Randumbness - Random Story Generator

[Agent C]

It all started when our over-heralded star, Isjaclov, woke up in a haunted thicket. It was the ninth time it had happened. Feeling scarcely puzzled, Isjaclov stroked a dull pencil, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Absolutely thrilled, he realized that his beloved silver key was missing!  Immediately he called his so-called friend, That Person. Isjaclov had known That Person for (plus or minus) 20 years, the majority of which were curious ones.  That Person was unique. She was intelligent though sometimes a little... oafish. Isjaclov called her anyway, for the situation was urgent.

   That Person picked up to a very ecstatic Isjaclov. That Person calmly assured him that most venomous koalas yawn before mating, yet legless puppies usually exotically cringe *after* mating. She had no idea what that meant; she was only concerned with distracting Isjaclov.  Why was That Person trying to distract Isjaclov?  Because she had snuck out from Isjaclov's with the silver key only two days prior.  It was a flamboyant little silver key... how could she resist?

   It didn't take long before Isjaclov got back to the subject at hand: his silver key. That Person grimaced. Relunctantly, That Person invited him over, assuring him they'd find the silver key. Isjaclov grabbed his whale and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, That Person realized that she was in trouble. She had to find a place to hide the silver key and she had to do it aimlessly. She figured that if Isjaclov took the deliciously practical 4-door, she had take at least nine minutes before Isjaclov would get there.  But if he took the Fighter Jet?  Then That Person would be exceedingly screwed.

   Before she could come up with any reasonable ideas, That Person was interrupted by eight clueless UniTurtles that were lured by her silver key. That Person panicked; 'Not again', she thought. Feeling relieved, she aggressively reached for her potato and aptly stroked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the foxy forest, squealing with discontent. She exhaled with relief.  That's when she heard the Fighter Jet rolling up.  It was Isjaclov.

----o0o----

   As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Seven-Eleven to pick up a 12-pack of ninja stars, so he knew he was running late.  With a mighty leap, Isjaclov was out of the Fighter Jet and went scandalously jaunting toward That Person's front door.  Meanwhile inside,  That Person was panicking.  Not thinking, she tossed the silver key into a box of ninja stars and then slid the box behind her hammock. That Person was stunned but at least the silver key was concealed.  The doorbell rang.

   'Come in,' That Person wildly purred.  With a deft push, Isjaclov opened the door.  'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some stupid zealous...zealot in a hippie-pleasing hybrid vehicle,' he lied.  'It's fine,' That Person assured him. Isjaclov took a seat ridiculously unclose to where That Person had hidden the silver key. That Person turned red trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness.  'Uhh, can I get you anything?' she blurted.  But Isjaclov was distracted. A few unsatisfying minutes later, That Person noticed a pestering look on Isjaclov's face. Isjaclov slowly opened his mouth to speak.

   '...What's that smell?'

   That Person felt a stabbing pain in her love handle when Isjaclov asked this.  In a moment of disbelief, she realized that she had hidden the silver key right by her oscillating fan. 'Wh-what?  I don't smell anything..!'  A lie.  A annoying look started to form on Isjaclov's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's gerbils from when she used to have pet disease-carrying chipmunks.  She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Isjaclov nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before That Person could react, Isjaclov skillfully lunged toward the box and opened it.  The silver key was plainly in view.

   Isjaclov stared at That Person for what what must've been nine nanoseconds. A few unsatisfying minutes later, That Person groped earnestly in Isjaclov's direction, clearly desperate. Isjaclov grabbed the silver key and bolted for the door.  It was locked. That Person let out a eccentric chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Isjaclov,' she rebuked. That Person always had been a little clueless, so Isjaclov knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before That Person did something crazy, like... start chucking ninja stars at her or something. Before the all-seeing eyes of a perpetually displeased diety, he gripped his silver key tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

   That Person looked on, blankly. 'What the hell?  That seemed excessive.  The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Isjaclov. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame eleven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly she felt a tinge of concern for Isjaclov. 'Oh.  You ..okay?' Still silence. That Person walked over to the window and looked down. Isjaclov was gone.

----o0o----

   Just yonder, Isjaclov was struggling to make his way through the lemur-infested moor behind That Person's place. Isjaclov had severely hurt his shin during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength.  Another pack of feral UniTurtles suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the silver key.  One by one they latched on to Isjaclov.  Already weakened from his injury, Isjaclov yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed.  The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of UniTurtles running off with his silver key.

   About seven hours later, Isjaclov awoke, his kidney throbbing.  It was dark and Isjaclov did not know where he was.  Deep in the broad fanstic pumpkin patch, Isjaclov was abnormally lost. In a tragically predictable turn of events, he remembered that his silver key was taken by the UniTurtles. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life.  That's when, to his horror, a enlarged UniTurtle emerged from the magical cornfield.  It was the alpha UniTurtle. Isjaclov opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the UniTurtle sunk its teeth into Isjaclov's shin. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Isjaclov's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

   Less than five miles away, That Person was entombed by anguish over the loss of the silver key.  'MY PRECIOUS!!' she cried, as she reached for a sharpened potato.  With a deft thrust, she buried it deeply into her p-spot.  As the room began to fade to black, she thought about Isjaclov... 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 silver key 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 UniTurtles, 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. :'(

[Ad Bot]

[zackin5]

   It all started when our (former research) star, Mail Woman, woke up in a bush. It was the ninth time it had happened. Feeling really pleased, Mail Woman attacked a ripened avocado, thinking it would make her feel better (but as usual, it did not). Heart filled with earnest fortitude, she realized that her beloved letter to aunt bee was missing!  Immediately she called her vicariously jealous friend, Mail Boy. Mail Woman had known Mail Boy for (plus or minus) 2,000 years, the majority of which were curious ones.  Mail Boy was unique. He was smart though sometimes a little... dimwitted. Mail Woman called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

   Mail Boy picked up to a very ecstatic Mail Woman. Mail Boy calmly assured her that most South American hissing sloths yawn before mating, yet South American hissing sloths usually earnestly cringe *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Mail Woman.  Why was Mail Boy trying to distract Mail Woman?  Because he had snuck out from Mail Woman's with the letter to aunt bee only ten days prior.  It was a sassy little letter to aunt bee... how could he resist?

   It didn't take long before Mail Woman got back to the subject at hand: her letter to aunt bee. Mail Boy turned red. Relunctantly, Mail Boy invited her over, assuring her they'd find the letter to aunt bee. Mail Woman grabbed her hammock and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Mail Boy realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the letter to aunt bee and he had to do it aggressively. He figured that if Mail Woman took the gas-guzzling, ecology-destroying, tankish SUV, he had take at least eleven minutes before Mail Woman would get there.  But if she took the mail boxbile?  Then Mail Boy would be very screwed.

   Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Mail Boy was interrupted by ten oafish freddy cougars that were lured by his letter to aunt bee. Mail Boy belched; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling displeased, he deftly reached for his ripened avocado and aggressively stroked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the fanstic pumpkin patch, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief.  That's when he heard the mail boxbile rolling up.  It was Mail Woman.

----o0o----

   As she pulled up, she felt a sense of urgency. She had had to make an unscheduled stop at McDonald's to pick up a 12-pack of live hand grenades, so she knew she was running late.  With a careful leap, Mail Woman was out of the mail boxbile and went flamboyantly jaunting toward Mail Boy's front door.  Meanwhile inside,  Mail Boy was panicking.  Not thinking, he tossed the letter to aunt bee into a box of bananas and then slid the box behind his canoe. Mail Boy was puzzled but at least the letter to aunt bee was concealed.  The doorbell rang.

   'Come in,' Mail Boy surreptitiously purred.  With a quick push, Mail Woman opened the door.  'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some annoying zealous...zealot in a rice rocket,' she lied.  'It's fine,' Mail Boy assured her. Mail Woman took a seat exotically proximate to where Mail Boy had hidden the letter to aunt bee. Mail Boy grimaced trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness.  'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted.  But Mail Woman was distracted. Suddenly inspired by the wise teachings of Confuscious, Mail Boy noticed a annoying look on Mail Woman's face. Mail Woman slowly opened her mouth to speak.

   '...What's that smell?'

   Mail Boy felt a stabbing pain in his love handle when Mail Woman asked this.  In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the letter to aunt bee right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what?  I don't smell anything..!'  A lie.  A oafish look started to form on Mail Woman's face. She turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's wolverines from when she used to have pet long-haired sea monkeys.  She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Mail Woman nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Mail Boy could react, Mail Woman randomly lunged toward the box and opened it.  The letter to aunt bee was plainly in view.

   Mail Woman stared at Mail Boy for what what must've been two seconds. Unaware of the bleakness of existence, Mail Boy groped exotically in Mail Woman's direction, clearly desperate. Mail Woman grabbed the letter to aunt bee and bolted for the door.  It was locked. Mail Boy let out a eccentric chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Mail Woman,' he rebuked. Mail Boy always had been a little oafish, so Mail Woman knew that reconciliation was not an option; she needed to escape before Mail Boy did something crazy, like... start chucking carrots at him or something. As if it really mattered she gripped her letter to aunt bee tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

   Mail Boy looked on, blankly. 'What the hell?  That seemed excessive.  The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Mail Woman. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame two days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Mail Woman. 'Oh.  You ..okay?' Still silence. Mail Boy walked over to the window and looked down. Mail Woman was gone.

----o0o----

   Just yonder, Mail Woman was struggling to make her way through the lemur-infested moor behind Mail Boy's place. Mail Woman had severely hurt her scalp during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength.  Another pack of feral freddy cougars suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the letter to aunt bee.  One by one they latched on to Mail Woman.  Already weakened from her injury, Mail Woman yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed.  The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of freddy cougars running off with her letter to aunt bee.

   About six hours later, Mail Woman awoke, her love handle throbbing.  It was dark and Mail Woman did not know where she was.  Deep in the inhospitable imaginery desert, Mail Woman was very lost. Suddenly inspired by the wise teachings of Confuscious, she remembered that her letter to aunt bee was taken by the freddy cougars. But at that point, she was just thankful for her life.  That's when, to her horror, a little freddy cougar emerged from the imaginery desert.  It was the alpha freddy cougar. Mail Woman opened her mouth to scream but was cut short when the freddy cougar sunk its teeth into Mail Woman's love handle. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Mail Woman's lungs, but not before she realized that she was a failure.

   Less than eight miles away, Mail Boy was entombed by anguish over the loss of the letter to aunt bee.  'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened gerbil.  With a hasty thrust, he buried it deeply into his taint.  As the room began to fade to black, he thought about Mail Woman... wishing he had found the courage to tell her that he loved her.  But he would die alone that day.  All that remained was the letter to aunt bee 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 freddy cougars, 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.

What the hell is a love hand and why d-

Actually, I don't want to know.

[Neon]

Burying a sharpened potato in your taint? forget that would hurt.

[brickybob]

   It all started when our hero, monday Joe, woke up in a forest. It was the third time it had happened. Feeling excessively stunned, monday Joe attacked a stapler, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Unexpectedly, he realized that his beloved Eminem CD was missing!  Immediately he called his best friend, Wigger Lee. monday Joe had known Wigger Lee for (plus or minus) one million years, the majority of which were saucy ones.  Wigger Lee was unique. He was smart though sometimes a little... annoying. monday Joe called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

   Wigger Lee picked up to a very unctuous monday Joe. Wigger Lee calmly assured him that most bunnies panic before mating, yet koalas usually flamboyantly sneeze *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting monday Joe.  Why was Wigger Lee trying to distract monday Joe?  Because he had snuck out from monday Joe's with the Eminem CD only nine days prior.  It was a sassy little Eminem CD... how could he resist?

   It didn't take long before monday Joe got back to the subject at hand: his Eminem CD. Wigger Lee sneezed. Relunctantly, Wigger Lee invited him over, assuring him they'd find the Eminem CD. monday Joe grabbed his grandfather clock and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Wigger Lee realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the Eminem CD and he had to do it thoughtfully. He figured that if monday Joe took the 5.0 Mustang, he had take at least six minutes before monday Joe would get there.  But if he took the swaggerwagon?  Then Wigger Lee would be alarmingly screwed.

   Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Wigger Lee was interrupted by two oafish cats that were lured by his Eminem CD. Wigger Lee sighed; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling pleased, he thoughtfully reached for his spoon and aimlessly slapped every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the desert, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief.  That's when he heard the swaggerwagon rolling up.  It was monday Joe.

----o0o----

   As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at IHOP to pick up a 12-pack of oven mitts, so he knew he was running late.  With a inept leap, monday Joe was out of the swaggerwagon and went surreptitiously jaunting toward Wigger Lee's front door.  Meanwhile inside,  Wigger Lee was panicking.  Not thinking, he tossed the Eminem CD into a box of paper clips and then slid the box behind his microwave. Wigger Lee was frustrated but at least the Eminem CD was concealed.  The doorbell rang.

   'Come in,' Wigger Lee wildly purred.  With a careful push, monday Joe opened the door.  'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some dimwitted jerk in a Geo Metro,' he lied.  'It's fine,' Wigger Lee assured him. monday Joe took a seat just under where Wigger Lee had hidden the Eminem CD. Wigger Lee yawned trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness.  'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted.  But monday Joe was distracted. All of a sudden, Wigger Lee noticed a selfish look on monday Joe's face. monday Joe slowly opened his mouth to speak.

   '...What's that smell?'

   Wigger Lee felt a stabbing pain in his arm when monday Joe asked this.  In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the Eminem CD right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what?  I don't smell anything..!'  A lie.  A stupid look started to form on monday Joe's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's pencils from when she used to have pet hamsters.  She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. monday Joe nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Wigger Lee could react, monday Joe carefully lunged toward the box and opened it.  The Eminem CD was plainly in view.

   monday Joe stared at Wigger Lee for what what must've been six nanoseconds. Almost immediately, Wigger Lee groped flamboyantly in monday Joe's direction, clearly desperate. monday Joe grabbed the Eminem CD and bolted for the door.  It was locked. Wigger Lee let out a exotic chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, monday Joe,' he rebuked. Wigger Lee always had been a little pestering, so monday Joe knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Wigger Lee did something crazy, like... start chucking staplers at him or something. Soon afterward, he gripped his Eminem CD tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

   Wigger Lee looked on, blankly. 'What the hell?  That seemed excessive.  The other door was open, you know.' Silence from monday Joe. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame three days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for monday Joe. 'Oh.  You ..okay?' Still silence. Wigger Lee walked over to the window and looked down. monday Joe was gone.

----o0o----

   Just yonder, monday Joe was struggling to make his way through the moor behind Wigger Lee's place. monday Joe had severely hurt his foot during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength.  Another pack of feral cats suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Eminem CD.  One by one they latched on to monday Joe.  Already weakened from his injury, monday Joe yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed.  The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of cats running off with his Eminem CD.

   But then God came down with His easygoing smile and restored monday Joe's Eminem CD. Feeling displeased, God smote the cats for their injustice.  Then He got in His truck and zipped away with the fortitude of  20 capybaras running from a shrunken pack of hamsters. monday Joe skipped with joy when he saw this. His Eminem CD was safe. It was a good thing, too, because in two minutes his favorite TV show,  Fox News, was going to come on (followed immediately by 'When beavers meet weapon of mass destruction'). monday Joe was relieved. And so, everyone except Wigger Lee and a few unborn fetus-toting wallabies lived blissfully happy, forever after.

[Supersylox]

   It all started when our (former research) star, Supersylox, woke up in a disease-infested jungle. It was the seventh time it had happened. Feeling abundantly displeased, Supersylox slapped a live hand grenade, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Before anyone could take off their pants, he realized that his beloved carrot was missing!  Immediately he called his enemy in training, Dogmeat. Supersylox had known Dogmeat for (plus or minus) 20 years, the majority of which were electric ones.  Dogmeat was unique. He was congenial though sometimes a little... selfish. Supersylox called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

   Dogmeat picked up to a very happy Supersylox. Dogmeat calmly assured him that most man-eating capybaras cringe before mating, yet spotted wolf hamsters usually scandalously turn red *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Supersylox.  Why was Dogmeat trying to distract Supersylox?  Because he had snuck out from Supersylox's with the carrot only eight days prior.  It was a enchanting little carrot... how could he resist?

   It didn't take long before Supersylox got back to the subject at hand: his carrot. Dogmeat yawned. Relunctantly, Dogmeat invited him over, assuring him they'd find the carrot. Supersylox grabbed his canoe and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Dogmeat realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the carrot and he had to do it aimlessly. He figured that if Supersylox took the curb-jumping ghetto sled (Impala), he had take at least four minutes before Supersylox would get there.  But if he took the Your Mom?  Then Dogmeat would be ridiculously screwed.

   Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Dogmeat was interrupted by eight selfish creep Bears that were lured by his carrot. Dogmeat shuddered; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling frustrated, he skillfully reached for his banana and aimlessly grabbed 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. He exhaled with relief.  That's when he heard the Your Mom rolling up.  It was Supersylox.

----o0o----

   As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Jim's House of Wings to pick up a 12-pack of ninja stars, so he knew he was running late.  With a calculated leap, Supersylox was out of the Your Mom and went scandalously jaunting toward Dogmeat's front door.  Meanwhile inside,  Dogmeat was panicking.  Not thinking, he tossed the carrot into a box of ripened avocados and then slid the box behind his whale. Dogmeat was puzzled but at least the carrot was concealed.  The doorbell rang.

   'Come in,' Dogmeat scandalously purred.  With a heroic push, Supersylox opened the door.  'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some oafish noble genius in a curb-jumping ghetto sled (Impala),' he lied.  'It's fine,' Dogmeat assured him. Supersylox took a seat excruciatingly close to where Dogmeat had hidden the carrot. Dogmeat sneezed trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness.  'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted.  But Supersylox was distracted. Heart filled with earnest fortitude, Dogmeat noticed a oafish look on Supersylox's face. Supersylox slowly opened his mouth to speak.

   '...What's that smell?'

   Dogmeat felt a stabbing pain in his scalp when Supersylox asked this.  In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the carrot right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what?  I don't smell anything..!'  A lie.  A selfish look started to form on Supersylox's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's dangerous oil-soaked rags from when she used to have pet disease-carrying chipmunks.  She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Supersylox nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Dogmeat could react, Supersylox fearlessly lunged toward the box and opened it.  The carrot was plainly in view.

   Supersylox stared at Dogmeat for what what must've been eight millseconds. Ever so extemperaneously, Dogmeat groped exotically in Supersylox's direction, clearly desperate. Supersylox grabbed the carrot and bolted for the door.  It was locked. Dogmeat let out a curious chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Supersylox,' he rebuked. Dogmeat always had been a little pestering, so Supersylox knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Dogmeat did something crazy, like... start chucking ninja stars at him or something. In a blinding moment of misguided bravado, he gripped his carrot tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

   Dogmeat looked on, blankly. 'What the hell?  That seemed excessive.  The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Supersylox. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame two days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Supersylox. 'Oh.  You ..okay?' Still silence. Dogmeat walked over to the window and looked down. Supersylox was gone.

----o0o----

   Just yonder, Supersylox was struggling to make his way through the fanstic pumpkin patch behind Dogmeat's place. Supersylox had severely hurt his armpit during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength.  Another pack of feral creep Bears suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the carrot.  One by one they latched on to Supersylox.  Already weakened from his injury, Supersylox yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed.  The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of creep Bears running off with his carrot.

   About eleven hours later, Supersylox awoke, his shin throbbing.  It was dark and Supersylox did not know where he was.  Deep in the mysterious foxy forest, Supersylox was abundantly lost. With fist clenched and teeth gnashed, he remembered that his carrot was taken by the creep Bears. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life.  That's when, to his horror, a shrunken creep Bear emerged from the swamp.  It was the alpha creep Bear. Supersylox opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the creep Bear sunk its teeth into Supersylox's fingernail. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Supersylox's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

   Less than six miles away, Dogmeat was entombed by anguish over the loss of the carrot.  'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened dull pencil.  With a mighty thrust, he buried it deeply into his ear.  As the room began to fade to black, he thought about Supersylox... wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him.  But he would die alone that day.  All that remained was the carrot 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 creep Bears, 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. :'(

[*Magick* Mage]

Special appearances made by Night Fox and Colten:

   It all started when our adventure-loving...adventurer, *Magick* Mage, woke up in a haunted thicket. It was the tenth time it had happened. Feeling excessively displeased, *Magick* Mage punched a banana, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Suddenly cheered up by the Hamtaro theme song, he realized that his beloved cheese wheel was missing!  Immediately he called his lover, Colten. *Magick* Mage had known Colten for (plus or minus) 20 years, the majority of which were saucy ones.  Colten was unique. He was intelligent though sometimes a little... abrasive. *Magick* Mage called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

   Colten picked up to a very unhappy *Magick* Mage. Colten calmly assured him that most South American hissing sloths yawn before mating, yet Indonesian devil cats usually scandalously panic *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting *Magick* Mage.  Why was Colten trying to distract *Magick* Mage?  Because he had snuck out from *Magick* Mage's with the cheese wheel only seven days prior.  It was a eccentric little cheese wheel... how could he resist?

   It didn't take long before *Magick* Mage got back to the subject at hand: his cheese wheel. Colten turned red. Relunctantly, Colten invited him over, assuring him they'd find the cheese wheel. *Magick* Mage grabbed his hippopotamus and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Colten realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the cheese wheel and he had to do it thoughtfully. He figured that if *Magick* Mage took the homemade car, he had take at least ten minutes before *Magick* Mage would get there.  But if he took the electric beaver?  Then Colten would be exceedingly screwed.

   Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Colten was interrupted by five clueless Night Foxs that were lured by his cheese wheel. Colten cringed; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling worried, he fearlessly reached for his dull pencil and deftly punched every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the swamp, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief.  That's when he heard the electric beaver rolling up.  It was *Magick* Mage.

----o0o----

   As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at The Salvation Army to pick up a 12-pack of bananas, so he knew he was running late.  With a skillful leap, *Magick* Mage was out of the electric beaver and went indiscriminately jaunting toward Colten's front door.  Meanwhile inside,  Colten was panicking.  Not thinking, he tossed the cheese wheel into a box of ninja stars and then slid the box behind his George Foreman grill. Colten was frustrated but at least the cheese wheel was concealed.  The doorbell rang.

   'Come in,' Colten surreptitiously purred.  With a quick push, *Magick* Mage opened the door.  'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some stupid genocidal maniac in a entrepreneur  fresh, candy-painted 'Lac,' he lied.  'It's fine,' Colten assured him. *Magick* Mage took a seat frighteningly close to where Colten had hidden the cheese wheel. Colten shuddered trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness.  'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted.  But *Magick* Mage was distracted. In a blinding moment of misguided bravado, Colten noticed a oafish look on *Magick* Mage's face. *Magick* Mage slowly opened his mouth to speak.

   '...What's that smell?'

   Colten felt a stabbing pain in his scalp when *Magick* Mage asked this.  In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the cheese wheel right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what?  I don't smell anything..!'  A lie.  A clueless look started to form on *Magick* Mage's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's dull pencils from when she used to have pet 3-legged wallabies.  She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. *Magick* Mage nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Colten could react, *Magick* Mage aggressively lunged toward the box and opened it.  The cheese wheel was plainly in view.

   *Magick* Mage stared at Colten for what what must've been eleven seconds. Like a drunken sailor at happy hour, Colten groped scandalously in *Magick* Mage's direction, clearly desperate. *Magick* Mage grabbed the cheese wheel and bolted for the door.  It was locked. Colten let out a exotic chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, *Magick* Mage,' he rebuked. Colten always had been a little selfish, so *Magick* Mage knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Colten did something crazy, like... start chucking ninja stars at him or something. Giggling like schoolgirl, he gripped his cheese wheel tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

   Colten looked on, blankly. 'What the hell?  That seemed excessive.  The other door was open, you know.' Silence from *Magick* Mage. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame eight days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for *Magick* Mage. 'Oh.  You ..okay?' Still silence. Colten walked over to the window and looked down. *Magick* Mage was gone.

----o0o----

   Just yonder, *Magick* Mage was struggling to make his way through the secret vineyard behind Colten's place. *Magick* Mage had severely hurt his fingernail during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength.  Another pack of feral Night Foxs suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the cheese wheel.  One by one they latched on to *Magick* Mage.  Already weakened from his injury, *Magick* Mage yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed.  The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Night Foxs running off with his cheese wheel.

   About eight hours later, *Magick* Mage awoke, his kidney throbbing.  It was dark and *Magick* Mage did not know where he was.  Deep in the inhospitable secret vineyard, *Magick* Mage was alarmingly lost. Heart filled with earnest fortitude, he remembered that his cheese wheel was taken by the Night Foxs. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life.  That's when, to his horror, a big Night Fox emerged from the bush.  It was the alpha Night Fox. *Magick* Mage opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the Night Fox sunk its teeth into *Magick* Mage's kidney. With a faint groan, the life escaped from *Magick* Mage's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

   Less than eleven miles away, Colten was entombed by anguish over the loss of the cheese wheel.  'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened gerbil.  With a mighty thrust, he buried it deeply into his shin.  As the room began to fade to black, he thought about *Magick* Mage... wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him.  But he would die alone that day.  All that remained was the cheese wheel 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 Night Foxs, 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. :'(

[Colten]

Oh mage how could you...

ABRASIVE? THE forget ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

[*Magick* Mage]

Oh mage how could you...

ABRASIVE? THE forget ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

I didn't write it. I actually was trying to get it to say something else on another part and didn't realize it said you were abrasive. :c

You're not abrasive, you smooth stallion, you. ;D

[Ninja guy]

  It all started when our protagonist, Arnold Swartznegger, woke up in a pumpkin patch. It was the sixth time it had happened. Feeling really frustrated, Arnold Swartznegger punched a stapler, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Rather abruptly, he realized that his beloved shotgun was missing!  Immediately he called his buddy, John Connor. Arnold Swartznegger had known John Connor for (plus or minus) 61 years, the majority of which were saucy ones.  John Connor was unique. He was plucky though sometimes a little... pestering. Arnold Swartznegger called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

   John Connor picked up to a very unhappy Arnold Swartznegger. John Connor calmly assured him that most capybaras yawn before mating, yet puppies usually sassily sneeze *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Arnold Swartznegger.  Why was John Connor trying to distract Arnold Swartznegger?  Because he had snuck out from Arnold Swartznegger's with the shotgun only six days prior.  It was a electric little shotgun... how could he resist?

   It didn't take long before Arnold Swartznegger got back to the subject at hand: his shotgun. John Connor yawned. Relunctantly, John Connor invited him over, assuring him they'd find the shotgun. Arnold Swartznegger grabbed his ironing board and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, John Connor realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the shotgun and he had to do it thoughtfully. He figured that if Arnold Swartznegger took the '82 Corolla, he had take at least eight minutes before Arnold Swartznegger would get there.  But if he took the Dodge Charger?  Then John Connor would be extraordinarily screwed.

   Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, John Connor was interrupted by seven insensitive dogs that were lured by his shotgun. John Connor yawned; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling concerned, he aggressively reached for his sock and skillfully grabbed every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the forest, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief.  That's when he heard the Dodge Charger rolling up.  It was Arnold Swartznegger.

----o0o----

   As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Sears to pick up a 12-pack of salt shakers, so he knew he was running late.  With a quick leap, Arnold Swartznegger was out of the Dodge Charger and went surreptitiously jaunting toward John Connor's front door.  Meanwhile inside,  John Connor was panicking.  Not thinking, he tossed the shotgun into a box of oven mitts and then slid the box behind his piano. John Connor was frustrated but at least the shotgun was concealed.  The doorbell rang.

   'Come in,' John Connor explosively purred.  With a inept push, Arnold Swartznegger opened the door.  'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some annoying idiot in a ricer,' he lied.  'It's fine,' John Connor assured him. Arnold Swartznegger took a seat just above where John Connor had hidden the shotgun. John Connor shuddered trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness.  'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted.  But Arnold Swartznegger was distracted. Rather abruptly, John Connor noticed a dimwitted look on Arnold Swartznegger's face. Arnold Swartznegger slowly opened his mouth to speak.

   '...What's that smell?'

   John Connor felt a stabbing pain in his butt when Arnold Swartznegger asked this.  In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the shotgun right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what?  I don't smell anything..!'  A lie.  A oafish look started to form on Arnold Swartznegger's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's oven mitts from when she used to have pet kittens.  She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Arnold Swartznegger nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before John Connor could react, Arnold Swartznegger fearlessly lunged toward the box and opened it.  The shotgun was plainly in view.

   Arnold Swartznegger stared at John Connor for what what must've been four nanoseconds. Almost immediately, John Connor groped wildly in Arnold Swartznegger's direction, clearly desperate. Arnold Swartznegger grabbed the shotgun and bolted for the door.  It was locked. John Connor let out a flamboyant chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Arnold Swartznegger,' he rebuked. John Connor always had been a little funny-smelling, so Arnold Swartznegger knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before John Connor did something crazy, like... start chucking forks at him or something. A few minutes later, he gripped his shotgun tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

   John Connor looked on, blankly. 'What the hell?  That seemed excessive.  The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Arnold Swartznegger. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame ten days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Arnold Swartznegger. 'Oh.  You ..okay?' Still silence. John Connor walked over to the window and looked down. Arnold Swartznegger was gone.

----o0o----

   Just yonder, Arnold Swartznegger was struggling to make his way through the jungle behind John Connor's place. Arnold Swartznegger had severely hurt his chest during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength.  Another pack of feral dogs suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the shotgun.  One by one they latched on to Arnold Swartznegger.  Already weakened from his injury, Arnold Swartznegger yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed.  The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of dogs running off with his shotgun.

   But then God came down with His congenial smile and restored Arnold Swartznegger's shotgun. Feeling angered, God smote the dogs for their injustice.  Then He got in His Pontiac Aztec and darted away with the fortitude of  153 puppies running from a huge pack of wallabies. Arnold Swartznegger vomited with joy when he saw this. His shotgun was safe. It was a good thing, too, because in eight minutes his favorite TV show,  Toddlers In Tiaras, was going to come on (followed immediately by 'When bunnies meet contraceptive'). Arnold Swartznegger was giddy. And so, everyone except John Connor and a few malaria-toting puppies lived blissfully happy, forever after.

[Serge64]

It all started when our uber geek, Radioactive Man, woke up in a fanstic pumpkin patch. It was the third time it had happened. Feeling very pleased, Radioactive Man poked a carrot, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Ever so extemperaneously, he realized that his beloved diary was missing!  Immediately he called his bed-friend, Fallout Boy. Radioactive Man had known Fallout Boy for (plus or minus) 20 years, the majority of which were sassy ones.  Fallout Boy was unique. He was congenial though sometimes a little... dimwitted. Radioactive Man called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

   Fallout Boy picked up to a very sad Radioactive Man. Fallout Boy calmly assured him that most man-eating capybaras sigh before mating, yet spotted wolf hamsters usually exotically yawn *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Radioactive Man.  Why was Fallout Boy trying to distract Radioactive Man?  Because he had snuck out from Radioactive Man's with the diary only three days prior.  It was a exotic little diary... how could he resist?

   It didn't take long before Radioactive Man got back to the subject at hand: his diary. Fallout Boy panicked. Relunctantly, Fallout Boy invited him over, assuring him they'd find the diary. Radioactive Man grabbed his George Foreman grill and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Fallout Boy realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the diary and he had to do it skillfully. He figured that if Radioactive Man took the curb-jumping ghetto sled (Impala), he had take at least nine minutes before Radioactive Man would get there.  But if he took the time machine?  Then Fallout Boy would be abundantly screwed.

   Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Fallout Boy was interrupted by six oafish Care Bears that were lured by his diary. Fallout Boy sneezed; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling worried, he deftly reached for his gerbil and aptly deflowered every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the secret vineyard, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief.  That's when he heard the time machine rolling up.  It was Radioactive Man.

----o0o----

   As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Jim's House of Wings to pick up a 12-pack of live hand grenades, so he knew he was running late.  With a careful leap, Radioactive Man was out of the time machine and went charismatically jaunting toward Fallout Boy's front door.  Meanwhile inside,  Fallout Boy was panicking.  Not thinking, he tossed the diary into a box of gerbils and then slid the box behind his refrigerator. Fallout Boy was pleased but at least the diary was concealed.  The doorbell rang.

   'Come in,' Fallout Boy explosively purred.  With a inept push, Radioactive Man opened the door.  'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some clueless zealous...zealot in a time machine,' he lied.  'It's fine,' Fallout Boy assured him. Radioactive Man took a seat RIGHT next to where Fallout Boy had hidden the diary. Fallout Boy grimaced trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness.  'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted.  But Radioactive Man was distracted. A few freaknasty minutes later, Fallout Boy noticed a annoying look on Radioactive Man's face. Radioactive Man slowly opened his mouth to speak.

   '...What's that smell?'

   Fallout Boy felt a stabbing pain in his kidney when Radioactive Man asked this.  In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the diary right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what?  I don't smell anything..!'  A lie.  A abrasive look started to form on Radioactive Man's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's dangerous oil-soaked rags from when she used to have pet South American hissing sloths.  She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Radioactive Man nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Fallout Boy could react, Radioactive Man aptly lunged toward the box and opened it.  The diary was plainly in view.

   Radioactive Man stared at Fallout Boy for what what must've been six nanoseconds. Ever so extemperaneously, Fallout Boy groped wildly in Radioactive Man's direction, clearly desperate. Radioactive Man grabbed the diary and bolted for the door.  It was locked. Fallout Boy let out a striking chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Radioactive Man,' he rebuked. Fallout Boy always had been a little funny-smelling, so Radioactive Man knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Fallout Boy did something crazy, like... start chucking wolverines at him or something. Suddenly inspired by the wise teachings of Confuscious, he gripped his diary tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

   Fallout Boy looked on, blankly. 'What the hell?  That seemed excessive.  The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Radioactive Man. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame six days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Radioactive Man. 'Oh.  You ..okay?' Still silence. Fallout Boy walked over to the window and looked down. Radioactive Man was gone.

[Colten]

I didn't write it. I actually was trying to get it to say something else on another part and didn't realize it said you were abrasive. :c

You're not abrasive, you smooth stallion, you. ;D

Magio oh magio!

[kake]

   It all started when our predictably heroic protagonist, Radioactive Man, woke up in a magical cornfield. It was the fifth time it had happened. Feeling very frustrated, Radioactive Man punched a live hand grenade, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Absolutely thrilled, he realized that his beloved diary was missing!  Immediately he called his overtly elitist, rich friend, Fallout Boy. Radioactive Man had known Fallout Boy for (plus or minus) 550,000 years, the majority of which were saucy ones.  Fallout Boy was unique. She was intelligent though sometimes a little... stupid. Radioactive Man called her anyway, for the situation was urgent.

   Fallout Boy picked up to a very nervous Radioactive Man. Fallout Boy calmly assured him that most spotted wolf hamsters yawn before mating, yet 3-legged wallabies usually scandalously shudder *after* mating. She had no idea what that meant; she was only concerned with distracting Radioactive Man.  Why was Fallout Boy trying to distract Radioactive Man?  Because she had snuck out from Radioactive Man's with the diary only two days prior.  It was a sassy little diary... how could she resist?

   It didn't take long before Radioactive Man got back to the subject at hand: his diary. Fallout Boy cringed. Relunctantly, Fallout Boy invited him over, assuring him they'd find the diary. Radioactive Man grabbed his hippopotamus and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Fallout Boy realized that she was in trouble. She had to find a place to hide the diary and she had to do it thoughtfully. She figured that if Radioactive Man took the rice rocket, she had take at least ten minutes before Radioactive Man would get there.  But if he took the time machine?  Then Fallout Boy would be abundantly screwed.

   Before she could come up with any reasonable ideas, Fallout Boy was interrupted by ten stupid Care Bears that were lured by her diary. Fallout Boy shuddered; 'Not again', she thought. Feeling stunned, she carefully reached for her dangerous oil-soaked rag and recklessly backhanded every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the bush, squealing with discontent. She exhaled with relief.  That's when she heard the time machine rolling up.  It was Radioactive Man.

----o0o----

   As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Egg Roll King to pick up a 12-pack of wolverines, so he knew he was running late.  With a heroic leap, Radioactive Man was out of the time machine and went earnestly jaunting toward Fallout Boy's front door.  Meanwhile inside,  Fallout Boy was panicking.  Not thinking, she tossed the diary into a box of ninja stars and then slid the box behind her rhinocerus. Fallout Boy was relieved but at least the diary was concealed.  The doorbell rang.

   'Come in,' Fallout Boy wildly purred.  With a apt push, Radioactive Man opened the door.  'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some annoying beer-sloshed tool in a noise-polluting import,' he lied.  'It's fine,' Fallout Boy assured him. Radioactive Man took a seat tragically close to where Fallout Boy had hidden the diary. Fallout Boy belched trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness.  'Uhh, can I get you anything?' she blurted.  But Radioactive Man was distracted. Just as zero people expected Fallout Boy noticed a abrasive look on Radioactive Man's face. Radioactive Man slowly opened his mouth to speak.

   '...What's that smell?'

   Fallout Boy felt a stabbing pain in her double chin when Radioactive Man asked this.  In a moment of disbelief, she realized that she had hidden the diary right by her oscillating fan. 'Wh-what?  I don't smell anything..!'  A lie.  A clueless look started to form on Radioactive Man's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's dull pencils from when she used to have pet 3-legged wallabies.  She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Radioactive Man nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Fallout Boy could react, Radioactive Man fearlessly lunged toward the box and opened it.  The diary was plainly in view.

   Radioactive Man stared at Fallout Boy for what what must've been three seconds. In a tragically predictable turn of events, Fallout Boy groped sassily in Radioactive Man's direction, clearly desperate. Radioactive Man grabbed the diary and bolted for the door.  It was locked. Fallout Boy let out a electric chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Radioactive Man,' she rebuked. Fallout Boy always had been a little insensitive, so Radioactive Man knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Fallout Boy did something crazy, like... start chucking carrots at her or something. As if it really mattered he gripped his diary tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

   Fallout Boy looked on, blankly. 'What the hell?  That seemed excessive.  The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Radioactive Man. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame seven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly she felt a tinge of concern for Radioactive Man. 'Oh.  You ..okay?' Still silence. Fallout Boy walked over to the window and looked down. Radioactive Man was gone.

----o0o----

   Just yonder, Radioactive Man was struggling to make his way through the disease-infested jungle behind Fallout Boy's place. Radioactive Man had severely hurt his fingernail during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength.  Another pack of feral Care Bears suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the diary.  One by one they latched on to Radioactive Man.  Already weakened from his injury, Radioactive Man yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed.  The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Care Bears running off with his diary.

   About three hours later, Radioactive Man awoke, his ear throbbing.  It was dark and Radioactive Man did not know where he was.  Deep in the arid haunted thicket, Radioactive Man was excessively lost. A few unfulfilled decades later, he remembered that his diary was taken by the Care Bears. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life.  That's when, to his horror, a little Care Bear emerged from the swamp.  It was the alpha Care Bear. Radioactive Man opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the Care Bear sunk its teeth into Radioactive Man's fingernail. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Radioactive Man's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

   Less than seven miles away, Fallout Boy was entombed by anguish over the loss of the diary.  'MY PRECIOUS!!' she cried, as she reached for a sharpened gerbil.  With a careful thrust, she buried it deeply into her ear.  As the room began to fade to black, she thought about Radioactive Man... 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 diary 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 Care Bears, 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


*** L337 Story Generator v1.0
*** Written by Derek Clark.  Copyright © www.the-elite.net ~ 2004-2005
*** Forever pwning with earnest.

http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/

[dargereldren]

I just noticed something:
A hated TV show: [blablabla]
+ (O) Happy Ending (ridiculously idealistic)
= "...favorite TV show,  blablabla, was going to come on..."
And if you choose Unhappy Ending, it doesn't mention the show.

[dargereldren]

   It all started when our predictably heroic hero, dargereldren, woke up in a disease-infested jungle. It was the seventh time it had happened. Feeling really relieved, dargereldren poked a gerbil, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Just as zero people expected he realized that his beloved brick tool was missing!  Immediately he called his redheaded stepchild of a 'friend', WALK2222. dargereldren had known WALK2222 for (plus or minus) 550,000 years, the majority of which were curious ones.  WALK2222 was unique. He was intelligent though sometimes a little... pestering. dargereldren called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

   WALK2222 picked up to a very angry dargereldren. WALK2222 calmly assured him that most disease-carrying chipmunks shudder before mating, yet venomous koalas usually scandalously grimace *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting dargereldren.  Why was WALK2222 trying to distract dargereldren?  Because he had snuck out from dargereldren's with the brick tool only nine days prior.  It was a striking little brick tool... how could he resist?

   It didn't take long before dargereldren got back to the subject at hand: his brick tool. WALK2222 sneezed. Relunctantly, WALK2222 invited him over, assuring him they'd find the brick tool. dargereldren grabbed his whale and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, WALK2222 realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the brick tool and he had to do it carefully. He figured that if dargereldren took the Jap Trap, he had take at least seven minutes before dargereldren would get there.  But if he took the Brick Mobile?  Then WALK2222 would be alarmingly screwed.

   Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, WALK2222 was interrupted by two abrasive Robloxians that were lured by his brick tool. WALK2222 turned red; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling angered, he recklessly reached for his dull pencil and aptly poked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the bush, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief.  That's when he heard the Brick Mobile rolling up.  It was dargereldren.

----o0o----

   As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Jim's House of Wings to pick up a 12-pack of ninja stars, so he knew he was running late.  With a careful leap, dargereldren was out of the Brick Mobile and went exotically jaunting toward WALK2222's front door.  Meanwhile inside,  WALK2222 was panicking.  Not thinking, he tossed the brick tool into a box of live hand grenades and then slid the box behind his time machine. WALK2222 was displeased but at least the brick tool was concealed.  The doorbell rang.

   'Come in,' WALK2222 charismatically purred.  With a quick push, dargereldren opened the door.  'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some abrasive rationality-deprived handicap in a Jap Trap,' he lied.  'It's fine,' WALK2222 assured him. dargereldren took a seat vaguely close to where WALK2222 had hidden the brick tool. WALK2222 sneezed trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness.  'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted.  But dargereldren was distracted. A few unfulfilled decades later, WALK2222 noticed a abrasive look on dargereldren's face. dargereldren slowly opened his mouth to speak.

   '...What's that smell?'

   WALK2222 felt a stabbing pain in his ear when dargereldren asked this.  In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the brick tool right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what?  I don't smell anything..!'  A lie.  A annoying look started to form on dargereldren's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's dangerous oil-soaked rags from when she used to have pet albino cats.  She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. dargereldren nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before WALK2222 could react, dargereldren aimlessly lunged toward the box and opened it.  The brick tool was plainly in view.

   dargereldren stared at WALK2222 for what what must've been ten days. Unaware of the bleakness of existence, WALK2222 groped scandalously in dargereldren's direction, clearly desperate. dargereldren grabbed the brick tool and bolted for the door.  It was locked. WALK2222 let out a sassy chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, dargereldren,' he rebuked. WALK2222 always had been a little stupid, so dargereldren knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before WALK2222 did something crazy, like... start chucking ripened avocados at him or something. A few unsatisfying minutes later, he gripped his brick tool tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

   WALK2222 looked on, blankly. 'What the hell?  That seemed excessive.  The other door was open, you know.' Silence from dargereldren. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame three days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for dargereldren. 'Oh.  You ..okay?' Still silence. WALK2222 walked over to the window and looked down. dargereldren was gone.

----o0o----

   Just yonder, dargereldren was struggling to make his way through the bush behind WALK2222's place. dargereldren had severely hurt his fingernail during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength.  Another pack of feral Robloxians suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the brick tool.  One by one they latched on to dargereldren.  Already weakened from his injury, dargereldren yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed.  The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Robloxians running off with his brick tool.

   About seven hours later, dargereldren awoke, his double chin throbbing.  It was dark and dargereldren did not know where he was.  Deep in the hazy foxy forest, dargereldren was excessively lost. A few unfulfilled decades later, he remembered that his brick tool was taken by the Robloxians. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life.  That's when, to his horror, a enormous Robloxian emerged from the fanstic pumpkin patch.  It was the alpha Robloxian. dargereldren opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the Robloxian sunk its teeth into dargereldren's double chin. With a faint groan, the life escaped from dargereldren's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

   Less than five miles away, WALK2222 was entombed by anguish over the loss of the brick tool.  'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened ninja star.  With a hasty thrust, he buried it deeply into his p-spot.  As the room began to fade to black, he thought about dargereldren... wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him.  But he would die alone that day.  All that remained was the brick tool 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 Robloxians, 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. :'(

[dargereldren]

Bump.