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'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

Dualjay, Huff, Skye, and Tyrone were all sitting around a table at Dualjay's house. There was a pile of gifts on the table, but all the focus was on Dualjay. Through the power of getting >double donged, Dualjay had come back to life, and Skye was alive again too for some reason. Though, It wasn't Dualjay's life they were focused on, but the life that was growing inside of his stomach.
 
Being the buttslut Dualjay is, he had gotten pregnant on one of his drunken escapades. If you're wondering how a man can get pregnant, shut up. He had wanted to get an abortion, but Just a Gigolo was the only abortion doctor his medicare covered, and he didn't want Gigolo telling everyone he knew about him getting a butt abortion. He then did the next logical thing, and wore a variety of stylish hats to distract people from his stomach. Unfortunately for Dualjay, stylish hats could only work for so long, and after six or so months, not even the most unusual of hats could distract from his baby belly.
 
"I was so shocked to find out you were pregnant, Dualjay. I should have known from all those hats you were wearing that something was up." Huff said taking a long sip from his teacup. "But why wait so long to tell us? You didn't give me anytime to plan your baby shower." Skye said staring daggers at Dualjay. Skye, as everyone knows, has always taken baby showers very seriously. Dualjay took a deep breath "I just felt so embarrassed that I had gotten pregnant and didn't know who the father was."
 
Huff, trying to quickly change the subject to something happier, pushed one of the wrapped gifts towards Dualjay. "It's time to open your presents, Dualjay. This one is from me." Dualjay took the box and carefully untied the bow. "You did such a nice job wrapping this, I almost don't want to open it." Dualjay said with a light giggle. Tyrone pulled out a gun and placed it on the table. "Open your gifts faster." Dualjay then ripped the paper off quickly, and opened the box.
 
Inside the box Huff gave Dualjay was generic baby supplies. Dualjay wasted no time opening Skye's gift to reveal a carseat for the baby. Dualjay gave both of them a hug and said "Oh you guys, you're so thoughtful." After the hug they all looked at over at Tyrone. "Whatcha all lookin' at you jive turkeys?" Tyrone said folding his arms. "We talked about this Tyrone, you were supposed to use the fifty dollars I gave you to buy Dualjay a gift." Skye said red with anger. Tyrone didn't say anything, he just pulled out another gun, and placed on top of the first gun.
 
"Oh what was that?" Dualjay said with a look of pain and shock on his face. "Is the baby kicking?" Skye replied, placing a hand on his belly. "No, it hurt a lot more than that." Dualjay said trying to stand up. "Uh oh, I think my water just broke." Right as Dualjay said that, a stream of water came down from between his legs. Skye started panicking and running around the room. "Snap out of it, Skye. We have to get Dualjay to the hospital." Huff said slapping Skye in the face.
 
Huff and Skye helped Dualjay up on his feet and started moving him towards the door. "Tyrone, your car is blocking us, you have to move it." Huff shouted at Tyrone. All Tyrone did was pull out another gun and place on top of the two guns form earlier. Huff sighed and moved Dualjay back to the chair. "I guess we'll just have to deliver the baby here if Tyrone is going to be like that."
 
Thankfully, Dualjay was wearing a dress he had borrowed from A 1970's Corvette, so all Huff had to do was take off his underwear to deliver the baby. "Push hard, Dualjay. I can't see anything yet." Huff said from between Dualjay's legs. Dualjay pushed as hard as he could, screaming loudly with each push. "I see the head, it's crowning. Keep pushing, Dualjay!" Huff shouted in between Dualjay's screams. After several pushes, Huff was able pull the baby out of Dualjay's butt.
 
"It's a beautiful baby boy." Huff said handing Dualjay his baby. "Wow, with that afro he looks just like Tyro-" before Dualjay could finish that though, Tyrone had ran out the door, hopped into his 1964 Buick Skylark Sport Wagon, and sped away.
 
They say at night, if you listen closely, you can still hear Tyrone yell "That ain't mah baby!."
 

*Breaking news: Texas is terrible.
 

I think Guy linked me this article on another site, which said the two other times he got suspended was for pretty bullshit reasons.
 
Edit: Found the article

fuck you guy I was just in charge of the spray bottle I knew MY part

Jaden Smith has it all figured out.
 

I think the dress needs an SCP Page.
 
Item no. SCP-3467 / SCP-3468
 
Description: Subject is a dress that creates angry divisiveness between staff members attempting to observe or analyze its physical properties. Currently listed as both SCP-3467 and SCP-3468 because Doctors [REDACTED] and [REDACTED], in addition to their respective research teams, refuse to use the others' designation as their separate reports of SCP-3467 / SCP-3468's color and other attributes vary considerably. It is unlikely a resolution to this problem will be found.

probably the single only time this will be used in a context that does not involve religion

I bet his favorite Soul Calibur character is Edgemaster.
 

ladies.

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.

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 suggest to just do a simple condolences message explaining who we are and where we knew XYTWO from, with all our names (maybe nationalities to show how he had friends all over the world)
 
Dear Mr and Ms Lebowitz,
 
We heard of James' passing through his roommate. We are all part of a small gaming community James was part of, and his passing was a great shock to all of us. He was a great guy, and had friends all over the world.
 
Our deepest condolences,
 
[names]

The Rogue who steals from the party and goes "Lulz I was just playing my character" is a pox on the gaming community.

If you like that genre, try some stuff from Repo! The Genetic Opera.

>DM: roll for Perception to see if the alleyway is clear.
>1, +30 modifier
>DM: You rise into the air on a pillar of heavenly glory. Divine light pours from your eyes and mouth as a beacon of cosmic awareness billows out from your body like a ripple in reality's pond.
>You can feel the heartbeat of the asphalt. The air holds its breath so as not to impede you hearing.
>The reincarnation of Lord Solar Macharius himself descends from on high, borne aloft by cherubs, and says unto ye, "Nay, for 'tis empty, yonder alleyway."

I think the point is that it's a cop out to decide "Oh, those guys aren't technically Muslims because they do things I don't approve of" when their actions are based on the same (and what some people would consider to be harmful) belief system.
 
In fact, I'm sure a lot of these extremists consider themselves to be the only "true" Muslims. I'm not arguing that they're right. I'm saying that ideologies are so widely varied within a single religion that it's almost arbitrary to say "Oh, that person isn't a real Christian because she got an abortion", or "That person isn't a real Jew because he isn't Orthodox". There's always going to be some sect or group that's going to make that point about others who identify as the same religion as them, so who even gets to make that call? Not to mention, it comes off as a way to waive any responsibility for or even acknowledge the negative aspects of those religions and their consequences.

It's sad what happened in France, and I wish stuff like this did not happen, but it does sadly. I'm a muslim and I'm against terrorism, and I condemn the attack.
 
Since this seems to be more about this being another attack by "muslims". I'll just say that these "Muslim" terrorists also kill other muslims, as well as children. There was an attack at a Pakistani school last month, killing 145 people, most of them children, which is forbidden in Islam. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2014_Peshawar_school_massacre
 
I do not consider these terrorists to be muslims.
 
These terrorists are also just damaging Islam. These attacks are causing more uproar against muslims in general, but the majority doesn't do this kind of shit, and the attack is being condemned by other muslims as well.
 
As for caricature drawings, I personally just ignore them. I don't like that it happens, but I can deal with it. Some react with violence, burning of flags and such, but that really just ruins it even more for us.

Gigolo, if you're gunna be a dick to Muslims, be a dick to all religious people at the same time. Most "holy books" have similar passages. There's over a billion muslims on this planet, and the vast majority would never do this.