Comeau

I'd like to present to all of the residents of this here forum a collected log of unexpected altercations between my boy-fists and my keyboard. Do not be alarmed, my dearest friends; these horrendous collisions of plastic keys and perspiring digits did not come of some foul union between the Hells themselves and some higher literary power (perhaps a God?) - but from the abuse of an irreproachable keyboard by an inebriated, shitposting Canadian. While I cannot affirm that these tales are of any fine grade, I can assure you that you (all the while delving into the surreal tales of BURGER LOVE, fotantoes, and auto-valets) face no strong risk of the sudden development of transmissible spongiform encephalopathy; experiencing a series of psychosexual issues which each contradict the former's symptoms; and/or the desire to consume large quantities of tortilla chips and carbonated soda. These stories contain no real connection or continuity; the characters have no solid backstory, the setting is never consistent, & the plot elements always change. I did it that way to minimize the focus of how realistic or genre-specific the works all were/would be; and to put the reader in a state of confusion where it was going to be necessary for them to define their understanding of the tale - and not to rely on the factual or opinionated evidence of other parties (isolationist fiction which functions easily as an over-extended allegory for growing up and developing your own self-image). Please note that this is a continuing collection; there is not definitive limit to the list. With that in mind, updates will be sporadic and often inconsistently scheduled (expect the most input on the weekend). Submissions of your own to the Collection are welcome and appreciated. The original two stories come from Pastebin; links will be provided to preserve the quality of the originals. tl;dr I write stories when I get high & drowsy off of my sleeping meds. Enjoy. Part 1/12.5 billion Spoiler There stood a fotanto in the corridor. Chitinous legs raked and skidded along the walls of the doorman's delivery house - too many footprints to count. Every muscle and every rigid plate of exoskeletal armor glistened like wet latex in the bloated veil of the moonlight. Whatever the poor foreman had conjured up for graveyard shift equipment, godshark knew it wouldn't be able to tear that predatory cretin apart without a miracle. Gibbous the moon dribbled over the forms of the monstrous chitin-beast and the inadequately prepared construction worker; every crack of the fresh wood against it's massive needle-legs accented the panicked breaths of the man only to be know to the world as Gholdread Joerlad (well, soon - in the mortuary papers). Every jittery shriek with bending intonation that came from the wedged mandibles of the bulbous beast came with the groans and pained wheezings of the newly renovated 30-story apartment complex. Every rip-roaring shotgun shell which kissed the air into a conical shower of leaden death brought itself in-tandem with the revolting repositioning of the 1,500 pound oddity along the meagre skeleton of carpeted concrete and steel I-beams. this was the funniest shift that would be taken by the man known that singular title: DOUBLE DOCTOR MCSCREWBAG: Gholdread Mandrealdaed Part 7/011010000110000101101101011000100111010101 Spoiler Bmufe Springsdeen was a man of profound BURGER LOVE; he would never be able to turn down a hawt, sensual burdger late and willing to engage in several kinky and DEFINITELY NOT PG-14 antics with him and that -worthy tongue/mouth of his ... sorr that was just some sauce running down my leg. Monday morning at JOE'S JAMACAI STYLE DELI BOY, Bmufe's jungle of an upper lip twitched at the sight of the classic $5 blackboard menu that so eagerly spelt in flawed Jamaican-English "HOT SAUSY BURG! Megafoud fries wiat great salat"; apparently the entire thing "w/ BIG SHOPIN SODAA" was only $90.81 USD - a minor inconvenience for a BURGER LOVE Rwandan male like himself. For this, he wouldn't TUTSI-ROLL over, never - he would take that goddamned burg like a man and give him a hawt, sensual Dijon mustard sauna rub STRAIGHT IN THE FACE> Rolling out the Einstenian-geometries of that godawful Plymouth Superbird that his mother drove around, the saxophone-clad biker heartthrob known as "The Sauce Boss who's Talking' BURGER LOVE, Hoss" inched ever-closer to the beachside club that was known only as JOE'S JAMACAI STYLE DELI BOY - intent on getting his BURGER LOVE only with side-salad and Jamaican jerk spice rubbed all over it like COMMUNIST PROPOGANDA. There was no door to impede his facticious entrance into the fashionable beach-hut diner, only a rebellious and zealous youth whose aura of nauseating zeal and tits-awful acne situation defined him as the Pastafarian waiter snob whose sole existence would ruin the hedonistic garnishes and overall experience of Bmufe's all-too-real BURGER LOVE. This youth was to undergo the name "Cockdune Burgergobbels" and would never be able to achieve enough credibility in the eyes of the Sauce Boss who's Talking' BURGER LOVE, BOSS. "Ey mon, and welcome to JOE'S JAMACAI STYLE DINER; may I talk your order?" Now, this reasonable response not only endangered the promise of a delicious BURGER LOVE experience; but dared to take the goddamned plate and swing for the moon like Pachino was playing you in a Sandlot movie SONN with it's bold misappropriation of "mon". This little trashhole was going to end up with his fist in the wrong side of the pelvis tonight. "Sir, I am BMUFE SPRINGSDEEn, and my burger is needed for the pleasureable of" oh jesus why Bmufe. You let the greasy sheen of this mentally challenged teeny-bopper poison your heart. Your HU-U-UNGRY HEAAAUUUAAAUUAAUAUAUARARARTT. This would only promote your policy of ethno-religious cleansing for your upcoming political platform, BURGER LOVE NEBRASKA FOR @)!33. Then came the sounds of the youngest member of JOE's frail bones being compacted between the gossamer-like spit and the balsa-thick central incisors, which glistened from sunlight hung by the thatch rooftop of the diner and dove into the bowels of Bmufe's freakishly large mouth. Muscles which rippled with vein and resilient tendon became thick, ground worms of flesh and blood-pulp; teeth and bone ground coarsely into filler between freshly formed slabs of Burgergobbels; and the fluid sacs of eyes and kidneys and the stomach were reduced to shredded, fatty herbs inbetween the layers of meat. A guttural roar like a low E major erupted from Springsdeen's daemonic maw, one of unrequited BURGER LOVE COMING TO PASS. the salad that came after was okay i guess. So after that, Bmufe decided to play his saxaphone for a bit and fucked off shortly afterwords. everybody's got a h u n g r y h e a r t, everybody's got a hungry heart you put your money down and play your part everybody's got a HUHHUGH HAUNGARYHAAAAAURT AH AH OUH OH A AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGH hungryhearthungryhearthungryheartplayyourhungryheartplaypartplayhearthungryhurthungryheartplayparthungryhearthangryhurtpaurtpayhungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungryhearthungry HUNGRY

I've seen it about three times now, it's consistently been white and gold.

Spoiler Y'know, for fun, why don't I pull up this thing's biography: Spoiler "Age: 18-19 Sex: male Speice: Hedgehog alignment: good Meaning of name: Determined Guardian Skills: Parkour, Ju jitsu, sword fighting, gunslinger (Bio in progress) Personility: self critical, hardworking, kind & caring of his friends, determined, serious & layback. Liam was born in a family of five, being the middle of two brothers. at 13 his dad comitted suicide and by 16 he ran away to recuit for the freedom fighters malita. In a week of the training the camps destroyed by an unknown enemy, liam and others of his company has been taking prisioner for experiments by a cult of demons. Taken into space Liam was put in the Dark warrior program, combining demon blood with escence of darkness to create a monster with the abilites of the two sides of the darkness. By 17 liam unleased the monster he was created into by relaseing bottled up anger and sorrow and attempts to escape. With no option and being surrounded, live breaks a widow of the space station and is sucked into the vacume of space. Liam crash lands on I little planted held by a chain (not little plante but one of many) where the wolf samuria 'Lone' teaches him to control the darkness and embrace his light. (Liam's harden deamon skin protected him on colision) Liam enter the spirit worlds guantle to become one with the light, to become 'Spirit runner.' Liam learns to equalize his dark and light side but still his darkness waits sliently. Liam then goes on a journy to protected the weak, fight against eggman and kill demons." OHGODITWASWORSETHANITHOUGHT.

I'm down with the Facebook message thing more than a video - and I would gladly contribute to a donation fund. Expect my donation sometime soon, Binary.

I didn't know XYTWO very well - Hell, I never got to interact with him much outside of here. From what I did get to see of him, the man was an invested member of our community who really did put his most forward in community projects (i.e. BfNY, etc.) - and who had the charm and love of people that I don't see a lot in my world. May he have peace and just kindness in the afterlife; and may his family remember him like we have remembered him. Rest in Peace, oh splendid Moon

i don't understand why, but i've been really getting into a lot of B-musical scores lately

Man, I'd argue that being able to make humor out of things like culture; faith; and government keeps us attentive and more aware of the injustices of other places. This whole thing was discussed just this Friday with my class in Social Studies - and I've done some research based on what was said by my teacher. French secularism (referred to as laïcité, or "layman-ism") has had a more culturally-diverse division of governance and politics from religious movements and beliefs than since the passing of the 1905 French law, the religion of Islam being apart of the rule and not the exception. French secularity was designed initially to prevent the Roman Catholic Church from enforcing their clericalism on France (i.e. taxing them for their place in the Church); and to quote the French Constitution of 1958 itself: "The Republic neither recognizes, nor salaries, nor subsidizes any religion". Charlie Hebdo wasn't a specific fiend to any one religion (or even a magazine specifically targeting religion by itself); it openly recognized that there were bad things going on in the political and religious landscapes of places like Pakistan; Korea; and even America - and every pencil stroke was dedicated to pointing out and creating satire focusing on these wrongs. Sure, an opinion isn't harmful in and of itself - but our ability to voice our opinions and views by the merit of free speech allows us to communally operate and avoid becoming a biased, ethnocentric place. One may choose to be offended and upset by the violation of their faith's tenets; by an offensive statement regarding one's race or culture; or by any statement or interpretation of one's lifestyle or identity - but I personally disagree with an extremist reaction towards any party involved in such affairs. It's simply a violation of either side's right to express and be comfortable with their views (no matter how biased or toxic they may truly be towards others).

I don't mind that a film portraying negative action against a political figure or country is made. I don't mind that such a film is made as that political figure is still alive. What I do mind is that when that political figure runs a country that is still armed with nuclear weapons; has a massive following of people who revere them as a God; and has the communications channel within that country locked and oriented towards honoring and refuting their country and their leader's image. Fanaticism drives every maenad who follows to retaliate against offense with hatred.

I may or may not have expressed this before, but I love writing. I mean, I'm no gatdammed William Quakejavelin, but I've done some work; mostly school stuff. However, in my spare time, I create very short snippets of story concepts that either 1) take waaaay too much from the shit I watch/read/get into, 2) don't really have a fully established plot/characters/setting/anything, and/or 3) are just stereotypical as shit. So today, I thought to myself: "Hey Comeau! Yes! You! Dumbass! Why not post these shit-tier ideas onto the intranets so that you can get help or have your work done better!" . And after a very brief reprimanding and beating that would have me thrown in jail for conscious abuse, I managed to pull this thread out of my ass! Hurrah. And y'know what? Just for you, Patchouli, you can be the star TOO. That's right folks! You too can post your miserable heaps of thinly-veiled fanfic conceptualization work on this here thread too! Nobody gets to go home empty handed! EVERYBODY GETS TO READ A BAD STORY PROMPT! And now, I proudly present the Unfinished Works of Comeau: Untitled Modern Fantasy Story (Working Title is "Magic! The Death of Great America") Spoiler Plot: Nearing the end of the 21st Century, frequent strings of anomalous phenomena that cannot be accurately summarized by any known scientific principle has lead to the re-immersion of magic and the rebirth of spiritualism into the public's eye, and with serious implications: possibilities for endless fuel show themselves to oil companies; the incredible knowledge regarding metaphysical studies that could be reverse-engineered by studying this rediscovered art; but more importantly, the marketability of commonplace magic to benefit the common buyer. Adam Abel Persson was an upstart business man going into the dead-end career of selling what is best described as "shapeless magic" to the public; however, issues arose due to the inability to use commonplace storage materials (plastics, ceramics, silicon, etc.) to package the raw para-metamaterial. Persson found a solution in the usage of living or once living things; however, taking a dark turn for the worse, he resolved that the largest possible container for a supply of his product was the human body. Persson (through a highly convoluted scheme involving bribery, assassinations, becoming a founding force behind magical research, being elected the President of the United States for a brief time, and subsequently creating mass changes to the law through money and power) rises to own a giant castle, which churns out storage crate after storage crate of human carcass by the hour from a large farm of people. In addition to being incredibly gifted with magical prowess, he has hired a squadron assembled of trained killers from across the world to support him and protect his legacy. However, this doesn't bode well with a massive revolutionary front based around the anti-commercialism of magic. Led by a young man going only by the name "George Washington", the movement's top commando group goes head to head with the Emperor of All Things Magaeconomical. Setting: 2095 (tech is relatively same as 2014; more streamlined vehicles and more compact devices are the predominate change); then 2099 (arguably more dystopian; larger amounts of waste than before, and most tech is integrated with magic). Characters: "George Washington" - Leader of the resistance, and main protagonist - Young man, 18-21 years old - Prideful; a scholar of old-school American history, literature and culture; very much a peoples person. Speaks in very dramatic, antiquated English. - White, well-groomed hair and blue eyes. Rather athletic physique for his age. Wears a rather well-kept indigo frock coat above a white dress shirt, and adorns a pair of grey dress pants and black dress shoes. - Born of the "First and Last Person to Go Against Magic" in America, "George" was raised by a former Navy SEAL and his loving wife. Both were ideal Americans; young, rich, charismatic, and willing to devote anything to their freedom. However, "George" was left an orphan after a violent scuffle between his parents and the police when the married couple was on their way to Lord Perssons factory to become a body donor. The young boy then grew up to identify magic with the betrayal of the people's freedom, and the death of the Constitution. Uniting former members of his nation under one goal, he took upon the name of America's Great Founder as a tribute to his hero. Lord Adam Able Persson - The entrepreneurial emperor, and main antagonist - 25 years old in the start; 29 by 2099 - In the beginning, he is a hardworking, yet carefree young man; focused on the 9 to 5. By 2099, he becomes greedy, manipulative, and thinks himself a god; a business man who has reached true wealth. Speaks formally, upholds the importance of the audience, and never loses the attention of the person opposite. - Has a head of rich mahogany hair, and sharply wields his pair of gray eyes like daggers; in 2095, he dresses comfortably in a cheap, black suit jacket and white dress shirt, black pants, and black dress shoes (he also wears black browline glasses). In 2099, he now adorns a olive long coat, a black dress shirt w/ a white bowtie, and matching black dress pants and shoes. - Originally a simple, American man who had moved down south into the States to build a life for himself. However, the curse of the market drew its shadow upon him, and drove him to seek an enterprise for himself. In 2095, while working in the relatively dead-end industry of producing common-goods grade magic products akin to cheap toys, Adam discovered the key point in keeping magical energy for a sustained period of time is by keeping it around biomass; using this information, he came to the realization that the perfect container for his company's product, Prestigiagel©, was by storing the "magic Play-Doh" inside a human body. Then, by manipulation of several Supreme Court Judges via bribery; a string of blackmail incidents regarding the then-Vice President and his relations with the President's wife; and sufficient murder of said President, Persson paved his road into legalizing the cultivation of humans in America for business purposes. By 2099, Adam had become the President of the United States, built his central fortress-factory in the middle of the Red River of the South, paid off America's debt, and eliminated poverty in the Southern half of the United States. To protect himself, the Savior of America hired a team of four professional killers to guard key areas of his central factory for him; these four consist of Hans the Killer (a German-Chinese former Buddhist monk, trained in several forms of Shaolin Kung-Fu and the inventor of a counter-style to Shaolin Kung-Fu itself), Scarlet Harlot (a professional Russian hitwoman and disguise artist who specialized in the use of a pill containing a fast-acting strain of tuberculosis to kill her targets; the pill would be administered via kiss), Dowser (a former warrior from a Native American tribe near the then-polluted Red River; exploited by Persson into joining the guard squad), and The Word of the Wind (a Japanese-Russian assassin who emulates a traditional ninja, with the advantage of using wind magic to silence his movement and give him extra mobility).

Bad-Pun Skeleton. Basically just a skeleton with bad puns about Halloween/skeletons/people's costumes. Images will later.

Although subSPUF in Space did die, I can say that it was prominently due to: - The end of summer holidays bridging into the schoolyear - People like me being late with shit and going on trips - A lack of a guiding chain for all members of the group. This leads me to raise the points of: - Needing a GM/Plot Master to start shit up once in a while - Having freedom while requiring some boundaries - Keeping a consistent and frequent interest within the community . . . Speaking of which, I'm thinking of starting up something like the past two Interactive Tales/Adventures either for Halloween; or just in the name of something. Probably will have to do with some fantasy bullshit. I 'unno.