thatbastardken posted:

.22 will do a dog just fine if that's your preference.

VictorianQueerLit posted:

I don't condone pulling a reverse John Wick on Smooches but .22 is a terrible idea unless you basically hate the dog and want to get point blank, right in their face, and make it extremely personal.

Solice Kirsk posted:

.22 rifles are accurate as all hell. You could probably shoot your sick dog in the face from like 100 yards if you were so inclined.

Untrustable posted:

Yo don't shoot nothin' bigger than a rabbit with a .22 unless you're a loving great shot or you want to chase a wounded, howling animal to shoot it again and again.

Screaming Idiot posted:

Kidding aside, I have to agree -- use a proper gun, at least. How morally inept would a person have to be to pump load after load into their poor dog?

Absurd Alhazred posted:

This is basically cheating, but:

Vic posted:

Oh man what's the backstory on that one?

Roosevelt posted:

"Let's just say Buffy was a female dog, and my depravity knew no limits."

"shloop"

Bear Enthusiast posted:

If I recall my deep goon lore correctly, I think "shloop" was a different dog sex anecdote where through a series of weird coincidences the poster got hosed by a dog. Also is "dog sex anecdote" the next twitter sensation or an up and coming harsh noise band?

Bear Enthusiast posted:

If I recall my deep goon lore correctly, I think "shloop" was a different dog sex anecdote where through a series of weird coincidences the poster got hosed by a dog. Also is "dog sex anecdote" the next twitter sensation or an up and coming harsh noise band?

FAT32 SHAMER posted:

nobody ever knows how to pronounce the aoi in my name

Trig Discipline posted:

yaoi isn't a very common name though, cut people some slack

Aphrodite posted:

She was naked for some reason or another and I think had dropped something that slid under a couch.

Call Your Grandma posted:

Keith Atherton posted:

The poster was Ornery Bean

I don't know why I remember that

puppets freak me out posted:

probably because she was literally incapable of not oversharing about her sex life

Lobok posted:

"Ornery Bean" in this thread and "Devil's Doorbell" in the Funny Pictures Thread. When it comes to the clitoris these threads are really rubbing off on each other.

Absurd Alhazred posted:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vsBak0oCgdY

queserasera posted:

I'm still in shock over the number of half-remembered dog loving anecdotes.

This place was weird before I got here, goddamn.

queserasera posted:

This place was weird before I got here, goddamn.

Dabir posted:

It's important to remember that Morally Inept was also Socially Inept and Comedically Inept.

Sapper posted:

When I was a kid, maybe 10, I ate a dry package of Lipton 'French Onion Soup'. I was a weird kid, and dry soup mix was perfect "grab and go". But we were out of the usual 'Spring Vegetable.' I thought nothing of it...until my guts started rumbling. Within an hour or two, I was farting--a sharp 'crack!' like a .22 rifle--every minute, like clockwork. No big deal, it was Saturday, and they didn't really smell. All sound and fury. But my mother dragged me to church that evening. I begged her to sit up in the (usually empty) choir loft, at least. To my horror, there were already people up there in one of the two pews--an older girl that I had a huge crush on, and her gorgeous friend! Worst of all, the hard wooden pews did nothing to muffle the whipcracks erupting from between my cheeks.

I tried shifting. I tried squeezing. Nothing worked. Eventually, my mother batted me across the head and whispered, "For God's sake, go out to the vestibule!" So I made my way downstairs, trailing sad little toots the whole way. I milled around the empty vestibule for a while, reading the announcements and undoubtedly contaminating the holy water, until at last, I felt like the tank was empty. The tempest in my guts had calmed. I made my way back to my seat just in time for consecration of the Eucharist. Mass was almost over, and I was gonna make it.

Until we had to kneel. The shifting and straightening must have opened some pipes, allowing un-fermented soup powder to react with gastric juices and produce its horrifying product. I was trapped; my butt was aimed directly at the pew, a hard, angled surface perfectly constructed to ricochet the sound waves upward and outward at the high, open ceiling.

The church was silent as the priest performed the ritual of the Eucharist.

I could feel the pressure mounting. I swore I could hear bubbling. A spasm of pain gripped my gut. I squeezed. I shifted. I prayed, more fervently than I'd ever prayed before. But I knew it was futile. In sheer agony, I squeezed as tight as I could, and held. I closed my eyes and prayed.

Just as Father Lawrence raised the oversized host up and proclaimed, "The Body of Christ", it happened. An explosion--a long, drawn out, chuffing, cracking fart that sounded like an MG42 opening up. It seemed to drag on for hours. And it echoed. It was a huge old stone-walled church, and it echoed. Fr. Lawrence's eyes went wide in surprise, and muffled laughter erupted in various places in the congregation. Mothers were swatting their children, who were rolling with laughter. Old ladies looked at each other in disgust. Men's shoulders shook as they tried to contain their laughter. I put my head down on my folded forearms and sobbed with embarrassed laughter.

My mother whacked me on the back of the head so hard, I saw stars.

It would be more than two decades before I'd eat French Onion soup again. And never dry. Never.

shut up blegum posted:

Camel Camus posted:

My mom was a marine biologist

Jim DiGriz posted:

It's weird that Trig Discipline still isn't here despite you talking about his two favourite things.

RideTheSpiral posted:

for a goon the most outrageous fantasy creation is a slender man

Gumbel2Gumbel posted:

The best part about trig is he seems like a genuinely nice dude even with the brutal owns.