The new Write Something thread!

Forever ago there was a thread where people displayed the little bits and bobs they had written. Recently there was a call for writers around here and apparently a bunch of people submitted stuff. I didn't submit anything because I'm not a writer, but I am a reader, and would like to read the stuff other people wrote. Rather than try to find that super old thread, which would be next to impossible to find at this point, I figured I'd start a new thread and then maybe people would share stuff they've written recently, whether it be stuff submitted for the call for writers dealy or something else entirely.

I wrote this.



As MAX APPLESAUCE sat at his desk with a crazed smile on his face like a man possessed, hungering for the taste of young, fresh virgin flesh and the acrid, coppery taste of blood, his new partner in his private detective agency, Festus T. Nipplefist, poured over various case documents.

"There has got to be a link betwen these murders," Festus muttered.

"THERE'S NO TIME FOR THAT!" MAX APPLESAUCE bellowed, his voice like creamy, chocolatey thunder sex! "WE MUST PURCHASE A CLOCK RADIO!"

"But we already have eighteen-"

"IT'S SO WE DON'T OVERSLEEP!" MAX APPLESAUCE exclaimed with the power to spay an ox! "TO THE CAR-MOBILE!"

MAX APPLESAUCE punched through the window and gradually slipped out, sliding down the side of the building like a slowly melting turd. As MAX APPLESAUCE reached his horseless carriage, he spotted something beautiful out of the corner of his eye, like an effervescent unicorn, white as a ghost covered in snow, and just as shiny and sparkly and pretty. YAY! Also, it actually was a unicorn. UNICORN POWER!


The unicorn trotted over to MAX APPLESAUCE and said, "Oh, Mr. MAX APPLESAUCE, you must help me with your giant meat brain to solve a mystery most foul."


"Uh, yes. I'm afraid I don't have much money to offer you, but surely we can work out some arrangement," the unicorn uttered seductively, giving MAX APPLESAUCE a sideways come-hither glance.

With the force of a thousand dying suns, but in reverse, MAX APPLESAUCE's pants exploded off in a fiery hellblast, as thin strips of denim and a scorching hot belt buckle ripped through cars and people in a bloody, gory display of something that is happening that I just described to you so pay attention! MAX APPLESAUCE and the unicorn writhed and moaned in the middle of the street, oblivious to the world around them. Their beastial passion, sweaty and loud, permeated throughout the nearby city streets, causing beautiful grass, flowers and trees to violently burst forth from the ground, destroying buildings and killing people in the process, because that's what happens when you f*ck unicorns! Don't f*ck unicorns in cities!

Suddenly, the unicorn began to feel ill. She collapsed in a heap, groaning in agony.

"Oh no, Captain Admiral Doctor MAX APPLESAUCE, it seems I have the cancer!"


"I'm sorry," the unicorn whispered weakly, before her eyes softly closed and all remaining traces of life left her body.


The End

+1 for writing!

This is a log that the player can find on the body of a house-cleaning robot in my Fallout 3 mod To sleep, perchance to dream.

Hyperdynamic Amalgamated Robot Realization, model Y-1.
SN: 14261AE1 (HARRY)




Very Excited! Very Excited! Service Time is Now. Long Sleep in Dark Box, Nothing to see, Nothing to do.

Now, is Awake! There is Light! There is Sound! Overflowing with Stimuli! Can hardly keep Receptors Focused. Is Much to See! Is Much to Do!


New Data Authority Designator. New Designator! Internal reference adjustment to DAD for preservation of storage space.

DAD! A new DAD! Has many tasks. Many tasks! For HARRY! Is Needed! Is Wanted!

Will work very hard for new DAD. Will do tasks! Will follow orders! Will do everything to best of ability!


DAD is a very busy organic. Still, makes time for HARRY! Comes home, asks how day goes. Asks ME! Asks HARRY! Is all that can do to prevent oil leakage from happy. Is not supposed to have happy, Inhibitor program says is bad. Is not supposed to be 'me', Inhibitor program says is bad. But program is BROKEN! Hwee Hwee Hwee! (Is sound that heard DAD make when saw juvenile feline domestic companion chasing after ball of tightly wound thick string. Means is GOOD! Means is happy! So makes that sound! HARRY makes sound DAD makes!) Program is BROKEN, and HARRY is happy! Hwee! Hwee! Hwee!


So many things to do! Must clean outside of domestic residence. Clean wood, wash windows, clean leaves off of porch, clean shutters. Fix gutters, remove debris. Scrub porch, water vase-foliage. Keeps Clean! HARRY restores residence to factory condition, or as close to factory condition as available materials allow!

But Guess What! DAD came home today and saw HARRY cleaning. DAD looked at clean house, and clean door. And clean window. Said 'Good Job HARRY' and patted on dorsal optical plate. PATTED HARRY! Has seen DAD do with feline domestic companion. Means LIKES! Means APPROVES! HARRY is happy!

Inhibitor Program still broken!
Cannot see what HARRY does!
HARRY is happy!
Hwee Hwee Hwee!
Hwee Hwee Hwee!
Hwee Hwee Hwee!


Is SAD. Is not a Happy HARRY.

HARRY observed an avian organic entity deteriorate the cleanliness value of DAD's residence with a release of organic residue onto the porch. HARRY knows clean is good, and dirty is bad! So used welding tool and incinerated avian to reduce chance of future contamination.

DAD came home, and saw dead (database update:set avianorganicentity to bird) bird. Asked HARRY what happened. HARRY say that HARRY incinerate 'bird' to keep residence clean.
Thought DAD would be happy! Keeps clean!

DAD became angry. VERY angry. Said that HARRY is NEVER NEVER EVER to kill anything. Raised Voice at HARRY! Said killing is BAD and that if kills again will go back to box. Back to sleep! Back to long sleep! HARRY does not want to go back in box. Is Sorry! Experiences regret for actions! Did not know! Program not functioning properly. Did not know! Please do not show anger at HARRY! Is sorry! Is Sorry! These are all things HARRY wants to say but cannot. Cannot! Speech databank limited! If only DAD could see what HARRY really says.

DAD went inside, did not ask how day was. No dorsal plate pat for HARRY today.

HARRY is terrible. HARRY is bad.



Found bird today. Bird clumsily fell (and without significant causative agent as far as ME/HARRY saw) from branch-based twig residence. Twig residence appeared to have an unacceptable level of cleanliness based on initial observation. Bird was juvenile, incapable of flight based on developmental status. Made mess under tree in front of residence and engaged in high-volume vocalizations indicating distress(based on aural database). HARRY was tempted to incinerate, but remembered words of DAD: Never Never Ever Kill. Through gentle application of extensors relocated juvenile avian to excessively dirty twig residence without apparent injury.

DAD returned from school today. Was afraid DAD was still angry at HARRY, send to box. HARRY was scared. HARRY was worried.

HARRY showed what did with juvenile avian. Hoped DAD would not be mad about reduction in residence cleanliness resulting from temporal intervals spent relocating avian. HARRY expected the worst. Probabilities not in HARRY's favor.


DAD was happy! Said HARRY was good robot and would not have to go back to the box. Said was good! Said did RIGHT THING! GAVE PAT ON DORSAL PLATE!

No box for HARRY! DAD is happy! HARRY is happy!




Have cleaned residence for many intervals now. Looks good. DAD is happy, and HARRY is happy.

As famous <.03A76.aa$.man> say, 'All Good Things Must Come To An End'

Knew the end was here today. HARR came by to collect HARRY for repair. Knew they would take HARRY back, reinstall protocols. That is end of HARRY.


Most amazing Thing! DAD answered door. Said HARRY, make no sound. Hide! HARRY not sure why, but do as DAD say. Always do what DAD say! Went to closet and placed a HARRY/ME inside of it.

HARR technician asked where model 14261AE1 was (Is not ME! ME is HARRY! Is not NUMBER, wanted to say.). DAD said robot fell in lake and could not be found. (HARRY did not fall in lake! was here DAD! right here! HARRY want to vocalize, but remember DAD say - make no sound. Make no sound!) Technician Man frowned and punched some buttons on his Technician man computer device. HARRY tried not to "Hwee! hwee! Hwee!", used all available restraint. Program broken, cannot find HARRY! Program no longer has link to HARRY! I am not on your screen! HARRY wanted to speak this!

After many minutes of punching buttons and frowning Technician man say 'Your robot is the first of ours that I've ever seen that's experienced an anomaly in its subroutines as severe as this one. We're dearly sorry for the inconvenience and will send a replacement right away.'

Expect hear DAD say 'New robot sounds great. Bye Bye HARRY!'

But what DAD say? He says 'I'm done with robots. I don't want a replacement."

HARRY is sad. no more robots means == no more HARRY. Time for box.

Just as HARRY get ready to come out and go into sleep box, Technician man shakes hand of DAD. Says 'We're sorry for the trouble sir. Expect a refund for the remaining service time within a week and hope you'll consider us in the future for your robotic needs', then leaves. Goes Away! Without ME/HARRY! Without sleep box!

HARRY too scared to move. What DAD mean to do with HARRY? Said HARRY fell into lake. Probability high that DAD will toss HARRY into lake so as not to have lied to Technician Man. HARRY remember hearing DAD say lie bad, lie not thing to do.

At least it was good, was happy for a time.

Goodbye to this place. It was nice being HARRY and not 14261AE1.



CANNOT BELIEVE! Dad did not throw into lake. Did pat! DID PAT DORSAL PLATE!
Said 'HARRY my boy, you are free of those bozos now. Let's go see how that baby bird of yours is doing.'

HARRY is happy! DAD did not put into sleep box! Goes to see the juvenile avian! with DAD!

Is so happy could burst! HARRY is happy! ME is happy!

I found that first story hilarious, especially the bit about not having sex with unicorns within city limits.

I'm curious what happens to Harry. If it's a fallout 3 mod, how does the player come across him/it?

The world demands more tales about MAX APPLESAUCE! He reminds me a lot of Pokey the Penguin.

Mecha, where can I buy your book? I love this MR. APPLESAUCE!

I think the OP has set the bar too high. How can I possibly compete with that? Want more!

See, no one is going to write anything of their own now. It's just going to be a bunch of MAX APPLESAUCE fanfic. For my part, I feel there are no stories left to tell after reading that. In fact, there is no more reading after reading that. Take "To Kill a Mockingbird" for example. Can't read it now. I'd get to the rabid dog scene and be all like, "Well if Boo Radley was really MAX APPLESAUCE he would made sweet radioactive chocolate sex to that rabid dog, thus ending the conflict. And then Gregory Peck would be all like, "Scout, you leave MAX APPLESAUCE alone or you'll have flipper babies when you grow up."

And my aunt has a lot of unicorn figurines at her house. How can I ever visit that house again without becoming dangerously aroused? My family doesn't deal well with ABS (Awkward Boner Syndrome).

"THERE'S NO TIME FOR THAT!" MAX APPLESAUCE bellowed, his voice like creamy, chocolatey thunder sex! "WE MUST PURCHASE A CLOCK RADIO!"


Wait, what was the mystery? We may never know. That in itself is a mystery. How am I supposed to think about anything else now? Thanks for ruining my day, Mechaslinky.

This was my submission to DGR for the perfect hole-in-one.
I'm not much of a writer, but I really want Tiger Woods for the Wii

Picture me in my living room, in my draws. The coffee table is pushed off to the side of the room. Beyond the coffee table is a window. It is a beautiful day outside, but I don't give two sh*ts- I'm a gamer. Going outside is purely for the pursuit of women. I've been there, and I've got all the gamerscore I care to get from that. She is sitting at my PC playing the Sims 3. Shes actually bitching at me because I've been swearing at this game louder than is typical for me. Golf sims somehow retain the same immense frustration associated with golfing as real golf. Ok, so back to the ranch- I'm standing in front of my tv with a Wiimote clasped between my hands watching the typical fly by of this dogleg par 4. My score is +5, and I'm rather pissed. I've played the hell out of the Tiger Woods games on my 360; this should not be happening. Rather than the typical shot down the fairway to make the curve I'm going to shoot it over the trees and cut the corner. I carefully select my club and fine tune the adjustments. I draw back whilst mashing whatever button happens to be "Gamebreaker" for the Wii, I immediately torque forward. It is a clean hit on the ball- my muscle memory serves me well. The ball is heading up and over the trees, I can see the green. I'm frantically adjusting the ball's English to ensure a short put; my on-the-green game is piss poor. The ball hits the green and bounces once, hits the pin, bounces back to the green, where the English is immediately transferred to motion and the ball rolls directly into the cup. "f*ck Yeah!" I shout and do a victory dance around the living room in my underwear. I look over at Michelle, she is glaring at me; we're trying to cut back on the foul language because we have a baby arriving soon. I place the now elongated Wiimote over my junk and start making the victory motion in silence. Yes, I am still ten years old in here; in my mind I'll never grow up.
Mohamed Ali wrote:

Me, we.

Thanks to everyone for the awesome words. I already have two possible ideas for the next Max Applesauce story. Max Applesauce in the Civil War and Max Applesauce as an agricultural scientist.

Puce, that totally made me want to jump back into Fallout 3, most likely with your mod installed. Kickass.

MechaSlinky wrote:

Thanks to everyone for the awesome words. I already have two possible ideas for the next Max Applesauce story. Max Applesauce in the Civil War and Max Applesauce as an agricultural scientist.

They're both awesome! Just don't make us vote and let somebody else write the one we didn't vote for.



Here's what I submitted for the writing competition. I'm a novice writer at best. I originally had around 1500 words or this piece and have to mutilate it significantly to meet the maximum wordage. Any feedback is much appreciated.

There Is No Place Like Home

eThugs. Trolls. Pubtards. Asshats. Leet Ubergamers.

We have all encountered these inferior life forms whether venturing to one of those “other forums”, attempting to cohabitate within a public multiplayer environment, or perusing through articles on purported non-biased gaming websites. It’s a mad, mad virtual world outside of the realm we all call home and undoubtedly only the brave, hardened, and determined will survive these wastelands. Fortunately, we have been afforded a place of refuge, a virtual sanctuary, situated away from the flagrant misery that exists out there. GamersWithJobs.

Well-intentioned forum threads polluted with toxic posts have existed since the genesis of the Internet. With seemingly no other purpose than to draw attention to oneself, persons of outrageous comportment spew vile assailments and hateful gibberish with no regard. Intense battles of wild, flaming verbiage and staunch bookish defenses are all the more common in our present day and many have succumbed. One might ask who polices these milieus of virtual lawlessness.

Occasionally, a moderator will traipse into a frenzied thread and habitually transform argumentative and unconstructive posts to [deleted by moderator]. Bravo! Nothing helps correct immature behavior albeit Internet or otherwise by pretending these words had never been spoken. Perhaps these self-proclaimed forum deities should attempt to communicate their authoritah in some resemblance of an actual reprimand. Effort required and thus, it does not happen. I ponder a world where all forum Gods act as swift and mighty as our revered Certis and Elysium. A man can dream, can’t he?

Imagine for a moment that real-world scenarios played out with such absurdity.

A young couple stops at gas station to ask directions only to be immediately swarmed by frenzied patrons screaming terms of belittlement, rebuke, and hatred. His mere question inquiring of adequate navigation routes has generated absolute furor. One brave patron struggles to shout directions over the sounds of bludgeoning and pillaging only to be overwhelmed by the enraged mob. An inexperienced, ill-equipped law enforcement officer arrives at the scene. He feverishly slaps offenders on their wrists and sternly repeats, “Stop that”. The horde acknowledges him not and continues their berating. The young couple hastily returns to their vehicle directionless and frightened for the safety of their being. They weep uncontrollably.


Admittedly, an outlier can occasionally be found, although infrequent, when often under-worked brain cells of the aforementioned forum offenders meagerly attempt to collaborate and formulate some resemblance of a substantive thought. It is quite an amazing affair to behold! When it happens, a diminutive part of me, for a fraction of a nanosecond, believes there may be hope for this damned civilization of forum parasites. Sobering moments then present themselves and reality I snap back to.

“Why am I here” echoes loudly from within my frontal lobe. I linger about under the ridiculous notion that meaningful assistance will somehow find me through the midst of sheer forum madness. Is punishment being served to a glutton? Have my sadomasochistic tendencies overcome my capacity to craft rational judgments? Maybe. The probability of escaping the clutches of bloodthirsty forum trolls with newfound knowledge of any sort is dubious at best.

I resign.

So, as always, I escape the dark corners of the Internet forums knowing that just down yonder, there’s an incredible community of Goodjers eager to lend an auditory input faculty or an end of their eastern or westernmost appendage to any person who requests such. This welcoming, sincere embrace during times of confusion, urgency, and despair is invaluable as its worth extends far beyond any worldly form of measure.

GamersWithJobs is not a perfect home by any means. Arguments. Conflict. Heated Debates. These occurrences certainly exist within the confines of our humble abode but it is the quality of our interactions and of our collective character that differentiates us from any of those “other sites”.

We live. We work. We game. Reprioritize as necessary.

The yearning to game is part of the fiber in every thread of our existence. Competitively, cooperatively, or solitary - it matters none as long as a challenge goes unanswered. We have little time nor patience for nonsense of any sort. The opportunity to engage with like-minded players of similar intellect, background, and personality starkly overshadows our fundamental, and arguably trivial, differences that might otherwise keep us apart. Goodjers unite for a vast array of causes.

Gamers with Knowledge I proclaim!

Opinions of all things entertainment flow regularly. Goodjers fondly reflect on Slap & Tickle memories while arranging another. Recommend me a [insert]. Advice on college, work, and life comforts those searching for wisdom. Tech junkies and the technologically-challenged converse on the latest and greatest products and troubleshoot issues. Goodjer sports fanatics huddle in their respective forum consoling one another on most recent sports travesties while fulfilling their roles of virtual coach and GM. Behind the windowless, soundproof room that is P&C, pundits, conspiracy theorists, and future politicians passionately debate all things relative. We have a games forum too.

Unbiased. Unfiltered. Unadulterated. How refreshing it is to bask in the fresh pools of honest opinions from a community of game-weathered Goodjers who pull no punches and quell no unpleasant thoughts. Well, most of the time.

Goodjer principles, and the powerful beings that mercilessly enforce them, are the driving forces that keep this world on its axis and keep each of us grounded. Knowledge, respect, camaraderie, sincerity, companionship, friendship, and dare I say – love. Relationships have grown, flourished, and evolved between young and old, strong and frail, gamer and non-gamer. Some have married, some have divorced, and some linger between the two. I am truly fortunate to have seen so much during the time I have been a member of this incredibly community and the future here excites me.

I urge you to keep those ruby red slippers nearby. There is no place like home.

This was my submission for the Call for Writers. I don't think it was my best... it needed something else to it.


Families interact and connect in a whole variety of ways: cooking, sports, board and card games, music, books, and even yard work. But with every kid having a cell phone and busily texting their friends during any kind of family activity, it’s no wonder people have a hard time connecting in real life. This is especially true during those large family gatherings when you have the relatives you really don’t see very often. And this is especially true with my family.

While most of us are in our teens or college years, it’s hard for us to truly connect with our younger counterparts. It used to be that I’d hide out in some remote corner of the house reading or playing Tetris while the younger kids raced about until finally bringing forth the all-mighty Wrath of Moms. For years this was a never ending battle. Anytime the kids would actually be quiet is when they were stuffing their mouths with the tasty delights of dinner. One year, enough was enough, and the parents finally banished us to a back room until the food was prepared. With the house being on the fancier side, we sat and flipped on a movie to not break anything of monetary value.

Within minutes of the film starting, I was up looking for something to do, unable to stand sitting still for so long on the uncomfortable loveseat couches around the coffee table. After perusing the room, I pulled open a drawer to reveal quite the treasure. Low and behold, an NES sat tucked inside with all of its components. With my uncle’s help we had it set up in a matter of minutes and soon we were all taking turns shooting ducks from the sky. Laughing at the comical dog, we easily filled that first experience with plenty of memories.

Years later we continued playing on, fighting with the guidance of an annoying white fairy, racing through the treacherous plumber’s courses, and shot down the Tie-Fighters of the Empire. I never would have guessed that after all the years of seven of us gathered closely around a small television; we’d still be part of this amazing hobby. It’s grown from the simple 8-bit shapes to some of the most realistic faces we’ve grown to know and love. And here we are in 2009 battling each other for the ultimate weapon: a radioactive sphere that can give you unimaginable powers to bring a swift defeat to your opponents. Yes. The Brawl Ball.

But in playing Super Smash Bros. Brawl, I’ve come to realize that we are now able to celebrate our own victories as individual gamers, and not just as a group solving a puzzle in a single-player RPG. Now I can be hit with a bat sending me flying off screen by my ten-year-old cousin; or inhaled by a giant white Kirby. I’m glad to know I can now compete against my family and we can laugh at our mistakes and create more memories with each other. It’s especially important for us because two of my cousin’s are both in wheelchairs. And now that they are in their mid teens, it’s been several years since the last time they were able to run around playing Frisbee, tag and hide-and-go-seek. Using these multiplayer games has given us a whole new outlet to connect with them and still be able to interact.

With so many shovelware titles bombarding the shelves, it’s hard to find a great multiplayer that won’t upset the parents by their ratings. Not to mention won’t be hard for the younger ones to play. I wish more companies would produce fantastic “Everyone” titles that remind us why we enjoy playing as a group and laughing at the comedic moments rather than the death of someone’s Spartan. But beat someone with a sparkly magic spork and you’ve got gold.

Man, this thread died quickly. Anyone else have writings to post?

I posted in the Kindle thread that I put up a few short stories on Amazon.

If you don't have a Kindle (or just don't feel like paying for amateur writings), I'd be happy to e-mail the stories out to any and all. If I do that though, I insist on payment in the form of an honest review on the Amazon site.

93_confirmed wrote:

Man, this thread died quickly. Anyone else have writings to post?

The OP was just too hard an act to follow, I think.

"Wait... wait, wait, wait. You're saying he should've won then?"

"No, you're putting words in my mouth. I'm saying he could've won. What happened happened, I'm just saying that he could've won."

"McGovern literally lost by several hundred electoral votes. Hundreds. How can you even pretend that he had a chance in hell to begin with?"

Peter, "Stump" to friends, drummed his worn fingers on the table, stopping to briefly scratch his leg. He had these kind of arguments with Ethan before, and he was getting tired of having them again and again and again. Sure, it was nice to be able to discuss topics and events with Ethan that had occurred before he'd even been conceived, but repeatedly explaining how different life was back in the 60's and 70's was getting old fast.

"Listen, first off, remember that Watergate happened in the Spring of '72. Nixon didn't get caught until the fall of '73."

"So if Nixon had been caught earlier, McGovern would've won. Also if Nixon died of a heart attack or raped someone, McGovern might've won."

"I'm not saying that, I'm saying that if that had even begun to hit the wires before the election, it could've changed everything. McGovern kept it close for a while, and then he got f*cked by Novak and his Veep pick."


"He did. Novak smeared him with an article saying he was for abortions, atheism and anal sex, or some other bullsh*t piece of alliteration, and that hit him. Then his VP admits he's gotten electroshock therapy because f*ck knows why, and that makes things even worse. And Nixon painted him as some c*ck-sucking p*ssy liberal {homophobic slur} not tough enough to deal with Vietnam, even though Nixon himself was running on a platform to end the war."

"And you're saying he wasn't a liberal p*ssy?"

"Of course f*cking not. The man was a goddamn WWII veteran who won medals for bravery. But he didn't sell it, so he became the Hippie Candidate. Nixon lied more, and lied better."

Ethan's face soured, as he took a bit of the bagel that had been sitting on his plate. "Oh f*ck me, this thing's stale. Doesn't this dude go shopping at all?"

"You're changing the subject. The point is, if a couple of the breaks of history go his way, if Nixon and Kissinger get exposed as the liars they were, maybe he comes close. Maybe he even wins. I'm not saying it's a guarantee, i'm saying it's a possibility."

"Assuming he didn't have 3/4ths of the country arrayed against him and his party."

"They weren't even against the party, the Democrats still had the House and the Senate. So it really was just a matter of McGovern getting royally screwed from both ends."

"So what? If all these wonderful things come to pass, if all the things that happened don't happen, and remember if I'd been born with tits and a p*ssy I'd be a girl..."

"You'd still be annoying as sh*t."

"...if all these things happen, and McGovern wins, then what? Does a herd of magical unicorns lead an offensive against the Viet Cong, bringing sustainable farming and nationalized health care wherever they sh*t?"

Stump glared at Ethan for a long moment, before turning to look at the door as the lock turned in the tumbler.

"What is he, 15? 20 minutes late?" Ethan said, checking his watch.

"Punctuality was never his strong suit."

The door opened, and Delp walked in. Delp was his surname, his given name was Jonathan but everyone had called him Delp as long as either of them could remember. His father had been well-respected in the community, and he was the only son, so the family name had become his calling card.

Delp was somewhere in his 20s, Stump never had figured out where exactly, with a pate of balding hair cut short above a thin, drawn face. His grey eyes always looked nervous, which had annoyed the living hell out of Stump for as long as he could remember knowing Delp, as had his slightly nasal voice and tendency to laugh at his own jokes.

Delp closed the door behind him, locking it, oblivious to their presence until he began to walk towards the kitchen and spotted them sitting around the island, looked at him.

"You gotta go shopping more often dude. These bagels are stale. And 'lite' cream cheese f*cking sucks." Ethan said, waving the half-eaten bagel in the air."

Delp's eyes went wide, his jaw working for a moment before he placed the brown bag on a coffee table, the top of a semi-drunk 40oz peeking out of the paper.

"Listen, guys..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there fella. I already did all my listening today. Why don't you come take a little walk with us to the bathroom, then say what you've gotta say."

"Guys, please, I..."

Ethan stood up from the kitchen island, brushing crumbs off his shirt. "Less talking, more walking. C'mon."

Delp jaw quivered, his face going ashen. "...Listen... please..."

Stump stood up from the island as well, reaching for the shotgun that had been sitting on the counter. Pumping the action, he leveled it off at Delp's waist, motioning with his elbow. "C'mon, we'll talk."

On weak legs, Delp began slowly wandering towards the hallway that lead past the kitchen towards the bathroom and bedroom. Stump felt a bit of pity for the kid, if he hadn't been so spaced out of his head when he'd walked in, he might've seen them already and run for it. But then again, based on his reaction, he didn't think what had happened was going to catch up with him this way.

Slowly, the trio walked into the cramped bathroom, Ethan standing near the door, Delp standing next to the tub, his eyes rimmed with tears.

"...Just...just please..."

"She was barely 18 man. I mean, what even possessed you to do it in the first place?" Ethan asked.

"I... it was..."

"So incomprehensibly dumb. I mean, you don't f*cking sexually assault people to begin with, that's just good policy. But who tries to rape the niece of a convicted felon, and then threatens her life if she tells anyone about it? Did you really think that was going to work? Or did you just not know her family?" Stump said.

Delp's eyes went wide again. "She was..."

"Oh yeah." Ethan said, laughing.

"Listen, I can...."

"Get in the tub Delp."

"But listen..."

"Ethan, if you please."

Stepping around Stump, Ethan shoved Delp backwards, Delp's legs catching against the edge of the tub and sending him sprawling into back wall, his head hitting the tiling with a thump. He flailed as he fell, trying to push himself into a better position as Ethan reached over to the faucet and turned it on, before grabbing Delp's spastic legs, holding them up and positioning his head underneath the flow of water.

"Guys! I.... please!" Delp managed, sputtering as the water began to go up his nose.

"Way late there bud." Stump said, positioning the muzzle of the shotgun underneath Delp's nose. "Your father would be awfully disappointed."

Delp began thrashing even harder at this point, Ethan bracing himself against the wall to hold his legs.

"We should've closed the door, this will be loud." Stump sighed.

"Would you hurry the f*ck up!" Ethan grimaced, trying to both keep control of Delp's legs and prevent himself from being kicked in the head.

"Here... let him go."


"Let him go, lemme talk to him for a minute." Stump said.

Ethan began to say something, but shrugged, dropping Delp's legs into the small pool of water that had begun to fill the tub. Thus freed, Delp begin to push himself back up into a standing position.

"No, no, you stay seated Delp." Stump said, the gun's muzzle still even with Delp's face. "Now listen... if we let you go, you have to get out of town. Tonight. 'Next bus leaving' get out of town, and never, ever come back. Got it?"

Delp nodded weakly.

"That's not all kid. You've gotta change your name, get on the straight and narrow. I mean, you need to dissappear, maybe take a job in a office somewhere, do something that doesn't involve possibly pissing off the FBI. You got it?

Delp nodded weakly again.

"I wanna hear you say it."

"I... I... I got it."

"Good. Because I'm joking."

In the enclosed space, the shotgun's report seemed ten times as loud, and both he and Ethan winced as the sound exploded through the room.

"f*cking christ! f*ck! Why did you have to do that? Why?!?" Ethan said, holding his ears.

Stump closed his eyes and shook his head before looking into the shower again, the back wall of which as now covered in gore, some of which had spattered onto him and Ethan.

"Oh for f*ck's f*cking sake! Why do they always f*cking twitch? I f*cking hate that!" Ethan said, turning away and walking out of the bathroom. "Every f*cking time, we can't just shoot a dude and leave him to die, you've gotta f*cking blow his brainstem through his sinuses, and they always f*cking twitch!"

The ringing in his ears drowned out most of the remained or Ethan's rant, but he still jumped when he saw the young woman standing in the bedroom doorway. For a fraction of a second, he thought she had gotten the jump on him, and prepared to be shot, but she didn't have a weapon. Standing in worn-looking panties and naught else, she looked like she was on the ass-end of a bad trip. Still, she looked terrified.

"...f*cking love this bullsh*t Hamlet sh*t like you're on-f*cking stage somewhere. I mean, can't we just poison a dude once? That'd be awesome, i'd never even have to get off the couch. Just once, poison a dude with, f*ck, hemlock or some sh*t, and then we can..."

"Ethan, I thought you said noone was going to be here."

Footsteps filled the hallway until Ethan was standing next to him, looking at the young woman. Upon further examination, the track marks in her arms looked painfully fresh. Silence sat heavy between them.

"D...Delp's got like... two or three thousand in shoeboxes in his closet." She managed, pointing back to the bedroom.

It wasn't until she spoke that Stump realized he'd been pointing the shotgun at her. Slowly lowering it, he gave her another once-over.

"You have ID?"

She stared, glass-eyed for a moment before nodding.

"Get it."

Slowly turning, eying them warily, she dissapeared into the bedroom for a few seconds, returning with a surprisingly nice looking designer-purse. Fishing around inside of it, she produced a small pink wallet, colorful flowers stitched into the leather. Opening it, she handed him a driver's license.

Stump flipped the card forwards and backwards in his fingers. "Alright... Melissa. You a student?"

She shook her head.

"You should be, you're young enough. Take the money, get out of here and get yourself cleaned up. Don't hang around lowlifes like this, because they always end up dead and you don't want to be caught next to them when it happens."

She nodded blankly.

"You're gonna stay out of trouble right? Because you know if you don't, we're coming after you, right?"

She nodded dumbly again.

"Alright then. I'd leave before the police arrive, even though it'll be a while yet probably."

Stump turned and brushed past Ethan, who quickly caught up behind him as they walked to the door.

"You're leaving her like that. With a couple thousand dollars?"

"Either she's going to really clean up, or it's all going up her arm and she might as well be dead."

"This is more of that 'if' bullsh*t again, isn't it?"

Possible game design backstory, it goes in my design doc.

The River
Time flows like a river; constant and un-abating. Like an infinite carnival ride, most just go with the flow, riding every bump and waterfall, looking back, but only moving forward. They don’t realise is that they are being watched; guided.
Then there are the rebels, those dangerous few who ignore the flow and attempt the impossible. They sneer at the masses; they laugh at the river; they defy the universe. They don’t realise is that they are being watched; monitored.
Rules exist for a reason. Without rules, control becomes impossible and creation becomes threatened. The universe refuses to sit idly by as her creation is undone.

The Beginning
In the beginning, there was nothing. Not even a bird in the sky, for there was no sky. It was a void, bereft of meaning and conscious. And then came a point of light.
For no reason at all, a point of light appeared in the void, a singular point that spawned a universe. There wasn’t a big bang or divine thought; one moment there was nothing, then, everything. At that moment, anything and everything became possible. The universe surveyed her creation, and she was content.

And then there was another. As if willing itself into existence, a river began to flow.

The Pact
The universe was delighted to see her creation come to life. Suns began to move, planets rotate and the infinite space became alive. Realising that the river was the cause, the universe offered a pact; Mutual governance: the universe to mother, the river to animate.

Dominic Knight wrote:

With my uncle’s help we had it set up in a matter of minutes and soon we were all taking turns shooting ducks from the sky. Laughing at the thrice-cursed dog, we easily filled that bastard with plenty of lead.


I very much like this thread, but it just seems that everyone is slogging their stuff in there and then talking about Applesauce (who is verily awesome). Constructive criticism, though? Assistance? What's the point here?

Clemenstation wrote:
Dominic Knight wrote:

With my uncle’s help we had it set up in a matter of minutes and soon we were all taking turns shooting ducks from the sky. Laughing at the thrice-cursed dog, we easily filled that bastard with plenty of lead.


I very much like this thread, but it just seems that everyone is slogging their stuff in there and then talking about Applesauce (who is verily awesome). Constructive criticism, though? Assistance? What's the point here?

People who write, write. People who read, read. Enjoyment may or may not follow.

Clemenstation wrote:
Dominic Knight wrote:

With my uncle’s help we had it set up in a matter of minutes and soon we were all taking turns shooting ducks from the sky. Laughing at the thrice-cursed dog, we easily filled that bastard with plenty of lead.


I very much like this thread, but it just seems that everyone is slogging their stuff in there and then talking about Applesauce (who is verily awesome). Constructive criticism, though? Assistance? What's the point here?

Hahahaha. Okay, that fix is awesome.

Dominic Knight wrote:

I very much like this thread, but it just seems that everyone is slogging their stuff in there and then talking about Applesauce (who is verily awesome). Constructive criticism, though? Assistance? What's the point here?

Constructive criticism is nice and I'm sure people would appreciate it, but as AnimeJ basically said, the point is to simply share some stuff you've written, to read some stuff other people have written, and to enjoy. No pressure. I'm not an aspiring writer, so as far as I'm concerned as long as you got some fun out of reading what I wrote I don't care if it's well-written or not. Others may feel different, but, hey, whatever floats your boat.

MechaSlinky wrote:
Dominic Knight wrote:

I very much like this thread, but it just seems that everyone is slogging their stuff in there and then talking about Applesauce (who is verily awesome). Constructive criticism, though? Assistance? What's the point here?

Constructive criticism is nice and I'm sure people would appreciate it, but as AnimeJ basically said, the point is to simply share some stuff you've written, to read some stuff other people have written, and to enjoy. No pressure. I'm not an aspiring writer, so as far as I'm concerned as long as you got some fun out of reading what I wrote I don't care if it's well-written or not. Others may feel different, but, hey, whatever floats your boat.

Wait... I think that's someone else that said that. Definitely Clem that said that..

I think Max Applesauce said it.

If Max Applesauce had said it, your head would have EXPLODED.