"As long as it has a pair of legs, ass and penis I'm happy." explained BigDyl to reporters who soon arrived on the scene, they just stood lock jawed and frozen with astonishment...
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IM creative story thread....
- Thread starter goob
- Start date
This old bald guy ran up to them and said "thats ghey".
Then the two love birds went out for a drink.
This creative story is starting to sound a little too real. Dare I say, it's turning into a "true story".
zombul
Registered
They had twins naming them Foreman and Kenwood.
Yeah I had to fend off a pterodactyl just yesterday...
zombul
Registered
It all started when our (former porn) star, Foreman, woke up in a foxy forest. It was the sixth time it had happened. Feeling alarmingly puzzled, Foreman poked a wolverine, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). As if it really mattered he realized that his beloved Spear of Ironmag was missing! Immediately he called his fundamentalist, guilt-dispensing friend, Kenwood. Foreman had known Kenwood for (plus or minus) 20 years, the majority of which were enchanting ones. Kenwood was unique. She was attractive though sometimes a little... funny-smelling. Foreman called her anyway, for the situation was urgent.
Kenwood picked up to a very calm Foreman. Kenwood calmly assured him that most man-eating capybaras yawn before mating, yet South American hissing sloths usually exotically shudder *after* mating. She had no idea what that meant; she was only concerned with distracting Foreman. Why was Kenwood trying to distract Foreman? Because she had snuck out from Foreman's with the Spear of Ironmag only eleven days prior. It was a curious little Spear of Ironmag... how could she resist?
It didn't take long before Foreman got back to the subject at hand: his Spear of Ironmag. Kenwood shuddered. Relunctantly, Kenwood invited him over, assuring him they'd find the Spear of Ironmag. Foreman grabbed his time machine and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Kenwood realized that she was in trouble. She had to find a place to hide the Spear of Ironmag and she had to do it aimlessly. She figured that if Foreman took the deliciously practical 4-door, she had take at least three minutes before Foreman would get there. But if he took the Cock Machine? Then Kenwood would be very screwed.
Before she could come up with any reasonable ideas, Kenwood was interrupted by five pestering Fuck-o-sauruss that were lured by her Spear of Ironmag. Kenwood panicked; 'Not again', she thought. Feeling displeased, she skillfully reached for her ripened avocado and deftly attacked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the imaginery desert, squealing with discontent. She exhaled with relief. That's when she heard the Cock Machine rolling up. It was Foreman.
----o0o----
As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at McDonald's to pick up a 12-pack of dull pencils, so he knew he was running late. With a skillful leap, Foreman was out of the Cock Machine and went charismatically jaunting toward Kenwood's front door. Meanwhile inside, Kenwood was panicking. Not thinking, she tossed the Spear of Ironmag into a box of dangerous oil-soaked rags and then slid the box behind her elephant. Kenwood was worried but at least the Spear of Ironmag was concealed. The doorbell rang.
'Come in,' Kenwood explosively purred. With a quick push, Foreman opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some pestering zealous...zealot in a spaceship,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Kenwood assured him. Foreman took a seat exotically proximate to where Kenwood had hidden the Spear of Ironmag. Kenwood shuddered trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' she blurted. But Foreman was distracted. Happy as a frickin' monkey, Kenwood noticed a clueless look on Foreman's face. Foreman slowly opened his mouth to speak.
'...What's that smell?'
Kenwood felt a stabbing pain in her fingernail when Foreman asked this. In a moment of disbelief, she realized that she had hidden the Spear of Ironmag right by her oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A annoying look started to form on Foreman's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's carrots from when she used to have pet South American hissing sloths. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Foreman nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Kenwood could react, Foreman skillfully lunged toward the box and opened it. The Spear of Ironmag was plainly in view.
Foreman stared at Kenwood for what what must've been eleven millseconds. Suddenly inspired by the wise teachings of Confuscious, Kenwood groped sassily in Foreman's direction, clearly desperate. Foreman grabbed the Spear of Ironmag and bolted for the door. It was locked. Kenwood let out a exotic chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Foreman,' she rebuked. Kenwood always had been a little selfish, so Foreman knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Kenwood did something crazy, like... start chucking ninja stars at her or something. Heart filled with earnest fortitude, he gripped his Spear of Ironmag tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.
Kenwood looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Foreman. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame seven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly she felt a tinge of concern for Foreman. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Kenwood walked over to the window and looked down. Foreman was gone.
----o0o----
Just yonder, Foreman was struggling to make his way through the secret vineyard behind Kenwood's place. Foreman had severely hurt his fingernail during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Fuck-o-sauruss suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Spear of Ironmag. One by one they latched on to Foreman. Already weakened from his injury, Foreman yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Fuck-o-sauruss running off with his Spear of Ironmag.
About nine hours later, Foreman awoke, his armpit throbbing. It was dark and Foreman did not know where he was. Deep in the uninhabited secret vineyard, Foreman was ridiculously lost. A few unsatisfying minutes later, he remembered that his Spear of Ironmag was taken by the Fuck-o-sauruss. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That's when, to his horror, a little Fuck-o-saurus emerged from the lemur-infested moor. It was the alpha Fuck-o-saurus. Foreman opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the Fuck-o-saurus sunk its teeth into Foreman's prostate. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Foreman's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.
Less than two miles away, Kenwood was entombed by anguish over the loss of the Spear of Ironmag. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' she cried, as she reached for a sharpened dangerous oil-soaked rag. With a inept thrust, she buried it deeply into her love handle. As the room began to fade to black, she thought about Foreman... wishing she had found the courage to tell him that she loved him. But she would die alone that day. All that remained was the Spear of Ironmag that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. 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 Fuck-o-sauruss, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(
LOLz!!1
Kenwood picked up to a very calm Foreman. Kenwood calmly assured him that most man-eating capybaras yawn before mating, yet South American hissing sloths usually exotically shudder *after* mating. She had no idea what that meant; she was only concerned with distracting Foreman. Why was Kenwood trying to distract Foreman? Because she had snuck out from Foreman's with the Spear of Ironmag only eleven days prior. It was a curious little Spear of Ironmag... how could she resist?
It didn't take long before Foreman got back to the subject at hand: his Spear of Ironmag. Kenwood shuddered. Relunctantly, Kenwood invited him over, assuring him they'd find the Spear of Ironmag. Foreman grabbed his time machine and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Kenwood realized that she was in trouble. She had to find a place to hide the Spear of Ironmag and she had to do it aimlessly. She figured that if Foreman took the deliciously practical 4-door, she had take at least three minutes before Foreman would get there. But if he took the Cock Machine? Then Kenwood would be very screwed.
Before she could come up with any reasonable ideas, Kenwood was interrupted by five pestering Fuck-o-sauruss that were lured by her Spear of Ironmag. Kenwood panicked; 'Not again', she thought. Feeling displeased, she skillfully reached for her ripened avocado and deftly attacked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the imaginery desert, squealing with discontent. She exhaled with relief. That's when she heard the Cock Machine rolling up. It was Foreman.
----o0o----
As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at McDonald's to pick up a 12-pack of dull pencils, so he knew he was running late. With a skillful leap, Foreman was out of the Cock Machine and went charismatically jaunting toward Kenwood's front door. Meanwhile inside, Kenwood was panicking. Not thinking, she tossed the Spear of Ironmag into a box of dangerous oil-soaked rags and then slid the box behind her elephant. Kenwood was worried but at least the Spear of Ironmag was concealed. The doorbell rang.
'Come in,' Kenwood explosively purred. With a quick push, Foreman opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some pestering zealous...zealot in a spaceship,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Kenwood assured him. Foreman took a seat exotically proximate to where Kenwood had hidden the Spear of Ironmag. Kenwood shuddered trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' she blurted. But Foreman was distracted. Happy as a frickin' monkey, Kenwood noticed a clueless look on Foreman's face. Foreman slowly opened his mouth to speak.
'...What's that smell?'
Kenwood felt a stabbing pain in her fingernail when Foreman asked this. In a moment of disbelief, she realized that she had hidden the Spear of Ironmag right by her oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A annoying look started to form on Foreman's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's carrots from when she used to have pet South American hissing sloths. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Foreman nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Kenwood could react, Foreman skillfully lunged toward the box and opened it. The Spear of Ironmag was plainly in view.
Foreman stared at Kenwood for what what must've been eleven millseconds. Suddenly inspired by the wise teachings of Confuscious, Kenwood groped sassily in Foreman's direction, clearly desperate. Foreman grabbed the Spear of Ironmag and bolted for the door. It was locked. Kenwood let out a exotic chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Foreman,' she rebuked. Kenwood always had been a little selfish, so Foreman knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Kenwood did something crazy, like... start chucking ninja stars at her or something. Heart filled with earnest fortitude, he gripped his Spear of Ironmag tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.
Kenwood looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Foreman. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame seven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly she felt a tinge of concern for Foreman. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Kenwood walked over to the window and looked down. Foreman was gone.
----o0o----
Just yonder, Foreman was struggling to make his way through the secret vineyard behind Kenwood's place. Foreman had severely hurt his fingernail during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Fuck-o-sauruss suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Spear of Ironmag. One by one they latched on to Foreman. Already weakened from his injury, Foreman yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Fuck-o-sauruss running off with his Spear of Ironmag.
About nine hours later, Foreman awoke, his armpit throbbing. It was dark and Foreman did not know where he was. Deep in the uninhabited secret vineyard, Foreman was ridiculously lost. A few unsatisfying minutes later, he remembered that his Spear of Ironmag was taken by the Fuck-o-sauruss. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That's when, to his horror, a little Fuck-o-saurus emerged from the lemur-infested moor. It was the alpha Fuck-o-saurus. Foreman opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the Fuck-o-saurus sunk its teeth into Foreman's prostate. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Foreman's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.
Less than two miles away, Kenwood was entombed by anguish over the loss of the Spear of Ironmag. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' she cried, as she reached for a sharpened dangerous oil-soaked rag. With a inept thrust, she buried it deeply into her love handle. As the room began to fade to black, she thought about Foreman... wishing she had found the courage to tell him that she loved him. But she would die alone that day. All that remained was the Spear of Ironmag that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. 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 Fuck-o-sauruss, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(
LOLz!!1
Feel free to elaborate.
zombul
Registered
yEAh thats how I remember it toooooooo...
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^ lol...nice
& a shitload of time wasted
& a shitload of time wasted
Cats sleep up to 20 hours a day. Time means nothing to us- we are beyond time.
I thought I had found a writer friend in BigDyl, but alas its a farce....
I thought I had found a writer friend in BigDyl, but alas its a farce....
PWNED!!!
