Chesto Posted April 20, 2008 Share Posted April 20, 2008 The Old One now stuffed his socks in his ears as reinforcement for the Moon paper balls already inserted. The drawbacks and benefits of huge ears just about balancing out: large enough to promote super- hearing; large enough to accept plenty of sound insulation. As the Old One looked down on the Snow Arena, he thought it looked like nothing so much as a giant plate of spaghetti bolognese upon which someone had scattered millions of Smarties, as the flaming and explosions went off all round. 'Whoa', he mused. 'I'm seeing flying snowmobiles...people turning on and off and then on again...gods...goddesses - tho that goddess sounds ever so much like a certain individual who no longer reincarnates- duck something... mushrooms... and what looks like, but no!, it cannot be... a bananana split - with extra na!'. The Munchies launched their stealthy attack on the Old One's vitals. 'Oh, man! I've really got to lay off the Shaman Tea for a bit. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear...'. The Old One clapped his now sockless hands over his mouth. What had he done!? His eyes bulged in their wrinkled sockets, putting great strain on their global integrity, as he watched the edges of the his Moon begin to char and smoke. The Old One had just uttered the most vile, the most filthy, the most besmerched and nasty combination of Shaman Naughty Words : oh; and dear! Alone, these words were mildly innocent. In COMBINATION! Woe -be- tide, etc, etc.... There was only one thing he could do, now. In shockingly slow motion, his tremors ratling his very teeth, the Old One reached into his parka pocket - a simple activity vastly complicated by the fact that the parka was upsidedown, still with his legs through the arms of the warm and cumfy, though somewhat soiled and noisesome, article of outerwear - and finally grasped his Shaman Spoon, with the Shaman hallmark engraved upon its underside. And, with a bit more rummaging...rumeging...remagen ( Oh, SpellMeister )...messing about, the Old One managed, finally, to grasp one of the smallish Portable Holes, .4 D gauge. Then, with a cry of longing and despair -' yaHEY! ' - the Old One hurled the hand sized Portable Hole , .4 D gauge, to the ground...er...paper. He plunged his hand, still sockless, clutching his Shaman Spoon, with the Shaman hallmark, etc,etc, into the Portable Hole, .4 D gauge,... ...and it emerged out of one of the Portable Holes, DDD gauge, which he had thrown down so long ago... just beside, and slightly...a little to the left and back a bit more...behind... ...doomjockey. Deftly... gently...quivering like a Richter 8... the Shaman Spoon, with 'yawn' etc, dug into the bananana split, which doomjockey, in his preoccupation, had left unattended in his own hand...and scooped up the EXTRA NA! ... and immediately disappeared back into the Portable Hole, DDD gauge, to re-emerge from the Portable Hole, .4 D gauge, on the surface of the Moon, to deposit the extra na into the toothless mouth of the Old One. ...who forgot, for a blissful moment, the fact that his Moon was now on fire. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Marcus Wolfe Posted April 20, 2008 Share Posted April 20, 2008 In his never ending search for hot chicks, Marcus found Yekaterina (Catherine) II Alekseyevna of Russia, the chick, who slept with dozens of different Russians, that supposedly died during an act of bestiality. After talking to her, he found out this wasn't true, she had died of a stroke. But before they could get down to business, Catherine was distracted by another man and Marcus decided he'd rather do Nefertiti. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
stephanie Posted April 21, 2008 Share Posted April 21, 2008 *Shivers in the cold* ... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Marcus Wolfe Posted April 21, 2008 Share Posted April 21, 2008 As Marcus searched for Nefertiti, he came upon a strange gate. It did not appear to lead to any sort of afterlife. In fact, upon closer inspection, Marcus determined that it was the gate to go home! He began to walk forward, but the gate did not seem to get any closer. Looking down, he saw that there was a treadmill beneath his feet. As he began to run, the treadmill sped up, but it was not enough to keep the Canuck from moving forward. He almost made it through the gate….but then the treadmill quadrupled in speed, sending him flying backwards. Marcus would repeat these actions for a very long time….. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lisnpuppy Posted April 21, 2008 Share Posted April 21, 2008 Run to the Hills....Run for your life... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
doomjockey Posted April 21, 2008 Share Posted April 21, 2008 Quite oblivious to events surging around him, Doomjockey noticed, with some dismay the disappearance of his banana split, perhaps yanked by some unknown devilry. Doomjockey now stood tickled by two sickening decisions which gleefully prodded him in the form of devilish pixie and angelic homunculus who both argued opposing sides of the debate while poking Doom with magical fishy sticks. Angel: "Get it back!" Devil: "Get it back then kill them!" Doom's mind was made up (if only to avoid supreme pokage for the next hour) so he summoned forth his trusty steed, Grani, who he'd stolen from some love-struck hero and donned the fabled Vest of Tom's Foolery loaded with an assortment of magic bees. Which, regrettably, eased his pokage not at all. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chesto Posted April 22, 2008 Share Posted April 22, 2008 As the flames licked at his muklukless ankles, and the awful smell of burning paper assailed his ancient, quivering nostrils, the Old One looked down upon the Snow Arena and saw... ... a young lady needing warming up... ... another one needing to slow down... ... the Canuck Superhero finally doing something about the excess weight that had, for some time, been putting a fatal strain on his 'death-by-plaid' garb ... ...and a new combatant, unnoticed in all the broil heretofore... POKE-MAN! ... not quite as well known cousin to the Rasta SuperHero, POKE-MON. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
stephanie Posted April 22, 2008 Share Posted April 22, 2008 *looks for 'plaid skirt**it's in the wash**settles for plain white one* Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lisnpuppy Posted April 22, 2008 Share Posted April 22, 2008 As the Goddess sat down to her meal of Spam, banana splits, and something with bones in it...she felt as if she were forgettting something.... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lisnpuppy Posted April 22, 2008 Share Posted April 22, 2008 "AGH!!" The Goddess roars! "Don't get the Spam wet..or my hair!!!" She felt her rage burn at Gman021's trechery...the rage melting slush balls, cooking Spam and drying her hair all at once!!! "If my hair smells like the delicious Spam only then I will forgive you..." She calls after Gman as he makes away with her banana split. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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