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Board Writing :: Need to Occupy My Feeble Little Mind :: Page 7


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Posted by
MadGoblin
on
Sep 9, 2003


"... caused by a terrible plot device."

"Isn't all of this caused by that, tho'?" Everyone simutaneously nodded in response, even the enquirer.

"Wow, when did the popular/fake newspaper reporters get here?" enthusiastically asked Gobbo. "I loved your article on bat boy fighting Sadam. He brought up my moral. Oo, oo! How's that two-tongue couple doing? And is Justin really having Kelly's baby?"

"Don't you mean-"

"No, I don't," the goblin interrupted.

"Ew..."

"Nya, ya see, kid," the reported said, speaking as a gangsta for some reason that will be kept unknown, "we got wind from the good bird that one o' dem black holes were a'brewin', an' we wanted in on the ground floor. ... Nya."

"No, sorry, dudes. No black holes here," the mammoth changling beasted roared with much, er, galiality? ... something like that, anyways. "Though we do have a lot of plot holes and a lot of sucking going down. A wholes lot."

"Oh, impropa english? He mustas means it bad," noted the reporter. "Well, then, fellows, if there ain't one o' those crazy contraptions in the make n'ya, then what monocer ya dub that?" He pointed to a swirling, massive, hideously huge vortex of whirling doom that sucked in all light within the immediate vincinity.

"I said, we had a lot of suck 'n holes."

"Huh-huh," Gobbo grinned. "Suckin' holes."

"Oh, well, in that case, my combly popinjays, I'll just be goiIIIIEEEEEEEE!" Pulled mid-sentance, the reporter was abducted by the gaping hole and hurtled into another dimension! ... or endlessly painful death, what do I care?

"Oh no!" Gasped Gobbo"I wanted to ride first."

"Can you guys stay focused on the task at hand?" groaned Vincent.

"We have a tasked?" said a character (it doesn't really matter, they're all think' it).

"Yes!" he scolded. "... didn't we? I could swear it involved this stick of asparagus somehow," he said, producing the produce from his product, I mean, pocket.

"Well, it does now!" declared C'modd, triumphantly snatching the vegetable and running off.

"Hey, I just thought of something," Gobbo felt the urge to say. "When you say the word C'modd, it sounds like commode, and those are toilets, and toilets are where you poo! Heh heh heh..."

"Is he... always... like that?" asked Eagle, who either, came back, was resurrected, or never left. I lost track."

"Uh-huh," painfully moaned Vince.

"Dang it!" Eagle cursed. "Why did he have to be the One?"

"The One?" the funk lord complained. "That is so lame!"

"Well, you didn't let me finish," Eagle lied. "He's the One... half!"

"One-half?" he repeated in disbelieve. "What, is that suppose to make me think that is sucks any less?"

"Well... yeah, I guess not. I'm sorry," Lt. E. apologized.

At this time, C'modd mousely stepped back. "Er, what was s'pose to be done with this thing again?"

"Exactly," pointed out the militant Eagle. "You can use it in... something with spells... I can't remember, I confused myself!"

"Hey, here's an idea!" Gobbo, breaking his minute of silence stated. "I'm outta here!" Nonchalantly, the fiend trekked off saying, "I don't think much of anything can save this now." He added, "Nothing, that is, short of some sorta miracle..." They all sat in silence... on comfy bar stools! ... no, wait. That's bear stools. Ew.

"So," wandered Vincent's mind, "do you know any crippled children? Miracles always seem to follow them. Why, every Christmas there seems to be some lucky bloke named Timmy who gets himself a merry o' season. Freakin' jerk..." In quandry, he looked about. "D'ya guys here that?"

"Hear wha-" Like a rising screech from high in the sky, a colorless streak crashed into Grudun's Incitement 18 ("I have known so much suck!"). From out of the massive crater, a hideously deformed clutch raked the earth, pulling the hidden creature into view.

"Egad! It's terrible!" gasped Eagle.

"Truly disgusting!" vomitted Vincent.

"I want my mommy!" whined C'modd. "... and some tuna"

Brushing the long, black hairs from its bespeckled face, it sniffed the air intently.

"Ew, smells like suck! ... and hotdogs," noted the amazing Jack Edward Daws, aka: Jackdaw. "What? What are you freaks staring at? Act like you've never seen a miracle before... or hideous disaster... But that's what makes this country great: they're both the same!"

"Er, actually..."








fart!

"Huh-huh! Grudumb's Incitement 18 cracked one!" Jackdaw cackled.

"Can't you let me finish?"

Jack leaned over and whispered to one of them, "Geez, what's in that guys butt? Gay? Nya-ha-ha!"

"Um, I'm the guy who told you to shut it."

"Oh, right... Er, carry on."






* * This story contains splintered plotines. You may want to look over alternate possibilities to what you just read. * *

**** This story is still being written. You, too, can contribute to it by writing the next installment. ****


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