 |
|
You are not logged in! F.A.Q Log in Register |
 |
|
 |
 Now online (1)big ...and 291 guests Last 5 registered Oplandisks nothingstar N_loop yipe foxtrotromeo Browse members... |
 |
Members 8025Messages 2614046 Today 18 Topics 127538 |
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
2048 characters left. What shall I write? Damn, now I only have 1981. Better make it good. Alright, here goes. I have thought of something great to fit into 1981 characters of text. Here goes. Shit, I only have 1834 left now. Okay, scrap that last idea. It wasn't that good anyway. I doubt it would be possible anyway - hedphukkerr isn't THAT stupid. Alright, 1685 left, what am I going to say? This is getting harder. Ah, I remembered something I wanted to tell everyone! Can I fit it into 1685 characters though? Yeah, easy, that shouldn't be a problem too much. Might be a bit compressed, but they'll get the idea. Yeah, do that. Okay. Shit, I have 1393 left now. There is no way I could fit my latest time travel method in that. Shit. Now what am I supposed to fit in 1273 characters? Some kind of joke? What jokes do I know? Not many that can fit into 1273 characters. Oh, hang on, there's that one about the piece of scissors made out of merangue. Yeah, tell that one, they'll love it! Alright, I can fit that into 1273 charaacters easy. Great. Here goes then. Damn, I only have 961 characters left now. Damn. Maybe I should tell you about the latest discovery in the field of egg custard. Yeah, that'll take up what.. 820 characters? Great, that's exactly what I have! Right, so how can I start to tell you about this discovery? Oh, yeah, of course, that's where I'll start. Right, 820 characters of pure egg custard research coming up! Okay, here we go, hold on to your hat! Oh no, I only have 543 characters left. That is much less than I imagined. I could never fit anything in. Except one thing. Hmm. It'll work, maybe. Yeah. Great idea. I'm gonna tell you about this time when I wanted to make a really awesome thread but I started getting really worried about how many characters I had left. I kept thinking of different ideas yeah, and then I had to check how many characters I had left, and it was always less than what I had based the story around, so I had to think of another idea, then I finally thought of something |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
And they all lived happily ever after. The End |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
i told myself i would make it through this long read. i stopped at the 3rd line. i'm so disappointed in myself |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
I read it all and its great |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
greatest post eva ! :0) |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
the Baron is back, you know. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
the baron was always alive in our hearts and minds |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
you like everything! :Þ |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
Alright, then... 2048 characters, 8 minutes. Once upon a time, slightly behind someone's house, there lived a small watering hose with a splotch of yellow from where it had stayed in the sun for a bit too long. One day, while it was minding its own business, as watering hoses often do, it began to feel rather odd. It felt constricted, tight, even swelling. This was alarming at first, to our hero the watering hose, but after a while the feeling began to numb and went away almost entirely. It had all but forgotten about the awful feeling it had been feeling only moments earlier when it finally got up the energy to turn around and peer at its lower half (watering hoses are lazy things, you see - have you ever seen one move? No, not often). To our small friend's horror, and somewhat similar to its own precognition (for the hose was slightly psychic), it found that it was indeed swelling to alarming proportions. The cause of this was all the more surprising to the hose for there was a large mammal (it may have been a marsupial - it had fur), had its eating appendage clamped down over one of the more tender parts of the hose - the yellow spot! Luckily for the hose, this strange creature did not have teeth so it was not in any immediate danger of being punctured. Nonetheless, the hose was still quite concerned. Concerned it was, but helpless also. The hose watched its lower half swell larger and larger to the point where it began to turn white and then transparent. The time for the hose to expire had come - so it did. It expired in a rather impressive explosion, drenching the yard, and making a fat man in the next yard over grunt slightly in his sleep. The owner of the hose found it the next day and buried it in the back yard, slightly behind where it had spent most of its productive life. Several years later, a child running through the yard stepped on a bit of the old hose sticking up from out of the ground and was convinced they had been bitten by a snake. A man came out and shot it with a rifle. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
People like you make the world go round, my friend |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
___________________________ _____88888_______88888_____ ___888888888___888888888___ __88888888888_88888888888__ __88888888888888888888888__ __88888888888888888888888__ ___888888888888888888888___ ____8888888888888888888____ _____88888888888888888_____ ______888888888888888______ _______8888888888888_______ ________88888888888________ _________888888888_________ __________8888888__________ ___________88888___________ ____________888____________ _____________8_____________ ___________________________ |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
i hate love i love hate |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
i love, love! :D |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
IPOD 20GB-GBR Shipped IPOD 20GB-GBR Shipped IPOD 20GB-GBR Shipped IPOD 20GB-GBR Shipped IPOD 20GB-GBR Shipped :)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
horse, you're the greatest. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
thanks |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
as usual horsefactory, you give me something to do with time i usually waste. time master was robbed at the academy awards for best short film. stupid critics. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
there once was a little russet potato who was so sweet his family disowned him. his father shouted things at his mother like "this ain't no son o mine! damn, bitch!" and the little potato family was torn apart and sad. so sad. but nobody was as sad as the little russet potato who was as sweet as lumps of sugar sandwiched between two chocolate bars. no. he was even sweeter than that. he was like a bowl of ice cream topped with a cherry, floating in a pool of melted gobstoppers. or something. but even sweeter. and stuff. anyways, after a long night of listening to papa potato beat patty potato (his sister) because he was so angry about his wife, the little guy left home never to return. he decided he'd rather his family hate eachother because they hate eachother, but not because of him. he went to the farm in search of new friends where he met tommy tomato. "hi, tommy!" said the little potato. "hello!" said tommy. "let's be friends!" said the little potato. "okay!" said tommy. and together they walked along. then they met sally, the bucket of sour cream. and they all became friends, too. much in the same way tommy and the little potato had become friends. they were still walking along when they met carl cucumber. "hi, carl!" they all shouted. wow, what a bunch of friendly guys. and together, the potato, the tomato, the sour cream, and the cucumber went on their way together, excited to meet whatever and whoever lie before them. soon they came to a big castle. and it was dark and mysterious. the kind of castle that you see in movies where the bad guy lives. they went up to the castle and knocked on the large wooden door. "hello, mr. castle!" tommy shouted. but just then a giant mouth came down and crushed tommy between it's massive teeth! it was raining tomato juicies and paste all over the other three friends. "oh my god! tommy!" they were all shouting. but it was too late. too late for all of them. and the mouth kept swooping down and picking them off one by one as they screamed and squirted th |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
...and squirted their insides all over. the end. i'm not sure why it cut that off...but...the end. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
im no good at making stories. i once dropped a college course because i couldnt come up with a story that i thought was satisfactory. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
squirrely bird flying thru the air then bam it was shot right down. it fell like a wad of wet feathers in an arc, then landed with almost no sound for it was a smallish BIRD, an unclean Bird, a demon-happy coonbird in fact, and goddamn the dogs wouldn't go near it to retrieve. Turns out it was a demon bird, a mechanical demon built by the native americans to get back at the white man. MOTHERFUCKER |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
Once upon a time, there was a cosy little blanket. He had grown very tired of constantly being laid on, sprawled out, covered up by another blanket, stored in a closet, snugly fit over a human's disgusting body, or forced to cover the naked flesh of two humans before, during, and after sexual intercourse. One day he got so fed up during his owner's daily love-making that he finally screamed out in terror. Each human thought that it was the other that made that horrible scream. The man's wife left the room, and slammed the door. From the tiny ears of the blanket, some shouting was heard, and then later a car drove off screeching violently. During the next few days, out of the corner of his tiny eyes, the blanket saw the man filling out divorce papers. He overheard the man say 'Oh no! Now I will need to give her half of my possessions!' The blanket was naively happy that he would no longer be adjacent to their love making, but he was slightly concerned about this ''half'' business. His puny blanket brain was far too feeble to make any sense of that situation, until one day he was torn in half by his good friend Mr. Scissors, who cried the whole time, but obediently carried out his vile, violent, friend-shredding orders. For the rest of his life, the blanket lived his life with a splintered mind; he had become more than a blanket. He had become multiple rags. 2-3 in each human's household. Each Rag (blanket segment) would spend the rest of his days sitting in a dark closet inside a cardboard box with other cannibalised fabrics, wishing for death. The only human interaction he now has is occasionally being pulled out of the box, to wipe up a spill or to be sprayed with a harsh, caustic wood cleaner and help polish off the furniture. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
"Hello, Jack! Are you there?" cried Pip from beneath his half-open bedroom window. Jack's spritely little face popped out from the gap and gave its chirpy reply. "Hello Pip! How are you today? What are you doing here?" Pip, surprised that Jack had forgotten about the big picnic, tried to jog is memory "Don't you remember, silly? Today is the day of our big adventure! I've got scones, strawberries, and some of my famous home-made lemonade! Kate is on the way, and even James is coming! It'll be the best picnic ever!" "Of course! How could I forget?" said Jack as the happy memories of planning the event flashed into his head. "I'll be down post-haste!" The four friends had all decided to spend the hottest day of the year at Old Jessop's field. Of course, no-one knew who Old Jessop really was, but such was the way of the village; the legend goes that he was the friendliest man you ever did see, and he kept his field open to all. It was a glorious field; I could spend almost 2048 characters explaining its beauty. Sadly, my friends, the legend of Old Jessop is another story. By the time Jack got to the porch of his thatch roof cottage, James and Kate were waiting. The pair were ecstatic - it truly was set to be the best picnic ever. James had brough his trusty harmonica, and Kate, to Jack's great pleasure, had brought one of her home-knitted rugs. Jack had to bring something too, of course, and what an item it was! He had in his hand the most adorable set of juggling balls, as Jack's father had been the town's favourite jester for many years, and Jack indeed continued the tradition. The balls were of a fine leather, smooth to the touch and soft, but at the same time sturdy enough to perform many a trick. The friends decided that they had no more time to waste, and set off on their delightful journey. During the walk to old Jessop's, Jack's playful walk came to an abrupt halt. There was a reason for this he: was a robot clone. He detonated the three juggling balls that each friend was |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
holding. Mission complete. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
Ahh, the stories about inanimate objects are great! Once upon a time, there was a little juggling ball. He was the happiest juggling ball the world has ever known. He had even thought of a name for himself: Happy. Yes, his stupid little ball-brain was happy enough to give itself a name. And what a suitable name it was. Well done, little ball. Of course, the ball's mental capacity was so taken up by the name creation that it failed to realise it had a new scientific discovery being placed inside it. This discovery, you ask? The world's smallest H-bomb, my friends. Oh yes. This bomb is small enough to fit inside the eye of a needle, yet powerful enough to destroy an entire planet. Just three of these bombs in under a 100 meter radius of each other would be enough to bring the entire universe to a halt. Well, the fate of three such ball-bombs is another story. Let it be known, however, that the balls are given to a specially designed robot programmed to destroy and take on the form of the first person it sees. The rest, as they in the movies, is history. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
Old Jessop™ Industries are the world's largest manufacturer of H-bombs and robots to date. Their main outlet is in the middle of a large field in an archaic and ignorant village. The radiation let out by the factories is enough to drive the villagers insane, giving them ideas that the field is some kind of promised land and they find themselves drawn, usually in groups of three or four, to it. Every month, Old Jessop™ Industries produce a "Destructo-clone" robot and release it upon the unsuspecting villagers. Details of what this robot does are vague, however it is believed to carry with it some kind of groundbreaking development in atomic research. Further details were unavailable at the time of writing. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
Well, that's all my creativity used up for the rest of my life. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
i would read all this but im too busy scratching myself |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
GOLDBOND!! |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
once upon some fucking time i was sitting here and becoming ready to type something. The problem is that i have this channel on with pool trick shot. So as i am typing i keep getting confused with the things i have to say. Maybe i will try to inflate a raft. Or perhaps i will scale a wall that is over 55 inchs. Not too sure. I need more charcoal and i sure need a furnace. Give me my damn fruit snacks and read me a story! |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
|
Messageboard index
|
|||||||||
