Minimalist
Lurker
The telegraph system is Serious Business.
Writer of horse words
Thanks to Made Of Meat (who gets bonus points for knowing “To crunch a marmoset” ), krrackknut, Knighted, Coyotic Evil, Madrugada, The Jackel, and anyone else who I borrowed from.
Good afternoon gentlemen. Over Ninethousand days in the past, I visited my favorite image repository designated the “Haphazard” room. This is a room where anything can and often does happen! Oh, I was looking forward to a jolly time rubbing elbows with the old-homosexuals (which is what we called ourselves, the name having nothing to do with our sexual orientation), We we’re going to have such fun, getting a rise out the new-homosexuals (again, a mere label, though the conduct of these new-homosexuals did cause me to wonder from time to time). Indeed, we would lead these new-room-goers on and on, taunting them like ancient, bridge dwelling, ogres of lore.
But I digress. Today was the seventh day of the week. A day set aside specifically for finding amusing feline pictures and revealing them for all the Haphazard-mentally slowies (again, an amusing label, though I suspected many of these Haphazard-mentally slowies where, in fact, mentally slow). I dressed myself in my finery, donned my monocle, waxed my mustache expertly, and headed out with my painting of a feline that had substantially more length to it than other felines. I already had the perfect comment to go along with my picture, “Feline of excessive length, does indeed, possess the qualities of excessive length.”
I arrived to the Haphazard room just in time! A well groomed fellow announced “The day of the Jewish Sabbath is upon us! Present your blasted cat photographs and paintings!” The man than presented a painting of a feline with what looked to be a rather human looking smile, the man added “Can I have a piece of ground beef and a bit of cheese?” We all chuckled heartily at the cat’s poor grasp of manners.
As I got in queue to display my piece I noticed a ruckus in another line. I looked over and I was astounded to see what looked like a well-dressed female! I quickly ran over to observe.
“Ankles or Get Thee to a Nunnery!” One man yelled.
“There are no females that inhabit the communication systems! Similar to Spring-Healed Jack, they are but a fic…”Said another, interrupted by his kidnapping.
“This is an obviously ruse set by a cross-dressing male, which is obvious!” countered another.
Then, a woman of substantial girth entered the fray and said, “If you gentlemen can count to 10 in order without accidently saying the same number more than once, I shall show my ankles.”
“My eyes have been dirtied!” exclaimed a voice from the crowd. “I require lye to cleanse them!”
“Egads!” A voice rang out, “Someone present me with a harpoon, that I may slay this whale of a woman!”
“To HELL with your harpoon! Ready a stake and some kindling! Only fire will rid us of this beast!”
As I was witnessing this spectacle I was surprised and SHOCKED to experience the pelvis of another man being thrust against my bottom!
“Unexpected anal intercourse!” He exclaimed loudly. I turned to face my aggressor. Why he was dressed appallingly! He wasn’t even wearing a monocle! Also, I wondered how he could even imagine venturing out with no facial hair!
He carried sign proclaiming, “Strumpets do not know of my manhood.”
“A new-homosexual”, I thought to myself. Well this simply would not stand! “Sir! I challenge you to a comical information transfer duel!
The crowd had gathered around us and murmurs where herd, comical information transfer duels where quite a serious business indeed!
“Very well! I accept!,” the man said. “Is the main who fails so spectacularly here?”
“I am not!” Rang a voice from the crowd, which parted to reveal Man of spectacular failures. “Blast!”
“You sir, shall be stand as judge!”
I, too, was to select a judge, ”Is Mr. Willy Muddler here?”
“I’ll muddle your willy!” Was the answer.
“Yes, Mr. Muddler, be a good chap and act as judge will you.”
The crowd talked amongst themselves, it was up to them to pick the final judge. The man who had announced it the day of felines raised his voice and shouted, “We have chosen Negro of excessive facial expressions as the third judge.”
The judges convened and discussed the rules. Mr. Muddler spoke first, “We shall have a comical exchange made be one participant, followed by a rebuttal by the other, and the two participants shall volley comical exchanges at each other until us judges tell them to stop!”
The man of spectacular failures added, ”Any use of the word “curses” is automatic disqualification.” He stopped for a second, considering the previous statement, dropped to his knees and yelled “Ccccccccccuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrr…”
“You’re NOT PLAYING, man of spectacular failures!”, Negro of excessive facial expressions shouted. His face the very definition of disgust!
Mr. Muddler motioned to me “As the offended you may start.”
I had a comic exchange ready for this tardy interloper. “Why were you so late in arriving? I submit it is because you are slow-idler!”
“I am sorry; I was busing fornicating with my infant sister. Forcing oneself on a newborn is acceptable and enjoyable!”
Oh-ho! The game is a foot, no quarter asked, none given. I see I shall have to trick this one “By Golly, it's a lion, get in the carriage!”
“Good heavens!” Man of spectacular failures exclaimed! He dashed for the door, grumpily followed by an incredibly miffed looking Negro of excessive facial expressions who retrieved the naive fool and brought him back.
“Ho-ho, you’ll have to do better than THAT.” He retorted, “Let me offer a confession, Haphazard.”
The man produced a rather risqué painting of an attractive, post-pubescent female. “My sister, Kellyn, is depicted in this painting. Yesterday, she left to visit a colleague while our guardians where out on business. I was strolling past my sisters dwelling when I noticed she left a pair of bloomers on the carpet, just resting on the floor by the entryway. These where small form fitting bloomers, just resting on the ground , as if my sister had no regard for decency. I guess she changed outfits before departing. I am unsure why, but I wanted a closer gander. I’ve never enjoyed the company of girls, etcetera… So I picked up the garment, and nervously checked my surroundings. After a time, my urges got the best of me, and thinking about this article of clothing around my sister’s hips… I ended up inhaling the scent of her bloomers while pleasuring myself in that very room. The scent and situation got me so excited, I ejaculated with great force, making a mess of her carpet and other items in her room. Next, I motioned for a carriage and when it approached.
The carriage was identified as ‘renewed’ and it the driver was wearing a jewel incrusted monocle.
I Considered describing this carriage as very unique
But I thought better of it - "Onward, good sir, to Boston!”
I pulled up to the mansion about seven or eight in the evening
I thanked the carriage for the ride, “I will experience your scent in the future, sir”
I looked to my domain
I had finally arrived
To sit on my throne as the Duke of Boston.
“By Job! You just won the communication systems!” I exclaimed shooting a small glance to Mr. Muddler, so he would not call the duel just yet.
“Is that a fact?” He asked.
“Yes it IS a fact!” I responded, “A shame, that you have just lost the ACTIVITY OF AMUSEMENT AND MIRTH!”
He stopped and stared at me, a look of utter shock on his face, “It…it has been 2 months since I lost the activity of amusement and mirth…” he murmured, falling to his knees.
Other gentlemen murmured similar confessions; this was a gambit that had great collateral damage.
My opponent looked up to the sky with anger! “Cuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrr….” Knowing he had lost, he dragged out the ‘r’ for as long as his voice would allow.
As uncouth as it was for me to kick a man while he was down, I confess I could not help but add, “Now why don’t you go lose your gramophone and decide to become an person of heroic achievement.”
“God lord!” Mr. Muddler said, approaching me. “I thought he had you there, how did you know that would work.”
“Once I recognized his stale, over told story, like so much duplicated, stale noodles. I knew this new-homosexual was new-room-goer enough to take the activity of amusement and mirth seriously.” I confidently added.” Well! Now that is finished, I shall collect my communication system cre
edited 14th Apr '10 5:52:39 PM by Justice4243
Justice is a joy to the godly, but it terrifies evildoers.Proverbs21:15 FimFiction account.
(...I can't top that.)
(No one can.)
(Not now. Not ever. Not anymore.)
Dreams of Revenge
Perhaps, but I sure as heck will try!
RAPTURE: REVERBERATIONS OF VILLAINY
John Stalvern waited. The lights above him flickered and sparked out of the heavens. There were malignant spirits in the fortification. He didn't get a glimpse of them, but had awaited them now for years. His admonitions to Cernel Joson were disregarded and now it was too unpunctual. Far too unpunctual for now, anyway. John was an aether marine for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the aetherships and he said to his father "I want to be on the ships Papa." His progenitor said "No! You will BE SLAIN BY MALIGNANT SPIRITS" There was a time when he took his word for it. Then as he got enfeebled he stopped. But now in the aether station fortification of the UAC he knew there were malignant spirits. "This is Joson" the radiotelegraph crackered. "You must fight the malignant spirits!" So John begot his palsma rifle and detonated the wall. "HE GOING TO SLAY US" said the malignant spirits "I will shoot at him" said the cyberbanshee and he discharged the rocket projectiles. John plasmaed at him and tried to fulminate him. But then the ceiling fell and they were trapped and not able to slay. "No! I must kill the malignant spirits" he exclaimed The radiotelegraph said "No, John. You are the malignant spirits" And then John was a phantasm.
edited 14th Apr '10 1:22:06 PM by Flanker66
Locking you up on radar since '09
Not An Avatar
The previous entries were far too extensive in their length, so I neglected to study them in full.
But seriously, awesome.
edited 14th Apr '10 1:40:40 PM by Treblain
We're not just men of science, we're men of TROPE!
SPACE
^^^^^Constructed of Victory!
They observe my carriage passing by, they are filled with dislike of my person.
I have fallen prey to great anguish. These telegrams have caused me great anguish. Now I must increase my stature.
Not here, look elsewhere
YOU MUST TOUCH THAT WHICH IS DEFINITELY UNTOUCHABLE. YOU MUST BREAK WHAT IS MOST CERTAINLY UNBREAKABLE.
ROW, GOOD MAN, FIGHT THE POWERS-THAT BE!
An useless name, a forsaken connection.
I have seen the amateur, and it is me.
One does not simply ride horseback into Philadelphia.
I hope you get tiny bits of eggshell in all your omelettes for the rest of your life!
Not here, look elsewhere
Zeus is the God of Sticking his Manhood Where'er He Pleases.
Also, Nicholas Furyk pays obeisance to a deity that has a very large war-hammer.
edited 14th Apr '10 5:33:29 PM by krrackknut
An useless name, a forsaken connection.
Blue Eyed Matador
I have seen the amateur, and it is me.
^ I do not have the answer to this question at the present time, Spider-Man. HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW...
I hope you get tiny bits of eggshell in all your omelettes for the rest of your life!
SPACE
Like-minded gentlemen ahead of harlots.
Not An Avatar
Please, I urge you to read this interesting article
relating to the subject we are discussing.
YOU HAVE BEEN VALK-ROLL'D.
We're not just men of science, we're men of TROPE!
Calendar enthusiast
To the mod who corrected the title of this thread: Thank You.
I AM IN YOUR FORTIFICATION STOP I AM KILLING YOUR MEN STOP
The feline in the basement desires your soul and your potatoes.
My affluence makes a mockery of your regulations!
Justice 4243 wins
Ukrainian Red Cross
Not here, look elsewhere
I SEEM TO BE COVERED IN APIANS!
An useless name, a forsaken connection.
Minimalist
Wenches and Harlots
NEETing now.
I'm Only Sleeping
May you be damned, Masked Man of Ten Years!
INT is knowing a tomato is a fruit. WIS is knowing it doesn't belong in a fruit salad. CHA is convincing people that it does.
Dreams of Revenge
Seriously, that's what passed for a meme in 19th Century Britain. Misspelling "all correct". The 19th century sure was dull... but then again, it gave us "ok".
edited 15th Apr '10 9:20:30 AM by Flanker66
Locking you up on radar since '09
Wenches lack knowledge of my manhood.
Steven Lives
In soviet russia, tea sips you.
G'day
What's That Zach?
In Czarist Russia, road fork you.
Well, it is memetic.
edited 14th Apr '10 12:39:54 PM by Lemurian
Join us in our quest to play all RPG video games! Moving on to disc 2 of Grandia!