I'm in. I'm so loving in.
|# ¿ Jan 10, 2017 10:01|
|# ¿ Aug 2, 2021 01:53|
I ain't no loving bitch.
|# ¿ Jan 11, 2017 09:13|
You Can't Enter Heaven Until I Enter You
A sudden explosion jolted Sebastian from his sleep and sent him scampering back, frantically clawing his way through the darkness. His world rocked when an open hand slap knocked him to the ground.
“Open your eyes, my nigga,” a gravelly voice gently said.
Sebastian opened his mouth to sardonically protest that eyes had exploded out of their sockets but stopped when he realized something had changed. He saw the warm red of a light source seeping past his eyelids. He fluttered his eyes open and focused on the man backlit by torchlight from the other side of the cross-shaped hole.
Light from the end of a cigar cast a warm glow over the sexy face of Black Jesus. “Come on kiwi, we don’t got a lot of time before “You-know-who” comes and eats our faces like a retard on bath salts.”
Sebastian had a look of bewilderment. Mouth open, eyebrows fighting to unite, the whole nine yards.
“I’m saving your soul, let’s go!” Black Jesus barked, grabbed Sebastian by the shirt and dragged him to the exit. “Dad give me strength.”
Stumbling through the hole, Sebastian saw a few bedraggled prisoners and a few impossibly beautiful soldiers - no one he recognized. His gaze stopped over a beautiful woman who walked in his direction carrying a red guitar.
Adrenaline dumped into his system. With the athletic ability of a cranked out cocaine addict he spun on the ball of his foot and sprinted toward the hole to his cell that was no longer there. For the second time today, he saw stars.
“Get him away from me!” Sebastian wailed as he clawed the unyielding stone. A brisk flamenco guitar riff punctuated the escape attempt.
“Corporal Sancho, impeccable as always,” Black Jesus said, stepping between the woman and Sebastian. “I save all souls and give everyone a chance at redemption. That includes you and this guitar.” He tilted his head back and to the side to acknowledge the instrument. “Anyone can be reborn.”
Sebastian stopped and turned to face the Nigga of Man. “That… monster she holds in her hand is a… is a,” he sputtered.
“A monster, yes, he was. It’s all good now, he’s good.”
Sebastian scoffed, “He’s good. Gotta be kidding me.” He ran his fingers through his dirty brown hair and stormed up to Black Jesus. “You don’t know what he made me do!” he shouted, pointing at the guitar.
“You’re going to do a flashback aren’t you…” Black Jesus said, rolling the cigar in his mouth.
It all started when -
The taste was slapped out of Sebastian’s mouth and he stumbled to the side holding his jaw in surprise.
“Maybe you don’t realize how little time we have here,” Black Jesus said, taking the guitar from the woman and slinging it over his back. He spoke to her, “Give him a bible to defend himself. We gotta bounce.”
Music swelled to a frantic rhythm as the cries of the damned shook the room. “We got incoming!” Sancho shouted. His hands blurred as they flew over his guitar.
One by one, giant winged demons with giant muscles and giant smooth criminals landed encircling the group. Sebastian watched in horror as the 40th demon landed. He looked down at his bible and back at the demonic guards that towered over him by a few feet. He looked back at his bible disbelieving this would do anything but offer a gentle massage to these walls of meat.
The tear of fabric pulled Sebastian’s attention back toward Black Jesus, the woman and another soldier. All three were now shirtless and standing between them and certain destruction. Sancho’s music abruptly stopped.
Forty pairs of egg yolk eyes looked down upon them, the hatred plain. It started out with one broad-chested monster - his pecs bounced up and down. Slowly, the behavior spread to others until all the demons were partaking in this bizarre ritual. In sync, the demons flexed their enormous pectorals with what must be an intimidation tactic. It was alarmingly mesmerizing. Sancho strummed in time with each bounce.
Sebastian couldn’t see what Black Jesus or the other two were doing, but they were like statues watching this terrible show of masculinity. The woman acted first. “WE ARE THE SANDAL MEN! ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR,” she yelled and dozens of rocket powered tampons erupted from her crotch and swarmed the demons in a chaotic string of explosions. Sancho’s music renewed once again and Sebastian felt his blood quicken from the battle song.
The demons that still stood rushed forward. Out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian witnessed the second soldier standing at ease with his arms clasped behind his back and his pectoral muscles whipping out like fleshy wrecking balls.
Black Jesus had yelled, “Plank Stance!” and was now swinging his own body like an axe, chopping into his opponents, flinging them off the precipice. Yet as the Black Satan’s minions fell, more winged bodybuilding demons flew in to replace them. Their bulwark shrank against the persistent onslaught. The other prisoners of Hell cried and cowered, wishing they were safe back in their eternal prison. These people were all going to die, some of them for a second time, if he didn’t do anything to help.
He saw his guitar by where Black Jesus battled for their lives. His fingers dug into the bible and he bared his teeth into a snarl. Screw that rear end in a top hat. I’d rather be the support beam to an Eiffel Tower. Sebastian lept forward and swung the bible right into a nearby demon’s low hanging fruit.
The fiend’s good n plenty’s were torn clear off and bounced off another demon’s face. Sebastian swung again taking another demon’s leg from underneath him. Another swing shorn a leg. Another swing bowled another backward. But they still kept coming and now he was a target. He heard the fist whistling through the air, but was unable to move out of the way and it plowed right into his stomach.
Sebastian thought that since he was fighting alongside Black Jesus that physics would take a hike. He imagined taking a blow like this would send him flying back to crash against a rock, miraculously on his feet and the rock would crack behind him. He thought wrong. Sebastian stumbled backward, barfed all over his clothes, tripped over something as was knocked unconscious when his head hit the ground.
It’s about time you felt me up. What does a guy gotta do to be treated like a piece of meat around here.
“Xavier, couldn’t you have the common decency to stay dead when killed?”
And miss the opportunity that you’ll hold me tightly in your weirdly muscular hands again? You must have me confused with another one of your besties, Xavier said, taking a long pause. You heard what BJ said about me. I’m converted, I’m good yadda yadda. So just do that thing we did last time and let’s get on with it so we can get you out of this poo poo hole.
“No loving way, man. I’d be an idiot to let you trick me again. You forced me to kill innocent people,” Sebastian said angrily, “I’m not giving you another chance to sink your claws into me again.”
Xavier took another long pause, and when he spoke he had an uncharacteristically serious tone.Listen, Sebastian, I’m sorry. Words can’t express to you how much I mean that, but believe me when I say that a thousand years of rehab can do some wonders especially when BJ gives you a new purpose.
Sebastian kept silent, so Xavier took the cue to continue talking. His personality was back to normal.
Imagine if demons and humans were food. Humans are like Chicken McNuggets with the wrong kind of dipping sauce. Demons are a loving bone-in ribeye. Their corrupted souls are make me cream my pants so good. Come on man, you gotta do that thing! Do you think I can lie to Black Jesus?! Just do that thing! Come on, finger me with those fat sausages you call fingers! Diddle me like one of your french girls-
“Alright!” Sebastian shouted, “I’ll do it if you shut up!”
Sebastian felt Xavier shaking with excitement.
Strings whipped out in all directions and with unerring accuracy and speed, carved up the six of the closest demon beef injectors into roast beef curtains. The demons fell over in random positions, their hands clutching their brand new front butts.
“We gettin’ the funk outa here ladies!” Xavier’s voice bellowed from the vibrations of his strings. “Why don’t these butthole sniffers have any pants on? Get that drat yogurt slinger out of my face!” A glitter of steel strings snapped through the air and the demons in front of Sebastian fell to the floor in quivering chunks of flesh seeping ichor.
Black Jesus grinned, his bejeweled teeth sparkling. “I was wondering when you was gonna pitch in. Lead the way, my nigga.”
“So let me get this straight, Black Jesus,” Sebastian said, slapping a string that was caressing his inner thigh away. “Stop me if I’m straying. You rescued me, restored my eyesight, purposefully fought like crap so that I would feel obliged to help, all for the purpose to be reunited with my rear end in a top hat guitar who had forgone centuries of ‘A Clockwork Orange’ type of rehabilitation,” Sebastian slapped another string that was caressing his butt, “for the slight chance that I would join your Sandal Men and fight evil?”
Black Jesus took another puff from his cigar and rolled it to the side of his mouth. “I also saved a few helpless souls to up the stakes too. Can’t forget them. Lieutenant Napster, the one with the massive pecs, was supposed to fake going down to force you to act, but the hero inside of you needed to come out way before then apparently.”
“What if I said no?”
The Nigga of Man shrugged his shoulders and blew out the rest of the smoke. “Then you walk away with a magical guitar who would beg you daily to feed it demon blood until you run your head into a wall for the sweet release of unconsciousness.” Black Jesus laughed at the image and shook his head. “Your freedom from the clutches of hell is what I was originally after. You joining us to free others would be a cherry on top. The offer will always be open to you.”
“Do it, do it, do it,” Xavier buzzed in Sebastian’s ear.
Sebastian took a deep breath. “You already knew I was going to join, didn’t you?”
|# ¿ Jan 16, 2017 07:47|
Thanks for the crit!
|# ¿ Jan 17, 2017 02:09|
|# ¿ Feb 2, 2017 19:55|
i'll try this. in pls
|# ¿ Feb 7, 2017 11:16|
drat, another failure. Stupid video games.
|# ¿ Feb 13, 2017 10:01|
Thanks for the crit sitting here. I will now apply to become a writer for an adult swim show and make millions. MILLIONS.
|# ¿ Mar 8, 2017 06:50|
in. flash me for dat
|# ¿ Apr 19, 2017 01:18|
I Do Not Fail
1658 filthy words
“What’chu mean ‘they declined’?” Solid gold necklaces clinked together as the large ebony-skinned devil loomed forward, towering over a woman in a slim pinstriped suit. “Should I find someone more capable to deal with this?”
Nadia’s head flushed with anger at the provocation. She deflected the barb with a smile. “I have persuaded one hundred souls per year for centuries with ease. These musicians are no mere mortals. Master, you know these two necessitate a subtle hand-”
“I’m gonna deliver a subtle hand to your face if you don’t get those two to play at my Fallenday party,” Black Satan interjected.
“I would gladly accept the anointing touch of the most foulest of pimp hands - may they stay strong - should I fail.” Nadia theatrically whirled about and gracefully strutted to the throne room’s edge on dangerously high high heels as if they were an extension of her body. She placed a hand on the gilded door frame and with a crack of a whip, her suit saran-wrapped themselves to all her curves in a way that would make mortal women struggle for breath. “I. Do. Not. Fail.” With the finality of a slap to her own rear end, Nadia vanished in a wisp of smoke.
“I’ve never seen anyone fail so hard!” Xavier screeched haughtily while simultaneously pointing at Nadia and struggling to slip guitar strings down Sebastian’s pants. “Failure!”
“Sorry mate, there’s nothing you can say,” Sebastian said. He cleared his throat, trying very hard to avoid her majestic cleavage. “Or anything you can do or give us that will change our mind. We’re not going to play music for a group of individuals we tend to kill on sight.”
“I bet you couldn’t convince a chicken to cross the road!” Xavier’s laughter turned to distressing wheezes even though as a guitar, he had no lungs. “I bet you couldn’t convince a fatass to assault a table of cupcakes! You probably couldn’t get a black guy to-”
And in a blink, the strange duo were simply gone. For the first time in her supernaturally long life, Nadia was speechless. She never thought the reason for her demise would feel so anticlimactic.
“I convinced them to show up to your Fallenday party,” Nadia said.
Columns of molten lava shot up through the floor surrounding the throne made of platinum teeth as Black Satan pumped his fists with a victorious, “Yes!” The lava subsided and plunged the gaudy throne room back into warm torchlight.
Nadia watched as Black Satan strode towards her, his steps sure and with purpose. He showed no signs of stopping so she slid out of his way before he trampled her. As he passed, she felt his immense power passively rebuff her into taking another step back. Black Satan exited his throne room without a glance. Nadia swallowed. She just lied to her boss. Her stupidly powerful, incredibly short tempered and violent First Fallen Angel boss.
“I’ve done hosed up now.”
“You’ve done hosed up now,” said Xavier. “This is like, the third time you’ve tracked us down and interrupted my brojob attempt.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes and absentmindedly slapped Xavier’s strings away from his gibbly bits. “It’s obvious this is a trap of some sort,” he shook his head, “and not even a very good one! From your reputation alone, I would have expected…” Sebastian trailed off.
Nadia crossed her arms. “Oh, do tell.”
“I don’t know what I expected, Demon, but it wasn’t this.”
“Demon.” Sebastian reached for his beer then became visibly agitated when he realized Xavier had drank it all when he wasn’t looking. “You don’t even have a freaking mouth,” he muttered at the guitar.
“If you can’t trust my word, trust in my self preservation.” Nadia leaned over the table and nervously picked at her fingernails. “I… hosed up. Colossally. Epically. I’m going to experience something worse than death if you guys don’t help me out.”
“What makes you think we would want to help a demon?” Sebastian asked. “You’ve condemned millions to hell. Millions!”
“You’re like the tits and rear end version of Hitler,” Xavier said.
“Like you’re any better than me. I at least gave humans whatever they wanted. You just killed them outright! And still you were given a second chance.” Nadia watched Xavier’s strings go still. She pressed forward. “Please! You’re supposed to be the good guys. I want a second chance. I would do anything in my power to save myself from my impending horror story.”
A strong, scarred black hand with a lit cigar pinched between two fingers reached across the table. He flicked the empty bottle and it refilled. Black Jesus leaned back in his chair placed his cigar between his lips. “Would you defect?”
The last time Nadia felt this overall sense of dread was when her rear end in a top hat neighbors burst into her house accusing her of turning a little boy into a frog. Salem was full of idiots.
She stood towards the edge of a massive amphitheater, sardine-packed with all sorts of monsters. An intense beam of light shone on a stage that seemed a mile away. Time to go. Nadia slipped out between a sturdy set of double doors whispered a guttural incantation laced with power. The doors flashed with a silvery gleam and they turned to solid steel, trapping all the baddies inside with Xavier and Sebastian. As she sped off for the second part of the plan, she felt the tremble of music shaking the ground and the wail of the dying. Some concert.
She paced at a dead end room muttering under her breath until the familiar sounds of feet running across stone echoed through the halls. Two people from Black Jesus’ retinue sprinted around the corner out of breath and with a panicked look in their eyes.
“PORTAL!” yelled the female.
Nadia slapped an open palm against the wall and the surrounding stone rippled like water. They ran headlong through the portal without slowing down. She took a deep breath and plunged into the rock after them.
Their names were Sancho and Tara. They didn’t completely trust her, and Nadia didn’t blame them. Apparently, they’ve been a part of Black Jesus’ posse for awhile. Not as long as she’s been chained to Black Satan’s side though. Screw that guy. He sucks a bag a dicks.
“I don’t mean to sound like a Negative Nancy, but I think there’s a little bit of magic making this corridor seem endless,” Sancho said.
“No magic involved. This hallway is endless. And if you don’t know what you’re looking for, you’ll walk by the only exit none the wiser.” Nadia paused, then frowned. “Ah poo poo, we did walk past it.” She turned around and the color drained from her face.
Walking out of the corridor’s only entrance was the very first proper devil she saw. His eyes were hidden under the shroud of his hood and fire dripped from his grinning mouth. His hoofed feet thundered in the hall as he turned to face Sancho and Tara, completely ignoring her.
You’re under an illusion, she heard Tara in her head, We distract. You run.
“Angels… here?” Lava bubbled out of his mouth as he spoke. “Master will hear of this treachery.”
“Master won’t hear nothing if you’re dead.” Sancho said with a grin.
Nadia slipped through the exit just as she heard Gatekeeper Asmodeus’ laughter and then the sound of explosions.
Nadia’s hands shook as she brute-forced her way through the enchantments. This was no time for a delicate touch. She surprised herself that she wanted to free all the souls she captured to impress Black Jesus. To show him she’s worthy of redemption. She wanted to show Him and his followers that there was still some good inside of her. But above all else, she just really hated Black Satan.
“I knew there was a rat.” Asmodeus’ voice rumbled in the darkness. “And to think, it was the little vengeful spirit from just the other day.”
Now Nadia hands shook for another reason. Terror. It’s a good thing she doesn’t poop or she would have poo poo her pants. So close, she thought. “Gatekeeper, it’s been at least five centuries.” Asmodeus’ massive figure lurched into the light. He was in rough shape. Scorch marks all over his leathery skin and he walked with a limp. “Just doing a… thing.”
Asmodeus growled. “Desist and come with me so you can be judged.”
Keeping one hand working on breaking the last enchantment, Nadia split her magical attention and mentally prepared a conjuration spell.
“Desist!” Asmodeus surged forward and slammed into an invisible barrier.
Nadia turned her back towards destroying the last ward when after a moment she coughed up blood. She spared a glance toward the devil and saw him staring intently back at her. She felt tears down her face and her nose running. He’s going to bleed me out. Only got about a minute left.
Her eyesight was the first to go. No matter, she saw the ward in her mind’s eye. She coughed again, violently, her lungs filling up with blood. She willed her respiratory drive away. The strength was sapped from her legs and she sunk to her knees. She leaned against the door saving her strength while her fingers still worked.
The enchantment shattered like glass. With the last vestiges of her strength, she curled her bloody arms around the door latch and used her own weight to pull the handle down.
The door exploded with a stream of iridescent, screaming souls, flinging Nadia across the room and into the wall with a wet slap. Her consciousness faded.
“DEUS EX MACHINA MOTHUFUCKA!” The grinning face of Black Jesus temporarily came into focus. “You got your second chance. See ya on the other side.”
|# ¿ Apr 24, 2017 02:03|
All dogs go to hell
|# ¿ Apr 24, 2017 11:13|
get off my dick it's week whatever demons crits
Thanks for the crit for reals though!
|# ¿ Apr 25, 2017 11:24|
Kinda wish I could have joined this week. I want to read good words you assholes
|# ¿ May 7, 2017 13:52|
Why not. I'm in.
|# ¿ May 9, 2017 12:15|
In, open to collaboration.
|# ¿ May 10, 2017 16:42|
I won't be posting a story this week because of a generic excuse.
|# ¿ May 15, 2017 00:50|
Can't believe I've spent five years of my life with you chuckleheads
Seems like triple that. You butthole sniffers are quite the lot.
|# ¿ Aug 1, 2017 20:06|
Seems like triple that. You butthole sniffers are quite the lot.
That post was poorly planned. There were no I's nor N's close to each other. Give me a room
|# ¿ Aug 1, 2017 20:10|
I guess I'm going to have to bow out this week, the weekend suddenly got really busy and I probably won't have time to work on the story.
Not even a title or wordcount? Also, where's the plot or compelling characters? Lame. B-
|# ¿ Aug 6, 2017 16:09|
The Pyramid Scheme
I tightly rolled up the priceless hieroglyphics scroll, pressed one end to my nostril, and in a long practiced motion, snorted grounded mummy bits off my companion’s rear end. The hit hosed me up in a way I could have never anticipated. I staggered on my feet with tears blinding me and my my nose threatening to engulf my face with fire. Well, I should have anticipated my nose being on fire, but in my defense I had imbibed a staggering amount of liquor earlier that night.
“Ingrid, this poo poo will get you higher than the moon. Can you imagine if we could sell this?,” Ingrid was probably not her name. “I would…” I paused. Blinked. Started again. “I would…” I couldn’t form words. I thought it was the alcohol. I felt my nose turn runny so I wiped at it with the back of my hand. Blood. My last private thought was It would have been epic if I snorted mummified balls.
Rosa - I think that was her name. Something Spanishy. The emotional range on Rosa’s face was a masterpiece. She started off with that smoldering seductive look, specifically the thing chicks do when they nip at their bottom lip. Then there was a blank confusion which gradually turned to a panicked bewilderment. She scuttled backward on the bed screaming about me floating in the air and smoke coming out of my face or some poo poo.
Before I could gather my wits, a voice that reminded me of my abuelita who had smoked a pack a day for as long as I’ve known her boomed in my head. She wasn’t speaking any language I knew, but I understood her anyways.
Freedom! I am imprisoned no longer! I felt an impulse to walk toward the door, like having a strong breeze at your back. I fought the urge.
Rosa was trying her best to push herself through the wall to get away from me. “Did you hear that?” I asked her.
She screamed incoherently in reply. Women.
What is this demoncraft? She sounded like she was desperate for a lozenge. Her voice made me want to swallow. I escaped a prison to end up in another prison?
“Um… Hello?” I asked, feeling really dumb.
Mortal! She bellowed, I demand you tell me what sorcery you performed to enslave me so!
I almost stifled a laughter successfully. “I snorted you.”
There was a long pause. I thought she didn’t hear me. When I opened my mouth to reply, she answered, You did what?
I almost missed the sensation of her flexing her power. Locusts flowed in from the cracks and seams in the walls. I felt the shape of the room as the insects filled the space. I was giddy with amazement. Rosa was getting hoarse from all her incessant screaming.
I walked toward Rosa to get her to calm down and the swarm moved with me. I must have looked like something out of a horror movie to her because she emptied her bladder and whimpered pitifully. Women.
You blasphemous cur! I felt a brutal headache coming on. The swarm buzzed angrily. You desecrated my remains. Death will be too good for you. You will suffer for the rest of your miserable life and when you finally beg for me to end it, I will keep your alive while I destroy everything and everyone you love-
“Shut up,” I cut in, apparently embracing the ‘voices in your head’ stereotype. “There are people coming.” I felt them running past the cloud of locust in the hallway.
No matter, I will crush them underfoot like vermin.
“What? There will be no curb stomping!” I mentally harrumphed.
You DARE oppose me?
The door to my room exploded inward and armed men filed in, pointing cool looking weapons at me. It was odd that I only became concerned for my safety until the Lord Domerci walked in. Any locust that brushed against him immediately fell to the ground, dead.
Lord Domerci looked around the room before his eyes settled on me. He sighed. “Restrain him,” he said and walked out.
No, you fool, do not allow us to be captured! Fight back!
I rolled my eyes and presented my wrists in order to be handcuffed. I’m not gonna fight anyone. I can buy my way out of this if I need to, I mentally said to my egyptian passenger. She growled at me.
When one of the guards closed the distance, my left arm went completely numb and it lashed out. My fingers tore through his uniform like paper mâché. He stumbled back, blood flicking across the room. I looked at my arm in horror for a few moments until pain jolted through my body and someone turned off the lights.
It’s funny how Hollywood changes the way people think. For instance, when you knock someone out, they lose consciousness for seconds, not hours. Seconds was all my Egyptian passenger needed. I woke up to all the guards clawing at their faces and necks, choking and gasping for air.
“Stop trying to kill them, you lunatic!” I shouted, ignoring the fact how crazy I must seem to everyone.
They mean to destroy us and you plan on letting them?! She sounded incredulous.
“They’re rent-a-cops with tasers! They were going to escort us off the property,” I said. “Let them go, crazy face!”
I don’t think I will. There was a finality to her statement. I probably shouldn’t have called her crazy.
I ran over to the sarcophagus and fumbled in my pockets for the one tool a drug addict always carries with them. I pulled out my lighter and struck a flame, holding it close to the mummy. “Let them go or I light your corpse up. I’ll even smoke it to spite you.”
My passenger growled. I will not be cowed by some insignificant mortal.
The guards were drowning in bugs. I was running out of time. “You’re an rear end in a top hat. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I moved to light the mummy on fire, but I felt massive resistance. I shoved my will against my passenger, making gradual progress. My body past my shoulders shook and broke out in sweats as I inched closer to that ugly mummified face.
Why do you fight, mortal? Don't you realize together we can give purpose to humans. They live their lives like cattle for the slaughter. We can make them become more!
“Jesus lady, you sound like a cartoon villain,” I said through clenched teeth. I felt the numbness creeping past my shoulder. I chanced a look at the guards. Their lips were turning blue.
Just give in. You’ll be a God.
“Stop talking!” I reached into my sports coat jacket and fumbled around for the one tool alcoholics like myself always carry around. “You’re a walking cliche.” I pulled out my trusty whiskey dispenser, took a mouthful and blew out the alcohol. A conflagration consumed the mummy’s head and my passenger screeched in anger.
That was my body idiot! Why? Did you think it was my weakness or something?
I looked at the corpse with a crown of fire with disappointment growing in the pit of my stomach. “Well… yea,” I said lamely. I sighed and coughed. The smoke was foul. It made me light headed but the spreading numbness stopped it’s advance. I inhaled and coughed, tears coming to my eyes.
gently caress it, I thought to myself. I rolled the body over, pieces crumbling in my hands. I sealed my mouth to the butthole and took a deep hit. As I coughed, the sensation returned to my fingers. Again I placed my lips to the butthole and inhaled. I felt them. I felt the swarm of locusts deep in the guards lungs and throats. I took another hit.
You continue to defy me. I offer you godhood, and you defy me. With my guidance, the world would have been yours, but you defy me.
I mentally shoved her aside and sucked on that butthole. With startling ease, I wrestled control away from my passenger and willed the locust to exit the bodies of the guards. “I don't want the world, ya dumb bitch, I just want enough money to do all the drugs in it”. I clutched the corpse by the thighs, jammed my face between those mummified cheeks, and took the deepest breath I've ever taken in my entire life.
The guards were coughing and spitting out chewed up locust bits, but they were alive. The corpse was one large stub of ash. And I felt powerful. “I don't think after this I would be a welcome guest”. I turned to Rosa. “What the hell is your name?”
|# ¿ Aug 6, 2017 21:05|
What the poo poo. FJGJ you scrublords
|# ¿ Aug 8, 2017 01:57|
I wrote it for youuuuu
|# ¿ Aug 8, 2017 13:13|
Alright you son of a bitch. I don't want to understand your crazy prompt. I'm in and just gently caress me up with flash rules and fleta choices. gently caress. Me. Up.
|# ¿ Aug 10, 2017 00:51|
Well I heard he smells like mothballs.
|# ¿ Aug 15, 2017 22:03|
In a world without a sky
|# ¿ Aug 22, 2017 12:46|
interprompt: what i did on my holidays
I did things Merc wouldn't even do. It was glorious with a dash of shame.
|# ¿ Nov 6, 2017 18:13|
|# ¿ Nov 8, 2017 19:08|
Hjalmar The Eternal, God Emperor of Play Time
“Let’s play house!” declared Poppy with a giant smile native to mischievous little girls.
Hjalmar’s looked around the room in confusion. He settled his large, koala-like eyes on Poppy and noticed the bony white peeking up through the fleshy part of her grin, full of gaps. It reminded him of rock-eating organisms that tended to lose and regrow teeth at an astonishing rate. There was so much to learn about humans and their strange eating habits.
He cleared his throat and focused on speaking his ward’s guttural language. “We’re going to pretend to be houses? What possible fun can you can we get from this activity?” Are the words he formulated in his mind, but six-year-olds make terrible English teachers. “Why house? Fun?” is what actually came out of his mouth.
“It’s the best fun! Here,” said Poppy, shoving a hat into Hjalmar’s hands, “You’ll be Bo, and I’ll be Hope.”
Hjalmar sniffed the hat then bit down on the brim. He spat and recoiled from it when the assault of sweat and sand hit his senses. He squinted at Poppy. He recognized those names from the voyeuristic documentary she forced him to watch with her. “Why play pretend?” he asked, pointing at the TV.
Poppy patiently took the hat out of Hjalmar’s hands and put it on his head, wiggling it back and forth until his ears folded underneath. “Because that’s what we’re playing,” she said with an air of finality.
“Now Bo, be a dear and put on some tea for us?” asked Poppy, as haughtily as she could manage.
His ears perked up and the hat popped up from his head. Tea. He remembered how to make tea from watching Poppy serve her subjects. What a selfless leader she was. He found it fascinating how they have never spoken in his or her presence out of respect. He thought about asking Poppy her secret so he had another tool in his belt when it was finally time for world domination.
He focused to the task at hand and scampered through the giant house toward the tea set. He peaked over the table where Poppy held all her diplomatic meetings and saw the teapot at the center. He squinted suspiciously at it. The last time he tried to climb the table, Poppy had admonished him, saying it wasn’t proper. He twitched his nose as he thought. Finally, he reached out, and visible energy illuminated his fur like a carpet of fiber optic cables. A blast of will shot out from his hand and upended the table and surrounding chairs. He then shook himself like a dog would after a bath and the glowing energy came off his body like a cloud of fireflies. Hjalmar grabbed the teapot and a cup from off the floor and made his way back to Poppy.
“Oh darling, you shouldn’t have!” Poppy took the cup from Hjalmar and kissed him on the top of his head. His ears flattened and he felt warmth spread out from the center of his chest. Poppy then presented the tea cup and cleared her throat. “Don’t just stand there Bo, serve the tea.”
It was time to wow her with his skill. It couldn’t be too difficult. He sniffed the teapot. It’s been about a week since he’s lived with Poppy, yet it still puzzled him why she never utilized any liquids in the pot. Perhaps it was a symbolic gesture? He prepared the precarious task of angling the pot just so when Poppy shrieked. He jumped, his limbs spasmed outward and all the hairs on his body stood up just like the one time he probed the electrical socket with his claws.
“That lipstick on your collar, Bo?” Poppy shouted, bordering on hysteria, “You wit' that hussy Billie! I bet she ain’t wait ‘til after the sheriff said I were dead before she made kissy faces at you!”
Hjalmar was wracked with confusion. He didn’t have anything on his collar bone. Who’s Billie? What’s a hussy? What’s this about her being dead? He started to glow with energy as he frantically scanned the room for danger.
“Oh, my mistake,” Poppy said hurriedly, “It looks like you spilled a little tea on yourself, is all.”
“Don’t sit. Hide,” Hjalmar said in a low growl. His ears were up and twitched in different directions trying to locate any sneaking trespassers. Poppy was a powerful ruler in her own right, but if she was anything like those larger humans that attacked the house a week ago, she was as fragile as the lamp he accidentally tipped over yesterday.
Hjalmar froze when he felt Poppy embrace him. The energy gathered around him fizzled out and his ears flopped down. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I ain't mean to make you worry. I was only playing.”
“Imagination?” Hjalmar asked. He was slowly fitting the pieces together and the last ten minutes began to make sense.
Poppy nodded into his fur.
He felt her tears matte his fur, but he already had the chance to figure out that fluids coming from human eyes won't cause him to go up in flames. Probably. Humans are notoriously crafty and he wouldn't be surprised if they shot out caustic liquids from their tear ducts whenever they felt they were in danger. Hjalmar squinted deep in thought. Slowly he said, “I never liked Billie. She a hussy.”
A laugh bubbled out of Poppy and her shoulders shook. She sat up and wiped her eyes. “I never doubted you for a second, Bo,” she said, smiling her big gap filled smile. “I was only testing your love.”
Hjalmar felt his head swell with warmth. Poppy’s smile was contagious and he found himself grinning too. “What’s love?” he asked.
|# ¿ Nov 11, 2017 23:59|
Jeez, judging sure take forever round here. Am I right?!
|# ¿ Nov 13, 2017 12:32|
|# ¿ Aug 2, 2021 01:53|
Interprompt: Lame puns and their consequences (100 words)
The Shortest Verse in the Bedazzled Bible
Black Jesus read the story about puns. It was bad. He wept.
|# ¿ Nov 13, 2017 19:56|