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  • Locked thread
Mercedes
Mar 7, 2006

"So you Jesus?"

"And you black?"

"Nigga prove it!"

And so Black Jesus turned water into a bucket of chicken. And He saw that it was good.




:siren:THE LEPER COLON V VS NO LONGER FLAKY BRAWL:siren:

I am a bit of an art guy. I like looking at pictures and poo poo. Your brawl is simple.

Picture 1 -

Picture 2 -

Pick a picture as your inspiration and give me 500 words.

You have until next week Tuesday 11:59 pm EST.

Mercedes fucked around with this message at 21:32 on Dec 17, 2013

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sebmojo
Oct 23, 2010


Legit Cyberpunk









Mercedes posted:

:siren:THE LEPER COLON V VS NO LONGER FLAKY BRAWL:siren:

I am a bit of an art guy. I like looking at pictures and poo poo. Your brawl is simple.

Picture 1 -

Picture 2 -

Pick a picture as your inspiration and give me 500 words.

You have until next week Tuesday 11:59 pm EST.

Extra points if you make it a drawing room comedy set in the Regency period.

girl dick energy
Sep 30, 2009

You think you have the wherewithal to figure out my puzzle vagina?


A Metaphor for Death

There is a creature, they say, that lurks in every dark corner of the world. Beyond all reproach, above all the laws and sciences of man, it has never failed to reach any who it has set its sights on. It is always hungry, never sated no matter how many lives it extinguishes. Its black hide resists all weapons, its sharp teeth sheer through all armor. Sometimes, its approach can be heard ahead of time, maybe even years or decades before it arrives. Other times, it is there and gone in the blink of an eye. It has many names: The Grim Reaper, The Black Death, Inevitability. But one man, a rich and powerful man who'd spent his whole life preparing for its arrival, simply called it The Beast.

Briliant, the man was. Every day, he met people whom the Beast had targetted, worked his hardest to keep them safe from it, and they paid him handsomely for it. And every day, the Beast continued to reach them anyways. He was the best at what he did, and could delay its arrival for months, even for the most desperate. But never, despite all his cleverness, could he defeat his nemesis. And as the years wore on, as time marched forward as it ever did, the Beast set its sights on him.

He knew the Beast came for him, he'd known for years, every day hearing the echoes of its roar growing louder. Every moment, feeling its rumbling approach making his hands shake and his hair turn white. For a time, he was afraid, and he ran, sparing no expense to separate himself as far from the Beast as possible. But it did not matter how far he ran, or how much he spent, its slow, inevitable approach remained constant. He spent a decade of his life, and the entirety of his vast fortune trying to escape the beast, but to no avail.

And then, one day, lying sick and alone in a beggar's bed, the old man found peace. He closed his eyes, smiled, and welcomed the Beast with open arms. It burst through the ground, devoured him whole, and went on a rampage that destroyed everything for miles. Turns out the Beast is also a metaphor for being eaten by a giant worm.

Sweet_Joke_Nectar
Jun 7, 2007

i'm a little shai :3
gently caress me, I'm moving and I forgot I don't get Internet at my new place until the 24th. Sorry for the premature "I'm in", bowing out. Not man enough to write this tall tale on my phone*, next time.




*Assuming writing short stories on a cell is a masculine activity

No Longer Flaky
Nov 16, 2013

by Lowtax

Mercedes posted:

:siren:THE LEPER COLON V VS NO LONGER FLAKY BRAWL:siren:

Picture 1 -


The Day My Lips Were Blown Off

I am the mighty sandworm of Hrathdon and, until recently, I had lips. It’s not like I particularly need my lips I guess, sometimes they got in the way of devouring humans and smashing things, but without them my face feels incomplete. It’s like two soft touchy feely muscles are missing, and I can’t help but feel like somehow it’s my fault.

It all started like any other normal day. I was slithering through the Earth waiting for a group of small squishy meat snacks to start their migration – or whatever you’d call it. That day there was a scent that I hadn’t smelled in the air before. It was potent, like the smell of meat was somehow amplified. It overtook my thoughts, and I couldn’t think of anything else. I followed the scent without a thought of retribution as I got closer, I noticed the smell wasn’t accompanied by the typical vibrations that these loud smelly meat sacks made as they traversed through their environment. A lack of vibration wasn’t uncommon, in fact in most circumstances this signaled an easy meal. The meat snacks wouldn’t even try to run away from me! Easy snacking and good food. Well not more tasty or less tasty than usual, but easy food is good food in my book.

When I finally reached the source of the smell, I was beside myself. Normally I am careful to check the surroundings before I make my entrance from under the ground. But on this occasion, they weren’t moving, and the smell was so delicious I didn’t think to even check. The smell led me towards my prey and as I moved closer the smell was downright orgasmic. I brought myself up and smashed down on the snacks, intent on eating them with one quick satisfying bite and chewing as I made my escape. Typically I don’t chew my food, but with this snack, with this smell I had never before encountered I intended to savor it. Unfortunately the amazing smell did not match the taste that accompanied it. It was a harsh bitter taste, acrid. It seemed like I only tasted it for a split second then BAM. An explosion. I don’t know what happened with that particular snack, I don’t know if those snacks were infected with a disease or what, but when I bit down on those guys they blew my lips clean off. Stunned me too. It was all I could do to slither back into the safety of the ground before anything else got blown off. I don’t know what further could have possibly been removed from my body, but before this happened I never would have guessed my lips could be blown off. Live and learn I guess.

Mercedes
Mar 7, 2006

"So you Jesus?"

"And you black?"

"Nigga prove it!"

And so Black Jesus turned water into a bucket of chicken. And He saw that it was good.




What the poo poo. The deadline was next week, jackasses. I'll have judgement by this weekend so hold on to your dicks, you mingers.

No Longer Flaky
Nov 16, 2013

by Lowtax

Mercedes posted:

What the poo poo. The deadline was next week, jackasses. I'll have judgement by this weekend so hold on to your dicks, you mingers.

Sorry brah, he posted so quickly I felt like I needed to get my poo poo in order. Guess we both don't have enough keeping us busy.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
Free opening line to whoever grabs it first:

"They call me Hurricane Harry, because where-ever I go
I destroy homes and get bitches wet."

Fumblemouse
Mar 21, 2013


STANDARD
DEVIANT
Grimey Drawer
In for telling a tale taller than Paul Bunyan on stilts. And the stilts have platform boots on the end. And the platform boots are standing on a giraffe. In space.

Mercedes
Mar 7, 2006

"So you Jesus?"

"And you black?"

"Nigga prove it!"

And so Black Jesus turned water into a bucket of chicken. And He saw that it was good.




:siren:The Leper Colon V VS No Longer Flaky BRAAAAAAAAAAAAWL:siren:

:siren:CRIIIIIIIIIIITS!!!:siren:

Alright, you two loving numbnuts. I give you one simple job -- a nice softball of a prompt: use your imagination. And what do the both of you do? Pick the easiest and most straightfoward thing available: you both write about the worm. And hardly in an imaginative way.

gently caress it. On with your crits.


The Leper Colon V

A Metaphor for Death (384 words)


Opening
It's a snooze-fest. You describe your beast. It's hungry and no one can hurt it. Invincibility sucks. There's a reason why Superman is the worst loving superhero.


Characterization So you have a nameless dude who made a fortune doing something that would delay the worm. What he does exactly? No one loving knows! I think he does a rain dance in the nude.


Plot Nameless dude is eaten.


Technique Your writing is fine. Nothing that is especially jarring to me, but then again, I'm not a grammar God so take that as you will.


Your story suffers more from a Macro perspective than micro. You had a whole 100 extra words for dialogue, for making me care about your nameless main character, for describing what the gently caress your nameless dude DID in order to delay the Beast. As it is, stuff happens in your story because








No Longer Flaky

The Day My Lips Were Blown Off (459 words)


Opening
Initially, I was completely on board. I liked your title and your first paragraph gelled with my sense of humor. EBeef once said before that a great opening will give you great goodwill, and you have it...


...unfortunately the story itself kinda fell apart due to weird decisions you chose that could have been ironed out if you would have taken the whole loving week I gave you to polish it.


Characterization There's only so much a good hook can do for you. They way you have the worm narrate the story works, but it lacks so much loving polish it hurts the whole story.


Technique You could have easily broken up the last paragraph into smaller chunks, but it's a small complaint. I have a bigger issue with why you go to lengths to obfuscate why explosives smell so good to the worm. Again, if you would have loving taken your drat time, you probably would have caught this yourself.


Plot Like I said before, I like the overall plot you have going on here. You could have done so much more. Off the top of my head, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dSiVZ524yW4 If you would have gone with something like this, you would have had an easy win instead of barely ekeing out.


:siren:JUDGMENT!!!!!!!!:siren:


Yep, that's right. No Longer Flaky is the winner of this brawl. Barely. A good hook and plot goes a long way. I disliked both of your stories though, just to be clear. I just hated No Longer Flaky's story the least.

girl dick energy
Sep 30, 2009

You think you have the wherewithal to figure out my puzzle vagina?
It was a 400-word joke, you humorless turd. :colbert:

If you want a moving story, say that in the prompt.

girl dick energy fucked around with this message at 22:28 on Dec 18, 2013

girl dick energy
Sep 30, 2009

You think you have the wherewithal to figure out my puzzle vagina?
Quote is not edit.

crabrock
Aug 2, 2002

I

AM

MAGNIFICENT






ITT we bitch at judges when we lose.

girl dick energy
Sep 30, 2009

You think you have the wherewithal to figure out my puzzle vagina?
I'd be fine with losing, if he'd actually judged me by an appropriate loving metric.

Dr. Kloctopussy
Apr 22, 2003

"It's time....to DIE!"

The Leper Colon V posted:

I'd be fine with losing, if he'd actually judged me by an appropriate loving metric.

Shut up, you big baby. Judges use whatever metric they loving want to. This is Thunderdome.

Also it's a place for writing stories, not 400 word jokes.

Or whining.

Walamor
Dec 31, 2006

Fork 'em Devils!

The Leper Colon V posted:

I'd be fine with losing, if he'd actually judged me by an appropriate loving metric.

He asked for a story, not a 400 word joke. He judged you on your story. Not sure what you expected.

girl dick energy
Sep 30, 2009

You think you have the wherewithal to figure out my puzzle vagina?
Whatever. I liked it.

I'll make sure to tell a heart-wrenching tragedy for the tall tale. :colbert:

crabrock
Aug 2, 2002

I

AM

MAGNIFICENT








The Leper Colon V posted:



A Metaphor for Death

There is a creature, they say, that lurks in every dark corner of the world. BORING/CLICHE Beyond all reproachCLICHE, above all the laws and sciences of manBORING/CLICHE, it has never failed to reach any who it has set its sights on. It is always hungry, never sated no matter how many lives it extinguishes.BORING/CLICHE Its black hide resists all weapons,BORING/CLICHE its sharp teeth sheer throughSPELLCHECK/WORD USAGE all armor.BORING/CLICHE Sometimes, its approach can be heard ahead of time, maybe even years or decades before it arrives. Other times, it is there and gone in the blink of an eye.BORING/CLICHE It has many names: The Grim Reaper, The Black Death,BORING/CLICHE Inevitability. But one man, a rich and powerful man BORING who'd spent his whole life preparing for its arrival EVEN AS A BABY?, simply called it The Beast.

Briliant, the man was.BORING Every day, he met people whom the Beast had targetted,SPELLCHECK worked his hardest to keep them safe from it,SHOW DON'T TELL and they paid him handsomely for it. And every day, the Beast continued to reach them anyways.WHAT A DICK He was the best at what he did,DOESN'T SOUND LIKE IT IF PEOPLE PAY HIM AND THEN IT EATS THEM ANYWAY and could delay its arrival for months, even for the most desperate. But never, despite all his cleverness, could he defeat his nemesis. And as the years wore onCLICHE, as time marched forward CLICHEas it ever did, the Beast set its sights on himCLICHE.

He knew the Beast came for him, he'd known for yearsBORING, every day hearing the echoes of its roar growing louder.BORING Every moment, feeling its rumbling approach making his hands shake and his hair turn white.BORING For a time, he was afraid, and he ran, sparing no expenseCLICHE to separate himself as far from the Beast as possible. But it did not matter how far he ran, or how much he spent, its slow, inevitable approach remained constant.GRAMMAR MURDER He spent a decade of his life, and the entirety of his vast fortune trying to escape the beast, but to no availCLICHE.

And then, one day, lying sick and alone in a beggar's bed,BORING/CLICHE the old man found peaceBORING/CLICHE. He closed his eyes, smiled, and welcomed the Beast with open armsBORING/CLICHE. It burst through the ground, devoured him whole, and went on a rampage that destroyed everything for miles. Turns out the Beast is also a metaphor for being eaten by a giant worm.THIS JOKE SUCKS

crabrock fucked around with this message at 22:51 on Dec 18, 2013

Bad Seafood
Dec 10, 2010


If you must blink, do it now.

The Leper Colon V posted:

If you want a good story, say that in the prompt.

girl dick energy
Sep 30, 2009

You think you have the wherewithal to figure out my puzzle vagina?
I'll just shut up. :eng99:

Mercedes
Mar 7, 2006

"So you Jesus?"

"And you black?"

"Nigga prove it!"

And so Black Jesus turned water into a bucket of chicken. And He saw that it was good.




The Leper Colon V posted:

It was a 400-word joke, you humorless turd. :colbert:

If you want a moving story, say that in the prompt.

It's not my fault you wasted 400 words on a punch line that no one got, and even under closer inspection wasn't even funny.

Move over Sitting Here! I know the secret to winning the next Thunderdome!

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007
whenever people sass about judgement all I hear is "hey sitting here I am weak and smelly like fragile babby, please put my rear end on a platter and hand it to me thank you"

i will gladly comply with this request

I'm actually super ok with people being pedantic about judgement since it usually ends up with entertaining grudge matches*




*don't listen to me

Echo Cian
Jun 16, 2011

Lest you or anyone else think humor isn't welcome in the 'Dome, since this seems to come up a lot: The thing about jokes is they have to be funny, especially if you're dragging them out for 400 words.

Mercedes recently won a brawl with a story that featured Black Jesus turning bottled water into fried chicken, among other things. Because it was funny.

If yours had been a funny story, he'd have judged it accordingly.

It wasn't.

The Leper Colon V posted:

Whatever. I liked it.

I'm sorry for your condition. It must be rough. :(

Mercedes
Mar 7, 2006

"So you Jesus?"

"And you black?"

"Nigga prove it!"

And so Black Jesus turned water into a bucket of chicken. And He saw that it was good.




Leper, how about this. After I finish my current brawl, I'm gonna have about a week of free time where I, hypothetically, would be open for a grudge match. If you, hypothetically speaking of course, wanna step in the ring, hypothetically, I would not say no.

I would only do the hypothetical scenario above if you're willing to lose a second time.

Cause I would crush you, you see.

Hypothetically, anyways.

sebmojo
Oct 23, 2010


Legit Cyberpunk









Mercedes posted:

Leper, how about this. After I finish my current brawl, I'm gonna have about a week of free time where I, hypothetically, would be open for a grudge match. If you, hypothetically speaking of course, wanna step in the ring, hypothetically, I would not say no.

I would only do the hypothetical scenario above if you're willing to lose a second time.

Cause I would crush you, you see.

Hypothetically, anyways.

I will judge this.

No Longer Flaky
Nov 16, 2013

by Lowtax
WHO WANTS TO BRAWL ME?? I'M SO loving BALLER AND HOPPED UP ON ADRENALINE AFTER MY LAST WIN.


HOOOORAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

girl dick energy
Sep 30, 2009

You think you have the wherewithal to figure out my puzzle vagina?
Sure. I kinda made an rear end of myself, backing down from a hypothetical challenge would, hypothetically, be pretty loving weenie of me.

God Over Djinn
Jan 17, 2005

onwards and upwards

No Longer Flaky posted:

WHO WANTS TO BRAWL ME?? I'M SO loving BALLER AND HOPPED UP ON ADRENALINE AFTER MY LAST WIN.


HOOOORAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I'll brawl you bb ;-*

sebmojo
Oct 23, 2010


Legit Cyberpunk









sebmojo posted:

Extra points if you make it a drawing room comedy set in the Regency period.


Lawn Care
492 words

Pemberly Chelmsford-Crouton was drowning upright, as a brave man should. To his left was arrayed toast, marmalade and his least favourite aunt; to his right the alarmingly elucidated Miss Petunia, heir to the Westchester Stockinghamforths. Both were a-glitter with terrible purpose.

“Pemberly,” she said. “Your antics have caused me dismay in recent times. That nonsense with the chicken in the teapot, the exploding bottle debacle at the village fete, I could go on.” Her lips were pursed, as though at sight of an importunate parishioner or a leper. “I will be frank; you are past the age when a man ought to take a wife. Petunia, here, is in need of a suitable man and, while I can only admit to your suitability with the gravest of caveats, you are inarguably a man. Accordingly—“

The conversational pin upon which Pemberly’s future was about to be transfixed went unplanted because, at that moment, the earth rumbled, table shook and his least favourite aunt received a lapful of Lapsang Souchong.

The aunt shrieked, Miss Petunia squealed and Pemberly leapt to his feet with an alacrity driven at least partly by an eagerness to avoid any residual ire from the deity that had so precisely answered his prayers. “Willocks!” he cried, but the doorhandle was jerked away from him before he could grasp it. Standing in the doorway was Willocks.

“Sir, there has been an untoward occurrence on the croquet lawn.”

Pemberly called back over his shoulder to the table, where Miss Petunia was mopping at the spillage with a doily in an ineffectual yet heartfelt way. “Dreadfully sorry – croquet lawn - must attend” The door closed behind them and he clapped Willocks on the shoulder. “Thanks old chap, most imaginative. If you could send a maid to assist, I can get Jonks the groundskeeper to bring the coach up and they should be on their--.”

Willocks swept open the curtains that opened on the croquet lawn. Towering over the well-cut turf and wire hoops of the lawn was a monstrous snake-like shape, fully forty feet high, chitinous outgrowths and crenellations outlining it against the bright morning sky. In its toothed maw it held a struggling prey which, with a gnash of its mandibles, it bisected and swallowed.

Pemberly cleared his throat. “Was… was that Jonks?” Willocks nodded. “Cancel that plan then. We shall wait five, no ten minutes and then you may advise my aunt I suggested a nice game of croquet.”

sebmojo fucked around with this message at 11:19 on Dec 29, 2013

V for Vegas
Aug 31, 2004

THUNDERDOME LOSER

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

sebmojo posted:

Extra points if you make it a drawing room comedy set in the Regency period.
busted the word count, not quite the right setting, but screw you if you're that picky.



Fiat iustitia, et pereat mundus

"Well I hear that he wrestled a leopard with his bare hands, and will be mounting its head above the fireplace tonight," said Frauline Litz, the writer, trying to look coy and failing miserably.

"Leopards come from the Americas, dear," said Willheim, whose failure to marry the drat woman already was all the talk of Vienna. The only thing more over-discussed in certain social circles was the return of dashing Captain Reinholdt from the jungles of Darkest Africa. His correspondence had grown intermittent and strange, stopping altogether last June. The solicitor had been ready to pronounce the man dead, until Reinholdt's sudden appearance at a tea-den in Marrakesh. The captain had been pale and badly injured, rambling about a vast treasure he had found deep within the Belgian territories. He had been taken the household of a Frenchman jeweler named Reynard, who arranged passage back to Austria on the promise of treasure, and an extortionate fee besides.

"Well, I didn't know that!" squealed Frauline Litz. Madame LaRouche, a debutante from Alsace, rolled her eyes. "Perhaps you should write a book about all the things you don't know, cherie," she said, "though one would be hard-pressed to pick it from the rest."

The assembled men tittered, then had the decency to look embarrassed. Such poor manners might be acceptable in Paris, but not here. Frauline Litz ruffled in her overpriced dressed, looking for all the world like a tropical bird about to take flight. "Why-" she began.

The tiny creak of the door defied the science of sound; filling the room, turning every head. It sounded like a buried coffin coming open. The assembled gentry felt the room become impossibly humid. They smelt oranges, and spices, and decay, then tried to pretend they hadn't. A cane clicked against the marble tiles, then a body appeared through the gap. Captain Gustavus Reinholdt, formerly of the 3rd Royal Hussars, less Dashing now than Lurching, opened his mouth to speak.

"Meat," he said. "There is much meat, though little of it eaten."

The crowd laughed. What a wonderful joke! They swept forward to pat the man on the back, to give him tokens of affection, to ask him impertinent questions about the wiles of savage girls.

"STOP," he cried. It would be more possible to disobey the pull of the moon. "Stop," he said again. "The worm walks in the tomb of meat but there is noise and noise and noise. We have journeyed long amongst stars, and now we may journey no further than the bone-struts may take us. Why does the meat walk? The meat pumps, sluices: free us from this prison."

"Well," said a wag in the crowd, "if Vienna is a prison, then London must be an oubliette!"

and again, they all laughed at the dashing Captain's wonderful joke. The matronly wife of some diplomat grabbed Reinholdt by the arm and swept him onto the dancefloor. "Now, Captain, you simply must dance with my daughter."

The waltz twirled, and let it be noted that Captain Reinholdt wept openly as he danced. Such a joy, to return to civilised society at last!

No Longer Flaky
Nov 16, 2013

by Lowtax

Mercedes posted:

:siren:THE LEPER COLON V VS NO LONGER FLAKY BRAWL:siren:

I am a bit of an art guy. I like looking at pictures and poo poo. Your brawl is simple.

Picture 1 -

Picture 2 -

Pick a picture as your inspiration and give me 500 words.

You have until next week Tuesday 11:59 pm EST.

I'm gonna resubmit something for this prompt by the original deadline here. I had a better idea than the poorly written crap I put up earlier.

No Longer Flaky fucked around with this message at 14:13 on Dec 19, 2013

The Saddest Rhino
Apr 29, 2009

Put it all together.
Solve the world.
One conversation at a time.



I love this thread so much.

Fumblemouse
Mar 21, 2013


STANDARD
DEVIANT
Grimey Drawer

sebmojo posted:

Lawn Care
492 words

Pemberly Chelmsford-Crouton was drowning upright, as a brave man should. To his left was arrayed toast, tea, marmalade and his least favourite aunt. To his right was the alarmingly elucidated Miss Petunia, heir to the Westchester Stockinghamforths; both were a-glitter with as yet unstated, yet clearly terrible, purpose.


I am so bored right now

While Pemberly had been torn from his habitual perusal of the Times Morning Edition by their unheralded arrival and felt ill-at-ease, he was nothing if not polite; however, his exploratory enquiries about their health were silenced by his least favourite aunt’s raised finger.


still bored

“Pemberly,” she said. “Your antics have caused me dismay in recent times. That nonsense with the chicken in the teapot, the exploding bottle debacle at the village fete, I could go on for far too long.” Her lips were pursed, as though at sight of a parishioner or an importunate leper. “I will be frank; you are well past the age when a man ought to take a wife. My cousin’s niece, Eustacia here, is in need of a suitable man and, while I can only admit to your suitability with the gravest of caveats, you are inarguably a man. Accordingly—“


blurble blurble bluble, oh wait plot? no? oh well, blurble

The sharp end of the conversational pin upon which Pemberly’s future was about to be transfixed went unplanted because, at that moment, the earth rumbled, table shook and his least favourite aunt received an unwanted lapful of Lapsang Souchong.

The aunt shrieked, Miss Petunia squealed and Pemberly leapt to his feet with an alacrity driven at least partly by an eagerness to avoid the ire of the deity that had so precisely answered his prayers. “Willocks!” he cried, but the doorhandle was jerked away from him before he could grasp it. Standing in the doorway was Willocks.

“Sir, there has been an untoward occurrence on the croquet lawn, that may need your immediate attention.”

Pemberly called back over his shoulder to the table, where Miss Petunia was mopping at the spillage in an ineffectual yet heartfelt way. “Dreadfully sorry – must attend – croquet lawn” The door closed behind them and he clapped Willocks on the shoulder. “Thanks old chap, most imaginative. If you could send a maid to assist, I can get Jonks the groundskeeper to bring the coach up and they should be on their--.”

Willocks swept open the curtains that opened on the croquet lawn and Pemberly stopped mid scheme. Towering over the well-cut turf and wire hoops of the lawn was a monstrous snake-like shape, fully forty feet high, chitinous outgrowths and crenellations outlining it against the bright morning sky. In its toothed maw it held a struggling human form which, with a gnash of its mandibles, it bisected and swallowed.

Pemberly cleared his throat. “Was… was that Jonks?” Willocks nodded. “Cancel that plan then. We shall wait five, no ten minutes and then you may advise my aunt I suggested a nice game of croquet.” Pemberly pulled the curtains shut. “I will be in my study, reading the Times.”

My dear old adversary. This sucks. You suck. I am afraid that you will unduly influence the younglings with this pathetic attempt at a story.

Extra points if you make it a drawing room comedy set in the Regency period.

I will write a better one within 24 hours. judge: step up

Erogenous Beef
Dec 20, 2006

i know the filthy secrets of your heart

Fumblemouse posted:

I will write a better one within 24 hours. judge: step up

Show me your cards, ace.

Fumblemouse
Mar 21, 2013


STANDARD
DEVIANT
Grimey Drawer
I have loved her in the past, her picture, the fireworm

I have broken the frame.

It hurt. It hurt so much. I did everything that I was able to.

She is broken, I asked her parents at the door, may I come inside?

I stood in their doorway and I asked permission to see her.

They let me in.

I hurt her, we broke her, the worms broke through.

I hated myself. I always did. I hurt her

I saw the worms chew through her, saw the fireworms break the picture frame.

I ate her. We ate her.

I have loved.

her.

In the past.

Fumblemouse
Mar 21, 2013


STANDARD
DEVIANT
Grimey Drawer
Oh gently caress - drawing room ---comedy!

automatic lose on tone because drunken Christmas party

If sebmojo permits I will resubmit something with jokes

Erogenous Beef
Dec 20, 2006

i know the filthy secrets of your heart

Fumblemouse posted:

Oh gently caress - drawing room ---comedy!

automatic lose on tone because drunken Christmas party

If sebmojo permits I will resubmit something with jokes

You are loving lucky I F5'd, because I was just about to lash furious judgment upon you. Resubmit at a 100 word penalty: your limit is 400. You have 22 hours.

Bitchtits McGee
Jul 1, 2011
I dunno, I thought it was pretty funny when the lady's parents ate her alive.

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SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
What am I, chopped liver? I outwrote both of you dumb pricks.


So what if I bent the rules: rules are for pussies. You're just sad you didn't do it first.

  • Locked thread