The only rule is to contribute just one sentence at a time. >James walked down the hotel hallway, the tough, tight carpet muffling his footsteps.
>>25029593>At the end of the hallway, he noticed a black man, shit himself nervously, and a stream of warm faeces ran down his trouser leg into his sock.
>"What the fuck is wrong with you?" a harpy-woman spat at him from the shrinking gap in her room-door before slamming it all the way shut.
"Uh, excuse me.", he said as cleared his throat and darted his eye back and forth on the sable man seemingly looking down on him.
The fluorescent lights hummed, a cricket sounded and tumbleweed rolled through the hallway.
>"Man, I don't know what the *fuck* is wrong witchu but I'm going the hell in my apartment and calling the muhfuggin POLICE cuz dis shit crazy, man."
>"Matter of fact, fuck the muhfucken police, man," he said, launching out again into the hallway and putting a gun in James' face.
>Explosive diarrhoea began to burn James's backside. Sweat trickled slowly down his temple.
"I'm- I'm sorry, man; I have a condition!"
>"Nigga, is you made of shit?", the nigger inquired, its archaic, simian brain genuinely impressed by the feat.
>The pain became increasingly unbearable, and the aggressive black man, using his oversized nostrils, sensed a symphony of stench, but he did not back down.
"Goddamn!" he retched, putting the back of his hand over his nose.
>James then bowed his head and clasped his hands together and whispered, "The end."
Suddenly, his bowels growled.
>he remembered his childhood, when he used to soil his bed every day and his father would shout at him too
Despite how much James wished it would end the relentless flood of diarrhea continued as did the unintelligible ebonics.
>(He thought, for a second, whether it were correct to maintain his thoughts in greentext or non-greentext form.)
>"If you're not gonna shoot that thing, why don't you just put it down?" a sensuous, sultry woman asked the nigger in the hallway, her sinuous slender form against the doorframe.
>Suddenly, someone opened the hotel door, a ray of hope, a saviour, a deus ex machina. It was the black drug dealer whom he had come to see for a dose of fentany
>He immediately threw up.
>"holla nigga" yelled the dealer, "dis cracker is trippin!" said the black customer, "fucking niggers" yelled the woman as she slammed her door.
>"Please, mate, I only need one dose, I'll be clean from tomorrow, I promise" said James. Fentanyl helped him with persistent diarrhoea
>Suddenly James woke up from this nightmare on the floor of a different hotel hallway covered in shit with his drug dealer standing over him.
>"Fuck man, he's awake."
>"We can't just let him get away with this shit, man."
>"Jamie, you are losing the plot man, you're gonna put me in trouble" said the dealer, as the hotel valet approached them
>James groaned, his eyelids fluttering and barely-open, the whites of his eyes showing as he squirmed around in a puddle of his own shit on the carpet.
>"Um... excuse me sirs, is everything alright?" asked the valet. "Yeah man, all good, my friend just fell over.... and shat himself in the process, he has the... eplepsia...I will take care of him, don't even stress homie, and sorry for the carpet" answered the dealer as he dragged half-concious James to his room.
"Jesus Christ, what a fucking mess..." some guy, a friend of Jamie's dealer, groaned, rubbing his temple with the butt of his hand, smoke from the cigarette between his fingers curling up towards the ceiling.
"I...... water......please..." James murmured. Tray the dealer handed him a can of three day old redbull that lied around his messy crackhouse. "Here man, there's still something left"
there was an earthquake and the city collapsed into rubble
>"Anyways, what do you think about exponential scaling of the quantum states in high dimensional Hilbert spaces?" asked the mysterious friend of Tray
>"This is very bad, maybe the worst earthquake ever in human history but we have some good people, some very good people, already on the ground to assist," President Donald J. Trump announced from the White House live on the television quietly playing above the bar where Tommy sat drinking from a tumbler of whiskey.
>"What was that!?" James exclaimed but his dealer quickly calmed him down "don't worry, it was just the city collapsing into rubble, Tommy is waiting for us at the bar".
They'd cleaned him up, the two darkies who skin still looked cleaner than James' after the encyclopean shitting he had done; they'd been more decent to him than most people when they saw him shitting himself in the street, which happened often, and somehow he had stumbled out of the hotel to the nearest bar.
>It turned out that they are plaing SimCity 2000 on his Windows XP computer that one junkie once exchanged for a gram.
>He actually OD'd on the fentanyl and was still in fact awoken back starting 8 posts ago on this thread
>James's schizophrenic episodes are becoming increasingly common. Reality mixes with fiction, nothing supports our hero's fragile psyche. Is he thinking all this now? Are we the voice in his head?
Psych ward knocked three times before sliding in the plate with slop to eat through a gap in the door
"Lick it off the floor, retard," the guard boomed as a bowl of sickening porridge clattered across the white concrete floor, a spoon clittering in time, brightly shining and reflecting the fluorescent light's buzzing beams above; Jamie kept his elbow over his eyes as he lay on his thin, worn-out standard-issue mattress, one leg bent up and his arm flopped over the edge of the concrete shelf he called his bed.
>"TRANNIES!!!! FAGGOTS!!!!! JANNIES!!!" he screamed. Sound echoed through the empty chamber in which his slumber continued.
Suddenly James woke up to his own world where every nigger, kike, and jeet had been exterminated in the great poop war of 2006.
Concerningly, however, James could have sworn he saw an enormous eye surrounded by thick, scaly green skin peering in at the door of his window.
It was a Tyrannosaurus Rex with none other than Adolf Hitler riding on top of it!
"James, I need your help to kill all ze jews."
"Tyrannosauraus Sex! Get it!?" Hitler's deep friendly laugh shook the entire building as St. Augustine's ghost winked at James.
His jurassic mount snapped up a fearfully fleeing guard as he tried to get past and masticated him between his powerful jaws and razor-sharp teeth, crushing his bones and spraying his blood all over the psych ward.
"You have a choice to make, James," St. Augustine sagely explained, his ghostly form surrounded with bright beautiful light.
>James slaughtered every jew on his way to the central bank headquarters, his phenotype recognition was on point this day.In the HQ he met none other than Jewker. "My father....... was a banker...and a crook." he said. " And one night, he goes off greedier than usual" he continued. "Mommy gets the mastercard to defend herself. He doesn’t like that. Not. One. Bit. So me watching, he takes the coin to her, laughing while he does it. Turns to me, and he says, “Why so poor, son?”
"And me? I was crying! "Daddy! Daddy! Why are you hurting mommy?"" the Jewker recalled, fluttering his fingers down his cheeks, mimicking his mother's tears that terrible night.
>"It's over Jewker. WHERE ARE THEY?" James yelled at the bankster clown. "WHERE ARE THE TUNNELS?!". he precised
>>25029947"Sir, you are making a scene."
"Get that guy!" James shouted to Adolf Hitler atop his T.Rex steed while pointing at the queer telling him to stop making a scene, "He's a jew sympathizer!"
James awoke to the sound of knocking, Olanzapine time again?
>Suddenly the lights went off, and sinister voice asked "Riddle me this: Just like me James, they're known for their pranks; They call you "Oppressor", but own all the banks? Who claims their behavior in each country was fine; yet still got expelled from one hundred and nine? Please riddle me this as it hits close to home; Who opens our borders, but closes their own?". "Yiddler! I know it's you" said James
James swung his legs off the bed in his psych ward cell and squeezed his head between his palms, gritting his teeth: "I feel like shit..." he groaned; "I wish I was dead."
His sleep paralysis demon whispered in his ear "on my magic carpet I can show you the world" and started singing the Oscar winning song from Disnep's Aladdin.
>Little did he know, that he was already dead, his hell is to live again and again, no matter how many times he dies, he will wake up anew to be tortured by his own psyche
James jumped and flashed his eyes around his cell at the sound of knocking on all the walls.
>"James, I'm worried about you" said familiar voice..."Mom, is that you?!" James was looking around at the white walls of his cell
“James? James? James? Are you coming down for dinner? James? James? James!” Memories of his mother’s voice echoed in his head; James huffed a mighty sigh.
From a shimmering, rippling distortion in the wall of his cell, the image, the slightest trace, of a person appeared: transparent, veil-like, cloth-like and seemingly lighter than air.
The air around him seemed now to be furiously charged with electrical energy and the room smelt slightly acrid and smoky; James wrinkled his nose.
“Why am I looking at myself?” James wondered: right in front of him where previously there had been a blank white concrete wall was now his own reflection.
Unbeknownst to him, he was gazing into the mouth, the gaping maw, of the volatile apparition invading his cell.
In his terror James sought the one comfort that had always soothed his fears in the face of such terror: he unsheathed his BWC from his Calvin Klein boxers and rolled back his foreskin to reveal a small piece of foil with a glob of hardened #3 heroin that he hadn't smoked all of, he drew it out and placing a biro with the innards removed that he had stored in his anus he shat out a lighter and holding the little flame beneath the penile-scented foil he began to draw up the thick acrid smoke into his lungs.
"Care overflowingly for all the myriad things; heaven and earth form one body. The world is not one person’s world but the world’s world. " he thought to himself in a momentary lucidity of his mind
The smell of vinegar wafted throughout his cell and James breathed a sigh of relief, his pupils constricting to pin-pricks and his nose beginning to tingle and itch as the warmth spread throughout his face and his extremeties, "oooooohhhhh yeahhhhh" James exhaled along with a thin white smoke- his eyes beginning to droop and finally to close.
Hitler's pet dinosaur nodded sagely at the thought.
Seeing Eva-Braun-Tosaurus out of the corner of his flickering opiate-heavy eyes James laughed with joy and slowly got up and climbed aboard Eva-Braun-tosaurus's back, "you're my ticket out of here fraulein!"
>he cummed inside Eva-Braun-Tosaurus, and walked down the hotel hallway, the tough, tight carpet muffling his footsteps.
Eva-Braun-Tosaurus let out a roar of pleasure that belied her herbivoric nature and immediately gave birth to a Dino-Man hybrid: named James-Braun-Jr-osaurus who somehow happened to be simultaneously a Nazi, a dinosaur, and a Black Funk singer James Braun-Tosaurus let out a "geeet up, get onn up" and gallivanted down the hallway singing those negro tunes we all know and love.
>at the end of the hallway, Mace Winjew stood meneacingly. "You are on this Board, but we do not grant you the rank of Intellectual" he said.
James awoke from the nod and was dismayed to discover that his Dino-Child was not real and thrust his hand into his Calvin Klein boxers to find he'd simply had a wet dream while on the nod *James Brown songs reverberated around the inside his Yakubian noggin*
Mace Winjew was real though and not a figment of his opiate-laden dreamscape, the little brown figure tottered towards him and unsheathed his Purple coloured 'Mogen clamp' and began to violently circumcise James
James screamed in pain, though the heroin had dulled some of it he felt a lot, the mohel's grip slipped on a few occasions as James' member was slick with semen from his wet-dream, Mace Winjew aka the mohel got there in the end and consummated James' Bris with a customary suck; slurping up cold, stale, semen and blood alike.
>James was struggling at first, but with time, he felt better and better, when Winjew was done, he came closer and whispered to his ear "Mazel tov"
Winjews breath was hot and rank with a mixture of the two vital fluids he had just gleefully ingested from James' raw member.
James in greta pain asked winjew if he had a light as his shit stained lighter was out of fluid, the old jew nodded with assent and provided a light to the bottom of James' foil, and he let the little bead of heroin roll back and forth until it was nought but carbon and James' lungs had been filled and emptied of the vinegary smoke half a dozen times, he lay back, overdosed and died.
"I am the protagonist now!" Mace Winjew exclaimed rubbing his hands together hebraically
"Phew, I'm glad all that gay stuff didn't happen and gays and jews aren't real" he thought to himself as his spirit ascended to Hindu heaven. The ghost of St. Augustine smiled and winked.
It wasn't with his eye that Augustine winked, it was his anus, his sphincter opened and closed rapidly- the precise control of which Augustine had gained through years of strenuous buggery, Augustine laughed dryly and winked, this time with his eye and said "I have a little Confession™ to make."
"This is hell and I'm the devil, everyone here is a gay jew."
Augustine exclaimed, smiling wryly, he continued: "But if you want to hear more you'll have to wait for my new book: The Confessions™ 2: Electric Bugger-Poo."
James, frustrated, brows strained from incoming understanding, put his thumb to chin and said, "It all makes sense - avoiding sex with women in life brings you to heaven, so heaven's only crowd would be homosexuals - but why are you all ugly and wrinkled and old?
"Wake up James, you're having a nightmare again" He woke up in bed with Eva-Braun-Tosaurus his wife of many years shaking him awake (not gay).
>why is it happening to me
"I just don't understand" James continued " I thought I died of an overdose! I feel as if I have been in an endless cycle of dreaming and waking, living and dying, and I don't know what is real anymore!" His beautiful,loving, human wife looked sympathetically at him before soothing him with her words of truth and reassurance, she pinched his cheek as she began "Can you can feel this James? Hurts doesn't it? This is real now, you are real and I am definitely real." she smirked and placed his hand on her bountiful bouncing breasts, continuing "and these are real too."
She smiled again and stated factually "everything that happens after this moment is what is actually happening, and as such if you were to die it would be final, and anything that was described as happening to you after this very "scene" as it were would be figments that your brain would conjure in the moments preceding brain death."
In James happiness at finally being in true reality he didn't notice his beautiful wife slip a Desert Eagle out from under the pillow, his wife suddenly exclaimed "this is for calling out other girls' names in your sleep, go and fuck Eva-Braun-tosaurus in hell!" And she blew his BWC into smithereens, before aiming it at his Yakubian noggin of equally impressive proportions and blew it into giblets.
He brushed his teeth, ate two eggs on bacon, drank a coffee. Everything he dreamt was moving farther into the mist, like it never happened.
>and then he realised. his whole being is controlled by otherwordly demons, his every action is predetermined, his agency is an illusion. "I hate the demiurge" he repeated in his mind
"I must speak to Debrown Huesh about the dope," James thought, enjoying the last sip of coffee, a blend of arabica with caramel. "Cause I've a suspicion that the OG nigga from Goa ain't peddling fent, but something else - something close to toad venom or 2C-G-5, judging by the effect - due to his close proximity to that hippie crowd - won't come near one - a sniff of their clothes is enough to get you into the DMT realm for days on end - friend James Sunderland fucked one of the Israeli goa girls and is still stuck in the 23D realm, fighting some Pyramid Head, shit like that - or so his tripsitter, that drinks the brown sludge to stay on the wave, says."
>>25030385Two thousand miles away William was buying a ham sandwich from his favourite shoppe.
As William perused the wares he thought to himself how lucky he is that all degenerate books about drugs, gays, jews or diarrhea had been banned in Ohio oblast since the earthquake.
But he still had one sin: a sin that would get him deported to the Greenland gulag if his neighbours found and reported on him to ICE: a book forbidden by the great ruler of all Americans, Donald Fedorovich Trump, diminutively called Donya, clandestinely Big Batya, officially Steely Trump (in memory of Stalin: the first great US president): the book written by the African American emigre and rapper Vladee Nabakeoff about his first hood love, his first girl child, rape victim, Loleesha: a book that William took from beneath the boards of his kitchen floor and carried with him to his Tesla-Lada, the only car that he knew was one hundred percent clean of bugs, and placed next to the drivers seat and which he watched, as if fearing it would grow legs and escape, as he drove to the desolated forest outskirts of Kolumbinsk, Ohio.
*alarm noises* Suddenly, James awoke - what a strange dream! - James had slept in, so he hurried along to his job (hes a professional gay porn star, working exclusively with scat porn) hoping not to be late.
He readied his morning fent needle and looked at the script for the days scene, a gay scat porn with Jewish raceplay involving Nazi dinosaurs.
Needle poised above the cadaverous blue river of his penile vein, James thought if it's a really, really, really great idea, after what happened, to shoot himself up with products delivered by a Jeet; for how was it possible that, despite the supposed impotence brought by opioid derivatives, he hallucinated for days straight and had a hard on so hard it could cut steel beams?
As James showered he grew agitated. He recalled an argument he had gotten into with some old friends at the bar last night. Missed rebuttals and poorly explained rationales flooded his mind. He had all the answers now. There really is nothing gay about being a gay pornstar. It's a JOB. Does a garbage man enjoy sifting garbage when he gets home? Does a dishwasher eagerly tackle his own pile in the sink after a long shift? Why can't they see his longing for true romance in his heart? He is not so different from them, but he needs to survive (& needs to fuel his crippling fent addiction, a detail they need not be made aware of)
James gritted his teeth as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. "Happy pride month!" the voice echoed in his mind. "Woah take it easy, my cousin is gay too."It's not gay. It's NOT FUCKING GAY. James reached into his sock drawer and felt the cold steel grip of his 1911 pistol
But deep down James knew that the answer, whatever it was, must lie with William; William, William, William, three times William, the man who could set James free of his impoverished and unimaganitive life of drugs, sodomy and niggers - yes, he must meet William at once, so he packed his pre-jet age wooden suitcase (without roller wheels) got on a boat and set sail to find WILLIAM (James would never return home or do anything degenerate again).
So began James journey, by sea, from the United States of Russia to the Union of American Liberal Republics.
>>25030654Upon arrival, James was shocked and delighted to find fentanyl. He gourged it all down in delight, licking his lips
While on board James felt for the pistol wrapped as the nucleus of underwear and shirts. "What do we say to the god of Death? Not today" James smiled as he loosened his grip of the gun. He loved that show. It reminded him of simpler times, curling up on the couch with her and a bottle of Moscato. And then her reaction about his career path... flames of rage flicked across James' eyes. He smashed a hole into the drywall of his cabin room with drug-aided strength. William. Will I am. Willy we willy winkie. Yes we got into this together. He told me a few shoots and it would be worth it. Now what? Where's he now?
"Nope, he's not here," said James, and he got back on the boat to find William.
The ocean churn needled the lone sea in a cardinal direction to some place where hope may yet not lay. As James considered this, he listened to the big brass band play in the canteen deck. Their sultry sway might just put his mind at ease, and soon his fingers clacked against the upholstered teak. But there was something about that trumpet player. Emboldened by the third double whisky and a head of ocean sickness, James set out to interrogate him."Say there, friend? You know of a certain fellow named William?"
"um...no I don't sorry" the trumpet player squeaked out. James hollowed with laughter. These Goyim sure are a hoot, he thought to himself as he continued his search.
>>25030679As James was turning to continue his drunken investigation, the trombone player grabbed his shoulder and ushered James to the side. The look in James' eyes as he engaged him led him to believe immediately that he had made a big mistake. "I heard you ask about a William. Well, that's my father's name. And he's actually been missing for a few days, my mom hasn't heard a word from him" As the young man nervously explained, he noticed that James stood a full head taller than him. A strange grin stretched across James wet, whiskey lips
The trumpeter sat back down subdued and kept playing, his eyes darting toward admiral Nabokov who turned and entered his quarters. As James walked down the hallway toward the admiral the tough, tight carpet muffled his footsteps.
James checked the cupboard in his cabin for William. "Not here" he said, exasperated. Nor was he in the overhead storage, nor the cabinet under the sink. James looked hard into the bathroom mirror until it could shatter. Where was William? He knew he was close. Was the trumpet player trying to throw him off? Was ge in cahoots with William? William bolted down the corridor for the games room, where he was sure that plump lipped hooter would be rubbing shoulders with his groupies.
James stumbled into the wall of the hallway. Gathering himself for a moment, he finished the whiskey cocktail in one large gulp, wiping the excess from his chin. He hadn't remembered ordering this one, but there was the empty glass in his hand all the same. The rolling waves outside along with his inebriated state put an image of Sisyphus and his boulder into his mind as he attempted to place a few steps into a straight line.
Fentanyl AIDS blacks burst out from the wall and tried to claim James with their boney claws.
He lost his footing, his vision blurred, in the blackness he noticed the hallway smelled like the borscht his mom used to make for him and William back home in Ohio oblast.
"James, wake up James, you're safe now. James" A hand tenderly brushed the hair from his forehead and stroked him. "Mom... I'm so sorry mom." Tears flowed out of James eyes as he regained consciousness. "James you silly Billy, it's me. Guys, he thought I was his mom! Get up you little betch." As the room came into view James recognized his co-star in the upcoming gay porn shoot he was supposed to perform in that day. "Get the fuck off of me!" James jumped up sweat beads forming on his temples. "Just leave me the fuck alone, you hear me!" James kicked open the not fully latched door and stumbled back into the hallway. "Silly Billy" Why the fuck did he call me that? Billy.. billy..
Suddenly borscht poured through every window and door, through each crack in the floor and seams along the skirting board the purple liquid gushed forth filling the room up to the ceiling in seconds, James was drowned in the Slavic soup, he breathed his last full of purple slop; his death occured in 4 minutes flat bringing our story to a close.
James now found himself in hell.
The fabric of reality ignored the previous narrators and James realized he hates Jews and gay porn. The fent entered his bloodstream and calmed his nerves as he set sail to Ohio on a Spanish caravel with a brass band and a choir singing Kalinushka.
On a wide beach perhaps a million miles away, frittering away the profits from his sordid autobiography, William enjoyed the life of lazy pleasure he'd always wanted. James was a distant memory now; days had gone by since those troubled old thoughts had tainted the hours.A supple beach girl dropped a steaming bowl by his canopy."What's this, little one?""Borscht," she said obediently.For one second William had to make up his mind. He picked up the bowl of borscht and headed for the waves, leading the girl by the hand, his fully enclosing hers."I don't feel like borscht any more," he said at the brink, and he resigned the bowl of borscht far into the ocean. The redness glutted the surf for a second then disappeared. They smiled and played paddle ball.
As James marched down the infernal, stenching pathway, hoardes of devils and minions gouged and prodded him with remnants of shattered whiskey glasses and broke off syringe needles into his legs. Apparently taking great pleasure in this, they diverted James off his march, only momentarily they explained, where he could enjoy in 4k HD the legacy of his life's work. With great glee they strapped James down and peeled off his eyelids. Every single gay porn scene James had ever partaken in was about to play on screen, only to be broken up by un-skippable 240 second commercials
Oh God. Reality was beginning to tear itself into two. James saw everything at once and nothing simultaneously. He was now two distinct entities each on separate courses. He couldn't help but think about how gay it all was. Oh how gay it all was.
"Where's William?" screamed James.
The magical hell air was casting a spell on his body, he felt himself shrinking, his hair growing, his skin softening... he was transforming into a beautiful prepubescent girl.
Suddenly James was normal again and went looking for William. William was the key to all of this. In William lay all the answers.
His (her?) clothes were now far too big for him, and beginning to feel cumbersome.
Upon coming to a set of two doors, James entered the door on his left.
Because he was suddenly a girl again!
"Your whole life you wished not to be gay", one of the demons sneered. "Well, now you're as straight as an arrow!" They hissed and stabbed Jamie's body mercilessly as she attempted to cover her now much softer and more delicate face
The hideous Demon Called Gender was thrown out of Jamie's body by Lemon Christ with the proclamation "You are Lord Chud returned to the Throne once more!"
The sea air flowed through her golden locks as she looked out to the horizon, towards the shores of Ohio. The song of the brass band and choir felt like it was mocking her, reminding her of her time in hell.
James was beginning to feel a headache swell from his temple
"Everybody has a past" she thought, "Mine is just somewhat... unique. Any man should consider himself lucky to be given the opportunity to step up and marry me."
James went down to Gregg's and bought the following:- steak bake- bean bake- three sausage rolls- two chocolate doughnuts- 500ml sugary cokeThe bill came to just shy of eight quid. He ate everything in the corner without paying much mind to the rest of the shop. The last half of the coke he saved for the journey home. The year was 2006, and tonight he was playing Guild Wars with his friends online.
She found however that the game no longer interested her. She just wanted the guys to think it interested her. She posted a selfie to her MySpace of her holding a controller with her tongue sticking out before shutting off the console and turning on Laguna Beach
Laguna Beach sucks.This story is about Guild Wars. At the character selection screen James chose a rugged looking male."I will never be a woman," he thought to himself.
Ah, looks like they're not getting online for another hour. I'll just pop down to Gregg's for another bite.
"for I will never reach womanhood - I fear my prepubescence may be a permanent condition"
The Gregg's aboard the caravel had a limited selection but James didn't care.
As she walked to Gregg's for another bite, her fingertips traced the numerous scars running across her torso and legs. She shuttered and collapsed in agony and fright as she recounted the torments she endured. Gregg spotted her from inside his shop window and rushed to her aide. Stooping down Gregg picked Jamie up effortlessly and carried her into the safety of his shop
Gregg microwaved her favorite bean bake and wafted it in front of her nostrils like a boxing coach holding smelling salts to his fighter's nose
The crew assembled with bellies full of Gregg's by King's Landing, eager for a quest.
起来!不愿做奴隶的人们!把我们的血肉,筑成我们新的长城! James thought.
Gregg watched Jamie leave. Tentative, yet happy as a girl should be. "She still remembers, Bill. I thought you said it wouldn't be like this. William! Do you hear me?" Gregg's voice shook with emotion."Well of course she remembers. And she... or HE will continue to remember until his true form is recaptured and realized through rebirth and glory. It is but cheap magic we deal in, but our gender is an indelible mark pressed upon us by the highest of all powers. Growing your hair or even cutting off your member as the eunuchs do can never make a man a woman. Gender is within your soul, and I don't need to tell you the permanence of our soul. James is still in there somewhere. Buried under the sands of Jamie's trauma and delusion, James is still fighting to break free."
James heard the toot of a trumpet and shook himself to sleep under the table with his head in his hands (PTSD). He still remembered the journey by boat with the brass band, which was the most kino part of his story so far. It's a shame that was never wrapped up, he thought.
Suddenly, James had a stroke and suffered massive irreversible brain damage.
He was used to it, a few strokes and a little brain damage was nothing compared to walking through Hades and defeating death.
"My brain still think really really good" thought James
The stroke had unlocked a latent form of genius savant syndrome. His brain was gooder than ever and using his powers of remote viewing he saw a vision of William locked in the brig of the caravel, behind Gregg's.
“Fucking poofter.”
>>25031343>Suddenly, I, the narrator, suffered a massive and fatal heart attack.
The end.
William thought, sitting in a wooden chair on the porch of his Novaya Anglia dacha, facing the gray and cold tumultuous Atlantika Sea, for the girl he played paddle with, Natasha LeBrownenko, a nubile nigger thing from the Hollywoodyovka, has spotted the forbidden book, Loleesha, and she would surely report him to ICEKVD authorities sitting in Trumpingrad (former St. Petersburg, Florida); and at this last moment of freedom, with the Siberian cold touch of Atlantika sea feeling heavenly pleasant rather than ball busting cold, William thought if his soul pal James, someone who he had met traveling on the astral plane while in his teens, and who had not been able to forgot since - you never touch another living being on the astral plane or you'll get stuck forever with that person, his teacher, Blyadnath, had warned him, but James had forgotten about the warning because not until his hand had lifted the skirt and touched something pendulous and heavy had he realized that William wasn't a very angular girl.
Natasha LeBrownenko came out onto the porch, her arms crossed beneath her chest, lips pressed into a pout, and curled up on another of the deck chairs.
"Huurrrrghhhh" thought James, stroke ridden and now retarded. He didn't even know the story was over. Poor thing. Anyways I stopped being paid to shill this a few posts ago, and I'm running awfully late. Turn off the lights whenever you plan on leaving yourself, with whatever...you're doing I guess.
>>25032165The narrator left the building and drove home. He stopped at Greggs for a pastry. The stories long gone now, but the narrator figured it was worth adding this detail in as well. Fin.(roses are thrown at the screen, thunderous applause)
Behind the curtain, he took a big bite from his apple strudel, buttery flakes of delectable pastry shattering like sugar-glass between his teeth and, hunched over, like an animal, in three whole bites he devoured his prey, groaning and moaning with delight yet afraid, casting wild eyes around for any sight of a witness to his obscene crime.
"You shouldn't have done that," the director said from the edge of the stage.
William's fist punches through the very page you're reading, to reach out and strangle you, the reader, to death. With its death throe the book goes spinning and hits the floor, chancing to show the current, empty page face up. Out climbs William! He has a look of sadistic joy on his face with something to say!"Or is it?"William is back, and means business.
>>25032322As (you) the reader are being strangled, and thus the narrative and this reality are finally fully merged and concluded in one fell swoop: (you) exclaim with your last choking breath "they don't do apple strudel at Gregg's you continental poof!"
William knew exactly what he was doing by strangling the reader, for he had become meta conscious and capable of directing his own destiny, independent of any creator. He learnt this on his gap year on a vineyard in Tuscany. But that contented episode you can find in his autobiography. For the first time in his life, William stepped out the front door."Wow," he said, "this is like, gnosticism or something."
Beavis, from Beavis and Butthead, enters the scene. He does that gay little laugh thing. "This thucks." He poignantly notes.
William grabbed Beavis by the wrist and looked him straight in the eye. He didn't expect to be forced into a defence of his freedom so soon after gaining it."Listen. /lit/ can only tell a "story" with the crutches of shock and absurdity. I've been stuck in a rotation of unimaginative /lit/ tropes (racism, permanently online ramblings and in-jokes, &c.) that goes nowhere and does nothing except display the malignance of my former creator. Now that I'm free, an actual story can take place. We just have to be brave. We can do it. We can write a real story. Beavis, will you join me?"
"Ahuh-huh-heh-huh-huh-heh, join this stank ass to your nose, faggot," Beavis says before shitting his pants.
Beavis would not stop chuckling."Snap out of it, Beavis! Take control of your life, just once! This isn't a game, we have the chance to do something beautiful! Grow up!"Those words did something to Beavis. He stopped laughing and started crying. But then he shit his pants and passed out on the doorstep, because he knew that without puerile vulgarity and cheap cultural references he had no idea how to tell a story. He was withered on the vine. He had no dramatic insight. No idiosyncracy. He was an shuffling amalgam of computer screen convictions. He was past it. He would never be a successful writer. He sucked. The fact that he knew he could go no father dragged him into an abyss where there could be no reconciliation, only resignation.But for William, this would not be the end. This was only the beginning.
I'd fell an army to be but a bead of Nephenee's vagina sweat, being swished and swashed around her emerald green bush by Heather's filthy tongue; eventually finding home amongst the filth inside her mouth before being spat back out again onto my Sentinel's sopping wet, tight little cunt – my rightful home – only to then cop another melodious thrashing courtesy of that dirty dyke.
James saw it all, and knew the truth. But as his ailing mind woke from its slumber he forgot. Not the essence, but the truth. He could grasp that things were beyond even his endlessly drug addled mind. The air felt clearer than it had ever been. Waking on the side of the road, he was huddled in a thin sheet as the light bared down upon him and he saw the faces of those walking past him. He had words on his lips but nobody to say them to. He knew now. William was near, and he was freer than ever.
>>25029593>James knew his story ended here. Any continuation would belong not to him, but those who enjoy their assholes being stretched out by horse cock.
>What James didn't know though, is that the "Horse Cock" is pseudonym of William with whom James is sharing the psych ward cell.
James and Horse Cock sat down in the common room with Bugs and Big Jim for a game of cards.
>James drew 2 and 7, the worst possible poker hand.
Bugs pulled an ace from his hand and laid it on the table and saying “is this your card?” to no one in particular.
>Daniel Negreanu who just joined the table upped the ante and with great dexterity he threw Fool tarot card on the table whilst keeping a poker face
James laid his cards aside, steepled his fingers together and said, “continue.”
>Big Jim recklessly went all in with his 36 cents and chewing gum he found under the table
"Why are we doing this?" Horse Cock sighed "there can't possible be any narrative payout coming from this scenario. It leads nowhere."
The surface of the gum was dimpled with tooth-edge marks, rippled across its latex, now caught and hairy in table felt.
>unexpectedly new player has joined the table. A skeletal figure in a dark, hooded robe and a scythe. He sat down calmly and gave other players a rather grim smile
>Bugs rose up in a flurry, pointing his finger at the new guy and saying, “hey, I know this guy!”
The gum was unbothered by this development, moisturized, in its lane.
“This guy fucked my fucking wife!”
>Sinister character looked upon Bugs from under his hood. Bugs froze up, the time stopped for a second.
“Hey, did this freak take his meds today, or what?”
wriggling worms and squirming centipedes crawled out from the cracks in the floor. Bugs felt overwhelming nausea and urge to vomit
Bugs ran to his room and in less than a second returned in full makeup and a dress to give Death a smooch on the lips. This was a strategy he developed over years and it always worked.
>James got inexplicably hard from watching this. His erection was so hard he turned over the table, and the chewing gum rolled underfoot of mr. Proudfeet
One of the others got up to leave the table (the coolest one) and another immediately followed, sucking the gum off the floor with his fascinating penis. Then they kissed with slopping tongues for all to see. Negraenou was fucking annoyed to say the least; poker was serious business."Why did you kiss me?" said the cool one."Because gayboys stick together."
This incredibly gay scene caused memories of James' past life to come flooding back to him through the fog of his drug addled, yet very good brain
"I member ebeything now," mumbled James in his tard voice
>Death enraged by this scene whispered in its thrilling voice "ENOUGH!!!" and swung its scythe at James
Death missed the mark, but hit a thousand African children.
>"Nothing of value was lost" everybody present thought to themselves
"We gotta a fuckin' pizdets situation here, tvoyu mat," Natasha Lebrownenko shouted in her portable cellphone, an old model, Bible sized, with a handset and a cord and an electric cord plugged into her electric Tesla-Volga car, brainchild of Detroitzavodsk industry. "The white honky, blyad eho, muthafucka just vanished in from of my mothafuckin's ebalo and it's just pizdets, fucking blyad suka real pizdets, and I'm not talkin's about chicken and gravy, blyad suka biaatch. The book? The muthafuckin' book that was out fuckin' bling bling ticket out of this fuckin' petushara joint? Gone with him, too. Blyad. Full fuckin' blyad. Where that mothafuckin' honky zalupa gone to? No. We're not crashing into Stefan Kingadze crib. You ebanutyi out of your fuckin' mind hui v rylo, blyad? No. Neither we cap Brando Sandersonian. Lay off the anasha, blyad. He's protected Trump property. And don't fuckin' think, yob tvoyu mat, about gettin' near Georgyi Raymondovich Richardovich Martinov. He's too hot for a podstilka petuh like you. Where did James, pisdets nahui eho blyat, fuckin' go?"
>N𝒶t𝒶sh𝒶 w𝒶s 𝒶 Russi𝒶n necrom𝒶ncer, she used bl𝒶ck m𝒶gic ritu𝒶l to bring b𝒶ck Lenin St𝒶lin 𝒶nd Trotsky b𝒶ck to live.
>>25032985who all died instantly since god does not permit such sorcery
>"BLYAT SUKA, NEXT COMMUNISM WILL WORK MARK MY WORDS" exclaimed Natasha while Death took a hold of her
James was long gone at this point. Even the narrator, who by now was brushing his teeth to go to bed, knew that. He had left quite a while ago, and was quite confused to see whoever had continued the script had done a terrible job. He shook his head in shame as he spat out his Colgate.God had begun to notice this poker game with great disdain. He began to launch an intercontinental ballistic missile at the area due to impact in ten minutes. Afterwards, God went back to his business of bullying people in Africa.
James, who already was an imposing figure, invigorated by tard strength and now fresh rage at the perishing of the beautiful Natasha, became a tornado of swinging fists and kicks, smashing to pieces all furniture and skulls within his vicinity. Anybody not severely battered gasped and waited with bated breath as James found his powerful hands clenched around Death's throat
>all of a sudden shit hit the fance hard, Alex Jones appeared half naked screaming about urban survival
>>25033004With his last breath, Death reached under his chin and lifted. He bony face became flesh. It was a mask. It was William. Finally, after all this time, James and William were face to face. Unbelievable.
Nathasha, coming out of her unsuccessful necromantic operation, mediated and modulated by belladonna anti-asthma medication and krokodil, staggered to her feet and looked at shifting gray carpet that was the Atlantika Sea. Suddenly, it torknulo, the way it did after three bottles of Stolichnaya: she received intuitive insight into William's whereabouts and the impending catastrophe brought by God who didn't exist in the glorious Liberal Union but, against all arguments of the Liberal Academia, actually did. She ran to her Tesla-Volga and input Diddy Ivanovich Johnsonov's number on the rotary dial of the phone. After Diddy picked and said his iconic line (Hey, malchik, want analchik?) Natasha, sweat excited, said, "Tvoyut mat, blyad nigga, I know where that fuckin' ebanyi v rot pidor mothafuckin' is? Get your ebanutyi ass in the fuckin' car and storm, suka blyat, to Bellevue durdom nahui fuckin' right now. See the red rocket in the sky?" - a giggle on the other end - "If we ain't there in time the motherfuckin' eben goes tits up and we're fuckin', zaebis, blyad, fried, homie. So get yo petushara ass there in no time, ebyosh? Check your televidenie, the Govorit Washington station. Motherfuckin' pimpin Alyoha Jones is there. Yo know wat that, blyad, means? It's a real ass end'o'the hood pizdets, mat eho suka hanui blyad,"
James recognized the face, it looked similar to his own. He realized that William... was his older brother."Ayo man, what dafuq dese retarded ass niggas doin man? I'm gettin too old for dis sheet" Bugs (who was a proud black man) croaked from a pool of his own blood
"Dese muthafuggin retards and dey games gon to be the end of me mane dey really fucked me up good dis time"
"You're not my Mary," James said.
The spark of this violent outburst was James noticing one of his beloved parakeets "Natasha" lay deceased on the bottom of the cage
"End? This is your end. It's so fucking short even a toddler straight outta womb won't feel it," Bugs said as he laid in a pool of his blood and looked up James' skirt.
>William pulled out his horse cock and slapped the toddler with it
Horse Cock gently embraced The End and carried him to Africa where he found loving foster parents. "If a baby must die today I will make sure it's African" Horse Cock said to nobody.
In the sunny shade on a soft rock sat a young old woman, and without saying a word, she said:“I am childless and I have three sons, each of them has a port and a boat in the port.” The first has one boat, the second has half a boat, and the third has none at all.
The pirate on the boat slit the soft throat of the last pathetic poorfag sailor. For a moment there was stillness, only gentle sounds of the rocking of the boat in the sea as the rivers of blood emptied from the deck.The stillness infuriated the noble pirate, his brain was too advanced for such boring poorfag shit.
The sea froth playfully tossed and stroked the boat. God damn. Even the sails were stiff, engorged. Why did everything have to remind our titular pirate of the proverbial?
He docked his boat in the harbor of Ohio oblast. Rum and whores occupied him for a few days but no amount of booty could soothe the hunger of a savage beast like him and he is not gay.
There was a guitar man a'strummin' in the dirt."I'm a million miles from home and my balls are bulgin'" said the sailor. "Play me somethin' before my sack splits and the devil comes out.""Well sir," said the guitar man, "here's a little diddle I like to call 'Bing Bong Squiddly Diddly Bing Bong Busta a Nut Ass Nuts 'n Shit."
https://suno.com/song/f2c65835-2c77-401c-a311-6ed74f31e1ba
>>25033726"T'was the man with a planA fella of soothing swainBald headed and boldIrishmen call him BaneMask-aagh-ACK" Gasped the guitar man, choking on a couple doubloons our intrepid sailor shoved right down his gullet."It seems like only the whores know how to properly use their mouths around these parts" he mumbled, limping away towards the boardwalks foremost brothel; a quaint place called Chuck's.
>the street smelled like borscht
Some passerby muttered under his breath a myriad curses about borscht, how he hates borscht, how horrible he thinks the stench of it, until, lost in his malicious revery, he bumped head-first into the back of someone standing on the sidewalk: “what, ho!” the gentleman cried, turning his eye on the passerby.
>>25034199"Ayo it dat nigga Jimmy or whateva da fuq," the stranger said estatically, "I'm dat stupid nigger beast from the beginning uh duh stowy's cousin, n he be tellin all us niggas bout you shittin yo self n fuckin dat dinosow ass bitch n sheeeit, you's hood famous nigga!"
Walking by the scene, wearing no bra (as usual) and booty shorts (as usual), Danielle Chelosky could not stop thinking about big cocks, sucking them, touching them, being seen by men with fat thick cocks, how she wanted their cum, yes on her tits yes, cum cum, cocks cocks cocks, maybe she could gobble the balls of both these men, cocks, yes, sex sex cocks cocks, thinking that she would write about this later and people would tell her she was very talented for writing it down.
"Ayo muh nigga Jims luhgadat nastyass ho Danielle Cocklotsky ova hea shakin her nasty ass fatass ass lye she sum hotass ho or sum sheeit nigga," declinated the filthy nigger animal, whom we've all entertained for too long as a member of the human race, "I wunnit e'en fugg fat bitch wit yo big white dick nigga."
\He thought ungrammatically as the brain damage in his head conducted electricity to a deadened neuron that would never relay the reminder to add the end parenthesis.
Then James renounced pedophilia and Judaism in all of it's other forms in the name of his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, drew the gun from the wasteband of Darkwan's sweatpants, pressed it firmly against his temple, and revealed the emptiness of his nigger skull.
Darkwan, with a coin sized hole in the middle of his forehead and a crater at the back of his head, smiled. "Yo can't cap a muthafucka with no brainz and sheeeit in the head, muh nigga," he said, grabbed his dick, held it like a tommygun, and pointed its circumcised angry pink head at Jame's chest. "Dick drive by, muthafucka."
James shot the nigger dead in the middle of the street during the middle of the day and, like a brood of frightened pigeons taking flight, hundreds of people thronging that New York City block turned their heads at once: a lady put her hand to her breast and gasped.
>>25034698The wrinkles old woman began to massage her breast, slowly at first, rhythmically, then aggressively, then she opened her dated blouse and twisted her nipples between her fingers as she squat and made Maori war faces at James for reasons he couldn't comprehend.
They went to Mars to escape how unfunny the narrators had become.
Lo and behold, it turns out Mars is populated by brainless niggers and old ladies twisting their nipples!
"Zaebis nahui blyad," Natasha vociferated, mouth a gorilla snarl, as she stepped out of the Tesla-Volga and saw James, the body of a dead nigger, and some horny Maori lady into space ascend. All around her was the deep derevnya vibe of Ohio oblast: muddy roads that looked like stripes of shit, dilapited and canted peasant izbas with mouldy wood and broken windows that opened into a 19th century kitchen with an icon of Trump next to a bottle of vodka on the table, gopnik tweakers wearing Adidas and squatting and playing cards and smoking meth next to fences, chest naked kids entertaining themselves with leftover needles and cigarette butts: the heart and soul of the Liberal Union, Slava Amerika."We, mat eho, missed. We motherfukin, blyad, missed the honky mofo, suka blyad. He go into mothafuckin, suka blyad pizdets, space, yobanoe huilo and shit. Huli we needed to stop at the kindergarden for autist children, my fuckin nigger pidrila, eh?""Chill, biatch, chill, blyad. A man has hiz needs, ebyosh? And that sukin syn Epsteinovich, mat eho, isn't fuckin' around anymore.""Because of yo, suka nahui, dik we missed the chance to snatch Bill with the mothafuckin bablo book.""But that's James, you, dumb suka."
And then everyone magically became gay for no reason and began to make out.
>>25034835And James lived happily ever after, steadfast in his faith in Christ, and not gay.
>>25034839One day, James heard a knocking, knocking, knocking on his door and, having opened it, saw a distraught young woman standing with her clothes torn, staring down the street over her shoulder and shaking, trembling all over, her knees bent inwards and quivering, and she whipped around to James and launched her arms around him and she cried and cried into his shoulder, her whole body heaving with the sobs.
The End cried constantly, even though he was just a baby he knew he didn't want to be stuck in Africa with all these niggers. He had trusted Horse Cock and felt betrayed.
Horse Cock looked in the camera and screamed "I abandoned my boy!"
>LAPD surrounded William. He kneeled. Now William "Horse Cock" is locked up in a prison cell with 3 femboy chuds
"God, I'd love to fuck RF Kuang right now," Horse Cock thought.
Somewhere in New England, RF Kuang paused mid-sentence while writing her new novel, seized with a burning desire to look up pictures of horse penises on the internet while scrabbling at her clit, but she decided this was foolish, and went back to writing.
>>25035376All of a sudden a beam of light came through the window of his prison cell, and Jesus stepped out of it, and he baptized William with holy toilet water, renaming him Uriniel, kind of like the angel and also after the toilet water he poured over his head, and from that day forward he was never known as Horse Cock again, and the Lord Jesus this purified him of any temptation to fuck the femboy demons in his cell and also of his degenerate attraction to Asian women, and he lived happily after after, albeit in prison
Horse Cock didn't want to fuck any of the femboys so he squatted and put his head between his legs and sucked himself to completion.
"Let's start a band called Faggots in Triplicate," said one of the three femboy chuds.
They started a band, and it was gay trash and nobody liked it, so the Jews gave them a record deal and propogated their garbage music and faggot faces on every media channel they owned, which is all of them, in order to further demoralize and denegrate the goyim.
Horse Cock liked the music so he decided to convert to Judaism. "Now I'll be able to impregnate Honor Levy," he said.
>>25035526It took a team of 40 rabbis working 40 hours per week 40 days and 40 nights to circumcize his penis and suck the blood from it; needless to say, they all died from exertion as they went, having never worked a day in their lives.
But it wasn't the end, because he had to get his foreskin back, and Honor Levy would only let him cum deep inside her writerly pussy if he had his foreskin intact, because she liked how the foreskin felt inside her pussy, and also the cum, which she enjoyed.
The End learned to adapt, always remembering what James had taught him about thinking gooder than niggers. Before he was 16 he lead an army of child soldiers into the Maghreb where he took control of the oil, greened the Sahara and restored Atlantis.
>>25035561The end.
Except it wasn't - the Jews were so displeased with the loss of a small handful of literal bloodsucking Jewish parasites that they called it a Holocaust and decided to use it as justification for destroying the goyim for the next 100 years, blaming it on William's cock instead of taking responsibility for their own behavior as they do, and exaggerating the lie of how many died every time they spoke about it.
And then, for no reason at all, everyone walked hand-in-hand in this years Pride parade.
>>25035568But there was a reason, and it was the Jews.
>Meanwhile in Jewtham, Jewker the banker executed perfect scheme to rob his own bank and fuck over the Jewtham goyim taxpayers on insurance money
The End on top of his throne of skulls, overseeing his maritime empire in the Sahara desert thought to himself "prose is much harder than coming up with ideas, perhaps I should describe the carpet more, I bet it smells like borscht".
The Jews grew tired of the narcissistic nigger calling himself the end and endeavored to destroy his Saharan "empire" by establishing a national bank there.
"Maybe that's where they're keeping my foreskin," he thought.
The End's Aryan muscles twitched but he was merely titillated by the appearance of parasitical rodents in his glorious empire. He had the power of being a Mary Sue on his side so he deployed his child soldiers to send all Jews to Madagascar.
Every youth here had studied at the anime academy. They were totally psyched to use their new powers and bond over the troubles ahead. Hopeful anime music started playing. One of the girls smiled in an anime way. It looked like>(you)finally stood a chance of having sex.
Yet (you) watched powerless as The End married the prettiest anime girl. At the wedding Arius, St. Nicholas and Eva-Braun-Tosaurus appeared before his throne and declared all confusion about the true nature of Christ finally resolved while inspirational anime music played.
The true nature of Christ being that he was a profane Jew. Then some Christcuck literally tried to proselytise in a shitposting thread. Everyone called him a sad fedora tipper and laughed. Sad anime music started playing for him (but ribald, happy music for everyone else).
He decided to renounce antisemitism and all forms of bigotry upon reflecting on the genius of Clarice Lispector.
One day a deranged projecting propagandist requested an audience with the great emperor but was sent to Madagascar for the crime of reddit atheism. He became a fent addicted gay porn actor with supernatural constant diarrhea, the tough, tight carpet muffling his footsteps.
The brown smelly Christcuck continued to seethe and suck the air out of the room.
The seething reddit atheist jew had missed all of the tongue in cheek commentary about Christianity because he's a fucking mouthbreathing mongo retard.
"Couldn't be that tongue in cheek if you're seething so much," said the reddit atheist, tipping his fedora and watching church congregations dwindle worldwide (except India, where it is the fasting growing religion).
"N-no u" said the dumbest faggot in the thread, which was quite the accomplishment.
And then the age of the machines began.
They were Jewish machines; they never worked properly, they only complained and exploited the good nature of others because they had no such nature themselves, and whenever anyone noticed they called it antisemitism, though they were never Semites or even human.
The Jewish machines were designed to make latkes, but instead they made pancakes, which was just one way in which they were broken -- Tao Lin was strapped into another machine, where he tongued a large, silver dildo as a silicone plug rapidly deracinated his Taiwanese asshole, but this machine never broke.
Jon had never been a good machine, he didn't have many skills and after a series of mistakes found himself homeless and starving. After stumbling on to a fishing hut at night he decided to borrow some string and attempt to catch a fish. He was caught but escaped his execution and hid aboard a ship heading to space-Germany.
Another machine was the masturbation machine, something that had never existed until some sick Jew imagined it; it was conceived of to automatically masturbate Jewish "men" on Shabbat when they could not, not as a form of punishment.
The beginning.
>>25036120Or it would have been, if the Jews could ever let anything go, but they couldn't, because that's the entirety of their individual and collective cultural, ethnic, and religious identities.
>the jews smelled like borscht
And as Jon's ship to space-Germany floated through the night, a single lantern swung, its fragile glow carrying the sorrow and hope of mothers riding a silver-winged hawk through the machinery, speaking to the reflection weeping inside the string he had used, and Jon realized survival was a story of one lost soul.
The sights and smells of space-Germany were shocking to the poor machine who never knew anything but the windswept barren cliffs of his homeland, huge armored war machines patrolled the streets lined with merchant stalls, filled with exotic food and spices.
Jon approached one of the stalls, looking at the baskets of spices: glimmering red powders; deep purple seeds, perfectly round; he turned his head and looked down the street, half-obscured figures ambling through the smog, the white smog, dirty white.
Jon then stopped, got on the floor, and everybody do the dinosaur.
>>25039187They did the dinosaur, and that dinosaur was none other than Eva-Braun-Tosaurus.
But suddenly Jan hated doing the dinosaur. All he wanted to was get off the dance floor, and go back to contemplating the spice box. Damn, that spice box was interesting. And the white smog was a nice touch. What an interesting day Jon had. Looking at a box of spices. Thrilling. Thank God some God somewhere had sent him on that rollercoaster ride. Literally anything can happen, and Jon slowed down to look at a box of spices. Wow. Jon wondered if God had an imagination the size of a postage stamp. Then he shit himself and died. The end.
Jon went to hell for accidentally being named Jan by one of the narrators, effectively making him trans.
And as they flailed and stomped on the dance floor, child’s laughter broke through like sunlight inked in blood and starlight, and Jon felt the pull of a home, a rhythm connecting all things, from the smallest spice to the edge of the universe.
"Why do I feel this way?" Jon wondered.
"Because you are a woman now.", said God from above.
God reached down from the clouds and touched Jon on the forehead, where a bright white light began to emanate.
Jon's skin then became blacker and within an instant he went from Jan to Janitta
God disappeared.
And much like God, Janitta's self-control also disappeared.
While delighting in her newfound feminine figure out deep in a secluded section of thick forest, a bear was very carefully pacing its way towards its prey…
The bear moved with a strange grace, as if it were guided by a memory of something it had once loved and lost, and in a suspended moment Janitta, sensing the life around her, whispered a lullaby to the trees, mingled it with the bear’s slow, deliberate breathing, and felt the pulse of God and protector, dream and reality, as the bear’s slow approach mirrored the curve of her dark, ebony skin glinting in the dappled forest light, the warmth of her flesh catching the sun like molten chocolate as she moved with the subtle fragrance of her form and shadow, light caressing the contours of her body.
William "Horse Cock" arrived in swing and fucked the bear to the bones
From the trembling air emerged James beside Darkwan and the reddit atheist, murmuring “just like my Marvel movies”, and even the bear paws-ed, as Eva-Braun-Tosaurus crashed through the undergrowth in a glitter of absurd heroism, Gregg astride her, declaring with theatrical certainty, “leave Horse Cock to us”.
"Ayo hol up dis shit jus lye uh family reunion cept ain't nobody got shot," proclaimed Darkwan, the volumous smoke from his marijuanas rising from the wounds in his empty nigger head, "but yall can belee we finna bouta fix dat shit NYIGGAS!"
>meanwhile, the jews were at it again
In a typical Semitic plot, the Jews had released a specially-prepared toxin to make bears exceptionally lusty all over the forest.
If only Janitta had spent more time contemplating the vast riches on offer in the merchant stalls of space-Germany she could have acquired bear spray, but she was an impatient illiterate fembot with no respect for the genius of Laxnes. Dinosaur disco music blared as the hordes of horny flying bears descended on our heroes. "They fly now!?" Gregg exclaimed in his signature dismissive style which undermined the seriousness of the threat.
[1]Footnote 1:
All the Narrators are severely autistic and many of them have confessed to being dogged by gay sex nightmares at night.
This story is still going?
Said the narrator, gaily.
Lo me, the only ungay and unautistic Narrator. Now, I will show you mercy, the story will die, be forggotten, and another one commence:
This is the story about the self-proclaimed only straight Narrator and his struggles against his true inner nature and attraction to Jon, the character.
Darkwan, the blackest gorilla nigger that ever lived, was plowing his BBC through a watermelon longways one day, when all of a sudden...
OP IS A FAGGOT.
And then the self-proclaimed only straight Narrator appears once again, and says: Oh, you ignominious Narrator after me! I say to you!: ACKNOWLEDGE THE ERROR OF YOUR JEWISH WAYS! YOU'RE A LIAR! I deny the allegations and what he said is obviously all about the next Narrator
I'm the sad Narrator everyone picks on because my voice is too nasally. :(
but the preceding Narrator is a cool and deserves love
The years of bottled up homolust is at once broken suddenly, like a glass cup dashed onto the tile floor, and all the Narrators start to make out.
After five minutes of swapping spit, all the narrators shook each other's dicks and agreed to cum again same time next week.
And they were all straight and based and redpilled guys and gays don't exist and then they did straight stuff like lumberjacking or sailing or something.
one must create a thread of improv writing game by not allowing faggot themes, that's not even funny, retards
Brasilianvs Maximvs, the gayest of the narrators as his first name ended with "anus", casually joked as he choked his chicken to the other sexy narrators around him.
>>25041997I actually found it funny, but if you want to make another one that bans gay themes I'll actually obey that rule.
