Raiding of the "pimp" drawer.

[Sparnage]

I'm feeling annoying and pretentious so I decided to write a little story because I got nothing better to do with my life! And what better thread to post in than here.

Charles the snail: A story of power, sacrifice and corruption.

After realising half his life was over, Charles the violent snail suffered a terrible midlife crisis. Needed to expand his horizon to seek a final cause suited to his withered sanity.  though the answer was already seeded inside like a fleshy jar of inky sponge by picking up young sooty orphans in his emerald heart valve and presenting the button eyed children with soggy bread.

Yes, to truly serve out this desperate conquest over sleepy infants he would have to expand his ideology towards universal domination. This meant he would take on such powerful beings of the three Galaxies and two Bedrooms.... The Powerdoise seven. A formal challenge with the ruthless group of misfit monkeys who would digest any creature slimy or otherwise who dared to step in reach of their incredibly long platinum toe nails!

Charles was uncertain of his fate but feeling a very brave slimy creature was he, so brave was he that he came only armed with a heart rate monitor. There was more to this training device than ones suspected however, not only was it capable of keeping track of Charles little slimy heart but if used correctly harnessed the power to annihilate anyone who opposed the wearer with condensed energy comparable to that of the aftermath of a supernova.... but was Charles ready to control such power while face to face with his uncertain destiny as god of the 7 golden rings?

The agreed battle grounds was a small Fig tree on the forth planet of waistona after a formal written challenge to the powerdoise brothers. The battle was indeed fierce and an outstanding, far exceeding that of any gastropod lifeform before him. It felt like the young doughy tissue of the crimson guitar from above as he thwarted any special attack related or unrelated to platinum those crazy bloodthirsty monkeys threw at him and for a long while every attempt was in vain.
Flying through the branches, knocking figs and leaves off the trees left right and centre until everything but the bare tree was blown into space. Unfortunately one of the Powerdoise monkeys finally realised Charles's weakspot as a snail no matter what godlike powers he possessed, and threw a clump of salt at the moist water based creature. 

Dispair was inevitable and Charles could no longer win, but had one little trick to draw the fight. Realising the consequences of such a weapon would ultimately destroy him as well as the enemy, the exhausted and stubborn snail no longer cared for he was ready to die at any moment. The unfathomable power of the heart rate monitor eradicated the snail, the powerdoise seven and every root of the fig tree, but the gastropods legacy will continue on. Fight on in spirit little snail, giving hope to any worthless creatures with a insane lust for power, show us the way.

Awesome, Im not only witty and clever but also weird and unique as well. Raise my post, love me, hate me but above all shower me with attention! Well... time to go preach in another fan based forum I joined with no real interest in I guess, see you all in a few months ;)

PS: Berserk.... What the fuck's that!?

 

[nomad]

MangyKid, your stories are one of the most breathtaking experiences I ever had. Forget my 1st sexual encounter, car, house and such... You my friend, are it. Oddly my left testicle just twitches of excitement knowing that a man of your quality and intellect exist. For that my dear MangyKid a gift. Only you can appreciate the art beneath the scrotum. Enjoy my sweet prince.

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click image​

 

[xechnao]

Gingerbread Spatula:
A Tale of Torrid Passion

Never had I seen a piece of cake so large, so intimidating. Its moist insides tempted me beneath the sweet exterior, the decadent roses made from hardened icing upon the top tantalized my senses. It was were superb. I wanted to enjoy the cake, in a very oral way.

But the cake was not to be mine. I looked away from the window of the bakery, and back to my exposed penis. I waved it a bit in the hopes of attracting the attention of the baker or the customers within, but none paid me any mind. Perhaps my member was lacking in significance, the people not being able to notice me waving my average organ like a proud pirate flag. Or, perhaps they had simply grown accustomed to my flaccid phallus being waved about in the 16 years I had been doing it.

Yes, rain or snow, I find it my duty to brandish my fine phallus to all passersby. For 23 years I have done this daily, putting all other interests on hold, eschewing all other joys but for the fleeting pride and euphoric effect that exposing this sacred article of intercourse to those who enter my territory brings. It is my singular and sincere passion.  My calling has caused me much pain; and much trouble with the “indecent exposure charges” I keep hearing about from the law-keepers. But the infidels will never understand what fuels this exhibitionism, why it is necessary that all inspect the wrinkled glory of my no-no zone.

Nevertheless, it appears that a new calling has found me, and now I must acquire this most delicious cake. With no hesitation, I instinctively pull out my ubiquitous crowbar, and smash open the window. As I hear the bakery owner sigh and say “Third time this month!” I reach through the shattered glass and grab two fistfuls of the glorious cake, and run away, zigging, zagging, and laughing heartily through mouthfuls of the unbelievable cake.

Truly, spring has sprung.

The first paragraph or your prologue and the very last sentence or epilogue are trully sweet...
No, really, this shows you have nothing to fall short of the most professional writer.
But the in-between is not over there. It's dry, it's lacking, it's lame.
Don't think like you should be corrupting the script of a Hollywood stupid action flick...you are wasting your talent!
Instead always live just with the gasses of life, please.

 

[MangyKid Ver.4.3]

Nomad, how did you know of my love for puppies? You devil you, with your words of adoration. Gettin' me all a-twitter.

Xech, I agree. The middle does lack the pelvic "oomph" that is required for a groin-grabbingly good story. At best, this is nipple-ticklingly mediocre. I'll try a full-on injection of the life gasses into a .doc file at some later date my friend. Then we shall enjoy the balloon fruits that fall upward from the tree of our entwined souls.

Sparnulator, why you hatin'? And despite the sarcasm, the act of making a post in my thread (and clearly putting at least a modicum of effort into it) is still hypocritical. What's more useless than an authentically stupid story? Yeah, an affectedly stupid one.

You could've tried harder though :(

Charles the snail: A story of power, sacrifice and corruption.

After realising [Live in the UK? If not, it's realize.] half his life was over, Charles the violent snail suffered a terrible midlife crisis. [He] Needed to expand his horizon to seek a final cause suited to his withered sanity. [T]hough the answer was already seeded inside [Inside what?] like a fleshy jar of inky sponge by picking up young sooty orphans in his emerald heart valve and presenting the button eyed children with soggy bread [I'm not even trying to get a subject and predicate out of that.].

Yes, to truly serve out this desperate conquest over sleepy infants he would have to expand his ideology towards universal domination. This meant he would take on such powerful beings of the three Galaxies and two Bedrooms.... The Powerdoise seven. A formal challenge with the ruthless group of misfit monkeys who would digest any creature slimy or otherwise who dared to step in reach of their incredibly long platinum toe nails [I like the platinum toe nails bit, but you seriously need to consider using proper sentence structure to make what actions are being taken for what cause clear]!

Charles was uncertain of his fate but feeling a very brave slimy creature was he, so brave was he [Is he always brave? It seems he was only "feeling" brave pre-comma.] that he came only armed with a heart rate monitor. There was more to this training device than ones suspected [One would suspect?] however, not only was it capable of keeping track of Charles['s] little slimy heart but if used correctly [it] harnessed the power to annihilate anyone who opposed the wearer with condensed energy comparable to that of the aftermath of a supernova.... but was Charles ready to control such power while face to face with his uncertain destiny as god of the 7 golden rings?

Screw it, too lazy to finish.

To address your other implications (It's true, people do defend their actions ):

If I wanted to post about berserk I'd probably do it in the berserk-related forums, rather than shootin' the breeze.

MY MOTIVATION IS ATTENTION. OMG NOW NOBODY WILL LIKE ME :(

Dag though, if my motivation for posting was attention, what was yours? It would have to be something even less consequential, since it comes as a result of my posts (and that would mean THIS post is even more inconsequential! Well, at least I responded to other people with it also. Maybe that evens things out.). I guess you're just concerned about me and want to try and help in your inept, one-upping-nothing-in-particular style. Aw Sparn, I didn't know you cared about me so much :)

 

[MangyKid Ver.4.3]

Chicken Popsicles

Under the rainbow bridge to Leprechaun Island, there dwells a mystical troll named Foople. Foople, like the late Rodney Dangerfield, gets no respect. Everybody likens him to Shrek (he is quick to note that Shrek is an Ogre and not a Troll), they throw rocks at him, they chase him with flaming torches. All poor Foople wants is to live peacefully, and maybe snap the occasional child’s neck, as his trollish wont dictates. But alas, the constant agitation he receives from the humans and leprechauns on either side of the bridge is enough to make him quit being a troll altogether.

But unfortunately, Foople could find no species reassignment surgeons, nor an open-minded enough elf to transmogrify him into something stylish like a timberwolf. But one thing he did find in his quest to escape his inauspicious species, was the secret recipe for Chicken Popsicles.

Chicken Popsicles are made from only the finest ingredients, and the chef must have at least a level 5 skill in Funktacular Cookery. Also, the cookware must be made of expensive gnome-made crystal, and the only place cold enough to freeze the delectable chicken treats is the ancient glacier of the fairy folk.

So ain’t nobody going to get a chicken popsicle, because they’s all hard to make. And nobody’s giving a troll gnome-made crystal, either.

 

[nomad]

Nomad, how did you know of my love for puppies? You devil you, with your words of adoration. Gettin' me all a-twitter.

I'm glad you liked it.

 

[MangyKid Ver.4.3]

Big doings in a small egg today folks.

Thirteen chicks hatched out of their pre-eggs, and promptly knocked over my chocolate milk in their exuberance. Life is fantastic to the pre-hatchlings I suppose, but the cynicism sets in fast. They had no respect for the rarity of dairy products inside the eggdome.

After squandering their yolksacks they have the audacity to try and barter with me for my last complete set of playing cards. As if they have anything to trade. But lo, what is this? Generichick #3 has a glint in his eye and an ace up his sleeve. Literally. I lean forward and release a concentrated jet of vomit directly into their eyesockets. Hint taken.

A victory for the Ace of Spades. Taking 5 to peck at the inner crust.