure velvet black. They had stripes and spots and spirals.

I immediately dismissed all the male and female options, focusing on the boobie/dick combo bodies. I picked out the body with the biggest boobs and dick I could find.

Weemwom cautioned me that large endowments weren't considered particularly attractive or even desirable in dragon culture, and that the one I'd picked out would seem more comical than sexy to the locals. They showed me a lineup of the bodies the dragons considered most beautiful. The bodies were all sleek, with profiles like high-performace aircraft or racecars. Smooth, shiny feathers, powerful wings and colorful plumage.

"Any one of these would be counted among the most beautiful dragons in the world." Weemwom gestured to a red one with yellow stripes and an unusually long tail. "This one, for instance, with proper training and dedication, has the potential to achieve an athletic prowess comparable to an Olympic athlete on Earth. This body would no doubt enjoy a broad selection of romantic options."

She looked cool and all, but definitely lacking in the chestular department.

I stayed resolute in my decision. "Nope, I want that one." I pointed again to the one with the bodacious tatas and obscenely large dong.

Weemwom rolled his eyes and sighed.

They walked me through the body's projected life. "The feathers in your crest are going to fall out prematurely, so that by the time you are in your late middle age your head will be almost completely bald. Also your vision will start to fail relatively young. Thankfully, the dragons of that world have the knowledge and means to craft effective corrective lenses, so that shouldn't be too much of a handicap."

A pair of what looked like old-time aviator goggles appeared over the face of the dragon on the plinth. Snazzy.

I'd worn glasses during my life on Earth. I'd been fortunate to never go bald, though, so that would be different. How bad could it be?

They showed me what the body would look like through all the stages of her life. In old age, her face had gone completely bald. She looked like a decrepit vulture, or maybe a Skexis with tits sagging down to its knees. Pretty hideous if I'm being honest, but I figured I could lean into it. I'd have my fun as a weird-looking youth, then wrap things up as a hideous old crone who could cackle madly and skulk around putting people off.

I was in love. "I'll take her!"

"Very well," said Weemwom. "Good luck down there."

Next thing I knew, I was trapped in an egg.

To Be Continued

Applewhite fucked around with this message at 22:15 on Apr 27, 2023

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
Born Again on Dragon World

Hatching wasn't fun. One minute I'm chilling in an amniotic sack, and the next thing I know my air is running out and I'm locked in a straitjacket. I scratched at the walls and flailed around. The walls of the egg were translucent, so once I started moving and my dragon mom got up from her nest, I could see light filter through from outside.

Eventually I just started bashing my face against the wall in the hope I could free myself.

I caused something of a stir when I hatched. I imagine any parent would be shocked when their child emerged with the fully formed mind and personality of an adult from an alien race. I couldn't speak dragon language yet, and I couldn't form human words with my dragon muzzle, but it was clear from the outset something was off about me.

Luckily, I wasn't the first human to be reincarnated on dragon world. Apparently human refugees had been arriving on dragon world for a few decades now. The years are different lengths and obviously their calendar is totally different, but me and the other Earth expats reckon humans started appearing on dragon world shortly after the advent of the internet, which tracks pretty well with the sort of people who ended up as dragons.

Really there were two types of humans who primarily ended up on dragon world. Perverts like me who'd fetishized cartoon dragons back on earth, and new-age hippie-dippie types who saw dragons as spiritual talismans or whatever.

I don't really feel like going into my childhood right now. My parents didn't really understand me, and there was a lot of friction growing up. Getting my diagnosis as an Earth refugee helped them cope a little bit, but we were never very close. I felt a little bad for them. I already had my own human parents I loved as my mother and father, and they were expecting a normal baby to raise from a blank slate, not some stranger who'd just used her mom's cloaca as a quick escape tunnel from a dying planet in another galaxy.

A note on pronouns here: as a human, I'd thought of myself as male and used male pronouns. The dragons have a third pronoun for boob & dick havers but it doesn't translate easily, so on dragon planet I'm she/her because I feel so pretty.

Dragon World is a lot like Earth should have been if it hadn't been ravaged by industry. The sky is way different. There's a huge ringed gas giant that takes up half the sky most of the time. Seriously, it's like something out of a dormroom poster. I guess the gas giant means Dragon World is technically a moon. There's two other moons, but there doesn't look like there's any life on them. The gas giant is called "Nightsun" (because it's hecka bright at night) and the two smaller moons are named after mythological figures in dragon culture.

Scientifically, the dragons are roughly at an early nineteenth-century level of knowledge, though they're catching up fast on account of all the ex-humans who're showing up.

Technologically, the dragons are more at a level of the late bronze or early iron age with one or two islands of advancement. They have some knowledge of metalworking and architecture, as well as lens-grinding which would be helpful for me later. They had telescopes and had counted the planets in their solar system as well as identified the stars in the sky as distant suns. Dragon world is a moon orbiting the fourth planet out from the sun. The third planet is green and blue on telescopes, but it's not possible to make out what sort of life lives there and obviously the dragons don't have spaceships yet.

The biggest obstacle to technological development is dragon hands. We have a three-fingered hand at the end of our "arm," with the other two fingers elongated to form the structure for the wing membrane. Our claws have enough dexterity to wield simple tools, but they're pretty poo poo when it comes to detailed work. The backs of our hands are calloused to support walking on our knuckles.

Dragons are proportionately weaker than humans as well. Dragon bones are hollow to facilitate flight and we don't have the same stamina or pain tolerance humans do. I never thought of my human body as particularly strong but compared to the stretched-out, lightweight body of a dragon I was a dense little ball of pure muscle.

Our visual acuity takes some getting used to as well. I can count the spots on a ladybug from a mile up in the air, but trying to do detailed work at arm's length is a major pain.

Despite this, the dragons have built some pretty impressive structures. Most of the houses where I live are made of wood. My house is a big, spherical nest covered in plaster in the branches of a tree. But the tribe halls can get surprisingly huge and elaborate. There's some big stone houses and halls up on the hills that I have no idea how they got built. All the bricks are too big for even a team of dragons to carry in flight and the wheel is only just starting to catch on out here. Obviously there aren't really any roads because everyone flies.

Oh, right you probably want to know about flying.

It's awesome.

Honestly if I'd known how much fun flying would be I'd have taken any body with wings a long time ago and not been picky about whether it had tits or not.

When you fly, you feel weightless. If you're tiring yourself out flapping your arms you're doing it wrong. The air currents do most of the work. All you have to do is sit back and drift over the serene, beautiful world below. I've fallen asleep up there once or twice, though that's not really a smart idea.

It really is a beautiful world. It makes me tear up to think about how Earth might have been. Yeah I know there were beautiful places on Earth. Maybe there still are, but they're shrinking all the time and most people lived their whole lives only ever seeing them in pictures.

No place on dragon world is paved. The dragons don't have any cars. Everyone flies to get around. There's no cities. There's no factories.

There's a lot of noise, though. Apart from all the birdcalls that fill the trees all day, there's also always dragons yelling all the time.

Dragons don't have telephones, so when we want to talk to each other over long distances, we just shout. Our horns aren't just there to look pretty (mine are very pretty though; I get compliments on them all the time), they also function as resonance chambers, kind of like that big horn thing sticking off the head of a duck-billed hadrosaur. On a clear day, you can have a conversation over three or four miles. Somehow our dragon brains are adapted to pick out the voices of individuals from a huge medley. Having independently orientable ears helps a lot as well.

You're probably also wondering if we breathe fire.

In what is probably a lucky break for a civilization built mostly out of wood, we do not. Breathing fire would be cool, but honestly I can't think of any time I'd been really disappointed that I couldn't.

We do have a few natural weapons, though. Instead of fire, we can spit a paralytic venom that's really useful against small prey. I can spit over twenty yards! And actually hit what I'm aiming at. There are champion spitters who do trick shots at longer distances but after a brief flirtation with it as a hobby I realized to my dismay that I'd never go pro. We have our teeth and talons as well. The talon on my big toe is like a sickle and I can use it to cut my food (after washing it of course).

Dragons occasionally fight amongst themselves. Our spit is non-lethal but it'll make any part of your body go numb that it touches. Dragon pain thresholds are calibrated to apex predator standards, so fights are usually over before they turn deadly. The first time you get scratched it sends your brain into panic mode and your first instinct is to back off and get some space. I've been in two fights. One with a bully as a kid, and one with my now ex-boyfriend. I'll maybe tell those stories later.

That's the basics off the top of my head. Send me your questions though and I'll be glad to answer them in my next installment.

To Be continued...

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
Seriously AMA about being a dragon on dragon world.

FreudianSlippers
Apr 12, 2010

Shooting and Fucking
are the same thing!

Applewhite posted:

Seriously AMA about being a dragon on dragon world.

What does Dragonfire smell like

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost

FreudianSlippers posted:

What does Dragonfire smell like


Applewhite posted:


You're probably also wondering if we breathe fire.

In what is probably a lucky break for a civilization built mostly out of wood, we do not. Breathing fire would be cool, but honestly I can't think of any time I'd been really disappointed that I couldn't.


Sorry :/

reignofevil
Nov 7, 2008
Why don't these ruddy dragons just evolve a pouch already.

Applewhite
Aug 16, 2014

by vyelkin
Nap Ghost
Dragon World AMA Round 1

Are dragons obligate carnivores?

Dragons are omnivores, but most of our calories come from meat. Most of my average day is spent looking for food and a lot of arguments break out between dragons stalking the same prey. Other dragons mostly eat raw meat but we absolutely can and do cook our food. Cooked food has grown a lot in popularity since the Earth expats started arriving because most of us (myself included) are squeamish about eating live animals.

If you're not up to hunting—maybe you're bad at it, maybe you're injured or old—dragons also herd flocks of sheep, goats, pigs, cows, and other food animals. Common etiquette is that if you want to partake of a domestic flock, you have to participate in helping to tend the animals. Dragons don't have money (yet. There's a big debate among the Earth expats whether it would be ethical to introduce money) so their economy runs on a reciprocal favor/barter system. Usually if you want something, you pay for it with time. I've spent a lot of time helping down on the farm just for the convenience of eating something that I don't have to chase. It's the closest thing we have to fast food here, at least until Sarsaparilla gets his "McDonalds" going.

The second biggest part of my diet is fruit. There's wild fruits, and most dragons live in or near a fruit tree or two, so they can just reach out the window and pick breakfast if it's in season, but you have to worry about kids swiping your fruit while you're asleep. We keep some pretty extensive orchards, though. The rules for orchards are the same as the rules for herd animals. If you want fruit from an orchard, you have to help out.

I and other ex-humans sometimes eat leafy green salads just to change things up but native dragons always look at me askance.

How big are dragons relative to humans?

We had a fun time trying to figure this one out. Me and the other ex-humans I mean. Obviously native dragons would have no idea.

Just measuring is right out. Dragons have different units of measurement than humans do and none of them are standardized anyway. At best they're regionally standardized but it's still a shitshow.

Our best guess is to compare ourselves to the size of common things. If you assume Dragon World sheep are more or less the same size as normal sheep (whatever that is), then the average dragon comes out to somewhere between eight and twelve feet tall from toes to nose, with a tail that's usually about as long as the rest of the body so sixteen to twenty feet overall. There's a lot of variance between individuals, though. I'm somewhat on the large side, but my friend Beanbag is probably not much bigger than a tall human.

A couple of the big brains that came over tried to work out more precise measurements based on the viscosity of water. I remember there was a big excitement at the engineers' hut when, after weeks of painstaking work and calculations, they finally unveiled Dragon World's first meter stick (they were Canadian). They threw a huge party to celebrate and began gleefully measuring everything they could and comparing them to objects on Earth.

After all that work (and a bit of unit conversion) the engineers worked out that dragons range from eight to twelve feet from toes to nose and about sixteen to twenty feet overall. Except Beanbag who is twelve feet from end of his nose to the tip of his tail.

We sometimes tease Beanbag that he is the reincarnation of Ben Shapiro, something he denies vigorously.

What do dragons do for fun?

Oh my God. Dancing.

So much dancing.

Do you know birds of paradise on earth? The ones that spend all their time hopping around and shaking their butts and flapping their wings in elaborate, precisely choreographed movements? That's how much dragons love to dance.

I didn't do much dancing as a human, now I know sixteen different dances by heart and at least a hundred and fifty others.

As a kid, I dreaded dance class. I was always the worst in class and the other dragon kids would make fun of me. Also, dragons haven't yet developed a science of pedagogy yet so the teacher made fun of me, too. My school had like, twenty five proms and I went stag to every single one.

All the time. Every occasion. The dancing. If you can't dance you ain't poo poo. You see dragons practicing dances in the street, they practice at home, they practice on my roof until I yell at them to gently caress off.

As you can probably guess from a species with resonant horns, singing is also a big deal. Opera is huge here, even before humans showed up.

Apart from dancing and singing, they have all the usual stuff. They've had plays for hundreds of years but ever since the humans started arriving plays have really blown up in popularity. Probably eighty percent of the Earth expats are giant nerds so between us we can put on pretty decent adaptations of Lord of the Rings and Star Wars. The ex-humans probably spend most of our free time trying to recreate the stories we enjoyed on Earth and a mostly complete copy of a favorite book is worth big barter.

Dragons have books and bookbinding, though most of the letters are in large print on account of our generally poor close up vision.

Do dragons have sports?

Dragons love all sports, especially hunting. I've already mentioned competitive spitting.

Dragons also have martial arts. Being so pain averse, these usually involve a ton of safety gear and strict rules. When humans began to arrive they introduced the concept of professional wrestling and holy poo poo did it catch on. It's hard to form English words with our muzzles but with a little practice we can make a few the same way parrots can. Sandblaster taught the other dragons how to say "LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!" and now every weekend you can hear cries of "LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLLLLLLLLLLE!" echoing all through the valley.

It brings a tear to my eye every time.

reignofevil posted:

Why don't these ruddy dragons just evolve a pouch already.

I'll ask the Spirit Council the next time I see them.

Do dragons wear clothes?

Yes and no. Most dragons decorate their bodies with jewelry and cloth. But to cover our shame? Only ex-humans do that. Our hangups run deep and only a handful of us have fully shaken off Earth's nudity taboos. I personally usually wear at least a bra to keep my tits under control, and a lot of the expats I know go around fully clothed even in their own homes.

Thanks for your questions! Keep them coming!

Until next time...

Stoner Sloth
Apr 2, 2019

Applewhite posted:

Seriously AMA about being a dragon on dragon world.

can you draw a dragon? :buddy:

SniperWoreConverse
Mar 20, 2010



Gun Saliva
what even is a dragon, really :ninja:

Adbot
ADBOT LOVES YOU

Remulak
Jun 8, 2001
I can't count to four.
Yams Fan
How EXACTLY do dragons, which have I guess have either/or/(and?) cloaca and penises, reproduce? Is sex only reproductive? Is it fun/pleasurable like for humans? Do dragons die after a certain number of spawns, like octopus?

Are dragon dicks more like human, corkscrewed like duck dicks, or hemipens like snakes? Do dragons without dicks have a clit?

Also, what exactly are dragon tits used for?

As a child dragon we’re you bullied for the giant boobs and dick you selected?

  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
  • Post
  • Reply