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Turtlicious
Sep 17, 2012

Cat Army
2nd Battalion
TANK


I've never done this before, but I have free time. I'm in.

God I hope it doesn't suck too bad

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Turtlicious
Sep 17, 2012

Cat Army
2nd Battalion
TANK


Here is my lovely pandering entry.

"Hambeast: The Novella" - 931 words

A talentless hack sat on a stained mattress that stank of spilled Mountain Dew and cat piss. His keyboard quietly clacked under his massive fingers joining the din in the 10 foot square room as the loud ringing of his three fans blew, the curtains rustling around every few seconds as fabric folded over itself. His cat sat in the corner as it's breakfast of hotdogs spoiled.

"Well, farmgirl7," He typed, licking his upper lip as sweat started to bead. "In my opinion it seems like you don't really take care of yourself. I understand your parents can be cruel, but they won't respect you until you respect yourself. Maybe clean your room a bit, go for a walk, lose some weight, make yourself something better." He tried to take a swig of his soda, but it's empty. He discarded the trash in an ever increasing pile of mountain dew cans, and empty dorito bags. The hambeast reached for another one in the box next to his mattress. "You also might have depression, and you would benefit from seeing a psychologist. You say you're in Indianapolis, so here are some local mental health resources. I wish you all of the best." The hack scratched under one of his gargantuan tits, sloshing some of the sweat out. "And please take care of yourself, no-one deserves to live like that."

And with his usual tagline "-Sincerely, A Talentless Hack." his blog post was sent off into the ether. It had been a few weeks since he tried this whole "Internet Help Advice" thing, and he was loving it. No one knew who he was. No one judged him, told him to shower, made him comb his long greasy hair. On top of that, he got to help people. A lot of the time his advice was ignored, but ultimately he knew what he was saying was right.

The Hack left his room with his laptop, barely able to open the door amongst the piles of clothes, cans of soda, and general filth. He waddled down the hall, his slow plodding steps shaking the walls as he moved at an elephant like pace, and finally found his way to the kitchen. He openned up his "Golden Cupboard" as he called it, and reached for one of his yellow delights. He openned his laptop and clicked a new entry as he started to pour the macaroni shells into a pot filled with boiling water.

"Dear ATH,

I wanted to just thank you for this last year, and the help you've provided, but I'm done. I'm done with living. I'm done with everything. If my parents ever read this I want them to know it's not their fault, just like it wasn't mine I was born the way I was. Hopefully they'll believe that. I'm going to paypal the rest of my money to you, and I've given everything I own to charity. After sending this, I'm going to steal some of my Dad's Vicodin, and finally go to sleep.

Thank you ATH,

and goodbye,

--farmgirl7"

"... Shiiiiiiit." ATH groaned to himself, gently caress fuckity gently caress. He panicked, his mind racing, all the warning signs were there. Stupid, so very stupid, gently caress! Where was the time stamp? When did she send this? Five minutes ago? Maybe there was still time. He sent a quick message back to farmgirl7, "Don't do anything stupid, call me if you need help or someone to talk to." and threw in his personal line. He groaned silently as he put his phone next to the stove and continued making his lunch. You should do more, he thought to himself, you can help. She reached out to you.

"FINE!" he yelled to no one in particular. "Ugh... just fine..." His cat had left his room and was curled around his foot as he sat down grimacing with his lunch. He popped open another can of Mountain Dew, and got to work. He already knew farmgirl7 lived in Indiannapolis, and he had her e-mail so the first part was easy. Without much effort he found her facebook. Luckily the profile was set to public. That's how he got her address. "You know, Sebastian," he said to his cat, "if I weren't doing something so noble, this would be extremely creepy."

One ring

Two rings

Three rings

Finally, "Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department, where is your emergency?" the lady asked.

"Hi, my name is A Talen-" he coughed, realizing how dumb his pseudonym would sound, " Jeremy Carmicky." He hated his name. "I'm from the inter- I'm-" He stuttered over his words trying to think about what he would say. Why did it have to be a girl of all the dumb things, don't men work at police stations? He was definitely going to write about this later.

"Look, I got a suicide note from a penpal local to you. I think she's going to kill herself."

"What's the name and address, sir?"

"Kyle Johnson, he lives at 6413 Amarillo Way"

"I thought you said he was a she?"

ATH nearly exploded, "I didn't mean a she, I meant a he, and he said he's going to OD besides does it matter!?"

ATH fumed slightly as he answered the rest of her questions. He wouldn't find out for another week when Kyle updated her facebook status with what happened. The police arrived at her house after she had taken the pills and rushed her to the hospital. Now she was in therapy.

A Talentless Hack was able to rest easy that day knowing he had saved a life.

Turtlicious
Sep 17, 2012

Cat Army
2nd Battalion
TANK


tenniseveryone posted:

I've got nothing on this week so I'll do some in-depth crits if anyone wants them? First come, first served (I'll do maybe four).
Please crit me, I can only get better!

Turtlicious
Sep 17, 2012

Cat Army
2nd Battalion
TANK


In.

Turtlicious
Sep 17, 2012

Cat Army
2nd Battalion
TANK


e: oops

Turtlicious fucked around with this message at Apr 18, 2014 around 00:15

Turtlicious
Sep 17, 2012

Cat Army
2nd Battalion
TANK


leekster posted:

I'm in, also offering two critiques for the first two to claim them.
In and critique me please, my submission was posted by Glass for me.

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Turtlicious
Sep 17, 2012

Cat Army
2nd Battalion
TANK


I'm Out All I want to do is write about zombies right now, and it's pathetically trite.

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