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im volunteering to judge no matter what because ive entered like 5 weeks now and i expect my next monday to be relatively light on work
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Sep 23, 2014 06:16
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crabrock posted:assign me a fear please. Geniophobia- Fear of chins. selected by scrolling up and down a lot with my eyes closed and seeing where my cursor landed you narrowly missed Genophobia- Fear of sex. and Gelotophobia- Fear of being laughed at. which are fears im sure you are much more acquainted with
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Sep 23, 2014 17:56
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satsui no thankyou posted:I'd like to join again with a phobia chosen for me Syngenesophobia- Fear of relatives. also windy dont post here unless you're gonna write a story same method was used only i did it twice because i ended up in the Gs again.
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Sep 24, 2014 00:34
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submissions are closed
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Sep 29, 2014 07:59
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Entenzahn posted:
hey i figured you were asleep dawg
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Sep 29, 2014 08:01
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here are some very short crits in case yall wanna know how i felt (you probably don't, I'm an idiot): Stories are judged based on my new FEAR OF READING THUNDERDOME ENTRIES or Bibliockphobia. Jitzu_the_Musk Boring opening. I hate your characters (good and bad thing). What the gently caress ending. Needs more story and less telling. You have a fear of MARK TWAIN Quidnowayjose Nothing happens. The circular nature was interesting. Needed less words to tell the same thing. I was confused for most of this. You have a fear of WOOD POLISH Satsui no thankyou, god, please, no thank you *slams door* Literally nothing happened. I laughed twice, this is your only salvation. You have a fear of LARRY THE CABLE GUY FairFushia I love your idiot kid and hate your idiot ending. You have a fear of POKEMON CommisarMegalodon Your story reads like your protagonist: robotic. This felt all over the place and then fizzled. Introduction felt silly, didn't tie into theme well. You have a fear of THE WIRE SurpriseMuffintin Boring character but good story overall. Fascinating to read and possibly hunger inducing (I am hungering for better stories this week). You have a fear of TRIMMING FAT God over djinnininin This was fun to read and went exactly no where. Good words wasted. Tell a story. I was fighting for a not DM for you and would have put you at the high end of good because of my personal taste tho. You have a fear of CARL SATAN Seated there Straightforward story that pulls zero punches, unfortunately you don't hit like Mike Tyson. Good use of prompt, solid. Needs less cliche. You have a fear of SUNNY DELIGHT Twisted Syster transistor Solid story, I was confused as to how your robot person worked, physically, but uh, otherwise well told. Average story that almost made the HM cut. You have a fear of WIKIPEDIA.ORG Fumblemouse I had fun reading your story and while I would have liked to know how this person ended in an infinite loop, it was alright. Could tone down a little of the excess prose. You have a fear of A COPY OF INDIANA JONES STUCK ON REPEAT Some Guy TT Second person gimmick actually pulled off successfully. Boring and cliche otherwise. I did not enjoy reading about your characters. You have a fear of FRATERNITIES My Sledgehammer Your main character is a redditor and chess metaphors. Cliche as poo poo but not poorly written enough to justify a DM. You have a fear of JOCKS Crackrob This was a well told story I didn't hate, and was funny, also slightly charming. Your opening was a little on the gross side but you know whatever. You have a fear of GREASY FACES frizzled matriarch Competent and boring. I am offended by how bland this is. One thing happened and your protagonist was useless. You have a fear of WHITE CASTLE Anonymous blowhole Stuck close to the theme, and you know what they say about getting too close to the fire! Ha ha ha! You have a fear of SALSA DANCING Phobia (no joke needed) Your character is Mitt Romney and I think I'm supposed to envy him, maybe not. Mediocre prose. If he took the easy way in life, why is he so successful? Perhaps a better story about robots than OMAR. You have a fear of TRUST FUNDS Tyrannosaucy Decent story in a bad week. Unfortunately your tone went from Fun Idiot Adventure to Jesus That's Grim and it didn't transition well at all. Almost HM. You have a fear of KEANU REAVES A Not Very Ironic Or Interesting Twist What the gently caress just happened. This was like a decent idea for a creepy horror story but that was very jarring and I don't know what happened at the end. You have a fear of SELF REFLECTION sebmojojojo You said nothing very sweetly. Kind of infodumpy and really nothing happened. I liked your characters though. You have a fear of GREGOR CLEGANE Baux it's aight This was cool until the ending, then what in the christ just happened. That made no sense. Goddamn. This started off alright though. Needs a directors cut. You have a fear of THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT
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Sep 29, 2014 22:04
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Sep 30, 2014 01:24
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i believe that pushes us up to 45 entrants this week. 
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Oct 3, 2014 20:05
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rip this story
anime was right fucked around with this message at 00:08 on Jan 1, 2015 |
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Oct 4, 2014 23:28
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first hm \o/ also f u crabrock for beating me. i took this advice from you though and it worked out p well crabrock posted:of course, that is boring to read, but it's clear. Try using simple, short sentences that are either a simple clause, like above, or two simple clauses put together with a conjunction. "Her pants were green, and she loved the color green." Don't try to be too fancy with language, don't be vague, don't be pretty. That stuff comes AFTER you learn to say what you mean. When I first came to the dome, I tried to write too pretty. It was only after I stripped that all down and learned to write a simple declarative sentence that I could add a little back in. I still say I err on the side of "talking plainly" at the cost of "this is interesting to read," but usually people understand what I was saying. it wasnt directed at me but i gave it a shot anime was right fucked around with this message at 15:21 on Oct 6, 2014 |
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Oct 6, 2014 15:07
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crabrock can you please just admit that this week was an excuse to read craiglist entriesand look at cat gifs and that you dont care about the stories at all
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Oct 9, 2014 05:00
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gently caress it, in. wish i could see you, gerald - w4m quote:we met on okcupid. we had a lot of good nights. i think i'll always like you. i wish i wasn't so insecure. i miss you. i'm sorry i don't have a cellphone, i just don't believe in them/think they are worth the money. i'm sorry i would delete my dating profile often. i know too many people on it. i've definitely already lost you, but i miss you. 
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Oct 9, 2014 05:39
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some fuller crits from 112, most of these are just the notes i had when i read your story and edited slightly, so if i only wrote a snappy phrase, there's no crit for you in this pile and maybe i'll go back and do it maybe i won't. i'm a jerk im sorry. btw i probably missed some typos AND ALSO these contain a lot of opinion so if i say i hate or like something its personal taste and not "this was explicitly bad" just my distate or enjoyment of subject matter. Jitzu_the_Monk Yawning, that’s what I’m doing right now. I’m on lunch break at work and already I’d rather have more fun doing work (my job is pretty fun tho). Okay I hate your protagonist already I hope this is a good thing Everything is so passive, too much fat for the opening. You got manic depressed down pretty alright, just an FYI, I hate both your characters still “I’m a bestselling author. A controversial one.” Noooooooooooooo. You had two chances to throw this in the description, the therapist would obviously know this already from the information. I hate your characters so much right now And now I hate them more, and I am laughing hysterically (in the cheesy Spanish soap opera way, not the Seinfeld way). Meh ending. Too much conversation, mediocre prose, I didn’t really feel sympathetic to your main character at all, I just thought they were both horrible monsters and that they deserved their fates I suppose, so you got that right, but I didn’t really feel it. I’m not offended, just kind of bored, the worst kind of bored, which offends me. quidnose Boring opening, but Franklin’s interesting so far, mister always putting things in his mouth (hopefully not his own feet). I like the way you described them aging in the end of paragraph 4, but imo this makes your first paragraph even weaker. Bad start but you’re back on your feet here. “He was too much kind, and not enough selfish” – this sounded really awkward, but it’s the first time I got pulled out since paragraph one. Okay at the end I was completely confused, and I had to reread it and I was like “oh, okay”. The lack of clarity totally shot the impact of the ending. The whole nature of the story felt more like Franklin didn’t love his wife, but was afraid to leave, and not he’s hiding cancer from her, so when you threw it at me, I had to reread, think about it, go “huh? Oh, okay that makes sense I guess”. Entirely prose problems here, but otherwise great concept, good use of the phobia, and what would have been a home run of an ending if the middle wasn’t so blubbery. Satsui no thankyou Decent idea for a line to set things up, though a hair clunky, weird tense change. Okay woah what the hell you went from intense heat to wacky hick in one paragraph “A tumbleweed blew past, and he sighed.” Lmao. I’m having more trouble keeping track of who is who than your main dude has trouble figuring out which Lucy is which. Jesus. Clarity! “As far as the brothers were concerned, this environment wasn't friendly to anyone, so why should they be friendly to it?” I love this, it’s adorably believable for simple country folk. Okay, this story sucks because literally NOTHING HAPPENS. Not even in the sense of like, it’s boring. This reads like a character’s background infodump from a video game. A bad one. There were some lines that made me actually laugh out loud, but some flaky prose, bad editing and zero things happening mean you get at the very least a: DM On the plus side, I read it all, I guess. chairchucker This is both funnier than the above story and also better, in a single paragraph. Also more happened. Im listening to you singer of sweet chairs. Why does no one in this school think to question the guy who always stands like, now, instead of say, years ago? This has raised a lot of questions. A lot of them. Okay things got silly, I’m pretty sure your main character is an autist or seven, maybe both. Everyone in this story is stupid and I stopped laughing after the seizure. The ending was meh. Good start that dwindled quickly, but otherwise competent. I like your weird idiot kid protagonist though, he’s got style. god over djinn God over djinnininin So this is exceptionally well written, most of the prose works, it got a little stuffy sometimes. I left feeling ambivalent though, also, I think a little less subtly might have been in order, or maybe that was the intent, but I left thinking that it’s definitely a kid, but I was confused on if they were some sort of god or not. Anyway, other than the sort of weak feeling that I left the story with, I felt pretty drawn in and enjoyed the strange, cosmic thoughts. Unfortunately nothing happens. sitting here This so far is the best use of the theme IMO. Beam is an interesting character, and idiot, but his terrible life seems pretty natural. I felt bad for him, but not so much at the end. It’s sort of bittersweet and depressing, and there was some good prose, but it wasn’t excellent. systran I was really confused about the mechanics of your robot lady. She seemed to be a ghost (because everyone passed through her, and it didn’t seem symbolic the way you explained it). I guess she was a computer someplace else or something, because she used the internet. How did the dongle work then? Aaaaaaaaaaa whatever. Anyway, it was a decent use of your theme, the dad’s dialogue sucked and the last sentence needs a rewrite, but it was competent and you managed the personalities of 4 characters in that amount of space which is tough. 5/10 your sledgehamer “It wasn’t that she was a woman – at least, it mostly wasn’t. It was that she was single. The blazing red hair and creamy skin certainly didn’t help her blend in, either.” – is eugene’s homepage reddit.com? we already got that he digs her and shes pretty. That smile paragraph was perfect and you kinda ruined it here. Ok hes a total loving dweeb who sucks and lmao. I dunno. You did a decent job but your character is an idiot and I hate him, also your love interest character doesn’t really have any actual personality somehow, despite spending like three paragraphs describing her. Also chess metaphors are DUMBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb I hate chess metaphors. Competent if boring and maybe slightly sexist. phobia im bored and your character is cliché, but this reads alright, I guess. This dude took the easiest options and ended up this enviable? I hate this lovely fucker. gently caress him. He sucks, or his motivations don’t match up. Your protagonist is Mitt Romney to me, right now. “They give me happy pills though.” This dude would not think this. Are you missing quotation marks or something, or are the conflicting internal thoughts instructing him someone else? They feel like someone else. It doesn’t sound like he’s struggling, but there’s two different voices here. I don’t think a shirt aflame would be blue but ok whatever. What the gently caress was that ending. It sucked. It was bad. The writing was clichéd and boring, but the story as a whole was cohesive and barely hung together at the threads. anime was right fucked around with this message at 07:15 on Oct 10, 2014 |
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Oct 10, 2014 07:08
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LOU BEGAS MUSTACHE posted:gently caress it, in. Sweet Gloria (744 words) Even heroin did not compare to the euphoria of grabbing discount socks. Gloria could swear the patter of her heart caused the sudden earthquake. When shelves rustled and clothes fell off the shelf, she walked out of the front of the store, socks in hand. She graduated to shoes, jewelry, and electronics. Her fingers had learned the nimbleness of a gymnast. Gloria had found her new calling. When she started stealing, she did it for the thrill, but now she was paying bills and for Jim. He had this sweet little smile, a little crooked, but it was just imperfect enough. Whenever she kissed him, she had to lean up in her free Armani heels. Even grabbing socks did not compare to the euphoria of kissing Jim. The cravings started to subside, she didn’t wake up in the morning wanting to sob into a toilet bowl. She didn’t want to throw her corn flakes into the wall. There was an autumn evening she was going to propose to Jim on, Gloria wasn’t sure which one yet, because she hadn’t bought the ring yet. In Macy’s, the one with the bad security camera and the busted theft gates on the east entrance of the mall, she hunted. It would have cost four thousand dollars; she strode out like she were made of a million. When the mall cop chased her down, she fell onto the floor and her shoe went flying. She never saw it again. *** The problem with relationships is sometimes they end quietly. You sort of just drift apart. Gloria drifted away from Jim in tears, quietly. She hadn’t told him about the stealing, ever. Getting out of prison was easy. All you had to do was stay quiet and wait. If you turn off your brain, it’ll just rot, not unlike the days of shooting up. The worst part of prison was Gloria found it particularly aggravating that there was little to steal. Snatching deodorant wasn’t worth a black eye and two less teeth. When Gloria took the bus back into her city, she didn’t have bed, or, heels, or even her 1 year clean badge; but she did have a few bucks thanks to Uncle Sam. Before Gloria gave up on the night, she stopped into Tierney’s, the old bar that she met Jim at. When she walked in, she stopped dead. That little crooked smile that loomed a little too high. Jim. Her heart pattered so hard she thought another earthquake was happening. Gloria slowly walked up with beaming eyes. “Holy hell! Gloria, I can’t believe it’s you! I thought you had died or something. gently caress!” Jim beamed. Gloria hugged him, she almost cried, “I missed you so bad Jim.” “Missed me enough to not even break up with me? Jesus. I mean, I’m glad to see you, but I’m kinda wound up about that burn. At least you’re not dead though, reason enough to celebrate. Tell you what, I have to head back soon, but you still have the same number, right?” Gloria had realized that she had no phone plan, or her stolen phone, either. “Not exactly, long story. Look… I’ll be right back,” Gloria lied. She didn’t want to just invite herself over, but she’d at least need a phone right now to mend the bridge she burned. Gloria was willing to swim a river to lay with Jim again. Gloria slipped into the women’s bathroom looking for a purse, any purse. With keen eyes and quick fingers, she procured an iPhone4 from a short blonde’s purse. No one would know she stole it. Gloria returned and asked for Jim’s number. She texted him. “Hey, thanks, and-“ Jim almost said. There was something absent in his face. She wanted to say emotion, but it was at that point any love he had had for her. He turned around the phone, 1691 texts had been exchanged at a number from Jen. The latest threeo read: [6:17 PM] We need new sheets, right? [8:14 PM] Sorry boo, I’ll meet you at Tierney’s in 15. [9:43 PM] Hi Jim! It’s Gloria. Gloria stuffed the phone in his direction. She heard it crash on the floor as she ran with tears in her eyes. Soon she was on a corner, there was no reason to steal socks anymore, as Jim’s heart was stolen. The whole ordeal had become a blur. Nothing compared to the euphoria of stolen heroin.
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Oct 13, 2014 07:02
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interprompt 77.7 words (you must cut off a word 2/3rds to 3/4ths through for the .7): describe how lucky someone is right now. anime was right fucked around with this message at 20:55 on Oct 13, 2014 |
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Oct 13, 2014 20:53
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crabrock posted:4/5ths is technically closer, 2/3rds is right out. whatever crabrot
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Oct 13, 2014 22:09
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hey cool, only 10 hours late but 100% of people who signed up submitted!
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Oct 13, 2014 22:41
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let my entry be an example of what happens if you throw together a story in about 10 minutes, edit it once for really blatant errors, miss half of them, then throw it up anyway.
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Oct 14, 2014 04:57
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prooooooooompt
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Oct 14, 2014 05:12
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Oct 14, 2014 05:15
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a shameful boehner posted:I'd like to be in on this dome. Its my first time! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ycCLXLiZWs
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Oct 15, 2014 00:16
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include wordcount, just post it here
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Oct 16, 2014 18:59
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Quite Frankly? I’m Flushed. (1021 words) Thousands, no, millions of asses lined the walls. Miles of toilet seats, as far as the eye could see, created the enclosure of the room. In each seat was either a portal, or an rear end. The asses did not excrete, but instead obscured the portals, as if to say the other side was occupied. Daniel did his best to avoid touching the butts. He had accidentally stepped on one, once, but it had no reaction. Even then he found the thought of repeating this to be very impolite. He was a gentleman, after all. Fingers clutched the box containing the wedding ring as he hopscotched from toilet seat to toilet seat. Daniel noticed a shoelace had come untied. He carefully knelt and, with quick work, made sure the lace loops were twice the length of the lace ends. He stood straight. Daniel lost count of how many seats he had passed. This was imperative knowledge in the toilet dimension because, like everywhere else Daniel went, he did not get very good cell service. He wandered for an hour, trying to retrace his steps. The seats became more and more unfamiliar. Daniel was lost in the dimension for the first time in years. After aimless searching, a toilet seat stood out with brilliant craftsmanship. A rich, deep oak with diamond pegs to keep the seat separated from the nonexistent bowl. Daniel’s curiosity got the best of him, and he leapt in head first. It was like being sucked down a dry, powerful drain. Daniel flew high into the air before he landed with grace on the massive, spotless bathroom floor. He had spent hours practicing this gymnastic technique so that if someone did manage to see him teleport through a toilet, he looked drat good doing it. He was dry, as always; Daniel had figured this was due to the portal being in the seat, and not the bowl. Daniel gazed in the oversized mirror. He readjusted his tie, he was otherwise unsullied in his journey through the toilet dimension. He peeped out of the bathroom and into an office. Diplomas with foreign markings lavished the expensive looking room. The letters had circles beside, above, and below straight and curved lines. Daniel was oddly reminded of toilet seats. His vague knowledge of written language insisted he was in South Korea; or perhaps Flushing, Queens. Daniel turned back into the bathroom and reentered the toilet dimension. He was nowhere near Ohio. His phone informed him that he only had fifteen minutes to spare. Daniel moved toward whiter, flabbier butts, the ones that seemed most American to him. In this less pale part of the toilet dimension, all of the posteriors looked nearly identical. Daniel noted that he was probably not racist. He hopscotched westward. At least west in the sense of the earth, and not the toilet dimension. In here it was like a rough parallel of the globe from the inside. However, instead of a sphere, it was shaped like the inside of a toilet bowl. Daniel wondered that if he left through the gaping, black portal at the top, he would enter a larger, more impressive toilet dimension. He discarded the thought, there were eight minutes left until his part as best man. Daniel poked his head out of a portal. German moans from a rather shameless couple. The next portal took him to a Canadian accent politely wishing constipation away. Every time he looked through a seat, he found himself closer to Ohio. Finally, a toilet seat exactly like the ones he had seen in the church. Daniel leapt through. The stall lock was jammed. Daniel, despite his best efforts to remain tidy, did not wish to sully his punctual character. He crawled beneath the stall door. It was not as bad as he had imagined, though it did smell, and it was embarrassing. The marble on the sink, the size of the mirrors, this was one of the four church bathrooms; Daniel was certain of that. He rattled the knob of the bathroom door and while he would have kicked it, that would have been rather impolite. The flooded urinal to his side told him that this bathroom was out of order. A crawl and a jump later, he stood before another of the church’s toilet seats. The portal was obscured by a familiar rear end. Jeff Borner, the cousin-in-law who had mooned him once, now twice. loving Jeff, he thought. Daniel brushed off his suit and checked his phone. Two minutes. With little time to spare, he leapt through the portal next to Jeff. This bathroom smelled slightly sweeter than the rest, and when Daniel opened the stall door, he heard feminine shrieks of horror. Purses and profanities beat him backwards. Daniel pulled the stall door shut, then locked it. Thirty seconds left. “Get out!” they screamed. He was certain this was another of the church’s bathrooms. It had the same tiling, and the furious women were all dressed for a wedding. Rattles and slams at the stall door reminded Daniel of urgency. He jumped through the toilet. Unhappy to have made a scene, Jeff turned his attention to the seat once obscured by Jeff. He leapt. loving Jeff, he thought once more in the dimensional rift. Alone in the second gentlemen’s room, he could hear organs playing a tune. He checked the mirror as he sprinted out. His tie was perfect, and his hair flawless. His pace picked up down the two halls between him and the ceremony. The whispers of tardiness ceased. Daniel paraded down the aisle. He presented the ring just as he practiced for hours the day before. Tears were wiped from eyes, the dramatic pause had left many worried, but now there were claps and cheers. Daniel, a minute late, made an entrance that people talked about for whole minutes at the reception. No one had thought the weirdo who vanished in the toilet stall could have possibly been the best man. Daniel was praised for his sharp looks and forgiven for his tardiness. He was a gentleman, after all.
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Oct 17, 2014 20:24
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gently caress this loserfight bs i accept my loss
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Oct 21, 2014 05:42
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innnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
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Oct 21, 2014 07:28
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loserbrawl entry ??? words this is technically an entry. it isn't even a story. it's words that i have submitted. i don't even know what the word count is. i technically asked to lose, but i'm doing this because it's funny to me personally, and ruins the sport of it all, and will ultimately get me my goal of not bothering with this in the first place, as i should have had a loser av as of monday. also, i just died, but now im typing again. the end.
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Oct 24, 2014 06:30
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Solo (893 words) Flames exploded from hot, burning fat. Fumes of seared pork, the salt of soy, and sharp sweetness of onion beat through the sweaty stench after the show. For the first time that night Xian and Cheng agreed on something: the reception in Soba City was awful. Xian slammed down his phone and then looked at Cheng. He raised his shoulders and his chin to gain an extra inch of height on the bassist, his mohawk added another. “That show was horrible. gently caress that was just bad. But nothing pork buns can’t fix,” Xian’s voice was hoarse. There were black bags beneath his glazed over eyes. “I hate pork buns, they make me feel like I’m carsick,” Cheng paused, “We should have gotten Flavor Dumpling in the first place, like Li said. Maybe she was right for once. Anyway, let’s get the soba, it’s cheap here,” Cheng argued. “Everyone gets soba here. We’re not everyone,” Xian said. The waiter approached. “Beer,” Cheng said the same time Xian said “Sprite.” “For all of us,” Cheng circled with his finger, “And pork buns for him, two orders of soba otherwise.” The waiter left with a scowl, moving around loud children and through tight mazes of chairs. A dating couple demanded gluten free dumplings and were ignored. The waiter returned with three beers. Xian sipped his, while Cheng chugged his down, then did the same with the ignored third. Soon, the pork buns and soba arrived amidst a crowd of beers. Cheng was distracted, trying to get cell reception by swaying his phone in smoky air. Xian stuffed his mouth full of buns, then almost spat them out with a purple face. When the check came, the two stared at each other. “I’ve got this one, you paid the last six,” Cheng said with slurred words. “You’re really complaining about not paying? You’ll complain about anything,” Xian pulled out his wallet, which housed a thick wad of twenties. There were nine empty bottles in front of Cheng. A crash caught the attention of the entire restaurant. There were eight empty bottles in front of Cheng. He smiled at the attention. Xian backed up onto once white floor tiles. Cheng raised the broken bottle and swung it like a knife. It missed. “I’m paying,” Cheng hissed. Xian put his hands up in protest as he stepped further back. Rattles of glasses and dishes rang when he bumped into an unoccupied table. Cheng dropped seventy eight dollars and the broken bottle onto our table, his wallet now empty. Cheng swaggered outside while Xian kept ten feet behind. Flashing red and blue lights stole attention from frigid rain. Two polices officers stared at Cheng. “We got a complaint on this guy with the head that looks like… what the waiter called a balding clown,” an officer said. “He was just arguing with me about the bill. Nothing got out of hand, no one got hurt. Besides, we’re leaving,” Xian said. The two officers looked at each other, and paused for what felt like ten minutes. One walked inside and then returned with a nod, “All clear.” “Want some soba?” one officer said. “Heard it’s cheap here. Just don’t get the pork buns,” the other responded. Three car doors slammed, the engine revved and rain pattered the windows. Bright lights of the city blurred by while one of our songs, Slaughtered by the System played. Guitar, singing and bass washed out the drums. “I didn’t need your loving help me with the cops, and I especially don’t need your charity,” Cheng yelled. “Who cares about that anymore, just put on your seatbelt, Cheng, jesus,” Xian yelled louder. They argued for minutes, voices raised to extremes that stung the ears. Cheng smacked Xian on the shoulder, who ignored it. Xian’s eyes remained on the road. Cheng looked like he was about to vomit, because he did. The car smelled like rancid beer. More old booze than rain now drenched Xian. He whipped his arm to get most of the vomit back onto Cheng with one hand on the wheel. The car swerved. “Gross, you rear end in a top hat. Cheng, I swear to loving god I’m going to leave the two of you and start my own loving band,” Xian yelled as he stared at Cheng. The car swerved again. “Then do it you bastard!” Cheng yelled so loud that the honking barely overtook it. I screamed. The two turned their fuming faces to me and yelled, “Shut the gently caress up Li!” The truck was like a symbol crash, followed by a drum solo as the car rolled down the hill. The truck crushed Xian into two, bones crunched louder than metal. Cheng flew face first into the windshield. Glass stabbed through his eye, removing life from it. Sirens wailed in my ears, and bright fire blinded me until I raised my hand in front of my face. I coughed into my fist. A crowbar peeled the door, two arms reached in and grabbed me, then pulled. I sat across the street from Flavor Dumpling. One of the signs read No Alcohol Permitted. An emergency raincoat was wrapped around me while the biggest crowd of our lives watched on. Firemen extinguished Xian’s car. The officers from before came by and asked me a lot of questions. It was surprisingly easy to speak without my bandmates.
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Oct 27, 2014 03:09
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Sitting Here posted:
I feel bad regardless
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Oct 27, 2014 08:12
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Sitting Here posted:oh and it'd be really great if people could post as many obnoxious FJGJ posts and GIFs as possible well if you insist
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Oct 27, 2014 17:41
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my reign of bumbling, inconsistent mediocrity continues forth
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Oct 27, 2014 23:12
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Chairchucker posted:Losertars are cool and you should keep them forever IMO, until the thread is just one throbbing pulsating mass of losertar. nah
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Oct 28, 2014 21:07
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crabrock posted:Story #13 do you take me for some trickster? i said i wasnt entering lol
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Nov 4, 2014 01:05
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Thunderdome 2015: Clashing Flash Fiction; Diction Addiction Slash Word Constriction
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Dec 23, 2014 08:43
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stop brawling so much over Fun Good Times and brawl over actual arguments. Like right now. also i'll probably be entering again starting next week
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Dec 27, 2014 09:06
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stop being chunderdomes, thunderholmes is there a prompt yet
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Dec 30, 2014 03:08
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im heroin
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Dec 30, 2014 07:35
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| # ¿ Jul 15, 2025 21:16 |
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thanks for the heads up sh
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Jan 1, 2015 00:04
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