no.liltony said:how do anodize know?
I will take that as a thank you.GriffinB. said:holy shit.
Trevor N said:no.liltony said:how do anodize know?
just stop.
You took that joke's throat and slit it with a dull razor-blade. As you hacked at that joke's the blood began to spill out like a waterfall in the Amazon. Harsh and cruel. Harsh and cruel.
As you watched that little harmless joke suffer, you began to laugh, undeniably proving that you are a twisted, evil twat. The joke begged for mercy. It really did. But, instead of lending this joke a helping hand, you jabbed a dagger between the joke's eye sockets and watched as he took his final breath.
All of a sudden, you began to feel a certain pleasure overcome you. As if it was a turn on. As you began to feel this awkward pleasure, you began to touch your little billy to the dying joke and began to rape the dead carcass.
Years later, the guilt finally hit you. You began to cry day and night. Tears flowing down your face. You found that same rusty, dull razor-blade and began to contemplate wether or not to seal your own fate. After many moments of harsh consideration. You took that blade to your jugular and began to gasp for oxygen. WAS THIS A MISTAKE?!?!?!? You automatically regretted your actions trying to find something to ease the pain of a slit throat. No one could hear your gasps No one could hear your screams. Then, something appeared out of the forest. A little figure, small and petite. You thought you knew this figure from somewhere. Was he an acquaintance? Then, you recognized him. You opened your mouth to let a vicious scream out but no sound escaped your dying body.
The little joke was back from the dead. Looking for revenge. Trying to find the inhumane man who had so wrongly killed and raped him. He never understood why someone would do that? Why to the little joke that could? No one knows why. Only the man who had so wrongly abused and killed the little guy.
The final moments of the killers life were very, how shall I say it, abrupt. The little joke carved various signs all over your body and began to feel that certain pleasure you had when you had killed him. Except,the little joke didn't rape you. He stood back and watched as his beautiful work was at its conclude.
The End.
yes i did. I love writing short stories. I thought... it's 8:00 in the morning. Why not?liltony said:wow did you really just write all that? dear god
Liltony doesn't piss me off. I just don't like when people kill jokes. That's exactly what he did.Peter Luce said:Dude Liltony pisses me off too but that whole novel you just wrote was retarted.
baahahaha siggedTrevor N said:no.liltony said:how do anodize know?
just stop.
You took that joke's throat and slit it with a dull razor-blade. As you hacked at that joke's the blood began to spill out like a waterfall in the Amazon. Harsh and cruel. Harsh and cruel.
As you watched that little harmless joke suffer, you began to laugh, undeniably proving that you are a twisted, evil twat. The joke begged for mercy. It really did. But, instead of lending this joke a helping hand, you jabbed a dagger between the joke's eye sockets and watched as he took his final breath.
All of a sudden, you began to feel a certain pleasure overcome you. As if it was a turn on. As you began to feel this awkward pleasure, you began to touch your little billy to the dying joke and began to rape the dead carcass.
Years later, the guilt finally hit you. You began to cry day and night. Tears flowing down your face. You found that same rusty, dull razor-blade and began to contemplate wether or not to seal your own fate. After many moments of harsh consideration. You took that blade to your jugular and began to gasp for oxygen. WAS THIS A MISTAKE?!?!?!? You automatically regretted your actions trying to find something to ease the pain of a slit throat. No one could hear your gasps No one could hear your screams. Then, something appeared out of the forest. A little figure, small and petite. You thought you knew this figure from somewhere. Was he an acquaintance? Then, you recognized him. You opened your mouth to let a vicious scream out but no sound escaped your dying body.
The little joke was back from the dead. Looking for revenge. Trying to find the inhumane man who had so wrongly killed and raped him. He never understood why someone would do that? Why to the little joke that could? No one knows why. Only the man who had so wrongly abused and killed the little guy.
The final moments of the killers life were very, how shall I say it, abrupt. The little joke carved various signs all over your body and began to feel that certain pleasure you had when you had killed him. Except,the little joke didn't rape you. He stood back and watched as his beautiful work was at its conclude.
The End.