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Florid Flowers; The story that this forum exists for
Topic Started: May 2 2011, 02:25 AM (615 Views)
bespectacledLibrarian
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The Beloved Writer (And Hiatus Fucked Your Face)
>>>Call up the other guy...





You're currently the other guy and therefore not the guy currently trying to call you. But the call still goes through.

Your wonderful moment with your bottle of SELTZER is absolutely ruined.
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bespectacledLibrarian
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The Beloved Writer (And Hiatus Fucked Your Face)
>>>Get over yourself





Never. You're much to awesome to get over yourself.

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bespectacledLibrarian
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The Beloved Writer (And Hiatus Fucked Your Face)

>>>Fine, suck it up.





You suck it up (although you still wish you could be sucking down some of that SELTZER WATER) and answer your phone.

Conversation ensues.
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bespectacledLibrarian
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The Beloved Writer (And Hiatus Fucked Your Face)
>>>





featheryRED started a phone conversation with rollToaster

RT: You mother
RT: fucker
FR: ..........
RT: Why the fuck could you possibly be calling me?
RT: Of all the instances in time and space ever
RT: why do you have to call me now?
RT: If this is the alpha timeline
RT: it fucking sucks.
RT: It sucks more than the gapping hole in my soul
RT: that you just blew out with your goddamn call
RT: that is trying desperately to suck up something to fill itself up with
RT: but it can't, because this fucking breadbox sucks
RT: and you suck too
FR: ..........
RT: Well?
RT: Say something
RT: You already ruined the universe
RT: Say something
FR: ..........
FR: MY NAME IS FRANKENSTEIN

featheryRed hung up
Edited by bespectacledLibrarian, May 16 2011, 03:56 AM.
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bespectacledLibrarian
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The Beloved Writer (And Hiatus Fucked Your Face)
>>>WTF?





Indeed. You're baffled.
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bespectacledLibrarian
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The Beloved Writer (And Hiatus Fucked Your Face)
>>>Be the other guy





You are now OH SHIT DEAD BODY!!!
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bespectacledLibrarian
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The Beloved Writer (And Hiatus Fucked Your Face)
>>>





You'd shut the door to your closet to hide that mischievous fake skeleton, but you're caught in the bowels of your WAREHOUSE. You're not entirely sure what you're doing though. At last check, you were combing through all of your items to fashion a deadlier weapon, but then got distracted by the fact that you were still dressed as the GODDAMN BATMAN. You then took a moment to strip off your heroic undergarmet and then proceeded to have an intense existential conversation with yourself and no one in particular, thusly replenishing the BATSHIT you expended while assuming your vigilante persona.

Yeah. That makes sense.

Speaking of which, just what happened to your weapon?
Edited by bespectacledLibrarian, Jun 28 2012, 10:30 PM.
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bespectacledLibrarian
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The Beloved Writer (And Hiatus Fucked Your Face)
>>>Retrieve your weapon, sir.





There it is, in slot 413. You go over and pick it up.

It's...

Oh....

It's......

OH GOD!

THIS THING IS......
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bespectacledLibrarian
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The Beloved Writer (And Hiatus Fucked Your Face)
>>>





An unbelievably shitty sword. Seriously. Why the fuck do you even own this thing? You swear to god if you ever tried to swing it, you'd somehow end up shaving off the entirety of your beard and half of your other time hardened and self conditioning hair halfway through the arc. If you actually went into a fight with it, it'd probably grow legs and a dick and beat your recently debriefed scalp into a shit-bloody dip at chess and enjoy your remains with a nice bag of victory chips.

Your DEFECANCE is climbing rapidly as you vividly imagine all of this.
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bespectacledLibrarian
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The Beloved Writer (And Hiatus Fucked Your Face)
>>>





Actually, this thing could probably flood your room, your WAREHOUSE, and your BATCAVE full of BATSHIT faster than...well, you don't know. But the point being, it's metal, it's a real weapon, it's a DEFECANCE amplifier, and despite the fact that it's still pretty close to being worth less than hobo snot, you're making it your official weapon. At least for now.

Before so much as picking this thing up though, you set your GRUFFTYPE to HAIRY LUMBERJACK. Gotta be prepared.

You dock the INCREDIBLY SHITTY SWORD into your quick access weapon slot. You feel your hair tug to one side momentarily and wait for the salt shake of clippings. Thankfully, there is none. What in shit's name are you getting yourself into?
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