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Started by DavidXBrunt, 26 November, 2008, 11:09:02 PM

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DavidXBrunt

Hoorah! You may already know about this site but I didn't. Or I don't think I did. Which is the same thing.

Just to see if Pat Mills ears pricked up I made the story generate a Slaine story. You may choose not to.

//http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/

I liked this part bestest. "Ukko picked up to a very happy Slaine. Ukko calmly assured him that most albino cats sneeze before mating, yet long-haired sea monkeys usually charismatically cringe *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Slaine.  Why was Ukko trying to distract Slaine?  Because he had snuck out from Slaine's with the spear only two days prior.  It was a striking little spear... how could he resist?"

Roger Godpleton

Just yonder, Roger Godpleton was struggling to make his way through the haunted thicket behind Roy Asteroid's place. Roger Godpleton had severely hurt his love handle during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength.  Another pack of feral boobss suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Ultimate Knife.  One by one they latched on to Roger Godpleton.  Already weakened from his injury, Roger Godpleton yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed.  The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of boobss running off with his Ultimate Knife.
He's only trying to be what following how his dreams make you wanna be, man!

Art


Wake

She's a highly-strung lovable alien terrorist who writes Celtic sagas. Her mate is a violent slang-talking sentient rifle with a penchant for eating women in uniform. They hunt down the scum of the universe - for a price!

Alec Trench's Thrill Pitcher

the shutdown man

'...What's that smell?'

   Flipper the Priest felt a stabbing pain in his prostate when Harvey Moonshine asked this.  In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the love and innocence of a small child right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what?  I don't smell anything..!'  A lie.  A oafish look started to form on Harvey Moonshine's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's gerbils from when she used to have pet spotted wolf hamsters.  She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Harvey Moonshine nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Flipper the Priest could react, Harvey Moonshine thoughtfully lunged toward the box and opened it.  The love and innocence of a small child was plainly in view.

   Harvey Moonshine stared at Flipper the Priest for what what must've been two minutes. A few unsatisfying minutes later, Flipper the Priest groped flamboyantly in Harvey Moonshine's direction, clearly desperate. Harvey Moonshine grabbed  the love and innocence of a small child and bolted for the door.  It was locked. Flipper the Priest let out a sassy chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Harvey Moonshine,' he rebuked. Flipper the Priest always had been a little clueless, so Harvey Moonshine knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Flipper the Priest did something crazy, like... start chucking wolverines at him or something. Just as zero people expected he gripped his love and innocence of a small child tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.
You're at the precipice Tony, of an enormous crossroads.

Wils

That's great! Here's the first section of mine. The last paragraph's my favourite.

  It all started when our predictably heroic protagonist, Margaret Rutherford, woke up in a disease-infested jungle. It was the sixth time it had happened. Feeling alarmingly puzzled, Margaret Rutherford stroked a potato, thinking it would make her feel better (but as usual, it did not). Unaware of the bleakness of existence, she realized that her beloved mirkin was missing!  Immediately she called her favorite Mormon, Dizzy Gillespie. Margaret Rutherford had known Dizzy Gillespie for (plus or minus) 550,000 years, the majority of which were flamboyant ones.  Dizzy Gillespie was unique. He was intelligent though sometimes a little... annoying. Margaret Rutherford called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

   Dizzy Gillespie picked up to a very sad Margaret Rutherford. Dizzy Gillespie calmly assured her that most albino cats turn red before mating, yet 3-legged wallabies usually earnestly panic *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Margaret Rutherford.  Why was Dizzy Gillespie trying to distract Margaret Rutherford?  Because he had snuck out from Margaret Rutherford's with the mirkin only two days prior.  It was a curious little mirkin... how could he resist?

   It didn't take long before Margaret Rutherford got back to the subject at hand: her mirkin. Dizzy Gillespie grimaced. Relunctantly, Dizzy Gillespie invited her over, assuring her they'd find the mirkin. Margaret Rutherford grabbed her canoe and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Dizzy Gillespie realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the mirkin and he had to do it carefully. He figured that if Margaret Rutherford took the hippie-pleasing hybrid vehicle, he had take at least eleven minutes before Margaret Rutherford would get there.  But if she took the monkey on casters?  Then Dizzy Gillespie would be scarcely screwed.

   Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Dizzy Gillespie was interrupted by seven selfish Peter Beardsleys that were lured by his mirkin. Dizzy Gillespie panicked; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling frustrated, he aptly reached for his ripened avocado and aptly poked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the swamp, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief.  That's when he heard the monkey on casters rolling up.  It was Margaret Rutherford.

IAMTHESYSTEM

You've all gone mad on this forum. :D
"You may live to see man-made horrors beyond your comprehension."

http://artriad.deviantart.com/
― Nikola Tesla

Zarjazzer

Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead.  So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(


that's  how all the best stories should finish.
The Justice department has a good re-education programme-it's called five to ten in the cubes.

Woolly

"..Just yonder, Captain Yarbles was struggling to make his way through the haunted thicket behind Bosun Onions's place. Captain Yarbles had severely hurt his fingernail during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength.  Another pack of feral George Clooneys suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Jim'll Fix It badge.  One by one they latched on to Captain Yarbles.  Already weakened from his injury, Captain Yarbles yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed.  The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of George Clooneys running off with his Jim'll Fix It badge.

   About seven hours later, Captain Yarbles awoke, his ear throbbing.  It was dark and Captain Yarbles did not know where he was.  Deep in the arid fantastic pumpkin patch, Captain Yarbles was very lost. A few freaknasty minutes later, he remembered that his Jim'll Fix It badge was taken by the George Clooneys. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life.  That's when, to his horror, a huge George Clooney emerged from the swamp.  It was the alpha George Clooney. Captain Yarbles opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the George Clooney sunk its teeth into Captain Yarbles's kidney. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Captain Yarbles's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure...

...And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant George Clooneys, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come."

 :shock:

Bongo Jack

It's less Pat Mills I'm worried about and more John Smith.
Live forever or die trying

Buddy

Quote from: "Wake"She's a highly-strung lovable alien terrorist who writes Celtic sagas. Her mate is a violent slang-talking sentient rifle with a penchant for eating women in uniform. They hunt down the scum of the universe - for a price!

You are Garth Ennis and I claim my five pounds!