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OC_James
Liquid Emperor
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« Reply #168 on: 12-28-2004 22:47 »
« Last Edit on: 12-28-2004 22:47 »
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A little late for the holidays, but I'll post the story anyway because I can and if you have a problem with it I'll ass-rape you.
It's six days before Christmas. Somewhere in the town of Green Springs, a phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Hey."
"...Oh. Hey."
"You uh, you have any plans for tonight?"
"Why, same thing I do every night, Pinky: watch Cinemax and jerk off."
"You...you think you could work something in between this phone call and Femalien?"
"...What's wrong?"
"It's Logan, man."
It's six days before Christmas. Somewhere in the town of Green Springs, a phone is placed back on its reciever. Across town, a man stands over his old friend's dead body.
Ronnie - 1
Ronnie's a fairly young man with dark, piercing eyes, brown hair that's always messy, and a sort of posture that makes him interesting to watch, though he's not doing much now. Just sitting on a beach, writing in a notebook and stopping every now and then to look up at the waves coming in from the ocean. The sun is just rising and the sounds of seagulls catching can be heard in the distance. A content smile slowly fills his face as he finishes a page and starts on the next one. His smile only gets bigger as he hears footsteps approaching.
"I can't believe the kids are sleeping in. They're missing such a beautiful sunrise." A blonde woman sits in a chair beside him. He nods and continues writing. She leans over, trying to read what he's writing.
"Now I told you I get nervous when somebody is watching me. I start writing faster and I make spelling mistakes and..." He looks up at her and is caught in her stare. He stares into her eyes and she stares into his. They're happy. He sets his notebook down beside him and leans over to kiss her. Before their lips touch, an odd sound echoes in from the sea. It repeats itself. It keeps repeating until Ronnie finally realizes what it is.
Back in our world, Ronnie rolls off of his bed and hits his head on the edge of his nightstand. Laying on the floor, his head pulsating in pain, he looks at his alarm clock, which is repeating the now not-so-frightening-but-annoying-as-hell noise heard in his dream. He stands up and tears a page off his day-to-day calendar, which he hadn't really bothered with up until a couple of days ago. He looks at the date, taking a mental note that he's only five days away from Christmas. Usually hating the holidays, Ronnie's actually looking forward to this Christmas. This year he's giving all his old partners and friends the best gift he could give them.
He puts on the only clean clothes he has and walks into his small, dirty bathroom. The first thing he does is open the medicine cabinet. Quickly downing more Nyquil than one person should (and straight from the bottle) he takes some aspirin, some anti-depressants, and some random pill just laying around. In about thirty minutes he may be able to leave the house and do something. Anything. He walks into his living room, where the television is still on from the night before. He lays down on his couch and begins to fall asleep again.
His phone rings. Groaning, he walks over to it and picks it up. A familiar voice comes from the other end.
"Hey."
"Oh, hey."
"Um, I'm not sure if you've seen it on the news or what but...do you know about Logan?"
"...What? He finally get arrested for fucking fourteen year olds or something?"
"He's dead, Ron."
"...Huh."
"Shot in his own house. Nothing was taken. His girlfriend found him. You know Maria, right?"
"Yes, I've had the pleasure of talking to Maria a bit. She's the little annoying bitch from over Bayside, right? The one who always looks like she has a fist up her ass?"
"Why do you have to act like this? Logan's our friend. Our comprade. He helped you out when you needed money. He helped you when you had girl troubles, for Christ's sake. He was your personal Dr. Phil."
And with that, Ronnie muttered something in a rather disgusted tone and hung up on his old friend.
"What a fantastic way to start the day," Ronnie muttered to himself, laying back down on the couch. "A phone call from DoorMatt. I thought he was...dead or...something..."
He fell asleep like every other weekday morning.
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TheLampIncident
Urban Legend
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« Reply #175 on: 01-03-2005 16:51 »
« Last Edit on: 01-03-2005 16:51 »
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Originally posted by Kloudes:
Truly, that was inspired. Your comment inspired me to make up some more freeform poetry: I feel inspired The energy flows through me It smells like cheese What kind of cheese, I cannot tell Possibly cheddar
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TheLampIncident
Urban Legend
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« Reply #179 on: 01-03-2005 17:01 »
« Last Edit on: 01-03-2005 17:01 »
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Originally posted by Squeaky:
I think my song is too simple I need to come up with more complicated lyrics not something that sounds like I came up with it in 15 minutes. Which I did, eh. Why not? I come up with a lot of my songs in like, two minutes. Of course, they're often between 4-8 lines... Examples? Yes. My intelligence is quite the specimen
It is over and underestimated at the same time
I don't want estimations
I just want acceptanceIn retrospect, that one sucks because of the last line. You can hold your meeting today
But you can't meet me halfway
A treaty is the impossible dream of a madman
I haven't got the patience for you
Fists go flying across the tableThat one's not bad... Pour me a cup of coffee
This one's no good, not enough sugar
Pour me a second cup
You got too much in the mug
Pour me a third cup
This is decaf, are you incompetent?
File my papers before your termination
I'll get my own damn coffeeI hate executives and I hate coffee. Well, not a hate on coffee. I'm just not a huge fan. You're real proud of your time card
Your sign that you work hard
Bring home the bacon and eggs
You've got a good set of legs
To stand on your own two feet
So why aren't you doing so?
You want to be successful, how sweet
Give me your time card
From now on, you won't work hard*pisses all over tradition*
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Wooter
Urban Legend
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« Reply #187 on: 01-04-2005 19:11 »
« Last Edit on: 01-05-2005 00:00 »
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Umm.. here's an unfinished short story I'm writing. I hope you enjoy it.
I was having a bad dream, thrashing around in my sleep. Suddenly, my eyes shot open. My heart beating rapidly, I look up to see where I am. I see a bed, a couple of dim lamps, a table with a chair, a TV, and a bible. Huh, a hotel room. But why am I on the floor? And what am I doing in this puddle of water? I take a whiff of the room, and an acrid, sour smell accosts my nose. This isn’t water, it’s sweat! Pulling myself up, I notice that I am naked. I look down, and see a knife, sticky with blood lying only a foot away from where I lay. What the hell did I do last night?
I get up the rest of the way, the sweat-soaked carpet making a vile squelching sound. I examine my body, and see no cuts on it. Both relieved and worried at the same time, I realize that the blood on the knife is not my own. Bleary eyed, I head towards the bathroom. I start the water running, planning on washing my greasy face. As I look into the mirror, I realize that I have a full, scraggly, yet short beard. I was clean shaven last I remember. How long have I been out?
Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of the bathtub. The inside of it was completely encrusted with dry blood. My heart started to beat faster than I thought possible. Panic stricken, I open the compartment beneath the sink to get some cleaner. Out rolls a head.
Holy shit.
I lean down for a closer look. Pale, grey flesh it pulled taught over the skull. It stares up at me with eyeless sockets. Its long, crimson tongue lolled lazily out of its mouth, covered in bite marks. Looking closer, I see that they are not its own teeth that did that. The marks were facing the wrong way. Unable to contain myself any longer, I vomit.
Tell me what you think, and keep in mind, I'm insane.
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Author
