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autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

a dumb bully is making me sign up

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autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

I'm still not seeing Prince's story even after he tells us what's going on. It needs to be written better, brah.

Dust to Dust
979 turds

Something was definitely there. I froze, too scared to flinch against the condensation rain. Our archology was dying. Rays of orange sunlight reached through the dome above me and were suspended in dust. Without power, the air scrubbers were no good.

I could hear my own breath, I tried to slow it, tried to muffle it by pressing my lips close together. My knuckles strained against the spring steel machete I’d made just before things fell apart.

There again – soft crunching moss. Someone was following me through the arboretrium. I stared at the foliage, looking for movement.

Lights flickered, alarm sirens rang and the air scrubbers jumped to life. I was sprinting before I realized I’d been granted a miracle. I slipped the machete into my belt and tore through our forest, aiming for the spire, dead center. I scrambled up the access ladder, one hand over the other in blind fear until I was almost touching the dome’s ballistic glass. I was at the top.

I was panting, mind racing, everything was quiet again. The archology’s death rattles were getting shorter and farther between. I looked down, I’d never climbed this high before, but I was too tired and hungry to feel vertigo.

The trees were dying, their leaves turning brown. The air was sticky with the smell of rotting plants. Maybe they hadn’t seen me climb up here? I was going to wait it out. There was enough food in the forest to feed us both, anyway.

Soreness crept into my muscles, I stood to shake it loose. The sun was setting outside, the dome’s web-like supports cast long angular shadows. Whispy clouds were barely visible in the red sky. I stood up on the handrail and pulled myself up to the glass. I’d never seen outside before.

The salt flat was featureless, we were too far down to ever feel wind. The crater’s massive walls extended around us in every direction. I saw the landing pad’s light flickering a dim yellow. Maybe there’d be hope yet.

Someone was climbing the ladder, but they were taking their time.

“Cassy?” I yelled out.

No answer.

I stared, awestruck, out through the dome. We were going to die.

I don’t really know when it all fell apart, but it started when the supply ship didn’t come in. It’d been a day, then a week, then months. We were doing good until a meteor took out the solar panels, then it was up to the archology’s power cells to keep us alive.

I remember our last gathering, under the central dome. Cap’n said the next ship wouldn’t be around for another few months yet. That meeting was the last time I saw everyone together. Tired, pale and light-headed from the rations. We had to ration the air by then, too. Cassy said she snuck some measurements in, and we were livin’ halfway up Everest as far as air was concerned.

Whoever was coming after me was halfway up now. I don’t even know if I could fight if it came down to it.

If what Cassy said was true, then some of the others sure could. Last time I seen ‘er, before we split up for good, she said that the Cap’n and Jones, the navigator, had a falling out. Cap’n told Jones to shut down everything that wasn’t related to keeping us alive, Jones wanted to hold out for the next ship, said he didn’t wanna kill the plants, that it was suicide.

Cassy said there was a breakdown, everyone took sides. You ever see a few hundred people cooped up inside a bubble startin’ to go crazy? Well, Cap’n and his crew said they’d shut it down by force. He got someone to go and dig through the old landing ship and find the survival guns. That’s when me and Cassy decided we’d best take our chances with a different idea.

She had all the codes to the arboretrium ‘cause she was top bio officer. Well, we figured we’d hole up in there until the ship comes in. She said something about protecting vital systems if we live long enough for ‘em to court martial us. We kept out of each other’s way, but we’d share whatever food’n gear we could find. Until last week. I could tell she’d been takin’ them crank pills ‘cause her eyes were all small. Made you paranoid, too.

They were at the top of the ladder now. I scrambled down the catwalk.

“Cassy?” I yelled.

No answer.

Something whizzed by my head and exploded against the dome. Splinters of wood exploded all around. An arrow. I ran down the walkway until the spire was between us. Another arrow whizzed by.

I jumped over the railing and swung myself under the catwalk, hoping they wouldn’t notice. Hoping I wouldn’t fall.

The footfalls got closer, I could see someone through the metal grating. It was Cassy, looking more like a nomad than an officer. She’d dyed her clothes green, tied them loosely around her. She walked right over me, she scanned the area, hunting.

The scrubbers kicked on again, shaking the catwalk. She flinched, an arrow already sailing toward the source of the sound. I threw myself over the railing, grabbing my machete before she could slip another arrow into the notch on her atlatl.

She spun around, pushing an arrow into my gut like a dagger. The machete connected with her shoulder, hitting bone. She swore, kicking me in the chest. I felt numb.

“They’re poisoned,” she hissed.

I pulled myself up, leaning on the railing. She was cutting a tourniquet with my machete.

“Why?” was the only word I could get out. I was losing feeling in my face

“Woulda done the same to me, eventually,” she said.

It was getting cold and my chest wasn’t moving so good.

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

uranus posted:

This is the best one so far.

that's nice, you're an anus

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

Chairchucker posted:

Boo! Recount! Judges are crooked! Free Mercedes!

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

Roquelike? more like Turdlike

I'm in.

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

gently caress YOU BABY BITCHES THIS TINY-WEINY BLAST FROM THE PAST IS IN

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

where's my goddamn drink assignment you idiots

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

Mark Zak: Snow Job 1000 words

Mark cleared the countertop, trying not to barf. Two days ago there’d been a wicked kegger but now the hangover was kicking in. He emptied half a bottle of Cristal into a box of OJ and chugged it. The Zakphone rang.

“Dudebro you got a new assignment!” Carl yelled over speakerphone.

“It the cops again?”

“Naw, private job. Kidnapped retard or something. You better check these out.” A Facebook page opened up automatically.

“Ho-lee-poo poo…” A slideshow of D-cup beach pics took up the entire screen. Mark furrowed his brow, stopping the slideshow. Nose job, fake cans, no tan lines, real gold. This chick had money.

Mark mashed his truck’s remote start and heard the diesel rev up. Clouds of black smoke drifted past his kitchen window. He smirked and flexed his broceps, the smoketune wasn’t cheap.

“Yo Carl, send me the GPS bullshit.”

***

He missed the ski lodge on-ramp by a few hundred feet so he slammed the ebrake and ripped a pickle right across the ditch and into the opposing lane. A semi trailer honked and skidded into a Prius. Mark flipped them both off. He tore up the gravel road leaning on the horn the whole way before sliding into a handicap stall.
The D-cup brunette was waiting.

“Don’t you think you should pa-” she started.

“You wanna see your tard brother again or what?”

“I’m so glad you watched the video!” she said, eyes welling up with tears.

“I only saw two interesting things on that youtube bullshit,” he said, staring at her breasts, “but poo poo, I need a drink.”

She moved up real close, running her hand across Mark’s chinstrap beard.

“If you get my brother back maybe we can get a drink, maybe you’ll see some interesting things?”

Mark heard the hiss of a silenced submachine gun a split second before one of his truck’s tires exploded. He pushed the girl away, vaulting into the bed. Bullets lodged themselves into the armoured tailgate. He grabbed his duffel bag and snowboard then mashed the truck’s starter. Clouds of diesel poured out the oversized stacks creating a smokescreen.

“Fuckin’ run!” he yelled, but the girl was already gone.

He caught up with her at the ski lifts.

“The line’s huge! They’re gonna kill us!”

“Naw, watch this,” Mark said.

“Hey rear end in a top hat, my girl’s retard brother got stuck at the top of the hill so we need the next chair up.”

“You’ll have to wait in line, sir,” the acne ridden teen stammered.

“Like gently caress we do! You wanna be responsible for the death of some fuckin’ downs kid ‘cause he cracked his idiot skull on your hill? What if he chokes on a pinecone or something?”

The attendant tensed up and reached for his radio. Mark pushed two snowboarders out of the way and threw the girl onto the seat. The punks ran up and tried to pull him off, but he maced them both. He could hear ski patrol sirens as the lift carried them up.

***

“It’s this way,” she said, pointing with a ski pole, “They’re holding him at the old lodge way off the trails, I’ve only been there once before.” She pushed off down the hill and slalomed between the trees. Mark flipped his goggles down and followed.

He lost sight of her between the pines, but followed her tracks no problem. The hill here was silent, shielded from the noise and crowds of the resort. Mark contemplated her titties, jiggling beneath the tight fitting ski suit.

A rope went taught from between two trees, kicking up snow and hitting Mark square in the chest. He grabbed it and flipped himself over like a gymnast but way less gay, his Kevlar snowboard catching a barrage of bullets.

“IS VASILY!” shouted a large Slav with a badly scarred face. He dropped the gun to the ground and revved a snowmobile that lay hidden in a drift. The machine exploded out of the snow with the power of six hundred horses, the Slav grinned as he careened towards Mark.

Mark pushed off and ducked low, trying to gain as much speed as possible. He weaved tight through the trees, wishing that bitch could see him being totally boss. Vasily followed, not fazed in the slightest and using his considerable girth to steer the machine through impossibly tight corners.

Mark slipped his hand into his jacket and grasped the canister of mace. He aimed it directly behind him and squeezed the trigger. There was a weak hiss. He swore, chucking the canister aside. The motor whined more intensely now, a skid clipped the back of his board. He unclipped his emergency vodka and handed it to the Slav.

It was genetically impossible for Vasily to resist. He took the bottle and downed it in a few powerful gulps, the liquor taking effect almost immediately. Mark wove between two trees, narrowly skirting a ravine. Vasily was no longer in control of himself, the machine took the turn too wide. He gunned it and cranked the handlebars but only succeeded into putting himself into a flat spin. The machine flew off into the precipice, Mark heard it clip a tree. A muffled explosion sent bits of fibreglass and metal raining down into the snow.

Mark skidded to a stop just outside the lodge. No ski tracks meant he’d beat her here. He clipped himself free of the board and held it like a riot shield. With one powerful kick he knocked the door free of its hinges and stormed in.

“YOU FUCKERS GIVE UP THAT GOD DAMNED TARD RIGHT NOW!”

Something hit him in the back of the head.

When he came to the girl was standing over him, berretta aimed at his head. Her snowsuit was pulled down just enough to reveal a wool sweater tucked into leather trousers.

“I never even had a brother, you idiot.”

“Who…who are you working for?” he asked.

“Well that’s a good question, isn’t it!?”

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

weINers

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

Thank you for the crit, generous judge Mojo.

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

I'm out this week. I'm dealing with so much literal poo poo after a sewer backup as casa del chillock, and it's seriously eating into my writing time.

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

IN with The Winter Market by William (loving) Gibson

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

Fastwipe - 1024 words

The on/off pulse of electricity made Crow’s exoskeleton buzz at the base of her neck. She was stealing power, crouched under some warehouse heat exchanger watching the sun crest over the bay. The wind sent flurries of snow billowing across rooftops. Every time she closed her eyes that night would come flooding back.

Someone shoved her from behind, her backpack straps pulled taught then released – they’d been cut. She hit the ground, her exoskeleton creaked and hissed struggling to absorb the impact. She looked up to a sky with exit wound nebulas. The kid was gone. Vanished into pink halogen and blowing snow.

“gently caress!” Her fast-wipe was in there, along with all her cash. She checked her pockets. The speed was still there, tucked away close to her heart.


She came to and checked the readout on her wrist. Three minutes had passed. Her fingers were flushed with colour again; it was hard keeping the frostbite away when you couldn’t feel anything below the neck. She cracked the two remaining pills from the pack. She had to get a fast wipe. Her dreams would start leaking through soon.

She headed for town, losing herself in the metronome click click of servos and solenoids. A car pulled up real close, the window rolled down. The first few tendrils of too-strong cheap cologne lit the daylight up at the edges, brought her back to a time she couldn’t quite place.

Beads clicked as she walked into a kitchen. It was a time before the paralysis, but that was impossible. A woman sat at the table, her face like television static. Spiced tea and a man’s laundry, stewed meat and herbs. Somehow Crow could feel these scents, they gave her goose bumps. The wood floor felt rough beneath her feet.

The lady spoke “and I suppose you’ve never been one to reach through the veil, my child?”


“Hey! Hey lady!” The motor revved. She snapped back.

“My name’s John, you need a ride?” He smirked as he said it. She knew if she looked she’d see his hardon pushing through his cheap dress pants. Usually she just flipped these guys off, maybe threatened to call the cops.

She leaned into the passenger side window. Empty beer cans littered the floor.

“I’m just here for the day, John. Y’know any nice hotels?” He pressed a button, the door clicked open. He was already moving before she closed the door behind her.

He took her downtown. The speed was taking hold. Different this time, the tiredness was still with her. Out of the corner of her eyes she swore she saw fractals moving in the frosted windows of the ancient shops.
A last streetlight flickered off, pink swaths of light exploding in slow motion across black ice ahead.

“This is a pretty nice car. You got four-by?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Naw,” he answered as the front wheels rolled onto the ice.

She jerked the wheel and punched him in the throat. He slammed a foot onto the gas, sending the car spinning into the opposite lane. Someone honked before the side airbag went off and the car stopped. He was out cold. She went through his pockets, looking for a wallet. She found a few crumpled bills and not much else.

“You cheap mother fucker!” She punched him in the chest out of desperation, her knuckles connected with something solid. Tearing open his shirt she found a shoulder holster. She slid the gun into her waistband and got out of the car.

The sky had changed. Clouds moved in, backlit on a dark grey sky. They wouldn’t stay solid at the edges, instead they branched out like solar flares before dissipating.

“Are you alright, miss?” someone asked. Crow studied the smashed econobox for a moment, unable to do anything but trace the creases in the metal, trying to find some sense in the chaos, distracted by every glint of broken glass.

It took three weeks on top of a coal car to get here. Three weeks of bridges and streams and wide open nothing. Someone was with her then, someone lay beside her as she looked into the night sky and tried to divine a fortune for herself.

“How can you dream if you don’t sleep?” he asked. She handed him the box of fastwipe tapes.


“Miss?”

“My friend, he…he told me he was okay to drive but…but” Crow did her best to sound panicked.

The lady lifted an eyebrow.

“Listen, I don’t know if he has his ID or anything with him but I don’t wanna go to jail, ma’am. He told me he was alright He told me-“

“It’s alright, it’s not your fault, dear. I didn’t see anyone riding with him.”

Crow hugged her, slipping the bills into her purse.

She was blocks away at the crest of a sloped corduroy road when she heard the sirens bearing down on the accident. The sinusoidal wailing was backed by something else, something ethereal and ancient. She looked out over the bay, out into the water half-frozen and saw great ships and war canoes. Men beating drums stood along the shore before the glimmer of a mercury bulb distracted her and washed it all away. The illuminated sign read City Pawn.

A bell rang when she opened the door, someone appeared at the counter.

“I need a fastwipe,” she said.

“Yer in luck, we got one in the other day,” the man said reaching under the counter. “Dunno what you kids do with these dream recorders…” he added under his breath before pulling out a beat-up looking module with some nasty-looking electrodes.

“Two hundred flat, and I’ll throw in a tape,” he said.

Crow grabbed the gun and aimed it at his chest, but he was faster. A shotgun blast blew out her eardrums and sent her sprawling out on her back. She spasmed, the exoskeleton tensed. She was staring at the wall now, at constellations of buckshot and blood. The polycarbonate muscles relaxed, he was standing over her, barrel pointed at her head.

“That exoskeleton ought’a been worth a thing or two,” he said, smirking.

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

IN with

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

Tyrannosaurus posted:

Thunderdome 2015: Weekly Short Stories w/ Positive People

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

crabrock posted:

gently caress you ignorant rear end holes you're all dumb as poo poo and know nothing about my writing abilities, i'm also in my mid 30s so you're just literal children. you're all weak and make the worst attempts at fronting which is evident in the typical fat carb munching nerd passive aggression in the last two posts. i would have owned all you biches in high school and college and own you today in social status, wealth and happiness per capita

u also own us in girth


(u fat)

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

The Bog 1497 words

Ranger Dan slipped the truck into four wheel drive just the wheels bogged down. Winter came late this year; or rather it had suffered a manic breakdown in early December. The permafrost had set in during a cold snap, but the quickly setting boreal sun wasn’t giving up its warmth just yet. The trails had turned to a half frozen slush; his daily patrols took twice as long because of it. He shifted down and blew a puff of cherrywood smoke out the open window.

If he’d been younger, he’d have been tempted to gun it and send a roostertail flying out behind the truck, wearin’ away the mud till the tires connected with frozen earth. Being almost forty, he enjoyed the finesse required of a real mudder. The truck slid forward, slowly. He made sure to keep it on a diagonal so the back wheels missed the ruts left by the front. A few kilometres later the mud turned to gravel and then he was roaring towards the ranger station at sixty miles an hour. Early morning sun glinted off the tinted windows of a luxury SUV parked outside.

“Who the hell is it now?” he muttered to no one in particular. His supervisor was off for the month and the park was nearly empty. He dreaded having to explain to another yuppie moron that no, he wasn’t in charge of cutting firewood and the nearest store was thirty clicks outside the park.

He parked his truck and hurried inside, making drat sure not to make eye contact with whoever was in the SUV. No sooner had he sat down at his desk he heard a car door slam.

“gently caress sakes,” he said, putting on a fake smile.

Now he knew he wasn’t supposed to use the word tranny no more, and to be honest he wasn’t sure that this person was trying to fake a gender. A poorly dyed and impossibly coiffed toupee (or was it wiry hair?) framed a face smeared with cheap foundation. Bits of makeup were caked into her widow’s peak, her eyeliner had started to run and her fake lashes were peeling. She fished a king sized Marlboro out of her fur coat and smeared lipstick all over her face trying to light it. Her hands were shaking pretty bad.

“You cold or something, lady?” Dan asked.

“N..no,” she stammered, “I’ve had the worst night of my life, and I’m Rosa Flores!” she said.

“I’m Dan. Nice to meet you.”

“You don’t understand! I’m L.A’s foremost, premiere paranormal investigator! Do you know how many clients I’d lose if they saw me like this?” She finished the smoke and lit another one.

“Y’here on rehab?”

“No! of course not! I told you, I’m Rosa Flores! L.A’s…” he cut her off.

“I got it. Paranormal whatever. Great. Fantastic.”

“You really don’t get it do you? You go out there alone and you’re not worried?”she screeched.

“’Bout what? Got a gun for ‘em bears ‘n coyotes. Got me four-by for the mud. Been out here since I was twenty two, ma’am.”

“The bigfoot! The aliens! The bigfoot alien holograms! These forests are FULL of spirits and the unknown!” She gesticulated wildly, sending cigarette ash all over the office.

“My client, I mean I was hired, well, you see…” she continued

“See what?” Dan asked.

“I’m looking for the spirit of a little girl. My client in L.A. wanted me to find his daughter and I’ve traced her spirit here. From L.A. Do you know what I saw last night? And the night before?”

“The northern lights?” Dan asked.

“BIGFOOT! I saw him with my own two eyes. He was down there!” she pointed out east towards the cedar bog, “he was there one moment and he disappeared the next. THEN I saw the northern lights.”

“I’m sure ya did” Dan said.

“THOSE TWO THINGS ARE RELATED! It’s like you’ve never even read Joan Ocean!” she shrieked, exasperated.

“Alright, tell ya what lady, how ‘bout I fill out this here Park Report Form and I’ll go have a look-see tomorrow morning?”

She hovered over him as he filled out the sheet, writing Bigfoot Hologram – Possible UFO in the Complaints field and Paranormal Investigation in the Action Taken field. As a final courtesy he wrote down her number.

He looked her straight in the eye and said “Lady, if I don’t call ya by noon tomorrow it means ‘em aliens or bigfoots or what have you have taken me and I want ya to call the RCMP.” She nodded and turned to leave, dropping a business card on the table.

“La Florenzi Pasta Shoppe” Dan read aloud

“FLIP IT OVER!” she yelled from the door

On the back, in crayon, was written ROSA FLORES PANORONAL INVESTUGATOR, L.A., LOS ANGELES.

###

The first few rays of sunlight cut through the pea soup fog and lit up the cedar’s frosted branches. Where most would see bony fingers grasping at a barren sky, Dan saw tranquility and the promise of spring leaves. He crouched down low, looking for prints in the snow. He wasn’t much for believing in Sasquatch but he knew full well that other critters loved the bog near as much as he did. Grouse and deer and rabbits had all been out last night, meandering between the trees.

“Welp, if ‘em bigfoots are here least they don’t scare ‘em little buggers,” Dan said to no one in particular.

He followed the grouse tracks until his truck’s headlights had vanished in the fog. At least he could use this hike to keep an eye out for poachers. The trail ended in a freshly formed drift. Dan reached into his parka for a smoke.

Something rustled in the bush. He stood stock still. Seconds or maybe minutes passed before Dan realized the bog was deathly silent. Not even the crows were out today. Something must have spooked ‘em. He realized he was letting that Rose lady get to him, so he lit the smoke and breathed in real deep.

Something rustled again, louder and closer. Coloured lights flashed somewhere deep in the forest. Before he knew it he was off running. It was only when his boot caught a stray branch and sent him sprawling into the snow did he stop. He lay there for a few moments, letting the dampness and the sulphur bog-smell wash over him. He felt light headed, probably from the running.

“I gotta quit smokin’ ” he said, realizing his smoke had gone out.

The lights started up again. Blues and reds and yellows dancing between the tree trunks. He sat with his mouth agape. They were coming closer. He swore he heard deep panting and heavy footfalls. He didn’t feel the fear this time, instead a light-headed giddiness. If the bigfoots was gonna get ‘im, so be it. He brought the lighter up to the smoke and flicked it.

The world exploded in a flash of light. His body was burning, paralyzed with fear and alien rays. He could hear himself screaming. The alien bigfoots was beamin’ him up. His whole body shook. One name ran through his mind before he passed out: Rosa Flores.

###

When he awoke the world was a shimmering paradise. Blue ocean water and endless beaches with sand white as driven snow. He broke the surface of this dream-ocean and flicked his dolphin tail. He was a merman now. He smiled as he watched his iridescent scales glowing in the purple sun. Everything he touched began to glow.

###

Rosa watched the clock, holding her phone in one hand. She had already dialled the first two numbers, and her finger hovered over the last digit. The clock flashed noon, she mashed the button, already hyperventilating.

###

The RCMP cruiser left the bog just as soon as it had pulled up. The fire crews were on their way, geared up for a methane fuelled forest fire. Rosa parked her SUV just off the access road, waiting to talk to the chief. She managed to flag him down when he was taking a piss in the woods.

“Officer! Officer! If you find bigfoot’s body I need to take a hair sample. It’s absolutely vital for my investigation!”

The chief sighed. “Lady, I’m not gonna tell you to get the hell outta here, but you should. This bog’s been offgassin’ methane worse than a borehole. You spend any time here?”

Rosa nodded.

“You familiar with what a low oxygen environment does to the human mind? Y’start seein’ things. Hearin’ things. Doin’ crazy things like running buck-rear end naked through the forest and settin’ things on fire like our friend the ranger did.”

“Thank you sir, I’m sorry to take up your time,” she said.

The fire chief nodded and walked back to the blaze.

Rosa furiously scrawled notes into her journal.

Official Report: Alien bigfoot hologram abduction, possible anal probing. Evidence destroyed; Suspect government conspiracy. UFO/spirit interference, investigation results inconclusive.

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

I want the thunderdome weekly loser to have to actually, literally, stab themselves in the dick with a pencil.

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

stab themselves in the robot dick (applies to girls and robots)

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

Benny the Snake posted:

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autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

Chairchucker posted:

I like big butts and I cannot lie

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

Martello posted:

you other brothers can't deny

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

Martello posted:

In addition to the above sentiment, I also hope everyone had an awesome Christmas and got all kinds of cool rear end-presents and will have an equally great New Year.

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

i'll judge this pile of turds if you'll have me, Kai

autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

:siren: HILLOCK'S YEAR END BONER BLOWOUT BONANZA! :siren:

THE NEXT SIX PEOPLE TO POST UNDER THIS LINE GET LINE-BY-LINE CRITS IN THE UPCOMING WEEK

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autism ZX spectrum
Feb 7, 2007

by Lowtax


Fun Shoe

Kaishai posted:

glorious words

My robotic heart beats with renewed vigor for your, kaishai.

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