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derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

CANT COMMUNICATE BRAWL ENTRY

god
1190 words

removed

derp fucked around with this message at Jan 1, 2019 around 17:54

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derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

a glass eye
660 words





removed

derp fucked around with this message at Jan 1, 2019 around 17:54

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Yes very ty!

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Sitting Here posted:

you're all brawling each other.

Your prompt is two characters who can't communicate but must work together in some way.

1200 words
due date Saturday October 6, before you go to bed.
judge is me
es please

so am i covered in blood or dead or what ? ?

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

BLOOD ahhhhh. Ty for judging and for all your amazing crits as always!

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

IN GOOD PROMPT

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

nobody wants to be the first one to post

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

SurreptitiousMuffin posted:



you have not seen it; it is not there

[

not there
1490 words

removed

derp fucked around with this message at Jan 1, 2019 around 17:55

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

dreadmojo posted:

Interprompt: they grow up so young (300 words)

The machine was perfected just in time. Shortly after she flipped the 'on' switch, the last adult human collapsed due to heart failure caused by the weaponized virus 'heart breaker,' which was airborne, incurable, and caused almost instant heart-failure upon contact. The one catch was, for whatever reason, it didn't affect anyone under six months old.

A couple cleaning robots scurried into the room and dragged away the corpse of the woman who'd turned on the machine. The only sound was the wailing of infants. Rows and rows and columns and stacks of them, each one in its own incubator, crying for non existent mothers. The machine monitored, fed, and examined each baby constantly, checking the progress of the virus and collecting data for further research. The machine also collected a cell sample from each baby, which it combined with others to create new embryos to grow into more babies.

Every now and then one of the babies reached its six month deadline and spasmed to death in heart failure, and a robot attendant scurried over to drag it away, and replace it with a new one that had grown strong enough to be taken from the artificial wombs in the other room.

Eventually, one of the babies would be immune. Eventually. Until then, humanity was incubating, waiting for the right time to grow.

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

a long, long time ago,
i can still remember when
i wrote a story for thunderdome
and i knew if i had my chance
i could make those readers glance
at my words and sigh, and also groan

but monday passed and tuesday left us
all with silence from the judges
no news from dear muffin
the posters all were guessin'

i can't count just how many times
i eff-fived to a promptless site
something touched me deep inside
the day, the contest died

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

when, when, surreptitious muffin
will you judge our loving stories so we know who can win
and we'll put the bloodcrown on the head of the shcmuck
singing 'this guy didn't totally suck, this guy didn't totally suck'

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Is there some Seattle nz rivalry that I need to be part of?

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Pnw, left coast best coast

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

I won't let you down, unless it involves hating the muffin man, cause he writes some of the best stuff in here

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Seattle is a UNESCO city of literature. Is nyc? No. No it's not.

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

SurreptitiousMuffin posted:

Crits for week 324

a bunch of thoughtful crits on all the stories.. except mine :'(

perhaps my story was not seen... and thus, was not there...

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

also im in

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Your Perfect Date
fmv game
1580 words



removed

derp fucked around with this message at Jan 1, 2019 around 17:55

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

A cat was named after someone's MMO character, and that name was EonFarts. This turned out to be a very accurate name because EonFarts farted for an eon and filled up the entire universe with her fartgas. After a new universe evolved from the gas, EonFarts had kittens with her mate, AeonFarts, then was given away for free on Craigslist--this, of course, after craigslist got invented for a second time in the newly evolved fartgas universe. EonFarts' kittens were composed entirely of gas and no one could ever lock them out of a room, and their meows were a horrible smell. Everyone in the fartgas universe got visited by the smelly kittens at some point. It was a sign of good luck to wake up choking on a putrid stench with tiny mews ringing in the night air. EonFarts ascended to the stars before anyone could adopt her, and this became her forever home. She farts continuously and always, and this is the mysterious force known as 'dark energy' that keeps our smelly universe from collapsing. the end.

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

ty Chili!

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

yes those crits were very PROMPT

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

in

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvzpodhuMrM

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Anomalous Blowout posted:



Your prompt will be a line from somebody else's song.

this CONCERNS me, as a person who usually takes a few days to think up what to write, and then writes it on friday... will i not be getting a prompt until friday evening when signups close?

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Lead out in cuffs posted:

While I'm not wading through this pile of drek, Mika (the cat) has kindly agreed to provide personalised crits.

She doesn't do well with screens, so I had to print it out.



I also had to translate it into a format she understands...



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EfpBpKdbGEA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAGzXT0fIaA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JV52WnoD-Rk

I think these videos speak for themselves.

I am honored to have in some small way contributed to your cat's entertainment.

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Moving Out
1222 words


removed

derp fucked around with this message at Jan 1, 2019 around 17:55

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

interprompt: tasting notes for a whisky distilled from wizard blood. 150 words

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy


derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Y'all should get a discord instead of 90s internet chat relay system

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

i'll do it

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

derp posted:

i'll do it

is it too late to for extra words?

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

okay. I if that wasn't clear.

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Thranguy posted:


Thriller.


a thriller
1600 words



Prologue
In a dark warehouse a Helpless Woman limps away from a shadowy figure.

“Help! Help!” she cries, but no one is there to help her.

The figure holds a gleaming blade in a red-gloved hand.

“No!” cries the woman.

Blood splashes on the ground.

CH1
Detective Jack Richmond wakes to a phone call. He blearily grabs the receiver and knocks an empty whisky bottle to the floor.

“Hello?”

It’s his partner, Karen Jillian. “There’s been a murder, Jack, get here, NOW.”

CH2
Jack slams the brakes on his blue 2018 Mustang and screeches into the parking lot. He gets out and straightens his duster. “Where’s the murder?”

Karen points at the warehouse. She’s wearing a short skirt that shows her sexy legs.

CH3
Inside the warehouse Jack kneels and touches the ground and rubs red liquid between his fingers. “Blood. There’s been a murder here.”

“Yes, but where’s the body?”

A red drop lands on Karen’s cleavage and she looks up. A mutilated body is hanging from chains.

Karen screams.

CH4
In the cold, dark morgue Jack examines the body. “These wounds came from a knife, look, see how the skin is cut.”

Karen bends to look, and her blond hair falls against Jack’s hand. He twirls a lock in his fingers.

“Jack, don’t.” She pushes his hand away. “I’m still grieving the death of my blind, war-hero father.”

CH6
Karen sits sexily on Jack’s desk and holds out a plastic evidence bag full of ashes. “We found something in the ashes when we cremated the body.”

She pulls a metal square from the ash. There’s writing etched into it.

“Hieroglyphs,” says Jack, “A code.”

“Jack,” Karen says, and touches his shoulder. “I feel some connection to this woman. We have to solve this case!”

CH7

Jack and Karen sit in a dark library and flip through the yellowed pages of an ancient book. They wear glasses and cardigans.

“Look, this symbol,” Jack points, “It means... death.”

“And this one,” says Karen. Her hand grazes Jack’s. “It means... love...”

There’s a thump in the dark and they both leap to their feet. “Who’s there?”

CH8
An old man steps out of the shadows. His eyes are white orbs and he carries a cane. “The killer is not who you think,” he says.

Jack grabs him by the collar. “Who are you!?”

The old man wheezes laughter. “You know nothing, Jack! Find the red glove!”

“Jack!” Karen grabs his muscular bicep. “We have to go!” They rush out the door and the old man cackles in the shadows behind them.

CH9
They speed away in Jack’s Mustang. “What is it Karen? Why did we rush out of there?”

“Because.” Karen holds up the metal square. “I translated the message.”

CH10
Jack and Karen sit on a bed in a dim hotel room. Jack’s tie is loosened. Karen’s blouse is untucked. Karen lays some papers on the blankets.

“See? The hieroglyphs mean: love and death walk hand in hand, never trust a blind old man.”

Jack nods. “You translated that just in time. But what did he mean by ‘find the red glove?’”

Karen grabs Jack’s hand, her cheeks are flushed. “Oh Jack, let’s forget about that old man. Hold me.” She kisses him, and they fall across the papers.

CH11
Jack wakes screaming from a dream of being chained and bleeding. He reaches for his whisky, but only finds an empty pillow. Karen is gone.

CH12
In the morning they drive Jack’s Mustang through pouring rain. “Where were you last night?” he asks as he shifts gears.

“Bad dreams,” she says, “I had to go for a walk.”

A call comes in on the radio: “We’ve had another murder, get here quick!”

The two share a glance, and Jack steps on the gas.

CH13
They screech into another warehouse. A young officer approaches. “The victim’s in there. She’s chained up just like last time!”

Inside, a bloody corpse hangs from chains in the dark.

Karen screams.

“We found a knife.” The officer holds up a gleaming blade in a plastic evidence bag.

“Are there any prints?” asks Jack.

“No, the killer must have worn a glove.”

“Could it have been... a red glove?”

“Yes, that’s definitely possible. And one more thing, Jack,” says the officer. “DNA tells us the victims were sisters.”

CH14
“We’ve got to find that old man,” says Jack.

He starts the engine and Karen puts a hand on his. “I don’t think we should trust just any old man, Jack.”

“But the glove! He knew about the glove!”

CH15
They return to the library and Jack searches up and down the dark aisles. Karen follows him.

“Jack, wait!”

But Jack doesn't wait. “Where are you, old man!”

A wheezing sound comes from the shadows.

CH16
The old man steps into the light and points his cane at Jack. “You read my glyphs, didn’t you?”

Jack gasps. “You wrote the message?”

The old man nods. “Did you find the red glove, Jack?”

“But your message said nothing about a glove.”

Karen steps between them. “Don’t listen to him, Jack! Let’s just go!”

“Go? Like last time?” snaps Jack, angrily. “Something is fishy here. No blind man would write a message that said ‘don’t trust a blind man.’ What does the message really say?”

CH17
“It says,” wheezes the old man, “love and death go hand in hand, find her glove and foil her plan!”

Jack gasps. “Her?” He snatches Karen’s purse and dumps it to the floor. A red glove falls out.

“Jack, no, it’s a lie!”

Jack picks up the glove. “Evidence doesn’t lie.”

“Arrest her!” says the old man. “She killed her sisters out of jealousy!”

CH18
“Sisters?” Jack gasps.

“It’s true, the victims were my sisters,” says Karen, “but I didn’t kill them!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jack demands.

“I didn’t want to get taken off the case! It’s important to me to catch the killer, who I know now is this old man!”

“You did kill them,” says the old man. “You killed them to get my inheritance for yourself!”

CH19
Jack gasps. “Inheritance? Then you... you must be Karen’s blind war-hero father?”

“Oh Jack!” Karen grabs Jack’s hand and kisses it. “I didn’t do it, I didn’t! Don’t you... love me?”

“Love and death go hand in hand,” says Jack. He pushes her away and pulls his gun. “Karen Jillian, you’re under arrest!”

“Yes!” says the old man. “Point your gun at her! She deserves it!”

Jack narrows his eyes. “How can you see what I’m doing?”

CH20
Jack spins around and throws the red glove at the old man, and he knocks it aside with his cane.

“You can see!” says Jack. “You could see this whole time!”

“drat you!” The old man drops his cane and stands up straight. “It’s true, I can see! I can see just fine and that’s how I killed my daughter!”

“But, but why?” cries Karen.

CH21
“Because you never visit me! You left me to rot in that retirement home, and you actually thought I was already dead!” The old man shakes his fist. “You, Karen, were the worst! The only one of my daughters to join the service, and you were the least understanding! That’s why I chose to frame you for your sister’s death!”

Jack points his gun at the old man. “Old man, you’re under arrest!”

CH22
The old man cackles. “You’ll never put me in a cell! I’ll spend the rest of my life tormenting you, Karen!” He turns and sprints into the dark.

Before Jack can chase after him, two shots are fired and the old man collapses in the aisle.

CH23
Karen holds a smoking gun, and tears run down her cheeks. “He was my father, but I couldn’t let him hurt anyone else.”

Jack puts his arm around her. “It’s over now, Karen. It’s over.” They embrace and kiss.

“I just have one question,” says Jack, as they gaze at each other. “Why did he say he killed his ‘daughter,’ when there were two murders?”

CH24
Karen caresses Jack’s cheek and kisses him. “He misspoke is all, he was a very old man, and crazy too.”

“He was crazy...” says Jack. Karen is very soft in his arms.

Karen kisses him. “Oh Jack, I’m so glad it’s over! And with my inheritance, I can make everything right for those who were hurt.”

Jack’s eyes widen. “You really do have an inheritance?”

CH25

“Yes,” says Karen, looking down. “That much was true. It’s a lot of money, and... Jack?”

“What is it Karen?”

Karen kneels in front of Jack and takes something from the pile that was dumped out of her purse. She holds up a silver ring. “I want to share it all with you, Jack. Will you marry me?”

CH26
Jack and Karen run out of the church as onlookers throw rice and flowers. They get into Jack’s Mustang and drive away as the crowd of smiling people chase after. The car’s back window is painted with ‘just married,’ and strings of cans clatter behind, tied to the bumper.

In the car, the couple hold hands over the gear shifter. Their rings glint in the sunlight.

The radio hisses. “Jack, are you there? There’s been a murder!”

Jack and Karen share a glance, and Jack steps on the gas. “On our way!”

Epilogue:
The old man sits up in the dark, empty library, and tears off his bulletproof vest. “I’ll get you Karen, I’ll get you one day!”

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Mercedes posted:

Perfection.

tyvm


Thranguy posted:


Hm: derp's a thriller/Red Handed


tyvm!

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

okay sounds fun

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Tyft crits

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Three Unrelated Stories of Under 500 Words





Eat

Personal feeders were first engineered in 2045 due to worldwide food shortages. Every family was allotted one. The feeders were about the size of a person's head, and composed of fatty flesh. They had a toothy mouth at the top, and would eat anything-- plastic, rocks, poo poo, metals--anything we gave them, and produced a thick, milky liquid that we drank from a long nipple at its base. A few mouthfuls of the Milk was enough to sustain a person for a day.

With the basics of survival provided virtually free, we finally felt independent, and the world cheered. It was a few years before anyone noticed the things were growing.

In the early days, if we kept putting more into the feeder, it would produce more Milk. At some point that changed and no matter how much we fed it, each person only got the bare minimum needed for survival.

The feeders doubled in size, then tripled, and then started requiring three, four, five times as much intake to produce the same amount of Milk. Eventually they got too heavy for us to move, and we had to crawl on the ground to suck at the hanging nipple.

We tried creating more feeders, but the things could sense each other, and instantly started producing half as much Milk if another feeder was nearby. They grew to the size of houses, and ate the houses that contained them. They grew to the size of skyscrapers, and ate and ate. Our entire existence was reduced to climbing up the feeder’s fleshy sides to dump anything we could find into its mouth, then waiting in long lines to suck at its nipple. There was no time in our days for anything else.

Last month someone fell into the mouth while feeding it. Now, the feeders won’t produce enough Milk unless we throw someone in every day.

Most people say our lives aren’t so bad. They say the work isn’t terrible, no worse than it was before. We don’t really need houses, or clothing, or possessions, they say. We have food, that’s what matters. There are some who say we should stop drinking the Milk, and force the feeders to depend on us. Others say that’s impossible because we’d all have to stop at once.

But I say we do more than just quit the Milk. Today, I will do more.

There are thousands of these things the size of mountains, and millions more that are smaller. All of them are growing exponentially, and all of them are made of meat. I say we eat them. I say we plunge knives into those overfed beasts and carve out the food that’s ours. I say we take more than just the drips of Milk they give us, because we’re the ones keeping them alive, and not the reverse. I say we cut and eat until we’re all full, stuffed, satisfied and strong. Until we’re all human again. I have my knife, and my appetite. Do you have yours?




The Rich

Jeff Gordon wasn’t like those other CEOs up in their high rise offices losing touch with the real world. Jeff liked to interact with his customers every day.

Today the lucky customer was Angela Tweed. Jeff told his driver to keep the engine running, and went up the creaky porch steps to knock on Angela’s door. He rubbed his hands together in the cold and grinned.

The door opened and a dumpy little woman with frazzled hair and a stained t-shirt looked up at him. “Hello?” A baby shrieked behind her.

“Good day Ms Tweed, I’m Jeff Gordon, and I own Megabank Central. Might I come in?” He gave a small bow.

“Megabank? Uh, yeah, sure.” She waved him into her sad little kitchen.

They sat at a plastic folding table. The baby continued to cry. Jeff sniffed at the frigid air, and his eyes twinkled at a certain jar on the counter-top next to the toaster. “Ms Tweed,” he said with a beaming smile. “Are you aware that your account is overdrawn by ninety-two dollars and eighteen cents?”

Her face dropped. “Hey, it was fifty-eight last week.”

“Fees, ma’am, fees! They accrue on the first of each month.” Jeff’s heart pounded as he thought of all the various, unique fees.

“Look mister, I can’t pay right now,” she said. “Definitely not now that you added more. I only went three dollars over anyway! Three dollars, and now you want ninety?”

Jeff took in huge, hissing gulps of air through his nose and panted out his mouth. Blood rushed to his pelvis. “Yes, three dollars, and now it’s ninety-two and eighteen cents! Isn’t that something!”

“It’s bullshit is what it is,” said Angela. “I can’t pay that, I gotta get Jenny her food and diapers.”

“But you can pay! That’s why I’m here, to help you pay!”

“Help?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Yes! First off, let’s see what’s in this jar.” Before she could protest, he opened the little ceramic jar and dipped in his shaking fingers. “Ahh, yes.” He counted through a crumpled wad of ones while licking his lips and breathing ever faster. “There’s fifty three dollars here! We’re halfway there!”

She stood angrily and started to speak, but Jeff took her hand as a dancer might, and slipped a ring from her finger in one smooth motion. “This, I could pawn for forty. That makes ninety three! So we just need twenty more for the convenience fee!”

He pranced into her living room, lifted the little TV from its stand, and yanked the cord from the wall. The baby howled in terror. “This should cover it!”

“Hey mister, what the hell!”

Jeff’s heart rammed at his ribs and saliva flowed freely as he walked, stiff-legged, back to his sedan and heaved the TV in.

“Drive on!” He panted and shook. He couldn’t wait anymore. He ripped down his pants and grabbed himself, and leaned back with a deep groan and spurted across the back of the passenger seat.



For Thanksgiving

The Richards family sits at their table, mother, father, son and daughter. Their faces beam with anticipation for the meal. The table is decorated with candelabras and crystal glasses, and their cutlery is of shining silver.

“Let’s go around and say what we’re thankful for,” says the father, taking a sip of wine.

The mother says, “I’m thankful that the world is full of so many good, hardworking people!”

The son says, “I’m thankful that we won the basketball game yesterday!”

The daughter says, “I’m thankful I don’t have hair like Jenny’s!”

The father nods and smiles approvingly, then contemplated a moment before saying, “I’m thankful we live in a world where work hard brings success.”

The family murmurs and nods at their father’s deep, philosophical thankfulness. “Good one, dad,” says the son.

Just then a bell tinkles, and servants stream in to lay plate after plate silently and austerely on the table. Corn, beans, hams, cakes, pies, salads, casseroles, cranberry sauce, buns, breads, biscuits, teas, coffees, juices, egg dishes, fish dishes, venison, cheeses, crackers, muffins, butter, jam, more teas, more coffees, more rolls, more hams. The plates line up until they cover the entire table, of which the family takes up one small part at the end.

Finally, the last four servants come in. Each carries a whole, twenty-five pound turkey, browned and glazed and smelling like heaven. They place one before each of the family members.

“Let’s eat!” says the father. And they all take a few small bites.

The daughter lets out a long sigh. “Why is his turkey bigger than mine?” She points at her brother’s plate. “It was last year, too!”

“Well, he must have worked harder,” says the father wisely.

The daughter folds her arms and purses her lips and doesn’t eat any more. The son taps on his phone and isn’t paying much attention. The mother eats a few dainty bites, then comments about watching her figure. The father mentions that he wants to drink a scotch and watch the game. They all stand up and drop their napkins on their chairs.

“Now it’s time for our favorite part,” says the father. Everyone smiles and even the daughter perks up a bit. The father continues, “remember, this isn’t just for fun. We must encourage our servants to work hard and not to expect handouts!”

“Yeah!” says the son, “They’re so entitled sometimes.”

The father laughs and smiles at his clever son. They all grin, then the father says, “I’ll start,” and unzips his pants and pisses a long, yellow stream across his turkey. The son, too, drenches his turkey and sends a spray across the table over all the untouched plates. The mother stands on her chair and drops her drawers and pushes out a long turd that plops on top of her turkey. The daughter does the same. The family smears and throws and splashes and laughs as all the food is prevented from being wasted.

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Ty for the crit!

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

Thx. I often forget that generally people want to enjoy the things they read. I had a vague hope that I'd get my first win before my first loss, but alas, thems the breaks

derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

ty for the crits!

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derp
Jan 21, 2010


Lipstick Apathy

i guess i better redeemIN myself. i'll take a prompt, too

i meant flash, whatever. a thing

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