If this is your first visit, be sure to
check out the FAQ by clicking the
link above. You may have to register
before you can post: click the register link above to proceed. To start viewing messages,
select the forum that you want to visit from the selection below.
Anybody got something in development which they'd like another pair of eyes on? I can lend my eyes for short periods of time and as long as you give them back to me free of ketchup stains, I'm up for a little friendly critiquing and/or praising (for just a small additional hourly fee).
Nothing except my own damn page is showing up, Poopy! Are you making the jokey-poo on me again? How am I to provoke your tantrums if you won't show me your shit?
DEP, the story is really really good and now I feel jealous and inadequate now because I've never written anything awesome here like everybody else.
But then of course I go look at the main site and realize the forums here are only like 1% of the community and most of the other users are little more than retarded shit-flinging chimpanzees who barely qualify as human, and I feel so much better about myself!
haha look at you guys wasting all that time and effort writing awesome stories just so uncomprehending chimps can throw shit at them, whew I'm glad that's not me, it's pretty great that I've willfully decided to never finish a project ever, yep
haha look at you guys wasting all that time and effort writing awesome stories just so uncomprehending chimps can throw shit at them, whew I'm glad that's not me...
...says the girl who has thrown herself in the shit pit with the rest of us slobs for what is quickly shaping up to be the biggest IWT yet. Or was your signing up really more of a rhetorical gesture?
I agree, though. Poop's shit is pretty smeggin' awesome. It's setting the bar uncomfortably high for a contest where I was planning to finally just slum it, writing three-sentence-long rooms in some sort of Wiki Simple English / Circus Freak patois, with a "plot" focusing either on kittens or cupcakes. But now, thanks to Mr. Overachiever, such a wonderful life is no longer an option. After all, a chimp-shit-smeared cupcake is far more disgusting than a chimp-shit-smeared piece of uselessly competent literature kicked out into the void...oid..ddd.
[QUOTE=Vesnic;17803]...says the girl who has thrown herself in the shit pit with the rest of us slobs for what is quickly shaping up to be the biggest IWT yet. Or was your signing up really more of a rhetorical gesture?
QUOTE]
Pfft, my signing up doesn't mean I'm going to actually write anything, let alone anything good, I think we all know this by now.
Of course I've got the easiest theme combo of all, 'haunted town and possession' practically writes itself so maybe I'll manage to throw something together the first week of January after all.
Probably make it fantasy or sci-fi just to spite everyone though. Also work in giant dinosaurs with lasers somehow.
I plan on actually finishing this one. But you know how that goes.
*cue laughtrack*
I've been working on it fairly hard. I hope to have it finished before the contest. I was worried that it wasn't [s]whorey[/s] horror-ey enough. [/whatthefuckwhywontstrikethroughwork?!?!?!?!?!]
I've been taking a bit of a break from my own stuff lately, and in a rare moment of magnanimity I have been adding a page or two to another lucky writer's magnum opus. Ghostwriter's haunted-house story has today been graced with a new visitation by the Vesnicie, who had the following truly brilliant material to contribute:
(Background. You're in the house of a deranged teenybopper serial killer who has boobytrapped a creepy-ass old house to kill you in all sorts of amusing ways before you've even so much as set your freakishly longer-than-your-big-toe second toe in the front door. The catch to be remembered by? If through some unfathomable stroke of luck you manage to beat the odds and survive (without cheating!) then you have the choice to kill the author in any way pleasing to your little baby heart. At this point in the story, you've just entered the "pink room", which is to say, the room covered in pink. Given the choice between making your escape by bashing in a mouse hole or entering a large dark dollhouse in the corner, you have opted for the latter. Once inside, however, you get the shock of your life as you realize you are not alone...)
You decide to have a little looksee in that big old dollhouse. Stooping down, you open the flimsy wooden front door, squeeze yourself inside, and wait for the magic to begin.
But nothing happens.
You can’t really see for shit, but you crawl all around, gamely bumping into things and declaring, “Oh my gosh!” several times, still believing in the power of dreams and the reality of spatial and temporal anomalies. That you are a huge dork from Dorkville-on-Dorkflow hardly needs to be elucidated, does it?
“Ouch!” you exclaim, your enthusiasm starting to wane as you circle round the empty ground floor for what you think is the third time, yet you still have not fallen down a rabbit hole or been sucked up a gigantic vacuum. “What the hell?”
“I might ask you the same thing,” a voice replies in the darkness. “You’ve knocked me with your fat ass twice now crawling around this place like some kind of asshole.”
You are frozen with fear, poised like a pert puppy with one paw still suspended hopefully in the air. At the sound of this very mundane voice, however, you sit down on that big ass and talk back to the sound.
“Where are you? What are you doing here?”
“I’m Justin Bieber, you cock.”
“What?!
“I said I’m Justin Bieber. And I’m not signing any autographs.”
“How did you get here?”
“Easy. I was riding with my bitches going real fast until a fucking cop came out of goddamn nowhere and tried to pull me over. I don’t roll with that shit. I fucking gunned that fucker all the way down this creepy-ass street until I kind of ran off the road, crashed into a ravine and pulled myself from the burning wreckage just in time to see the whole fucking thing go up in flames.”
“And your, uh…bitches?”
“Be fucked if I care. They kept talking in some dumbass language and probably weren’t supposed to be here anyway. Fucking immigrants.”
“Uh, Justin, you know you yourself are from…”
“Fuck you, eh. Shut up. Next?”
“But how did you get here here, like in this room?”
“Well duh, I had to kind of lay low after blowing up those two skanks so I kept walking down that creepy-ass road until I saw this big old house. I literally have to keep the paps and shit off my ass, so I wore a towel and big sunglasses and snucked into the basement. Then I found all that weird shit this whack-job has going on here and after I played that stupid tape I went in here because pink is my favorite color, obviously. Fucking shit, my management is gonna be all over this fucker once I’m out. Nobody, I mean NOBODY, pulls this shit with the Biebs.”
“You know, Justin, I think you’re actually taking this pretty well. I mean, you don’t seem scared or anything.”
“Scared? Do you think I’m some kind of little bitch? I drink Sizzurp, asshole. I got hair on my balls, big hairy hair on my big-ass balls.”
“Your big ass-balls?”
“Fuck you, queer-o.”
“Hey fuck YOU, J. What exactly were you doing in the dollhouse in the pink room anyway?”
“I could ask you the same question!”
“Well actually I’m not…”
*******************************
This is where I break in, bitch. The fourth wall is down so you might as well just eat it with some peanut butter and jelly. Mm mm mama.
“I hope this crappy old…ssss…fucking…ssss…tercom works. Justin? …ssss… Justin? Testing one, two three. Justin is that really you?”
“That doesn’t sound like my sound-check guy.”
From my seat at the controls, I turn on every light in the house. There’s no light inside the big dollhouse, but there are those frilly pink lamps just outside which cast an appealing glow into the windowless windows. Pay attention to the pronouns now, because this is about to get very confusing.
You blink and cover your eyes as rosy Technicolor beams fill the dollhouse, which, as it turns out, is nothing more than some crappy balsawood walls held together with glue glops and some masking tape. Bieber is there, the scrawny little bitch, looking as self-satisfied as ever, though he seems to have forgotten that he is in fact seated in a large puddle of his own pee. You point at him and laugh.
“You’re gonna fucking pay for that,” he spits at you, turning away as he struggles to his orange Nike-clad feet to try and find the intercom system. You follow him out of the dollhouse. Justin pushes the button on a beat-up old wall panel.
“Hello?” he says like a fucking Cub Scout.
“Justin! Oh my god, it’s really you! Ever and always shall I know the lilting ululations of your trilling lyrical fox-vox! Justin! Justin! My god of gods! Idol of idols! Pop Master General and Best Canadian Ever!”
I always knew my evil machinations would bear fruit! Bieber is in the house! Bieber Bieber Bieber! But what to do with this other spare asshole?
And by that, I mean of course, you.
“Please don’t hurt me,” you say.
“But I like hurting people,” I say.
“But you’ve got what you wanted. You’ve got Justin!”
“True, very true. Hmmm.”
Well, what do I do with you? In order to influence me telepathically, you will already have had to pick up the Vulcan Mind-Melds for Idiots book located on my inaccessible roof. Do you have this worthy tome on your unworthy person?
You know I don’t. I mean, I know you don’t. I mean, I/you know what you/I mean!
Yes of course! Without a doubt! Certainly! Indubitably and verily, indeedy!
We process personal data about users of our site, through the use of cookies and other technologies, to deliver our services, personalize advertising, and to analyze site activity. We may share certain information about our users with our advertising and analytics partners. For additional details, refer to our Privacy Policy.
By clicking "I AGREE" below, you agree to our Privacy Policy and our personal data processing and cookie practices as described therein. You also acknowledge that this forum may be hosted outside your country and you consent to the collection, storage, and processing of your data in the country where this forum is hosted.
Tweet
Comment