If you want to read the contenders for past chapters (and read ALL the non-winning stories for the first book), register for an account! It's free, easy, and safe!
And what kind of author wouldn't give you samples of his first book?
All this and more can be found in: Mentally Incontinent The first book from this website
Would you like to be notified when new stories come out? Want to read all the stories that didn't make it into the last chapter (or the rest of the book... Or the last book)? Register or Login!
The Forums:
Topics in red are in Anything Goes and may contain mature content. So... You know... Expect the worst.
Posted: Sun Mar 23, 2008 11:34 pm Post subject: Mark is very, very boring.
Mark looked over at the fire and let out a long, boring sigh. If anything could make today worse, it would be to not move from this chair.
Mark picked up his paper, and began to browse the sea of text. He sipped his coffee. A bullet whizzed past his head, and made a log bounce out of the fire.
"When am I going to finally see the weather look up?" he muttered, alluding to the dreary sprinkle of showers that have plagued his city for about a week now. The grey, the dull, the boring showers that never go away, and tend to give people headaches.
A bullet swung through the window, shattering his coffee cup into a thousand pieces. The table fell over.
Letting out another long sigh, our boring friend stood up. Shuffling over to the door in bunny slippers and a long golden robe, Mark looked out the peephole. Shortly after grabbing the doorknob, approximately sixteen gorillas plowed through his window, and began destroying his living room.
Earlier that day, Mark quit his job as a deadly animal engineer for Doctor Malicious, who owned the volcanic island which he lived on. Only thirteen of these gorillas were engineered by Mark, and the other three were just following the pack hoping for bananas. Of course, that might not be true, because that's just a stereotype.
Mark, slightly annoyed, opened his door and walked to the mailbox for the mail. Grumbling under his breath about the weather, Mark accidentally avoided the three grenades, fourteen landmines, seventy-three bullets, and four poison darts which came in his direction. Mark picked up his mail, and slammed closed the mailbox, which then exploded into about nineteen-hundred pieces, all of which were on fire.
Grumbling all the way back to his front door, Mark again avoided the fourteen landmines, and newly-launched seven grenades, which were coupled by one hundred and thirteen bullets. Walking ever so steadily, with the pace of an old man who hasn't had his coffee yet.
The fifty-four year old genetic engineer walked to his front door and let the sixteen gorillas outside, kicking one of them in the shin for not wiping his feet. Mark slammed shut his door, and surveyed the living room. Absolutely hating how Dr. Malicious destroyed his living room for quitting, Mark hobbled along to his bedroom.
Mark stubbed his toe, fell face-first onto a pile of glass which was once a very useful coffee mug, and died of severe brain tramua the instant his head came in contact with the pile.
Mark only got up from the chair, because he knew he had to pay his bills. If Mark hadn't gotten up from his chair, today could have been infinitely worse.
Joined: Dec 23, 2004 Posts: 747 Location: Clermont, Fish Lake
Posted: Mon Mar 24, 2008 7:58 pm Post subject:
You watched Monty Python while doing to many drugs. Please remain calm. _________________ Military intelligence/Two words combined which can't make sense...
You may find this either surprising or absolutely unbelievable, but this is my normal thought process. Whenever I'm just standing around, I either think of stuff like this, or choreograph fight sequences between the people around me and myself. Old ladies always are ninjas. It's like an international law.
Besides, if I WAS on drugs, this would be a lot less interesting. It'd actually be boring, because my mind wouldn't be nearly as sharp. I guarantee that all of my writings are done completely sober.
Joined: Dec 23, 2004 Posts: 747 Location: Clermont, Fish Lake
Posted: Tue Mar 25, 2008 6:57 pm Post subject:
Actually...I dig choreographing imaginary fights between yourself and the old lady ninja clan. Makes the day go by faster _________________ Military intelligence/Two words combined which can't make sense...
You may find this either surprising or absolutely unbelievable, but this is my normal thought process. Whenever I'm just standing around, I either think of stuff like this, or choreograph fight sequences between the people around me and myself. Old ladies always are ninjas. It's like an international law.
Besides, if I WAS on drugs, this would be a lot less interesting. It'd actually be boring, because my mind wouldn't be nearly as sharp. I guarantee that all of my writings are done completely sober.
Don't be so sure...i've had my mind conjure up some insane things...the drugs just make it seem more real. THIS IS NOT ME TELLING YOU TO DO DRUGS. _________________ <-Tri/_p
Joined: Dec 23, 2004 Posts: 747 Location: Clermont, Fish Lake
Posted: Wed Mar 26, 2008 5:50 pm Post subject:
Unfortunately, I'd have to say I'm at my most creative when stoned. I gave that up so I could get into a good company though. C'est la vie.
Someday when I have no responsibilities I might toke again. But for now... _________________ Military intelligence/Two words combined which can't make sense...
You cannot post new topics in this forum You cannot reply to topics in this forum You cannot edit your posts in this forum You cannot delete your posts in this forum You cannot vote in polls in this forum