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Old 04-14-2009, 11:18 PM   #1
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Default Weekly Writing Contest Archives

I honestly don't believe there's a single person on this forums who hasn't been looked down on, belittled, bullied, or made fun of by other people. Everyone's felt it somehow, from someone, and everyone's had to react in some way, shape or form.

To kick off the new round of contests, write a story about the oppressed rising up against the oppressers. Whether it's about a kid taking on a bully or a band of rebels fighting for some freedom, let's see you rise up against them.
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Old 04-14-2009, 11:21 PM   #2
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This fits me perfectly.
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Old 04-15-2009, 12:52 PM   #3
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-insert bits about some distant relative of Gordon Freeman, wepons, humens, and whatnot-

I'm not getting in on this because I am terrible at deadlines and keeping promises and I am a terrible overall person.
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Old 04-17-2009, 07:39 PM   #4
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Default I love skipping to the good part.

He spat out chunks of gravel and teeth and he pushed himself up. His shirt had been ground into the road, just as much as the road and been ground into his skin. Annaliese had tumbled a little farther down, but she was in better shape than he was as far as he could see. She'd been knocked out by the shock, whereas he'd locked up and hit the ground hard.

The motorcycle was still whirring, even as gasoline leaked from the hole in the fuel tank.

"She's mine."

The figure stood at least three meters tall, making the inky sky seem dull gray by comparison. He stared down at the bleeding man with a face-splitting grin.

"No," was all he could manage to sputter out before he began to cough on the blood running down his throat. A sharp ache filled his jaw, but the moment of attention he gave it was too much. The figure's arm seemed to stretch as it pulled back and then sprang fast into his stomach. He skidded on his back, past Annaliese. The figure followed.

"She's mine, Sam. Admit it and I'll kill you quickly." It stalked up to him, simply watching as he struggled to pull himself up again.

"I will never give her up to a demon like you." He looked towards the motorcycle, realizing that the blade wasn't at his side anymore. A knife, more than a sword, but it was infused with enough blessings to-

Sam's thoughts were interrupted by another punch, this one to his chest. The hit knocked the wind out of him, and he lay gasping for another moment.

"You don't have a choice. You're going to die, and after that I'm sure we'll be seeing each other real soon."

He tried to wheeze defiance, but the demon hit him again, now in the face. He heard a crunch as his nose broke and he suddenly lost sight in his left eye. Pain and disorientation almost made him miss the slight wetness dripping at his feet.

The demon turned, knowing that his victim would be helpless now, and began shuffling towards Annaliese. Sam drew his gun as fast as he could manage and fired into the abomination's back. The shadows rippled for a moment, and then turned.

"A gunshot, kill me?" It let out a rough, mechanical laugh. Another shot fired, this time into the monsters head. "You are a fool!"

He walked up to him again, slowly. Panic filled Sam's chest as he approached and his armed stretched for another hit, but Sam fired. Not into the monster, but into the motorcycles leaking tank of gasoline. Sam flinched, expecting fire. Nothing happened.

They both froze for a moment, and then the creature laughed again. "What do you expect? That you'll save the day?! This is no hero's tale! You are powerless!" It roared, and raised its arm again. Sam had failed, and now it would crush him. Annaliese was gone.

Then a light glinted in Sam's foggy eyes. A light from the shadows. The creature was paralyzed.

Then suddenly the darkness began to rise like steam, although no sound accompanied it. The demon did not shriek, but seemed to absorb all noise. It's figure grew seeming to engulf all of Sam's vision. Then it was gone.

Annaliese stood with a shining knife clutched tight in both hands, and shock in her face. Then, she laughed, and Sam couldn't help but laugh too, despite the pain in his chest. She dropped to the ground and hugged him loosely, tears of relief dropping on the pavement.

When he finally recovered from his 'motorcycle accident', she was able to give him a proper thanks as his bride.

FIN

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Old 04-25-2009, 05:31 AM   #5
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I vote that sage wins this one, as it's the only one on time.

*ahem* That being said, here's another (sorta)entry:

Click
The trigger is pulled, I hear the hammer draw back, it's metallic grind forced into action against all odds by a alien mechanical force, I can hear it find it's apex, it's final position before the world takes it back forward, I can't see it, but I know it fights against the forces that push it back,
was it worth it?

She was there, on the ground, watching the same motion I was, we were mezmorized, and yet as if in slow motion, we knew the process behind the madness. I wonder if she was thinking the same thing?

It was strange, this moment, unessential, but meaning everything to the world, my world. I acted without thinking, the gun was there, fate itself had turned on us, and now we were alone, together, in a dark alley. The world was dark now, I could see only us, the man, and the snow. I dropped to my knees, I knew it was the end, for both of us. She had stopped moving, and the man had fled. I looked up to this cold, dark world, and wondered what would happen next.

I saw someone kneel next to me, the world was closing up around me, I felt the cold spreading throughout my body, I reached up, and my hand felt something warm...So I said him...

"Bruce. It's okay. Don’t be afraid."
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Old 04-30-2009, 02:32 PM   #6
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Alright, I guess I won or something. Yay? New challenge up soon then.
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gonna start a corpse party all up in this bitch
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Old 04-30-2009, 02:35 PM   #7
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Default Writing Contest: Week 2 - Hot Chicks and Explosions

Whatever you write about must have at least one bikini-clad woman, and one fiery explosion. And there must be a valid reason for both. Maybe a photo shoot goes horribly wrong, or aliens invade the beach.

Contest ends 11:59PM on May 8th.

GOGOGO
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Old 04-30-2009, 05:16 PM   #8
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This is basically the dream I had the other night. I might write something.
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Old 05-04-2009, 03:44 PM   #9
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Hey Sage where is that challenge huh?
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Old 05-04-2009, 03:55 PM   #10
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Ves, why are you such a dick to everyone it is destroying this community and we will all die from swine flu
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Old 05-04-2009, 04:02 PM   #11
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You mean hamthrax
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Old 05-05-2009, 05:12 PM   #12
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Weeks half over and no entries? Lame.
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Old 05-05-2009, 05:14 PM   #13
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the writing contest rarely even gets one entry
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Old 05-05-2009, 05:32 PM   #14
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I'm interested, let's see if I can think of something.
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Old 05-05-2009, 05:33 PM   #15
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I didn't even see this shit.

I blame Gabby cause I can.

Also we need another mod.
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Old 05-05-2009, 06:02 PM   #16
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Veserius, nobody in their right minds would make you a mod
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Old 05-05-2009, 06:03 PM   #17
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Well good thing the whole world is crazy then :]
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Old 05-09-2009, 08:55 PM   #18
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no one entered. Mulligan or first person to enter wins? If it is the latter;

The Rapture. The pious rose, those who had unforgiven sins or had picked the wrong religion were left to suffer through the end of the world.

The sky went dark, the ground shook, and the sky rained ash as volcanoes around the world erupted. Rivers ran dry, demons were raping women, gas mains burst, destroying countless lives.

Satan looked on, and reflected on the situation. He wasn't getting the sense of satisfaction he had hoped he would get. He then realized something, he'd won, but he was destroying his spoils.

His disagreement with some douchebag had nothing to do with these people, all he really wanted was to be vindicated, and he felt he was.

He ceased aspects of the rapture that were under his control and decided to dedicate the rest of his existence to jazz fusion, gravure idols, and advancing humanity without the constraints of subjective morals.

~FIN


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What a horrible piece of shit, but I win right?
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Old 05-10-2009, 08:33 AM   #19
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There is no life like the night life, nor is there no job, like my job. My name is Rachel Garrison, and I'm an assassin. I take out the assholes who into Vegas looking for trouble. I'm not like the other assassins though. I'm not clean, I'm not professional, and I'm definitely....not quiet.

As Rachel, supposedly a country girl a bit down on her luck, walked away from the strip club, she counted in her head, 3...2…1. The Moon Dance club exploded, the three story building collapsing upon itself. She walked down the street, wearing only her blue and yellow stripped bikini suit. Her well developed body would have caught eyes of the fire behind her didn't. People ran from the terror of her work. Some guy in there she needed to kill, just some guy. She already forgot the name. Rachel pulled out a silver flip phone from the waistline of her bikini and punched a button. It rang only twice before someone picked up.

"He's dead." Rachel said as she opened the door to her Spider Eclipse. She sat down, and began to drive, the top down.

"Yeah, I can see the smoke from here. Nice job, 'Bangerella'." The man on the other end said with a chuckle. This was a nickname Rachel was pinned sense she took out her targets in strip clubs and often pretended to audition beforehand. On a couple of occasions she even went on stage and got some extra cash. This was one of those times. Rachel had about a hundred extra dollars on her now, she stuck it in the glove compartment.

"How about his associates?" The man asked.

"Huh, I almost forgot." Rachel took out a small trigger and pressed the button. Two more buildings blew up as she passed a drug store and another strip club. Rachel ducked idly as a piece of wood flew over her head.

"Good job." He said, simply hearing the explosions as confirmations of their deaths.

"I'll see you a bit." Rachel said.

"Yeah, I can't wait." The man laughed.

"Right..." Rachel growled back and hung up on him. Rachel glanced to the side as she saw that man's particular club. She smiled and pressed the button again. That blew up as well. Bangerella…right.

__________________________________________________ __________

I actually wrote this awhile ago for this, but I wanted to expand on it. Though with the contest coming to a close and no said winner, may as well enter.
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Old 05-11-2009, 06:21 PM   #20
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Congrats to Blazen, the rest of you suck for not entering.

Now gimme something good to write about Blaze.
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Old 05-11-2009, 06:27 PM   #21
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I "entered"
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Old 05-13-2009, 06:55 PM   #22
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Therefore you don't suck.
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Old 05-14-2009, 07:13 AM   #23
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Wait what? When did this thread go up? I swear I was checking every other day for it! Blast it all! ILL GET YOU NEXT WEEK GADGET.
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Old 05-14-2009, 10:54 AM   #24
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Default Writing Contest 3 ~ Off to the Happy Hotel

Your job this time is to write about someone, anyone, be they real or not, going insane. You're to write what made them go insane, what they did while insane, and the aftermath of their actions. Make it as a creepy, funny, or whatever as you please. Insanity is a crazy thing, and people do crazy things so be creative.

Also, because the recent terrible trends for how long these things take I won't start a countdown until the first submission. After the first submission everyone else has two weeks.
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Old 06-11-2009, 08:59 AM   #25
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"Why?" he whispered. "Why me?"

"Because he chose you," the demon whispered back as her claws slid down his back, gouging through his muscles and scratching his bone. The wounds healed immediately, leaving only bloody scars. "He chose you to suffer."

"Who?!" She ran her hands down his sides, now. All his ribs were broken and healed in moments. "God?!"

She chuckled. "Zachary."

Her claws pierced his sides, digging into his organs. Blood poured from him until she slipped out of his skin again. "Zach? Zach? He's... m-my... friend..." His gasping breaths were not enough to carry his objection. "Best f-friend..."

"Then why does he hide from me," she asked, whirling around to show him her stretched eyes and thousands of long teeth, "and leave me to find you?" Her slender hand found his face and slid into his right eye. He screeched, and did not stop when the hand left him and his eye healed again. He could see her differently through that eye. She was glowing red, bright red and covered in blood. And when he saw his own hands they were translucent white. He closed that eye and looked at her again. "This is his burden. But he would not take it." Her pale skin stretched as she smiled.

"What do you... does that... mean?" he whimpered. She placed her hand on his chest, then stuck her claws in and slowly pushed. When she pulled out again, his heart was still beating in her hand. He screeched.

"Look at it."

"Please please put it back I swear whatever I did or Zach did please we didn't mean it put it back please oh god oh god please stop please stop just kill me please god just kill me-"

"Look at it!" Her voice sounded like a chainsaw cutting through bone. He did. His left eye saw a still-beating heart. His right eye saw a blob of shimmering white.

"Put it back oh god please-"

"This is your soul," she smiled, ignoring him. "And can you see what this is?"

She rotated it. On the back of his soul was a pale pink splotch. He made only incoherent cries now. "I don't- please- why are you- what is-"

"That is the largest part of Zachary's soul I could find. He left it with you. The rest has been washed away by magic. And so I must punish you for his meddling." She slid the heart back into his chest. The star-shaped scar was all that was left of the wound. "I would kill you," she continued, "however, I believe you can be of more use to me than this. It does not satisfy me to do this to you."

Her other set of arms, which had been holding him the entire time, suddenly dropped him to the floor. He stared up at her, speechless.

"Kill Zachary before sunlight. I will be watching. If you fail me at this, I will finish off the largest part of him that I can."

Then, he was alone in his room.

--

"Zach."

The other boy looked haunted. "Ross, what- you're... covered in blood... How are you- how'd you get up here?"

Ross climbed in through the second story window. "She gave me a boost."

"She?" Zach looked worried for a moment. He went to the window and looked down, but seeing nothing, he turned to his friend. "Dude, you look like shit, what happened to you?"

"You know what fucking happened. I'm surprised you're still here." Ross lunged to grab him by the neck, but Zach dodged. "You should have run away like the coward you are!"

"Shut the fuck up, dude, my parent's wi-"

"She's already got your parents," Ross growled. "Your soul is all over them, too."

"What? Ross, man, what the hell is wrong with you? Who's blood is that?"

"Mine, and don't act like you don't know."

Zach backed closer to the door. "Look, I don't know what your problem-"

"What did you do to make her angry? What did you try to get that was worth this?"

"You're crazy, man. I didn't do anything."

"Then why'd you wash your soul off of you? What are you afraid of?" Ross grinned and brandished his knife.

This was the final straw. Zach bolted for the door, but Ross was faster. He tackled him to the ground, grabbed a fistful of hair and pounded his face into the ground. He kept the knife at the ready. Zach scrambled out from under him, but Ross stabbed him in the side before he could get anywhere.

"Don't worry. You won't die for at least an hour," Ross said over his victims cries. "In the mean time, I thought we could have some fun together." He took off his shirt, exposing the scars all along his body. "How would you like for us to match?"

--

"...Police say the murders are connected. June, Mark, and Penny Gladstone were murdered in their home by 17 year old Ross Gladstone. Police say that Ross then went to his former best friends home, murdering Martha, Geoffry, and Zachary Blune. The victims were stabbed with a kitchen knife, and apparently all had their right eye gouged out. All who knew the families are baffled."

"Ross and Zach were, you know, best friends. I have no idea why this would even, like, happen. They've never, like, fought about anything really. It's just like, really sad."

"We are praying for both families, and doing everything we can to help them get through their grief."

"Ross is... a very disturbed boy. He didn't know what he was doing that night."

"Ross has been labeled criminally insane. He will be tried as an adult for his crimes, but is expected to spend the rest of his life in the Jacob Flint Asylum. And now, to Vince Yarrow with sports."


--
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Old 06-11-2009, 01:24 PM   #26
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So, the countdown finally begins. Thursday the 25 is the last day of submission. The day after I'll decide a winner.
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Old 06-14-2009, 08:21 PM   #27
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I'm working on one right now, but it's kind of lengthy. So it'll be a few.


Hopefully my storytelling will go over better than my art. :P



EDIT: Okay, so for the sake of saying that I entered, I am copypasta-ing a tl;dr post that I just finished up writing on another forum. If I get the other done as well, I will post it, too. But privacy and moving issues will probably force me to skip out on this one, abandoning what I've already got done. :(

PS, it's all true, so laugh your ass off, or just skip over it and pretend like you are concerned. But mainly, enjoy!


==================================


Today was my graduation party/open house. Family and friends from all over have come to visit and make it seem like such a novel achievement that I'm out of high school by giving me money-filled cards. Not saying the money is bad, but you know there are some people who find this time dreadful.

So to begin the progression to the main point of this whole deluge of stupidity, when I actually get back from picking up my cake and the food, family and friends had already started to gather. First "thing" I notice as I exit the car, is HIM...

Everyone has a HIM, maybe even more than one. A HIM (pronounced as spelled, but in an overly irritated voice; alternative to HER [same law applies]) is the person who is always the butt of everyone else's joke, whether they know it or not. A HIM could very well explode at any time with the proper agitation, but more than likely the stabs at their sides will heal over before any real damage can be dealt. HIMs may also invite themselves to places they don't belong, be in a general state of fat, try to be funny but fail to bring a proper punchline and killing the joke, be an unbearable nuisance, etc.

Of course, I'd forgotten that he received an invitation; I blame mother. The entire evening of this fiasco of graduation celebration, the HIM was following me. Upstairs, downstairs, inside, outside, hither, fither. He probably would have followed me into the bathroom if he had the chance.

Thing is, I didn't/wouldn't do anything myself. I would just store my feelings of deep-seated hatred into my pocket and forget all about it.

Times may be changing.

I don't know if it's the fact that I'm leaving my looney-bin home in a few days or just another demon entirely that has made me even more irritated than before, but at this very moment in time, among this very fabric of existence...

... I want to kill HIM!

Other than the annoyance he was becoming throughout the day of what was supposed to be jubilance, nasty problems arose. First of which, I have reason to believe that he drove my original company away. The combination of fat, not-funny, and annoying seemed to be a 1-2-3 punch-punch-kick combo to the chances of furthering my social life by having friends spend the night that I actually want to keep in touch with and haven't been able to keep in touch with for a long time.

So later on through the evening, he talks to my nephew and cousin for what felt like hours to me. It wasn't a regular conversation of sorts, oh no. This was basically HIM trying to masculinize (I made a new word for this asshatery) himself to a couple of kids that weren't even in high school. He was attempting to explain a pathetic excuse of a love life to them and also going for an emotional sympathy note talking about how his parents don't exactly treat him the way that tailors to his fancy. So horrible, right?!

Following the sob stories exchanged, oh, this one takes the cake. As many of my family members don't know, I'm gay. And I've told select friends about my sexuality because they could handle it. This guy? Nuh-uh. He started talking about my homosexuality to my young nephew and cousin (who, again, aren't even in high school) that don't fucking know that I'm gay! WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?! This was the point I started turning red with rage. In the middle of an Audiosurf game, I couldn't very well stop, but my concentration was scattered, leaving me with no tact to my gameplay and ending a huge streak I had going.

My mouse almost died tonight...

My nephew later decides that fire and paper combined in my room are a wonderful thing while I'm preoccupied with computer bullshit. All I hear is my cousin telling my nephew, "Yeah, smoke that paper," in a slur that would do Puff Daddy proud. I immediately give caution to the smell of burning substances and almost jump out of my skin. I turn, and my nephew has a lighter (where the fuck did he get it?) and an old demerit he received from middle school, beginning to engulf the corners of it in flames. This is all done on my bed, to make matters worse, the most flammable part of my entire room (I think...). A stern, solemn what-the-fuck look was given to him, and he stopped.

HIM started to say, "Oh, that would be a nice way to torture someone, you know? Burn their hair off. Hahahahahahahaha! I'm funny, I swear!"

I slowly turned my head in a style only Quentin Tarantino could capture in film-esque form. Twitching along the way, my eyes sharply met the pudged image of his face. So many thoughts dotted through my mind. Not only had he been an incompetent ren-tard all afternoon, outed me to my family, and attempted to make us shed a tear or two for him, but he has the decency to make a horrendous, no-good, time-and-oxygen-wasting joke that doesn't even give one the most remote sense of humor. At this point, one of those racing thoughts sputtered out my mouth.

"Why don't you fucking light yourself on fire, then?"

The cold tone caused a spine-tingling chill in the air that no other words could surpass. All ears that these words fell upon caused their owner's bodies to stiffen like a plank of rosewood.

That is, everyone except HIM!

He passed it off as a joke, while my nephew and cousin actually became frightened to their core. They began devising plans to escape from the evils of my mind and tried to pull Fat-Annoying-and-Stupid with them. To no avail, however, HIM decided my floor was the perfect place to stay. He is now tossing and turning in my room, when all I wanted was a bit of space.

I even had new porn I wanted to watch, too. At least now my nephew and cousin know what kind, huh?

I'm hoping all these keystrokes are keeping him awake, because as far as I know, I'm not fucking sleeping. The moment he does anything remotely ignorant, I'm kicking the human stuffing out of him, whether I have to cut him open or throw my fist down his throat.


In short, if you happen to be paying mind to the news and see that "an 18-year-old psychopath in southern Indiana mutilated a former friend", then you will know that he was obviously not a friend of mine.

Last edited by Unspoken; 06-14-2009 at 11:14 PM. Reason: TL;DR Shit
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Old 06-14-2009, 11:28 PM   #28
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If you are reading this, Im most likely dead. Please post this in a contest that involves someone losing their mind because I know just the "man". I know the odds of this being read, let alone being published to such a specific competition, but I'll take my chances and I like winning competitions with really no prize. Dont judge me.

"A Baby's gotta do what a Baby's gotta do"

Thats the code I lived by. It was bold and simple, easy to understand, easy to follow. When one's assigned a task, one must complete it. If the job will land us in the pin, so be it. If one were to fall behind, we continue to push on. Our age wont restrict us. Our diapers wont slow us down. We will never falter.

The leader of our brigade is none other then our fierce leader Tomathon S. Pickles. We refer to him as Tommy but only his close friends can call him Tommy. He stood 2 feet 6 inches tall, pigeon toed, 1 year old, a real leader. Our group composition consists of Tommy "The Leader" Pickles, Phil "Left Hand" Deville, Lil "Right Hand" Deville, and me, Chuckie "Scrotum" Finster III. Angelica told me its candy and I like me some candy.

Enough introduction. I'm in this closet right now scared as hell while Tommy is scraping at the door with his reptar doll so I'll try to write fast on this piece of button lint. Earlier this morning I noticed something very off about Tommy. I was eating my bootleg Frosted Leaf-like Objects of Goodness cereal while Tommy was sitting across the hall gorging himself in what seemed like oatmeal. As I took the bowl and started to drink the milk, I noticed Tommy had a crazed look on his face. Something about that look struck fear into my heart. He had the look of a crazed chimpanzee that was given too much scrotum to eat. Tommy's mom came in the dining room, took both of our bowls and put both of us in the pin.

We were accompanied by Phil and Lil in the pin. They were fighting over half a snickerdoodle which was actually old crusty Spike leftovers. Even if I told them that, they would only fight more over it so I left it at that. Tommy over there biting on his tongue with his one tooth, rocking back and forth like a rocking chair. His pupils were small and shaking. His hair was a mess. His dummy bear was rip to shreds, surrounding him with fluff and dust bunnies. If only I knew what was gonna happen next, I wouldnt be in this closet right now as the wood of the closet door begins to tear due to the reptar toy's teeth grinding away at it.

As Phil and Lil bicker over a dog turd, Tommy balls his hand into shaking fist. He was biting so hard on his tongue it started to dip blood. As the blood was dripping onto his feet, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Tommy suddenly yells at the top of his baby lungs alarming everyone, stopping whatever they were doing to see what the yelling was about. Tommy's father rushed over to the pin as Tommy continued to scream at the top of his lungs. He lifted him and question what was wrong. Tommy then took a grip of his fathers head and snapped his neck in two. We were in complete shock, we were all paralyzed in fear in the sudden murder of his father. Tommy preceded to eat the flesh off of his fathers face using his one tooth. It was like watching a wolf feasting upon the corpse of a deer.

"WHAT THE FUNDOODLE WAS THAT TOMMY?!" I exclaimed, keeping it PG. "I've figured it out, Chuckie." He told me. "This is the only way we can continue living the life of adventure!" I was in a mix between confusion and fear. "What are you talking about, Tommy?!" I replied. "Chuckie," said Tommy as he preceded to gnaw on the bone of his fathers nose, "All those times we did adventures, who stopped us? The adults. As we mind our business trying to have our own fun, our parents pointed the finger while bickering at us, telling us not to do this and that and putting us in this damned pin. WELL IM SICK OF IT!" Didi then walked into the room and screamed at the sight of her own baby eating away at her husband. She tried to run but it was too late. Tommy had her in her sights and leaped into action. He grabbed her by her leg and twisted her knee in a jerking motion. She falls to the floor still trying to crawl away while trying to fight Tommy off. Tommy slapped her around a few then impaled her heart his own reptar toy. As it was in her body he pulled on it making an burst of blood spurt out on the living room curtains.

Tommy used his tooth to scrap off his mothers face to create a mask for himself. It was poorly cut out and left blood dripping off of his chin as he grits his teeth. He preceded to move into the kitchen to fetch himself a knife. Me, Phil and Lil were frozen. We had to escape away from Tommy but this pin is confining us, dooming us to die by Tommy's baby smooth hands. Lil then had a brilliant well thought out plan that was written on the wall with a red crayola. We then climbed over the 2 feet tall pin and ran towards the phone to call 911.

"AYYEEEEEEEEEE!" yelled Grandpa Lou as Tommy stabbed him with a reptar doll FIF-TEEN TIMES on the kitchen floor.

We reach the phone and then I ask Phil for the number for 911. He said he knew it by heart and grabbed the phone from me to dial it. As we wait for the other side to pick up, all we heard from the kitchen was the sound of Tommy devouring more flesh like listening to a wolf gnawing on a tbone steak. I take a peak inside the kitchen to only see a puddle of blood yet no Tommy to be found. We soon find out that there was no "911" button, only a 1 and 9.

"What are you doing FRIIIIIIIIIENDS?!" Tommy said with a huge grin on his face thinking he has won the fight over the parents covered in his parents blood head to toe carrying a bloody reptar doll. "Tommy! You are sick! You need help!" Lil said, right before Tommy beat her across the head with the reptar doll.

He turned his eyes on me and Phil soon after. I can see Tommy peeking his eye through the hole that he made in the closet door while I poo myself. Phil and I ran up the stairs into the bathroom, under the sink. Tommy searched through every room frantically! Throwing down lamps, shattering tv's, ripping out the drawers! Me and Phil looked at each other in the dark scared for our very lives.

"Tommy's not going to stop looking for us until he catches us!" Phil whispering violently at me. Thats when Tommy walked into the bathroom as we became very still and quiet. Tommy slowly looked around, looking in the shower, behind the door, even on the towel rack. Tommy wasnt a very bright one. Tommy then started to wash off the blood using the sink above us. Me and Phil have never been so scared in all of our 2 years of life. Tommy reached over to the towel to dry himself off. Just then, Phil's leg slipped and poked out the cabinet. We were discovered instantly and I decided to bolt out of there. Phil tried but soon faced the wrath of Tommy. Tommy grabbed his head and bashed it against the corner of the sink. I ran into the hallroom closet and locked the door.

I sit now here, writing this story for a contest that probably doesnt exist but if it did, it would be cool if I won. Tommys now breaking the door and Im running out of belly button lint to write this on so Ill have to end this quick. Angelica, I was always madly in love with you. I always was. When you bossed me around I always got a bit turn. You're just pure eye scrotum. Oh darn, Tommys here. Bye b--


And thus the worst story was ever made ever!
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Old 06-15-2009, 03:22 AM   #29
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Oh dear god, I love you Reborn.
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Old 06-15-2009, 11:09 AM   #30
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Oh shit.
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gonna start a corpse party all up in this bitch
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