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Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Crit for M's Balam Noson and his Donkey.

I found this confusing. Namely, you have a professional insulter who frequently gets mad at his donkey. And what happens when this professional insulter gets mad at the donkey?

He hits the donkey with a stick.

Look, if you're gonna make a professional insulter, I'd at least like to see some zingers here. At the very end, you only make mention of one insult like "your mother smells bad," which, if I paid for, I'd ask for a refund.

I'm also not entirely sure what the story's thrust is about, and you continue to gloss over things. If something is uneventful, you don't need to hang a lantern on it being uneventful. Just say he got there. Calling anything in your story uneventful kinda shines lights you don't want shining on you.

I just don't get it, you bothered to come up with this somewhat interesting and fun idea for a character and ultimately did nothing with it. The dude could have been anything, and the story hardly changes. Sure, he somehow ends up being positive in the end, but I'm also unclear how or why that happened.

I'll be honest. This feels immensely rushed. It's flying well below the word count, and the ideas and characters are soft and doughy, half-baked at best.

Try harder. Get a draft written earlier and sit on it for a bit and read it with fresh eyes.


Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
:toxx: to sign up next week

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Oh hell yeah,


Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Week 555 Entry

Summer's End
1,500 Words

My tie-dye-stained fingers fumble for the key to my mom’s old van in my pocket; I push coins and tickets out of the way as I grab the key and throw it into the steering column. The sun isn’t ready to call it quits for the day, but I’m heading east, so it lights the way home for me just as it lit the way to camp this morning and the hundreds of summer mornings before it.

There’s a short stack of triangular pizza slice boxes riding shotgun, and the smell of mozzarella and mushrooms is so pungent I can taste it. They’ve gone cold since lunch when I left them there, but the temptation to drive and eat is far too great. I open a box and happily chomp down with the faint smell of wet summer grass creeping through the windows as a garnish.

I turn on some metal and head out, only noticing a flicker of purple in my rearview, something on the soccer field thousands of feet away. I turn onto Jones Rd and sigh as I leave the happiest place on earth for the night.


I pull into my driveway. The dark of the night is flirting with the sky. The smell of barbecue wafts over the house, and my adolescent appetite is unbothered by the two greasy slices of pizza it just consumed. I glide into the house and kick off my shoes in the mudroom.

“Hi Danny,” my mom greets me from the kitchen. She’s mixing up a salad for everyone to ignore as she smiles at me. It’s the kind of smile I only get during the summer, warm and unbothered.

“Hey, Ma,” I smile back. “Where’s dad?” I ask, noticing the unmanned grill through the window above the sink.

“Oh, he had to take a call. Would you mind checking on the burgers and the chicken?”

“No problem,” I say as I peck her cheek.

The din of cicadas and treefrogs from our backyard treeline welcomes me to the deck. I grab a bottle of coke from the cooler next to it and crack it open on the grill tray. A belch of smoke and heat hits my face. Through it, however, I see another flicker of purple off in the treeline


The sun toasts my unprotected skin at the pool as Jasper, my favorite camper, pokes my bare foot with a pool noodle.

“C’moooooooon Daaaaaaaaannyyyyyyyy, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease.”

I feign a nap on the poolside chair.

Miles, my other favorite camper, paddles over to Jasper.

“What’s taking so long?” He splashes Jasper in the face.

“I don’t know,” whines Jasper.

Jackie walks up behind me and yanks my Cubs hat off my head, and jumps into the pool with it.

“You just gotta know how to get him started!” She yells. She smiles up big at me and swims away, with the bill of my hat between her teeth, easily my favorite camper.

I bolt upright, launching my chair backward as I do, and shout ‘ANGRY DANNY ACTIVATE” and plunge into the pool to wreak havoc on the citizens of Dannyville.

I’ve got Sonja perched on my right shoulder, and she’s about ready to get my signature move, ‘The Highrise.’

“Danny Thompson! So help me if you highrise me right now I’m going to call the fire department!” She shouts in confused glee.

I toss her back and pound my chest. I’m distracted by my gloating fanfare and don’t realize that the rest of my campers have been waiting for this moment. They bombard me and finally, after the whole summer, manage to take me down and dunk their counselor.

The whistle from the lifeguard tower pierces through the laughter and I look up to wave off Zach, the lifeguard, only to find a man in a black suit, with a black tie, sitting atop the chair. His eyes are purple, and they’re glowing bright enough to overcome the backlighting of the sun. I blink, and Purple Eyes is gone. Zach gives me the finger and shouts, “Get your tweens and your stupid pasty rear end outta my pool, Danny.”


I drop the kids off at art and accidentally swallow some sprite down the wrong pipe when Ash, the art teacher, says hi to me. She’s in college and is majoring in graphic design, and as far as I’m concerned, she’s absolutely perfect and is some league light years away from me.

I compose myself and begin walking out of the class when Courtney runs up to me.

“Danny, don’t forget I’ve got 5 tickets, so get me a soda on your break!” She runs up to me, as her braces catch the reflection of the light and temporarily blind me.

“Aye, captain,” I say to her as I stuff her tickets in my pocket. “Only two days left until camp is over. Anybody else?” I call out to the rest of the bunk.

They all shrug; most blew their tickets yesterday on extra bottles of tie-dye I brought in.

Tickets are a little running game I play with them all over the summer to help ensure I earn as little money as possible in a job that already pays peanuts. My campers earn tickets for cracking good jokes, running back to where we just came from to get my water bottle, or doing something wickedly impressive in dodgeball, whatever. It’s just my bunks thing, and the other counselors hate me for it.

I ain’t gonna apologize for being awesome, though.

I burst open the school building's door and begin my quest to the 7-11. It’s just through the woods beyond the soccer field. The woods are thick, and by the time I get there, the sun is in exactly the wrong place, covered by just enough clouds that the woods are eerily dark, but at least it’s cool.

I hear a crack behind me. I already know who it is before I turn around, and though his presence is discomforting, this doesn’t feel like it belongs in a horror movie.

“How many tickets do you have in your pocket, Danny?” Purple Eyes asks me.

“Not enough for whatever you’re selling, I’m guessing.”

He smiles, and only after he does do I catch where I know his face from. He’s the director of the camp, but only kinda. He’s older and more haggard. The suit and tie conceal his identity a bit, but it’s definitely him, Randall.

“What’s going on, Randall?" I ask. “You spooking around my house now acting all creepy?”

“Ah, so you see Randall when you look at me, do you?”

I shrug, “What do you mean? Isn’t that who you are?”

“Afraid not,” it replies. “I’m whoever will crush you. So I suppose it’ll be Randall who will be doing that soon.”

“Crush me?”

He's upon me faster than I can realize, and his ethereal hand slips into my chest. It isn't painful, but it's certainly weird.

"What are you--"

He looks up at me, and his expression tells me this isn't the time for questions. I try to move away, but he shakes his head.

After a few more seconds, he withdraws his hand. It's closed around something glowing orange. Something that's mine.

"What is that?!" I ask.

"You don't really have a name for it, but consider it something like your inner child."

"And what, you're just taking it from me? Why the hell did you do that?"

"Not taking, Dan, protecting. Maybe you'll get it back. Suffice it to say it'll be some time until you do."

I believe him, I have to. He did just perform ghost surgery on me, after all. I can't imagine he'd bother lying to me.

"When will I get it back?" I plead.

"If you get it back, it'll be because you're ready. Ready to tend to it properly. Ready to listen."

"I'm ready now. I don't get why you're doing this."

"It's not your fault, Dan. This world does horrible things to people. You'll be doing what you need to to survive."

I look up to ask another question, but he's gone. Flashes of the scenes where I noticed his presence appear before my eyes….

Man, is it getting late or something? I check my watch and realize I must have gotten distracted. I hoof it to 7-11 to get Courtney's soda.


I breathe in, and breathe out, trying my best to help. My partner grimaces at me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Your breath is horrible, go away!” She says.

I chuckle, remembering the warnings about what a partner might hear in the delivery room and not to take it personally.

Minutes later, I become a father. They get my daughter all cleaned up and hand me her for the first time.

We go to the window together. The sun will be up in a few minutes, and we’ll catch it together. As I kiss her forehead and look back up the window, a glint of orange catches my eye in the parking lot.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
:toxx: to be in next week

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Hell of a week for me to toxx in. Currently sitting with my one year old at the hospital.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
All good now, thanks!

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
I have no idea what happened, I thought I submitted but I didn't. My bad, but here's my entry.

Someone I Respect
800 Words

Rebecca Aranetti
6th Grade, Ms. Helmand

Someone I Respect

My friend Helena Wiggler wasn’t my first choice for best friend she was probably my last. I was new here this year, and so was she. Mom and Dad are in the army, so they move around a lot, and I go with them. I like making friends who have been where I’m starting for a while. But Helena was just as new as me.

She kinda clung to me right away, you know? It creeped me out. I told her that I wouldn’t be here for long, maybe a year, but then that’d be it. She cried when I told her, and we had only just met!

I didn’t feel ready to be her friend. She was loud, she burped when she was nervous, and she even had a hard time remembering her left from her right. Helena wasn’t easy to be friends with. But, while I was trying to be friends with everybody else, she kept on staying busy trying to be friends with me.

She got in the way. She popped up when I was trying to meet new people and acted like she’d known everyone since kindergarten. She popped up when I was placed in gifted classes and threw a tearful fit until they agreed to let her be with me. She popped up at the dance and dragged me onto the dance floor even though nobody else was on it because the dance only just started.

Then one day, when she popped up at the cafeteria, I asked her “What’s with you? Why do you want me to like you so much?”

She frowned, looked down at her lunch on her tray, and mumbled: “...because I like you.”

I didn’t understand. I asked her why all she could say was, “I just do.”

I thought about all the mean ways I acted when she popped up, how I kept giving her so many reasons to walk away, and she just didn’t. And the whole time I was pushing her away, I was trying to do things that I didn’t like with people who didn’t like me.

So we became friends. Not like best friends right away, but little by little. She’d come over after school to do homework every now and then, ask the teachers to sit next to me in the classes we were in together, and we’d even lend each other books when we forgot or lost them.

One day, when she left, my dad asked me “Why are you friends with her? Can’t you do better?” I was a little surprised, so I asked him what he meant, and he said “You’ve got perfect grades and you’re so smart and talented. You’re wasting your time with her and she doesn’t offer you anything.

He told me it was “essential to make friends with people who challenged me.”

I stayed up that night thinking about it and when I really did, I kinda realized he was right. What did Helena Wiggler have to offer me?

And then I did something that I still hate myself for doing. I asked her that, to her face, the next day at school.

But I don’t hate myself because it was wrong or even mean, which I think it probably was. I hate myself for asking it because I was so stupid.

Because Helena just looked at me, smiled, and said, “Not much, I’m the lucky one here.”

I felt my head fill up with fog and asked her what she meant, and she told me how she singled me out right away, saw that I was smart, and knew that if she stuck with me, the new kid that nobody wanted to be around that I could help her. She said being new and smart made me a ‘safe bet’ for a friend.

My stomach twisted in knots, and I ran to the bathroom because I worried I’d start crying in front of everyone. Just like in the movies, she followed me.

She found me in the stall.

“You know,” she said, “you’re still my best friend.”

“But you were using me!”

“What were you doing with me? Nobody else would talk to you, so you settled on crazy Helena Wiggler.”

I sniffed up the snot dripping down my nose and looked up at her. She had a smile on her face that felt like home to me.

“That’s how it all started for us,” she reached down and pulled me off the floor. “But now we get to decide how it finishes. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Helena Wiggler is smart, clever, kind, and loyal. And if my dad can’t see it, he can eat farts.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Entry for Week 569

1215 Words

The familiar tepid coffee coated Nick's lips as it had hundreds of mornings before. The familiar scent memory of burning fiber and char teased him. He placed his coffee on the coaster he knew was three inches to the right of his hand, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and tapped the accept call button the moment it appeared under his thumb.

"I know," he said into the phone. "I'll be right there."

Nick's mouth dried out. He gulped as he grabbed some smelling salts and a hammer from his emergency bag, swept out of his penthouse apartment, and hustled to the stairs. He descended one flight of stairs, burst out of the doorway, and caught the elevator just in time as it arrived on the 28th floor.

"Morning, Nick!" His neighbor Henry barked. On his way through the threshold, Henry dropped his coffee, which fell straight into Nick's hand below it. Nick snagged it, placed it back into Henry's hands, pushed the first-floor button, and nodded at the befuddled Henry as the doors closed.


Nick peeled out of the garage from his building in Checker, his signature car, adorned with black and white squares and a green checkmark atop the roof.

"Greetings, Checkpoint." His onboard voice assistant chimed in. "No disguise today?" It asked.

"Not today," he choked. "I won't be needing it."

"This is most unusual, Sir."

"Yeah, I know." Nick grimaced.

"Very well, and where are we going today?"

"The Smith building, it's a clean shot today, no need for your attention. Sleep mode."

"Understood, Sir, may the past be your guide!"

Nick turned his radio to 93.7 just in time for the solo in Iron Maiden's Aces High. It had pushed him forward before, but the music wasn't working today. He switched it back off, slammed his foot on the gas, and tore off down the road.


Nick pulled up to The Smith skyscraper to a crowded scene of firefighters and police officers. There were several ways to bypass these people, each with various consequences regarding time and harm to others. Time was the only concern today.

Nick marched forward until a firefighter placed his hand on his shoulder. He grabbed the firefighter's hand, twisted it, and punched the firefighter square in the jaw. The timing was perfect. Nobody saw a thing as the firefighter crumpled to the ground, and Nick was already off to a side entrance he knew to be open.

The familiar char smell dared Nick forward as he dashed to the stairs.

"I loving hate this part," Nick said to nobody. He climbed nine flights, exited the corridor, and towards the end of the other hall, where he climbed the rest of the way, twenty-one more flights up.


Nick threw open the door to Red Shoulder Financial to the familiar scene of an office abandoned in panic.

He hopped over fallen desk chairs and skated over papers strewn about the floor until he arrived at an office with the nameplate. "Millie Sanderson" on it. He hammered the locked doorknob of the door and rushed to the corner where Millie lay unconscious.

The smelling salts worked instantly, and Millie came to.

"Nick!" She shouted as she threw her arms around him. "What are you doing here?"

He placed his hands under her arms and hoisted her up.

"Trust me; it's easier this way."

She listened as he carried her to her desk chair and placed her onto it.

"Trust you?" Mille asked. "Does that mean…"

"Yeah, this isn't the first time," Nick said, as his eyes focused on a triangle in the carpet's pattern.

"How many times, Nick?"

"Lost count." He replied.

"OK, well, you're here now, so what's the plan? The building is on fire, right?"


"So what do we do?"

Nick looked up at her and held back a tear as he shrugged.

"You've tried…"

"Everything, Millie." He looked back down at the floor. "I've tried everything."

"Let's just go!" She stood up and quickly fell back down.

"Yeah," Nick said, looking up at her. "Right down the stairs. If we hurry, we can probably make it, right?"

"But then, what if we…"

"Go up to the roof. Maybe a helicopter will find us."

"I see. We've tried everything, then?"

"My loving coworkers, they just…."

"Left you? No, they didn't. You locked your door and must have knocked yourself out on this filing cabinet with some blood on the corner drawer. They didn't know you were in here."

Clarity washed over Millie's face, the same dreadful expression Nick had to watch hundreds of times before.

"What am I going to do?"

"I don't know, Millie. But I know what I have to do. I've tried to do it hundreds of times, and it keeps not working."


"I have to let you go."

"But you can't. There has to be…"

Nick shook his head.

"I love you, Millie. I always will. If there were a way, if there were any way, you know I'd have found it. But, Millie?"

Tears streamed down Millie's face as she looked at Nick's.

"I just can't watch you die anymore. And Millie, I'll look after her."

Millie nodded as she chewed on her bottom lip. "How long do we have?"

Nick's watch chimed for the top of the hour. Several floors below them, an explosion belched fire and gas and rended through the framework of the building.

"Kiss me." She said.

But he was already on her, knowing she'd ask for it. And, for the first time, their lips met for a moment.


The familiar tepid coffee coated Nick's lips as it had hundreds of mornings before. He sipped it calmly and ignored his cell phone as it vibrated in his pocket. When he finished his coffee, he went to the fridge, gathered his things, and casually walked out of his apartment.

He found his civilian car, an assuming silver sedan, parked in his usual spot. He got in just in time for the solo of Ace's High but opted for easy listening on 98.6 instead.

He drove for fifteen minutes until he arrived at an assuming detached house at the end of a cul-de-sac. As he parked, a familiar bark filled the air.

"Easy, Vanillie!" He called out, only to invite intense scratching at the door.

Nick grabbed Millie's spare key off his ring and opened the door. Vanillie pounced on him immediately.


Vanillie rode shotgun as Nick finally pulled up to a nearby beach. He looked over at Vanillie's clueless happy pit mix face and scratched the top of her head. He hooked his leash onto her collar and walked with her to a bench with a view overlooking the coast.

Nick and Vanille sat together and stared off into the horizon. A new calm. A new checkpoint.

His watch chimed at the top of the hour, and though it was too far away to hear, inside his mind, he knew.

"It's OK, girl," Nick said as he scratched Vanillie's back. "I've got you."

But he hadn't. He had forgotten to hold onto her leash, and when she realized it, she took off.

Nick jumped in surprise.


Nick and Vanillie sat together and stared off into the horizon.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
GroWing Up

My wings, I want them, please give them to me
Cried the fledgling fairy, Naeroji

Not yet, my babe, but someday soon
And her father hid them, behind the moon

And now, father, perhaps you’ll find
I’ve grown so, I’m wise and I’m kind

Still no, my child, with wings you might fall
And if something should happen, I couldn’t stand it at all

Father, it’s time, you must know it’s true
If you can’t give them to me, I’ll take them from you

I won’t make you steal, but I cannot give in
Snatch them from me, try and win.

Chili fucked around with this message at 12:48 on Sep 23, 2023

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Fuuuuck, I was trying to quote my submission and I accidentally edited it. FUUUUCK

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Ok knuckle buckers.

I have been sad for a while. And it's mainly because nothing worked out like I thought it would.

One of you will handle my problem head on and the other will distract me.

Claim what you want, and whoever doesn't get here first gets the other.

1. Write a story where nothing works out for your protag. Maybe they learn from that, maybe they don't. Maybe they cope, maybe they hurt people. I don't care, but nothing works out.

2. Write a story where everything works out for your protag. Maybe they earned it, maybe they luck their way in. Maybe it's a result of privilege, maybe not. I don't care, but it all works out.

You each have until like two Fridays from now to submit a story of up to 2000 words.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
poo poo work out/poo poo not work out brawl results (how the cookies crumbles)

Let’s start with things going right. Maybe it’ll give me some steam for when things go wrong:

Rodent’s thing. Ok, so this is Total Recall, right? He certainly did take the pill, or else this is just insane nat 20s. If it’s the former, OK, I mean, I was waiting for the ending that came, and once the win-streak begins, it’s kinda rote adolescent fantasy. If it’s the latter, I guess it’s some kinda parody or taking down of the concept that it’s impossible for everything to go right. I guess Both approaches are fine, but they lack courage in trying to tell a convincing story where things just end up okay and good, but it’s believable, and the story is still worth reading. As it is, nothing here really impressed me.

T-rex’s thing. Not gonna waste time; this one wins. The imagery is strong, I saw all of this playing out in my head as I read it, and it could have quickly devolved into monkey cheese if a lesser attempt, like what I would cobble together, were made. It doesn’t work out, but everything in the middle has an actual message that gets delivered without it being all cringe and horrible. The monologue could have been preachy but wasn’t, thanks to the interplay of absurdity and sincerity, and it shines. This piece helped me. Thank you.

T-rex wins; it's a really lovely story.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
In with The Angel Tree

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Some Bounty Crits

Week 583: Shore Thing

Idle Amalgam’s Family Vacation

I don’t understand what you want this story to be. It starts off with the somewhat hackneyed ‘distant dad’ trope. And he only really gets jostled by something seemingly eldritch or something I don’t know. Then like… he sees the thing, and puts it back, and nothing happens? You had plenty of words left to use and in a story this short, I’m curious what was left out. All I’m really getting here is that a distracted dad gets snapped into the moment, but then just yeets the moment away and probably doesn’t learn anything? Is that it? I guess that’s fine, but I certainly want more. The prose is efficient and clear though, I’ll give you that.

Bad Seafood’s Buried Treasure

Aw, OK, well I’m a sucker for kid’s imagination-based stories. I liked this well enough. It’s a punch little thing that doesn’t overstay its welcome and it works for me because it’s essentially one really small idea dressed up in a neat little package. It doesn’t do much more than put a small smile on my face, but that’s enough! If anything, a teensy bit more color of your characters would have been appreciated, they’re all kinda one-in-the same and I’d like a bit of contrast. But otherwise, I enjoyed it.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
And one more, from the same Shore Week

Beep-beep car is go’s Starfall

I’m not really sure what this is or what it’s trying to do. The eponymous starfall seems to suggest that a foreign entity is the thing that washes up on the shore, but that’s not quite addressed or handled. What we ultimately get is an outrun-a-tsunami story. But it’s not quite a normal tsunami, is it? But we never really get much more than that, or any sort of suggestion as to what it is or why we should care. I like that the story is set on the backdrop of an early/first date, that does give it some bounce, but I don’t see how the events in the background tie in with the date itself in any meaningful way.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Lord A Leapin'
1250 Words (3 Crit Bounties)
Flash: The Angel Tree

Deadlines are dumb. The familiar aphorism tumbled in Harvey's mind as he trudged through the freshly fallen knee-deep snow surrounding Howler's rec center. He blew a plume of mist out of his mouth as he fumbled for the keys in his flannel's left pocket. The glow of the floodlight hanging from the gutter overhead helped Harvey select the red-capped key. He jiggled it into the rusty lock.

Without the children, scout leaders, and dogs traipsing around the rec center, the entrance felt silently fragile, as it had the past nine nights when Harvey arrived. He instinctively reached for the light switch but remembered earlier when Holly, with the pigtails, was holding court over the gingerbread house just a few hours ago.

"I swear, I was riding my bike right past here last night, and the lights were on! There's no angel! An angel wouldn't need the lights!"

Harvey didn't stop to consider the various twists of logic at play; he just kept the lights off. A timer from his phone rang out from his pocket. Harvey called out, "Stop," and groaned as he remembered setting it an hour OK. It was supposed to signal the end of his break and his triumphant return to the keyboard. He set another one for another hour off into the prospective future and groaned again as he predicted he'd dismiss it with equal abandon.

Who cares? Harvey chuckled and pushed onto the gymnasium. He nearly slipped on a toy firetruck in the hall, but nothing else threatened his journey through the dark. When he arrived at the gym, he withdrew his phone, turned on the flashlight, and used it to help him find his green-capped key. The gym door opened, and his wet boots squeaked along the hardwood as he walked to the halfcourt.

The Angel Tree, Howler's signature winter attraction, stood proudly in the center of the gym. It was a 15-foot, white, artificial tree that Harvey had to haul out of storage every year and assemble. It was a tree of legend in Howler, and though the adults had their suspicions, the children broadly didn't seek to suss out who the alleged Angel was.

The tree was adorned with broken ornaments, tattered tinsel, and crisp red envelopes. Harvey counted the red envelopes and saw that there were eight.

It was the tenth night of Christmas, so there should've been ten. He had hidden the envelopes the night before, so a couple remained hidden.

He plucked all of the envelopes off the tree and then went to take his nightly bowel movement while reading the hopes and dreams of the lucky children who found the envelopes he had hidden. Sitting on the toilet, he opened them, one at a time, and carefully considered each. As was tradition, only one would be selected, which was always down to the wish, not the child.

The wish had to be as big as possibly doable. This meant the first three:

I wish for a sperm whale
I wish my dad were alive again
i wish fr disnuy world

Harvey quickly crumpled up and stuffed into his pocket.

Next, Teddy Newhouse asked for a happy meal, undoubtedly doable but not all that fantastic. Plus, there was the issue of covertly delivering a satisfyingly warm meal. The request for "I wish 50 dollars please" oddly toed the line of Harvey's budget, which was just about as much as he was willing to spend per night on delivering on these wishes. He balanced that one on the metallic 'maybe' grip bar on his left.

He checked the next envelope; it was unsealed. He pulled out the paper and read:

Hello Harvey

*knock knock knock*

Harvey threw the envelopes up in the air and sprung off the toilet at once. Someone had knocked on the entrance to the bathroom door. Harvey instinctively reached in his pockets for anything to defend himself, but his fingers only found lint.

"Ok," Harvey looked up. "What next?"

The bathroom door clicked open, the lights went black, and the door shut.

"Who the gently caress is that?!" Harvey called out in panic.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Harvey realized he hadn't locked the door behind him. One of the Howler kids must have gotten in.

Harvey finished his business, turned the lights on, washed his hands, and left the bathroom. When he opened the door, a cacophony of sirens and blinking lights greeted him. A stationary parade of blaring toy fire engines was lined up on the floor, leading straight back to the gymnasium.

"gently caress this," Harvey muttered to himself. "Not playing this game."

He went left instead of right, ignoring the fire engine parade, and as he walked past the kitchen, something caught his eye. He turned back and saw a glowing white portal before the refrigerator. He stared at it for a moment, and though his body told him to keep walking, the portal seemed to call to him.

He walked over to the portal and felt a warmth coming off it and a friendly smell of clove and chocolate.

Before he realized what he was doing, his right hand extended into the portal, and he felt himself being pulled forward and compressing. The portal spat him back out into the kitchen, but it wasn't the same kitchen; everything had grown. Harvey looked down and realized that his body had shrunk.

"What the…" he called out with a voice an octave and a half higher than his own.

Clarity set in almost immediately as eight-year-old Harvey took over. Right away, only one thing mattered.

A grown-up would be here soon, and he didn't care if it was a grown version of himself; he had to get him. Harvey giggled to himself as he ran off to the playroom. He grabbed an armful of firetrucks and lined them up throughout the rec center. He then went to the Angel Tree, plucked off an envelope, and left a spooky message for his grown counterpart.

He finished his tasks just in time for the front door of the rec center to open. He went and hid in the janitor's closet across from the bathroom and waited. A few minutes later, he heard the bathroom door open and shut. He waited another minute, crept out of the closet, and knocked on the bathroom door, then quickly opened the door, flicked the lights off, and ran back to the angel tree, giggling.

He ran back to the Angel Tree and waited. Moments later, his grown-up self appeared at the entrance.

"You went right this time!" He called out to grown Harvey.

"I did," he replied. "Something told me I needed to. Having fun, kid?"

The lights were off, and Harvey realized his grown self thought he was just some random kid.

"I am! Aren't you?"

"Nah, kid, I've got a deadline to hit and some business to take care of."

"Deadlines are dumb."

Little Harvey's body felt lighter, as though it was fading away. He sprinted at grown Harvey and jumped right into him.

Harvey came to and checked his watch. He was out for about a half hour. Who was that kid? He sounded so familiar. He glanced back up at the Angel Tree, and his watch rang out. If he had any hope of hitting his deadline, he'd have to abandon the task of the Angel Tree tonight and disappoint all those kids.

He shrugged and said out loud, "Deadlines are dumb."

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Unregistered entry based on and

1. a friendly headbutt
2. a vampire bird
3. a good cup of coffee
4. A toast to or offering of food for the departed

1286 Words

“Dad, I think we need to go. I can barely see the sky anymore.”

Russell looked up from his coffee at Addie. Her face was full of the same worry he privately greeted in the mirror this morning. Addie’s blonde hair hung like a short silky curtain around her head, secured by a worn Levi’s ball cap.

“What’s the matter, Baby Girl?” Asked Russell.

Addie looked at her father’s face hidden under a bushy black beard. Bags sat pleadingly below his bloodshot eyes. She only noticed how tired her father had looked recently, but she figured he’d been that way her whole life.

“I hate it when they bite you,” said Addie as she pushed around some fries on her plate.

Russell’s smile poked through his beard as his jaw raised below it.

“Joke’s on those lovely things when they do. Watch this.”

Russell picked up a bottle of Heinz off the greasy tabletop of their diner booth, raised it high above his head, and shot it straight into his coffee.

“Nooooo!” His 12-year-old daughter squealed like she used to when she was in diapers.

“To your health, dear death birds.” Russell raised his cup of coffee to the window and looked up at the pitch-black sky. Addie was right; there wasn’t much of it to see. A blanket of bloodthirsty blackbirds smothered the small town of Howler and probably went much further out.

Addie, meanwhile, only had eyes for her father at that moment and clutched the tabletop with giddy anticipation as her father gulped down his ketchuccino.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!” Addie banged on the table and sent bits of her scrambled eggs up in the air.

“Enjoy sucking on that!” He shouted at the window.

“Sir,” their exasperated waitress approached the table, “I honestly don’t have the strength for this right now. Get out before I call Jeff.”

Addie frowned at the waitress, and worry returned to her face.

“It’s OK, Baby Girl. Can’t blame her. We’re just a couple of loons to her, right?”

“I wish she could see what we see,” Addie said as she looked up at the birds.

“Yeah, I get that. But she can’t, and I don’t want to meet Jeff. I’m gonna hit the head, and then it’s time to scoot.”

Russell checked the bill and left 15 dollars on the table before going to the bathroom. Addie picked up the check, rolled her eyes, pulled an extra 5 out of her back pocket, and snuck it under the pile of bills her father left on the table.


Russell parked his motorcycle down a beaten path that led to Gordon’s Beach. Addie rose out of the sidecar and pulled off her helmet. She looked up at the swirl of birds that followed her and her father.

“I swear it keeps getting bigger.”

“Maybe,” Russell glanced up. “But it’s the same amount of flesh off my back every time.

“Mmhm,” said Addie as she rubbed last month's scars over her coat.

“Well, let’s shake it; we probably only have ten more minutes until they start up with us.”

The father-daughter duo walked on a path beset by dunes until they arrived at the beach proper, made a left, and started walking toward home.

“You know, I haven't had a meatball sub in a long time," Russell mused as they walked down the shoreline.

"You could've ordered one at the diner, why didn't you?"

"Ah poo poo, you're right. Guess it'll have to wait till our next outing," Russell said as he looked out over the dark horizon.

"Do you think we'll ever be able to go to restaurants like normal people?" Addie asked as she kicked a pebble across the sand.

"Think it's best to stick to our little 3 AM monthlies, Baby Girl. We're light on cash and light on passing as normal."

Addie patted the wad of bills in her back pocket. Nice and thick, probably a couple thousand, which meant Dad probably had a couple hundred. Addie had scrounged a newspaper during their last outing. They had enough for an under-the-table apartment.

But, when she looked up at their cave, which they just arrived at, she found that she didn't want to be anywhere else.

"Down, Addie, down!"

Russell tackled his daughter and covered her with his body as the vampire birds descended upon them.


“That was a bad one, Dad,” Addie said as she held her knees to her chest.

“Unnng..” Russell groaned as he tossed in his bedroll. “That was a demon hellride. We made it, though. They didn’t get you, did they?”

“No, Dad. They didn’t get me,” said Addie as she quietly applied pressure to her hips where some of the birds snuck in flesh-rending bites. "Now, please, just rest. You need to rest."

She needed him to rest, too, so she could attend to her wounds without breaking his heart. She got up, silently winced, gritted her teeth, and walked over to her father. She gently bumped her forehead into his.

"Rest up, Daddy."

She watched his silhouette cast by the Coleman lamp between them become more still until, finally, he slept.


"Vats a gud fub," Russell said through a mouth full of meat and bread.

Addie chuckled as she sucked up the last bit of strawberry milkshake in her tin cup. The sauce in her father's beard served as a wretched contrast to his pallid color. He didn't look this bad last month.

The swarm above had, again, swelled in size, and Addie nervously drummed her fingers on the table.

"We gotta go, Dad."

"Oh!" Russell shook his head and snapped out of his sandwich trance. "That's right, let's get out of here."

In a slight panic over his negligence, Russell stood up and hurriedly beckoned Addie along.

Addie quickly examined the check on the table, paid the tab with her back pocket funds, and ran after her dad.


The monthly dark of the moon felt thicker than usual as the birds descended upon Addie and her dad. Russell, as he had for the past eight years, threw Addie to the ground and then himself on top of her.

As the birds poked, pecked, and rended into his back, his face showed Addie a new flavor of worry.

“Dad?” She asked.

“I think this is it, Baby Girl.”

“God dammit, daddy!”

Addie slapped her father in the face. He winced, and she slapped him again. Puzzlement danced across his expression, but he lay there just the same. She slugged him in the jaw and felt her father’s weight fall on her. She pushed him up, threw him to her left, and rolled on top of her father.

The birds didn’t care if it was father or daughter; they feasted just the same on Addie’s fresh back. If she hadn’t been mentally preparing for this moment for weeks, she would’ve screamed. But she didn’t. She squeezed her father’s limp body tightly and winced in silence until the birds finished for the night.

The birds flew off into the dark night and left the gnawed father and daughter on the sand.

Addie lay quietly for a minute, not wanting to check and see if her father survived the ordeal.

“Addie?” He called out.

“Dad!” She jumped on top of him again and hugged him tightly.

“Ufff,” he reacted. “Easy, Big Girl.”

Addie sat up. “Big Girl?”

“Suppose so,” he slowly sat up beside her. “You saved our butts, didn’t you?”

Addie looked down at her sneakers and kicked them together.

“Yeah,” Russell said, and he chuckled. “That’s my Big Girl. Let’s go home.”

Addie nodded. She reached into her back pocket, and her fingers found a newspaper clipping. She decided that when they got to the cave, it would be time for an adult conversation.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Crits for Week #587

derp - the dance:

I find these kind of lilting, lyrical pieces a bit hard to process so take my feedback with some shakes of salt but I had a hard time making heads or tails of this. The imagery is strong in places and the motif of dance plays pretty slickly throughout. Overall though, the piece feels like it’s supposed to be haunting but I’m mostly confused.

QuoProQuid - Flies:

I mean, OK? It’s a singularly minded freakout piece about flies showing up for some reason. It doesn’t really work because this piece needs some room to breathe and allow us to accept that something like this could be accepted in the larger world is it the question of “how is this legal”, or “why doesn’t this personc all the landlord” or somesuch feel more valid than it should be. I need more than I’m seeing here to get brought in and suspend my disbelief.

TheMackening - Love and Regret:

The opening paragaprah of your story is so boring it hurts. Like the descriptions themselves are fine but just look at how your first four sentences of a 1400 word story begin “The room” “The Cement” “The Ciner Block” “The Room”. Get this done with one longer sentence or something but also consider something else first to get your readers to care about where we are. Like honestly, if you just reworked the second graph a little, you could start with that and then get to the descriptors.

You’re also just wildly loaded up with passivity where you really don’t want it. In a scene that’s supposed to convey something big you’ve got: “A beginning pool of blood was gathering on the floor around the man’s neck. The death rattle had started, and blood gurgled slowly out of his mouth.” For a quick rewrite: 'A pool of blood gathered around the man’s neck as he uttered a death rattle and blood gurgled out of his mouth.' Much more efficient and it makes us feel closer to the action.

OK, that’s enough scrutiny, gonna read the rest now.

One last bit of scrutiny because I can’t help myself “Made his way” is one of the worst cliches out there. I got called out for it years ago and it always stuck with me. You have an opportunity to paint a picture for how a character moves, take it, don’t sweep over it.

The language of the piece isn’t really consistent. You write pretty plainly/casually in places and then flex things like “on the morrow” in others.

As for the story at large? I guess it’s fine. I kinda wanted a more impactful ‘gotcha’ moment I guess. And I’m not really sure why we needed the whole first scene reall.

Thranguy - The Child:

The staccato, cold nature of the telling of this story is clearly deliberate but makes it challenging for me to engage. I’m also uncertain of how much we really need here before the actual mission gets underway. It feels very retrospectivey and baggy. The mission is then kinda glossed over, especially “the rest of…” and I don’t know. I’m not sure what you were after this one.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Hey y'all gonna make this short and sweet!

Holiday card exchange time!

Want a piece of snail mail containing some good cheer? Sure you do! You're a fantastic cherry blossom and you deserve it! Hooray!

If you want in, I'll need your address (I've done this a bunch of times but if you don't feel comfortable sharing your address, that's cool just don't participate).

I'll be collecting signups until the start of December and I'll close things down around then. Sign-ups will receive two people to send cards to and will also be sent two cards from the pool of merry folks who want to spread cheer!

The best way to get on the list is to find me in Discord, or you can PM me. If you're new to the scene here (less than six months in the community) we'll catch you for the next one.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Team Ol' Chin Hair (2 of 2)

Waiting on Wizards
645 Words

“Those who can’t, destroy.” Nial scoffed.

Halin looked about the room, then at his cohort. “Do you have any better ideas? Because I sure don’t.”

Nial rolled his eyes but withdrew his wand all the same. A smile stretched across Rian’s face as he fumbled for his wand.

Halin went to the corner and began muttering spells under his breath. His advanced spellcasting required no gesticulations of wood.

Within moments, pieces of the room from the snowglobes hung up on the ceiling, to the stained glass adornments along walls exploded shooting shards of crystal hither and yon.

The three wizards all howled in pain as their faces bled.

“You idiots!” Nial yelled as he clutched his cheeks.

“What spell did you cast?” Halin yelled out.

“A disrup…” Nial and Rian began and ended together.

Halin squatted down onto the ground into the small puddle of blood that began to pool at their feet. “The doubling effect, oh dear.”

A stomping emanated from just outside the final escape door.

Gwenny, the nose-studded, purple-haired game manager ripped open the door.

“It worked!” She gasped.

She hopped over Rian, who was lying down in front of her, and maneuvered past Nial and Halin to the back of the room and the prize wall.

The prizes, which had all been bolted to the slatwall were now askance, askew, and altogether obliterated.

Save the deep mahogany chest firmly mounted at the very top of the slatwall. Gwenny pushed a hidden button on top of the chest and it popped off. She caught it and slowly opened it. An ethereal blue light washed over her face.


She smiled, her teeth illuminated by the light cast a haunting sense of dread over the three wounded wizards.

“Ugngg,” groaned Halin. “What did you get.”

“Your collective essence. We’ve been waiting on wizards for years but we finally have what we need.

“What you need to do to what?” Nial moaned.

“Endow this room with magic, of course.”


One week later, Nial, Halin, and Rian returned to the strip mall where Honest Escapes was situated. They had a hankering for Boba Tea and sat in the restaurant next to it.

“You know, I swear,” Halin grimaced. “I keep telling myself I’m going to like these sludge balls but I still just don’t get it.

“You’re crazy, you know that? This stuff is the drink of gods, I swear it.” Nial said between sips.

“The trick is to get the popping bubbles.” Rian sagely offered.

“You ordered the popping bubbles? That’s just candy. Are you five? If I had to graph your maturity…”

“Well at least I’m enjoying myself,” he nodded at Halin who looked like he was forcing down hemlock.

“Well,” Nial chimed in, oblivious to the tapioca drama around him. “I’m satisfied. How about we check out what Gwenny got up to with our magic?”

The trifecta abandoned the table with varying levels of tea in each of their cups and walked over to Honest Escapes.

Gwenny was sitting at the front desk, fast asleep.

Halin cartoonishly cleared his throat, and she jostled awake.

“And how do we find you today?” He asked. “Are our enchantments delighting your guests?”

Gwenny smiled up at them. “Oh not even a little! Our rooms already did that, they’re incredible!”

“But I thought,” Rian asked started.

“They’re delighting the staff!”

The wizards stared at her with vacant, curious expressions.

“Watch this, I’ll show you!” She beckoned them behind the counter and pulled up a video feed of one of the rooms on her computer.

A group of players were wandering around a room. One of them pulled a sconce down and a trap door released on an adjacent wall.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She asked them.

“What,” Nial asked. “Isn’t that supposed to happen?”

She looked up at them, dumbfounded at their stupidity.

“Not on its own!”

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

OK, well, I had a prompt lined up that I loved and that I wanted to use… but it’s too similar to a recent week, and our numbers have been dragging so I’m going back to an old one I used some time ago that seemed to pull in a good number of entrants. Let’s go:

Week 592

Your task this week is simple. Assign a major character in your story a mental health disorder. Below this post is a comprehensive list of all such disorders in the DSM V.

What you do with the rest of the story is up to you.

Some things to improve upon from last time:

  • I’d love not to see a lantern hanging on your character’s diagnosis. Less is likely more. Use the disorder to help color your character, but not define them.

  • It would also be best if the plot didn’t revolve around their disorder.

  • And let’s go ahead and exclude any story being set in a hospital or a treatment center. I’ve worked in those places. You’re probably not going to make me happy if you try.

Just like last time, I’ve prepared some ToxxBoxxes! If you don’t want to pick your own diagnosis, toxx on in and pick one of these 10, which will not only contain a diagnosis but a random word bounty; between 200 and 800 words! Oh, joy! Choosing a toxxboxx toxes you in for this week and you'll eat a ban if you fail to submit.

You may pick up to three diagnoses, if you want to take some off the table, but doing so won't claim you any other words. If you pick a diagnosis in a toxx boxx you’ll have the opportunity to toxx and claim the words. If we run out of boxxes, I may furnish more. We'll see, but that probably won't happen, right? Feel free to request a flash. I will provide you with something at the top of my mind at the moment. Incorporate it as you will, or don't. No penalty if you ignore it.

Word limit: 1300 +100 bonus words thanks to the sign up bounty. 1400 words total for all.

Deadline Sunday, 11:59 EDT (Not doing this to be an rear end in a top hat but there is a decent chance I am going to FJGJ this poo poo)

:toxx: BOX 1 – One of my favorites to work with
:toxx: BOX 2 – I have this
:toxx: BOX 3 – One of the most common diagnoses I’ve worked with
:toxx: BOX 4 – A diagnosis limited to children
:toxx: BOX 5 – Nearly always comorbid with anxiety
:toxx: BOX 6 – I can't work with this, personally, because I'd get an odd secondary gain from my client's condition
:toxx: BOX 7 – Fun and terrifying to work with
:toxx: BOX 8 – How do you tell that someone is this diagnosis? You ask them.
:toxx: BOX 9 – I feel like I’ve been suppressing this disorder for my whole life
:toxx: BOX 10 – My dad has this, help me understand him better, please.


  1. beep-beep car is go: :toxx: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, 800 bonus words
  2. derp: :toxx: Excoriation, 300 bonus words
  3. The Cut of Your Jib: :toxx: Gambling Disorder, 450 bonus words
  4. Toadsmash: :toxx: Dissociative Identity Disorder, 500 bonus words
  5. Thranguy: Borderline Personality Disorder
  6. Nae: :toxx: Restless Leg Syndrome, 400 bonus words
  7. Albatrossy_Rodent Autism Spectrum Disorder
  8. Chernobylprincess ADHD

Chili fucked around with this message at 02:46 on Dec 8, 2023

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
I will update this post, as diagnoses are claimed.


• Intellectual Disability
• Global Developmental Delay
• Language Disorder
• Speech Sound Disorder
• Childhood-Onset Fluency Disorder (Stuttering)
• Social Communication Disorder
Autism Spectrum Disorder
• Attention Deficit-Hyperactivity Disorder
• Specific Learning Disorder, Reading OR Writing OR Mathematics (First person to pick any one of these three knocks this whole one off)
• Developmental Coordination Disorder
• Stereotypic Movement Disorder
• Tourette’s Disorder
• Persistent Motor or Vocal Tic Disorder

Schizophrenia Spectrum and Other Psychotic Disorders

• Schizotypal (Personality Disorder)
• Delusional Disorder
• Brief Psychotic Disorder
• Schizophrenia

Bipolar and Related Disorders

• Bipolar I Disorder
• Bipolar II Disorder
• Cyclothymic Disorder

Depressive Disorder

• Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder
• Major Depressive Disorder
• Persistent Depressive Disorder
• Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder
• Depressive Disorder Due to Another Medical Condition

Anxiety Disorders

• Separation Anxiety Disorder
• Selective Mutism
• Specific Phobia - Animal
• Specific Phobia - Natural Environment
• Specific Phobia - Blood-Injection-Injury
• Social Anxiety Disorder
• Panic Disorder
• Agoraphobia
• Generalized Anxiety Disorder
• Anxiety Disorder Due to Another Medical Condition

Obsessive-Compulsive and Related Disorders

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
• Body Dysmorphic Disorder
• Hoarding Disorder
• Trichotillomania (Hair Pulling) Disorder
Excoriation (Skin Picking) Disorder

Trauma and Stressor Related Disorders

• Reactive Attachment Disorder
• Disinhibited Social Engagement Disorder
• Posttraumatic Stress Disorder
• Acute Stress Disorder
• Adjustment Disorder

Dissociative Disorders

• Dissociative Identity Disorder
• Dissociative Amnesia
• Depersonalization/Derealization Disorder

Somatic Symptom and Related Disorders

• Somatic Symptom Disorder
• Illness Anxiety Disorder

Feeding and Eating Disorders

• Pica
• Rumination Disorder
• Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder
• Anorexia Nervosa
• Bulimia Nervosa
• Binge-Eating Disorder

Elimination Disorders

• Enuresis
• Encopresis

Sleep-Wake Disorders

• Insomnia Disorder
• Hypersomnolence Disorder
• Narcolepsy
• Obstructive Sleep Apnea Hypopnea
• Nightmare Disorder
• Rapid Eye Movement Sleep Behavior Disorder
• Restless Legs Syndrome

Sexual Dysfunctions

• Delayed Ejaculation
• Erectile Disorder
• Female Orgasmic Disorder
• Female Sexual Interest/Arousal Disorder
• Genito-Pelvic Pain/Penetration Disorder
• Male Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder
• Premature Ejaculation

Gender Dysphoria

• Gender Dysphoria

Disruptive, Impulse-Control, and Conduct Disorders

• Oppositional Defiant Disorder
• Intermittent Explosive Disorder
• Conduct Disorder
• Antisocial Personality Disorder
• Pyromania
• Kleptomania

Substance-Related Addictive Disorders

• Alcohol Use Disorder
• Alcohol Withdrawal
• Caffeine Withdrawal
• Cannabis Use Disorder
• Phencyclidine Use Disorder
• Hallucinogen Persisting Perception Disorder
• Inhalant Use Disorder
• Opioid Use Disorder
• Sedative, Hypnotic, or Anxiolytic Use Disorder
• Stimulant Use Disorder
• Tobacco Use Disorder
Gambling Disorder

Neurocognitive Disorders

• Delirium
• Major Neurocognitive Disorder Due to Alzheimer’s Disease
• Major Vascular Neurocognitive Disorder
• Major Neurocognitive Disorder Due to Traumatic Brain Injury
• Major Neurocognitive Disorder Due to HIV Infection
• Major Neurocognitive Disorder Due to Prison Disease
• Major Neurocognitive Disorder Due to Parkinson’s Disease
• Major Neurocognitive Disorder Due to Huntington’s Disease

Personality Disorders

• Paranoid Personality Disorder
• Schizoid Personality Disorder
• Schizotypal Personality Disorder
• Antisocial Personality Disorder
• Borderline Personality Disorder
• Histrionic Personality Disorder
• Narcissistic Personality Disorder
• Avoidant Personality Disorder
• Dependent Personality Disorder
• Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder

Paraphillic Disorders

• Voyeuristic Disorder
• Exhibitionistic Disorder
• Frotteurisitic Disorder
• Sexual Masochism Disorder
• Pedophilic Disorder
• Fetishistic Disorder

Chili fucked around with this message at 02:46 on Dec 8, 2023

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Beep Beep, you opened your toxxboxx to find...

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and 800 bonus words!


derp, you opened your toxxboxx to find...

Excoriation and 300 bonus words!


Jib, you opened your toxxboxx to find...

Gambling Disorder and 450 bonus words!

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Opening a toxxboxx is to be treated like a :toxx: for entering the week. Since that wasn't spelled out our first three entrants are not toxxed in.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Toadsmash posted:

In, I'll take :toxx: box 7

You open your toxxboxx to find... Dissociative Identity Disorder and 500 bonus words!

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Nae posted:

I’m in, gimme one of the remaining toxxabloxen

You open box 2 to find.... Restless Leg Syndrome and 400 bonus words!

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
This is the fun you're missing out on if you don't sign up:

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
I'm crazy chili and I'm breaking all the rules!!!

If someone signs up within an hour the wordcount increases for everyone by 50 words!


Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
You dustbunnies drive a hard bargain, well done! Entry Bounty is up to 100 words! But this time, the brave champion only has 30 minutes to sign up!

After that, this offer explodes into a million Reese's!

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
You're late...

But I'll allow it.

100 bonus words to the wordcount for all.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Claim a dx bruv

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Nice pointing.

Let me make another point.

Registration deadlines are pointless and frivolous, but I've already been too brutal on some of our sacred traditions. So, a half measure:

Anyone who hasn't signed up but still wants to compete may still submit a story but the wordcount will be limited too 500 words, and Bok Choy must be prominently featured in the entry. Pick whatever diagnosis you'd like. I don't care.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

The Cut of Your Jib posted:

This is such a smooth pickup from the previous entry. Kind of amazed, and kind of suspicious….

I don't care if you gave me the win. I will NOT STAND for any questioning of game integrity. WE POSTED OUR CONVERSATION DOC GOD DAMMIT

Brawl me.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Got it. :toxx:

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
That's it, that's all!

Toadsmash is our one failure. Toadsmash, if you post within 12 hours I won't make a stink about your toxx but I'm also not really in charge of toxxes, so we'll see what happens!

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Judgement within a half hour or so!


Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Hot and Fresh Judgement:

Let's keep it short since crits will follow.

As promised no losses or dm's and nothing that made me wish we had them on board to give them, so there you go.

The win goes handily to one story and author who was leagues ahead of the pack with a clearly written story, tension that was palpable, and a good character who's diagnosis was displayed decently without it being central to the story.

I didn't have to google Italian Ice, I knew what it was, and you deserve some for the best entry of the week Nae, well done.

HM's go to two people.

Albatrossy_Rodent. Your story was weird and oddly powerful. Kept waiting to see what the metaphor was gonna be, and then there wasn't one. I accused one of your recent entries for a lack of courage. That was not a problem for this entry. Godspeed. HM

Kaom. You stepped up and went for the silly choice. You also threw in an extra diagnostic for good measure and you squeezed in a good bunch of stuff into 500 words. Treat yourself to some bok choy soon. HM

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