Pooja read a poem of her devising(continued from >>25547726)
https://litter.catbox.moe/ejpnzt.pdf
which Byron couldn't hear from his surfboard
>>25550033(being eaten by a shark with AIDS)
>>25550078(Futile bites, not making it through chainmail.)
“Surf’s up, Grog!” Grog wasn’t armored but
instead had a thick prickly chuddite skin,
much thicker than Greg Grig Grug Gran.
who altogether made up the band ‘5G’.
a surf rock quintet where Grog played
You're in for a treat, a surpirse
, the church organ, wheeling it around town.
freemasons control the earth guys, if youtube
takes this down i am not suicidal
but I do think about it sometimes
And my exact thoughts are the following:
>>25550469[thoughtform1: a beetle in the shape of
a girl; the bird on the brim
hypnotized by the whirl; drink me, make
me feel real; wet your beak in
in the stream of my consciousness: Drink!
The water immediately exploded, sending Byron flying
What exactly caused the water to explode?
Nobody knew, and nobody cared. Byron was
Really interested in why the water exploded
decided to dip his pinky toe and
found, that just under the surface of
the water, submerged was great cosmic C'Thulhu
Byron was a proud homosexual, and a
the exploding-water mystery appeared to be solved
All is water, drooled Thales of Miletus
trying to explain away a brutal shart
before falling into a well with Dragon
dicks at the bottom (a ritual sacrifice)
Pooja was sitting back at the shore,
the sand gently warming the soles of
her feet. The rhythmic coming and going
of the waves and distant cries of
seagulls were the only interruptions to the
peaceful quiet that otherwise reigned over the
deserted beach. Deep in thought, she grabbed
a fistful of sand and let it
fall slowly through her balled up hand.
It made her think of an hour glass.
It made her think of time, too.
Greedy time, who would take all
from her, eventually. She looked at Byron
out on the waves. His broad, tanned
back glistened as he navigated the water.
In much the same way, he had
navigated her wily heart, she thought. She
smiled knowingly to herself, and caressed the
warm sand. Her fingers came upon the
empty shell of a crab, long dead.
She held it up to her face,
and studied the hard, hollow body. The
stop samefagging you boring cunt. Pooja died.
372 year old wagecuck, Nimrod Workman sang
>>25550668emptiness of it made it very light
. She looked again at Byron, tossing himself
Nimrod had twelve minutes until his pension
against the waves. Suddenly her stomach dropped.
Pooja was dead. Byron was glad. Nimrod
Like a distant blazing starre, like a
was playing Minecraft again, the dumb nerd.
was a private investigator for the lifeguard
"Why did you faggots ruin my setup"
Byron threw Pooja's corpse in a dustbin
thought the narrator to himself, angrily, anonyed
And but so keep in mind that
"i was building towards something important"
this story isnt about being a boring faggot and writing out your faggot unfunny shit when no-one is looking. Go to WG if you want everyone's attention for your boring faggot maudlin "prose"
This was the calm before the storm
"I was developing Pooja's character, though, anon"
Pooja, now dead, left the gang without
Seven, six, five, Four, three, two, one...
Anon replied, "I can't count to seven"
By samefagging boringly. Instead of responding to yourself fifty times how about you close the thread, open WG and type out your unfunny shit in full there You should treat this thread as a collaborative exercise in super efficient beats, not just typing out your fucking paragraph, splitting it into seven word pieces and copy pasting it during a low hour. Were not here to read your boring lump of shite, literally the most boring section of the story there has been since the inception
Counting is hard. This was maybe my
"Look at me, I'm special" sperged Anon
The text was postmodernly haunted by faggots
We temporarily leave the beaches of Miami
dear, reader, to go somewhere entirely different:
Time came to be out of Eternity,
the best of times and the worst.
Then, Rachel Greene (not Jennifer Anniston) materialized,
and made a fool out of herself
like in that episode where Ross goes
"PIVOT! PIVOT!!!!" Ross was an excel enthusiast
and probably the most memorable character after
Byron and G5 commandeered a passing boat
And here’s how that amazing story unfolded:
both barely dressed in poetic lingo, entwined
in his shirt, because he was retarded
Because eternity was distracted, all art ceased
Doth anyone dare write a plot point?
We must find the macguffin, but
Janny, Anon and Anonette walked into bar
Start a new story let’s see
"Death to all plotfags", said Mech Hitler
The pitiful wailing of the Bespermed reverberating
and even Mech Churchill agreed enthusiastically. Thus
Meth and Mech Churchill cooked... some meth
and the bespermed got off the bus.
The bus sounded its massive horn, laying
eggs the size of tennis balls, from
which - lets talk about our sponsor, Satan.
Satan made peace with Jesus and they
looked for another helpless prey to besperm
in order to teach him how to
take it, fifty percent of the arcane
forbidden kabbalistic knowledge of old austic jews
chessboard. Checkers gets you laid more often
God, renowned Jesuit and master of trolling
said: "You must be a chess guy
To excell at Pick Up Artistry, mythopoietically
, and also, like, for real, you ought
"Whazzup nigggaaaazzzz" said Michelle Obama, overexaggeratedly manly.
God interrupted his lesson, saw the adams
"BOOM!" Mech Churchill omeganuked the whole planet.
The name of the planet? Zetta Reticuli.
You will never be a real woman
he said to his finished sculpture. But
Ted Kaczyński bombed the place with nonobots
and another planet passed. The cyclic nature
of niggerblack Sheol, where the Bespermed crawl
, cock-laden and innumerable, incunabular across the surface
of his gooch. He ripped apart his
whole fucking nutsack just to find gold
, then his supernumerary nipple and his thyroid
tattered ribbons of what was once bollocks
to unveil horrific creature beyond any imagination
Dobby the Broken washed onto shore like
dead whale full of disgusting rotten tomatoes
