Thread: Post your randumbness

OK, maybe this thread is in wrong place, but I don't know. Anyway I found this, http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/ a generator that creates a random story. Post yours! Here is mine:

It all started when our overrated adventurer, Peter Cane, woke up in a imaginery desert. It was the third time it had happened. Feeling exceedingly concerned, Peter Cane hit a ripened avocado, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Before the all-seeing eyes of a perpetually displeased diety, he realized that his beloved diary was missing! Immediately he called his fundamentalist, guilt-dispensing friend, King Creepy. Peter Cane had known King Creepy for (plus or minus) 61 years, the majority of which were enchanting ones. King Creepy was unique. He was intelligent though sometimes a little... clueless. Peter Cane called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

King Creepy picked up to a very glad Peter Cane. King Creepy calmly assured him that most 3-legged wallabies grimace before mating, yet spotted wolf hamsters usually flamboyantly turn red *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Peter Cane. Why was King Creepy trying to distract Peter Cane? Because he had snuck out from Peter Cane's with the diary only eight days prior. It was a eccentric little diary... how could he resist?

It didn't take long before Peter Cane got back to the subject at hand: his diary. King Creepy panicked. Relunctantly, King Creepy invited him over, assuring him they'd find the diary. Peter Cane grabbed his whale and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, King Creepy realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the diary and he had to do it randomly. He figured that if Peter Cane took the wannabe go-fast Civic, he had take at least four minutes before Peter Cane would get there. But if he took the Giant Tiolet on wheels? Then King Creepy would be really screwed.

Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, King Creepy was interrupted by six dimwitted Ginger Cats that were lured by his diary. King Creepy shuddered; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling pleased, he randomly reached for his gerbil and aimlessly hit every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the swamp, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the Giant Tiolet on wheels rolling up. It was Peter Cane.

----o0o----

As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Sears to pick up a 12-pack of wolverines, so he knew he was running late. With a inept leap, Peter Cane was out of the Giant Tiolet on wheels and went exotically jaunting toward King Creepy's front door. Meanwhile inside, King Creepy was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the diary into a box of bananas and then slid the box behind his time machine. King Creepy was displeased but at least the diary was concealed. The doorbell rang.

'Come in,' King Creepy scandalously purred. With a hasty push, Peter Cane opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some abrasive genocidal maniac in a noise-polluting import,' he lied. 'It's fine,' King Creepy assured him. Peter Cane took a seat alarmingly close to where King Creepy had hidden the diary. King Creepy shuddered trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Peter Cane was distracted. A few freaknasty minutes later, King Creepy noticed a insensitive look on Peter Cane's face. Peter Cane slowly opened his mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

King Creepy felt a stabbing pain in his kidney when Peter Cane asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the diary right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A dimwitted look started to form on Peter Cane's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's wolverines from when she used to have pet albino cats. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Peter Cane nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before King Creepy could react, Peter Cane aggressively lunged toward the box and opened it. The diary was plainly in view.

Peter Cane stared at King Creepy for what what must've been eleven nanoseconds. In a tragically predictable turn of events, King Creepy groped sassily in Peter Cane's direction, clearly desperate. Peter Cane grabbed the diary and bolted for the door. It was locked. King Creepy let out a striking chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Peter Cane,' he rebuked. King Creepy always had been a little selfish, so Peter Cane knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before King Creepy did something crazy, like... start chucking ninja stars at him or something. Giggling like schoolgirl, he gripped his diary tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

King Creepy looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Peter Cane. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame seven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Peter Cane. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. King Creepy walked over to the window and looked down. Peter Cane was gone.

----o0o----

Just yonder, Peter Cane was struggling to make his way through the magical cornfield behind King Creepy's place. Peter Cane had severely hurt his fingernail during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Ginger Cats suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the diary. One by one they latched on to Peter Cane. Already weakened from his injury, Peter Cane yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Ginger Cats running off with his diary.

About seven hours later, Peter Cane awoke, his fingernail throbbing. It was dark and Peter Cane did not know where he was. Deep in the mysterious swamp, Peter Cane was very lost. In a tragically predictable turn of events, he remembered that his diary was taken by the Ginger Cats. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That's when, to his horror, a shrunken Ginger Cat emerged from the imaginery desert. It was the alpha Ginger Cat. Peter Cane opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the Ginger Cat sunk its teeth into Peter Cane's fingernail. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Peter Cane's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

Less than ten miles away, King Creepy was entombed by anguish over the loss of the diary. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened carrot. With a heroic thrust, he buried it deeply into his double chin. As the room began to fade to black, he thought about Peter Cane... wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him. But he would die alone that day. All that remained was the diary that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant Ginger Cats, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(

It all started when our antagonizing protagonist, Some Noob, woke up in a lemur-infested moor. It was the seventh time it had happened. Feeling really displeased, Some Noob deflowered a dangerous oil-soaked rag, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). In a blinding moment of misguided bravado, he realized that his beloved bomb was missing! Immediately he called his parole officer, Another Noob. Some Noob had known Another Noob for (plus or minus) 153 years, the majority of which were electric ones. Another Noob was unique. She was intelligent though sometimes a little... stupid. Some Noob called her anyway, for the situation was urgent.

Another Noob picked up to a very sad Some Noob. Another Noob calmly assured him that most spotted wolf hamsters shudder before mating, yet legless puppies usually surreptitiously yawn *after* mating. She had no idea what that meant; she was only concerned with distracting Some Noob. Why was Another Noob trying to distract Some Noob? Because she had snuck out from Some Noob's with the bomb only five days prior. It was a exotic little bomb... how could she resist?

It didn't take long before Some Noob got back to the subject at hand: his bomb. Another Noob turned red. Relunctantly, Another Noob invited him over, assuring him they'd find the bomb. Some Noob grabbed his hammock and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Another Noob realized that she was in trouble. She had to find a place to hide the bomb and she had to do it randomly. She figured that if Some Noob took the neighborhood-terrorizing crotch rocket, she had take at least three minutes before Some Noob would get there. But if he took the bomb shelter? Then Another Noob would be abundantly screwed.

Before she could come up with any reasonable ideas, Another Noob was interrupted by four funny-smelling Snorlaxs that were lured by her bomb. Another Noob sneezed; 'Not again', she thought. Feeling pleased, she deftly reached for her ninja star and deftly hit every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the bush, squealing with discontent. She exhaled with relief. That's when she heard the bomb shelter rolling up. It was Some Noob.

----o0o----

As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Texaco to pick up a 12-pack of potatos, so he knew he was running late. With a inept leap, Some Noob was out of the bomb shelter and went earnestly jaunting toward Another Noob's front door. Meanwhile inside, Another Noob was panicking. Not thinking, she tossed the bomb into a box of dangerous oil-soaked rags and then slid the box behind her giraffe. Another Noob was frustrated but at least the bomb was concealed. The doorbell rang.

'Come in,' Another Noob flamboyantly purred. With a careful push, Some Noob opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some insensitive spite-toting jerk in a amphibious vehicle,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Another Noob assured him. Some Noob took a seat mysteriously distant from where Another Noob had hidden the bomb. Another Noob grimaced trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' she blurted. But Some Noob was distracted. Heart filled with earnest fortitude, Another Noob noticed a clueless look on Some Noob's face. Some Noob slowly opened his mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

Another Noob felt a stabbing pain in her kidney when Some Noob asked this. In a moment of disbelief, she realized that she had hidden the bomb right by her oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A pestering look started to form on Some Noob's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's wolverines from when she used to have pet albino cats. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Some Noob nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Another Noob could react, Some Noob recklessly lunged toward the box and opened it. The bomb was plainly in view.

Some Noob stared at Another Noob for what what must've been two hours. With fist clenched and teeth gnashed, Another Noob groped explosively in Some Noob's direction, clearly desperate. Some Noob grabbed the bomb and bolted for the door. It was locked. Another Noob let out a electric chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Some Noob,' she rebuked. Another Noob always had been a little abrasive, so Some Noob knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Another Noob did something crazy, like... start chucking ripened avocados at her or something. Ever so extemperaneously, he gripped his bomb tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

Another Noob looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Some Noob. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame seven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly she felt a tinge of concern for Some Noob. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Another Noob walked over to the window and looked down. Some Noob was gone.

----o0o----

Just yonder, Some Noob was struggling to make his way through the foxy forest behind Another Noob's place. Some Noob had severely hurt his kidney during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Snorlaxs suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the bomb. One by one they latched on to Some Noob. Already weakened from his injury, Some Noob yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Snorlaxs running off with his bomb.

But then God came down with His plucky smile and restored Some Noob's bomb. Feeling relieved, God smote the Snorlaxs for their injustice. Then He got in His amphibious vehicle and zipped away with the fortitude of one million long-haired sea monkeys running from a big pack of South American hissing sloths. Some Noob skipped with joy when he saw this. His bomb was safe. It was a good thing, too, because in nine minutes his favorite TV show, this thread, was going to come on (followed immediately by 'When albino cats meet pipe bomb'). Some Noob was elated. And so, everyone except Another Noob and a few malaria-toting venomous koalas lived blissfully happy, forever after.


*** L337 Story Generator v1.0
*** Written by Derek Clark. Copyright © http://bmgf.bulbagarden.net/www.the-elite.net ~ 2004-2005
*** Forever pwning with earnest.

http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/

It all started when our overrated adventurer, Kittengirl, woke up in a lemur-infested moor. It was the fourth time it had happened. Feeling ridiculously frustrated, Kittengirl groped a potato, thinking it would make her feel better (but as usual, it did not). Just as zero people expected she realized that her beloved bastard sword was missing! Immediately she called her so-called friend, Puppyboy. Kittengirl had known Puppyboy for (plus or minus) 61 years, the majority of which were flamboyant ones. Puppyboy was unique. He was intelligent though sometimes a little... funny-smelling. Kittengirl called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

Puppyboy picked up to a very happy Kittengirl. Puppyboy calmly assured her that most South American hissing sloths cringe before mating, yet legless puppies usually indiscriminately turn red *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Kittengirl. Why was Puppyboy trying to distract Kittengirl? Because he had snuck out from Kittengirl's with the bastard sword only five days prior. It was a electric little bastard sword... how could he resist?

It didn't take long before Kittengirl got back to the subject at hand: her bastard sword. Puppyboy shuddered. Relunctantly, Puppyboy invited her over, assuring her they'd find the bastard sword. Kittengirl grabbed her giraffe and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Puppyboy realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the bastard sword and he had to do it randomly. He figured that if Kittengirl took the spaceship, he had take at least six minutes before Kittengirl would get there. But if she took the horse drawn carriage? Then Puppyboy would be abnormally screwed.

Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Puppyboy was interrupted by ten pestering Trogdors that were lured by his bastard sword. Puppyboy turned red; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling frustrated, he carefully reached for his ninja star and fearlessly attacked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the haunted thicket, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the horse drawn carriage rolling up. It was Kittengirl.

----o0o----

As she pulled up, she felt a sense of urgency. She had had to make an unscheduled stop at Jim's House of Wings to pick up a 12-pack of gerbils, so she knew she was running late. With a apt leap, Kittengirl was out of the horse drawn carriage and went earnestly jaunting toward Puppyboy's front door. Meanwhile inside, Puppyboy was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the bastard sword into a box of live hand grenades and then slid the box behind his whale. Puppyboy was relieved but at least the bastard sword was concealed. The doorbell rang.

'Come in,' Puppyboy scandalously purred. With a calculated push, Kittengirl opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some oafish coke fiend in a tricycle,' she lied. 'It's fine,' Puppyboy assured her. Kittengirl took a seat exotically proximate to where Puppyboy had hidden the bastard sword. Puppyboy yawned trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Kittengirl was distracted. Heart filled with earnest fortitude, Puppyboy noticed a selfish look on Kittengirl's face. Kittengirl slowly opened her mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

Puppyboy felt a stabbing pain in his prostate when Kittengirl asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the bastard sword right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A pestering look started to form on Kittengirl's face. She turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's wolverines from when she used to have pet South American hissing sloths. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Kittengirl nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Puppyboy could react, Kittengirl aggressively lunged toward the box and opened it. The bastard sword was plainly in view.

Kittengirl stared at Puppyboy for what what must've been two days. In a tragically predictable turn of events, Puppyboy groped surreptitiously in Kittengirl's direction, clearly desperate. Kittengirl grabbed the bastard sword and bolted for the door. It was locked. Puppyboy let out a eccentric chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Kittengirl,' he rebuked. Puppyboy always had been a little oafish, so Kittengirl knew that reconciliation was not an option; she needed to escape before Puppyboy did something crazy, like... start chucking potatos at him or something. Before anyone could take off their pants, she gripped her bastard sword tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

Puppyboy looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Kittengirl. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame eleven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Kittengirl. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Puppyboy walked over to the window and looked down. Kittengirl was gone.

----o0o----

Just yonder, Kittengirl was struggling to make her way through the fanstic pumpkin patch behind Puppyboy's place. Kittengirl had severely hurt her fingernail during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Trogdors suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the bastard sword. One by one they latched on to Kittengirl. Already weakened from her injury, Kittengirl yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Trogdors running off with her bastard sword.

About eight hours later, Kittengirl awoke, her scalp throbbing. It was dark and Kittengirl did not know where she was. Deep in the inhospitable haunted thicket, Kittengirl was ridiculously lost. Ever so extemperaneously, she remembered that her bastard sword was taken by the Trogdors. But at that point, she was just thankful for her life. That's when, to her horror, a enlarged Trogdor emerged from the haunted thicket. It was the alpha Trogdor. Kittengirl opened her mouth to scream but was cut short when the Trogdor sunk its teeth into Kittengirl's fingernail. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Kittengirl's lungs, but not before she realized that she was a failure.

Less than eleven miles away, Puppyboy was entombed by anguish over the loss of the bastard sword. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened dull pencil. With a skillful thrust, he buried it deeply into his prostate. As the room began to fade to black, he thought about Kittengirl... wishing he had found the courage to tell her that he loved her. But he would die alone that day. All that remained was the bastard sword that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant Trogdors, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(

LOLz!!1


*** L337 Story Generator v1.0
*** Written by Derek Clark. Copyright © www.the-elite.net ~ 2004-2005
*** Forever pwning with earnest.

http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/

It all started when our over-heralded star, Armads, woke up in a secret vineyard. It was the second time it had happened. Feeling alarmingly stunned, Armads poked a dangerous oil-soaked rag, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Duly ecstatic about the looming crises, he realized that his beloved Sanity was missing! Immediately he called his so-called friend, GLaDOS. Armads had known GLaDOS for (plus or minus) 2,000 years, the majority of which were eccentric ones. GLaDOS was unique. She was clever though sometimes a little... insensitive. Armads called her anyway, for the situation was urgent.

GLaDOS picked up to a very glad Armads. GLaDOS calmly assured him that most Indonesian devil cats sigh before mating, yet Indonesian devil cats usually surreptitiously sigh *after* mating. She had no idea what that meant; she was only concerned with distracting Armads. Why was GLaDOS trying to distract Armads? Because she had snuck out from Armads's with the Sanity only ten days prior. It was a sassy little Sanity... how could she resist?

It didn't take long before Armads got back to the subject at hand: his Sanity. GLaDOS sneezed. Relunctantly, GLaDOS invited him over, assuring him they'd find the Sanity. Armads grabbed his hammock and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, GLaDOS realized that she was in trouble. She had to find a place to hide the Sanity and she had to do it deftly. She figured that if Armads took the amphibious vehicle, she had take at least ten minutes before Armads would get there. But if he took the generic white box? Then GLaDOS would be scarcely screwed.

Before she could come up with any reasonable ideas, GLaDOS was interrupted by ten annoying turrets that were lured by her Sanity. GLaDOS panicked; 'Not again', she thought. Feeling concerned, she carefully reached for her dangerous oil-soaked rag and deftly deflowered every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the fanstic pumpkin patch, squealing with discontent. She exhaled with relief. That's when she heard the generic white box rolling up. It was Armads.

----o0o----

As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Big Lots to pick up a 12-pack of carrots, so he knew he was running late. With a quick leap, Armads was out of the generic white box and went flamboyantly jaunting toward GLaDOS's front door. Meanwhile inside, GLaDOS was panicking. Not thinking, she tossed the Sanity into a box of live hand grenades and then slid the box behind her whale. GLaDOS was puzzled but at least the Sanity was concealed. The doorbell rang.

'Come in,' GLaDOS charismatically purred. With a deft push, Armads opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some abrasive genocidal maniac in a time machine,' he lied. 'It's fine,' GLaDOS assured him. Armads took a seat RIGHT next to where GLaDOS had hidden the Sanity. GLaDOS turned red trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' she blurted. But Armads was distracted. Suddenly inspired by the wise teachings of Confuscious, GLaDOS noticed a dimwitted look on Armads's face. Armads slowly opened his mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

GLaDOS felt a stabbing pain in her kidney when Armads asked this. In a moment of disbelief, she realized that she had hidden the Sanity right by her oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A annoying look started to form on Armads's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's wolverines from when she used to have pet disease-carrying chipmunks. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Armads nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before GLaDOS could react, Armads aptly lunged toward the box and opened it. The Sanity was plainly in view.

Armads stared at GLaDOS for what what must've been two days. As if it really mattered GLaDOS groped explosively in Armads's direction, clearly desperate. Armads grabbed the Sanity and bolted for the door. It was locked. GLaDOS let out a curious chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Armads,' she rebuked. GLaDOS always had been a little clueless, so Armads knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before GLaDOS did something crazy, like... start chucking wolverines at her or something. With fist clenched and teeth gnashed, he gripped his Sanity tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

GLaDOS looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Armads. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame eight days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly she felt a tinge of concern for Armads. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. GLaDOS walked over to the window and looked down. Armads was gone.

----o0o----

Just yonder, Armads was struggling to make his way through the swamp behind GLaDOS's place. Armads had severely hurt his prostate during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral turrets suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Sanity. One by one they latched on to Armads. Already weakened from his injury, Armads yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of turrets running off with his Sanity.

About five hours later, Armads awoke, his armpit throbbing. It was dark and Armads did not know where he was. Deep in the mysterious haunted thicket, Armads was abundantly lost. Ever so extemperaneously, he remembered that his Sanity was taken by the turrets. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That's when, to his horror, a shrunken turret emerged from the foxy forest. It was the alpha turret. Armads opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the turret sunk its teeth into Armads's ear. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Armads's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

Less than eight miles away, GLaDOS was entombed by anguish over the loss of the Sanity. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' she cried, as she reached for a sharpened dull pencil. With a skillful thrust, she buried it deeply into her prostate. As the room began to fade to black, she thought about Armads... wishing she had found the courage to tell him that she loved him. But she would die alone that day. All that remained was the Sanity that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant turrets, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(

LOLz!!1


*** L337 Story Generator v1.0
*** Written by Derek Clark. Copyright © www.the-elite.net ~ 2004-2005
*** Forever pwning with earnest.

http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/

Way, WAY too much Portal. ^_^;;

It all started when our (former porn) star, Healthy Harold, woke up in a lemur-infested moor. It was the fourth time it had happened. Feeling abundantly pleased, Healthy Harold attacked a ripened avocado, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Before anyone could take off their pants, he realized that his beloved 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker was missing! Immediately he called his undeclared soulmate, Recycling. Healthy Harold had known Recycling for (plus or minus) 11,000 years, the majority of which were electric ones. Recycling was unique. He was plucky though sometimes a little... clueless. Healthy Harold called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.
Recycling picked up to a very mad Healthy Harold. Recycling calmly assured him that most 3-legged wallabies sigh before mating, yet albino cats usually sassily yawn *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Healthy Harold. Why was Recycling trying to distract Healthy Harold? Because he had snuck out from Healthy Harold's with the 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker only six days prior. It was a striking little 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker... how could he resist?
It didn't take long before Healthy Harold got back to the subject at hand: his 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker. Recycling sighed. Relunctantly, Recycling invited him over, assuring him they'd find the 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker. Healthy Harold grabbed his hammock and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Recycling realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker and he had to do it deftly. He figured that if Healthy Harold took the homemade car, he had take at least seven minutes before Healthy Harold would get there. But if he took the Electric Car? Then Recycling would be abundantly screwed.
Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Recycling was interrupted by eight abrasive Tasmanian Devils that were lured by his 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker. Recycling turned red; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling relieved, he fearlessly reached for his potato and aptly groped every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the magical cornfield, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the Electric Car rolling up. It was Healthy Harold.
----o0o----
As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at McDonald's to pick up a 12-pack of ninja stars, so he knew he was running late. With a calculated leap, Healthy Harold was out of the Electric Car and went surreptitiously jaunting toward Recycling's front door. Meanwhile inside, Recycling was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker into a box of dangerous oil-soaked rags and then slid the box behind his time machine. Recycling was concerned but at least the 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker was concealed. The doorbell rang.
'Come in,' Recycling explosively purred. With a skillful push, Healthy Harold opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some abrasive rationality-deprived retard in a homemade car,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Recycling assured him. Healthy Harold took a seat exotically proximate to where Recycling had hidden the 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker. Recycling grimaced trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Healthy Harold was distracted. Suddenly cheered up by the Hamtaro theme song, Recycling noticed a funny-smelling look on Healthy Harold's face. Healthy Harold slowly opened his mouth to speak.
'...What's that smell?'
Recycling felt a stabbing pain in his prostate when Healthy Harold asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A dimwitted look started to form on Healthy Harold's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's dull pencils from when she used to have pet venomous koalas. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Healthy Harold nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Recycling could react, Healthy Harold skillfully lunged toward the box and opened it. The 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker was plainly in view.
Healthy Harold stared at Recycling for what what must've been ten days. Before anyone could take off their pants, Recycling groped scandalously in Healthy Harold's direction, clearly desperate. Healthy Harold grabbed the 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker and bolted for the door. It was locked. Recycling let out a sassy chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Healthy Harold,' he rebuked. Recycling always had been a little dimwitted, so Healthy Harold knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Recycling did something crazy, like... start chucking ripened avocados at him or something. In a blinding moment of misguided bravado, he gripped his 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.
Recycling looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Healthy Harold. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame eleven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Healthy Harold. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Recycling walked over to the window and looked down. Healthy Harold was gone.
----o0o----
Just yonder, Healthy Harold was struggling to make his way through the secret vineyard behind Recycling's place. Healthy Harold had severely hurt his kidney during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Tasmanian Devils suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker. One by one they latched on to Healthy Harold. Already weakened from his injury, Healthy Harold yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Tasmanian Devils running off with his 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker.
About four hours later, Healthy Harold awoke, his love handle throbbing. It was dark and Healthy Harold did not know where he was. Deep in the inhospitable secret vineyard, Healthy Harold was exceedingly lost. Before anyone could take off their pants, he remembered that his 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker was taken by the Tasmanian Devils. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That's when, to his horror, a little Tasmanian Devil emerged from the bush. It was the alpha Tasmanian Devil. Healthy Harold opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the Tasmanian Devil sunk its teeth into Healthy Harold's prostate. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Healthy Harold's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.
Less than four miles away, Recycling was entombed by anguish over the loss of the 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened live hand grenade. With a hasty thrust, he buried it deeply into his scalp. As the room began to fade to black, he thought about Healthy Harold... wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him. But he would die alone that day. All that remained was the 'Try Hugs, not Drugs' sticker that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant Tasmanian Devils, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(
LOLz!!1

*** L337 Story Generator v1.0
*** Written by Derek Clark. Copyright © www.the-elite.net ~ 2004-2005
*** Forever pwning with earnest.
http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/

It all started when our hyphen-happy protagonist, Idiotham, woke up in a magical cornfield. It was the fourth time it had happened. Feeling really concerned, Idiotham attacked a gerbil, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). In a blinding moment of misguided bravado, he realized that his beloved Michael Jackson was missing! Immediately he called his former lay, Lady. Idiotham had known Lady for (plus or minus) 2,000 years, the majority of which were electric ones. Lady was unique. She was charismatic though sometimes a little... funny-smelling. Idiotham called her anyway, for the situation was urgent.

Lady picked up to a very glad Idiotham. Lady calmly assured him that most 3-legged wallabies shudder before mating, yet Indonesian devil cats usually scandalously yawn *after* mating. She had no idea what that meant; she was only concerned with distracting Idiotham. Why was Lady trying to distract Idiotham? Because she had snuck out from Idiotham's with the Michael Jackson only four days prior. It was a electric little Michael Jackson... how could she resist?

It didn't take long before Idiotham got back to the subject at hand: his Michael Jackson. Lady sneezed. Relunctantly, Lady invited him over, assuring him they'd find the Michael Jackson. Idiotham grabbed his rhinocerus and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Lady realized that she was in trouble. She had to find a place to hide the Michael Jackson and she had to do it thoughtfully. She figured that if Idiotham took the pimp fresh, candy-painted 'Lac, she had take at least nine minutes before Idiotham would get there. But if he took the radioctive duck? Then Lady would be abnormally screwed.

Before she could come up with any reasonable ideas, Lady was interrupted by six stupid Whorefishs that were lured by her Michael Jackson. Lady turned red; 'Not again', she thought. Feeling pleased, she randomly reached for her dull pencil and aptly deflowered every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the bush, squealing with discontent. She exhaled with relief. That's when she heard the radioctive duck rolling up. It was Idiotham.

----o0o----

As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Wal-Mart to pick up a 12-pack of dull pencils, so he knew he was running late. With a careful leap, Idiotham was out of the radioctive duck and went charismatically jaunting toward Lady's front door. Meanwhile inside, Lady was panicking. Not thinking, she tossed the Michael Jackson into a box of ninja stars and then slid the box behind her hippopotamus. Lady was stunned but at least the Michael Jackson was concealed. The doorbell rang.

'Come in,' Lady earnestly purred. With a quick push, Idiotham opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some selfish flaming idiot in a curb-jumping ghetto sled (Impala),' he lied. 'It's fine,' Lady assured him. Idiotham took a seat hilariously close to where Lady had hidden the Michael Jackson. Lady belched trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' she blurted. But Idiotham was distracted. Giggling like schoolgirl, Lady noticed a pestering look on Idiotham's face. Idiotham slowly opened his mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

Lady felt a stabbing pain in her scalp when Idiotham asked this. In a moment of disbelief, she realized that she had hidden the Michael Jackson right by her oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A abrasive look started to form on Idiotham's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's live hand grenades from when she used to have pet albino cats. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Idiotham nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Lady could react, Idiotham thoughtfully lunged toward the box and opened it. The Michael Jackson was plainly in view.

Idiotham stared at Lady for what what must've been five nanoseconds. Suddenly cheered up by the Hamtaro theme song, Lady groped surreptitiously in Idiotham's direction, clearly desperate. Idiotham grabbed the Michael Jackson and bolted for the door. It was locked. Lady let out a exotic chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Idiotham,' she rebuked. Lady always had been a little annoying, so Idiotham knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Lady did something crazy, like... start chucking wolverines at her or something. In a blinding moment of misguided bravado, he gripped his Michael Jackson tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

Lady looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Idiotham. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame ten days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly she felt a tinge of concern for Idiotham. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Lady walked over to the window and looked down. Idiotham was gone.

----o0o----

Just yonder, Idiotham was struggling to make his way through the bush behind Lady's place. Idiotham had severely hurt his fingernail during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Whorefishs suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Michael Jackson. One by one they latched on to Idiotham. Already weakened from his injury, Idiotham yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Whorefishs running off with his Michael Jackson.

About eight hours later, Idiotham awoke, his love handle throbbing. It was dark and Idiotham did not know where he was. Deep in the muddy foxy forest, Idiotham was barely lost. Heart filled with earnest fortitude, he remembered that his Michael Jackson was taken by the Whorefishs. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That's when, to his horror, a teensy Whorefish emerged from the secret vineyard. It was the alpha Whorefish. Idiotham opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the Whorefish sunk its teeth into Idiotham's love handle. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Idiotham's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

Less than eight miles away, Lady was entombed by anguish over the loss of the Michael Jackson. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' she cried, as she reached for a sharpened ripened avocado. With a skillful thrust, she buried it deeply into her scalp. As the room began to fade to black, she thought about Idiotham... wishing she had found the courage to tell him that she loved him. But she would die alone that day. All that remained was the Michael Jackson that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant Whorefishs, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(

LOLz!!1


*** L337 Story Generator v1.0
*** Written by Derek Clark. Copyright © www.the-elite.net ~ 2004-2005
*** Forever pwning with earnest.

http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/

It all started when our uber geek, Caption falcon, woke up in a disease-infested jungle. It was the tenth time it had happened. Feeling abnormally stunned, Caption falcon poked a banana, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Before anyone could take off their pants, he realized that his beloved diary was missing! Immediately he called his enemy in training, FALCON PAWNCH. Caption falcon had known FALCON PAWNCH for (plus or minus) 1.2 billion years, the majority of which were electric ones. FALCON PAWNCH was unique. He was easygoing though sometimes a little... annoying. Caption falcon called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

FALCON PAWNCH picked up to a very angry Caption falcon. FALCON PAWNCH calmly assured him that most spotted wolf hamsters sneeze before mating, yet Indonesian devil cats usually exotically sneeze *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Caption falcon. Why was FALCON PAWNCH trying to distract Caption falcon? Because he had snuck out from Caption falcon's with the diary only three days prior. It was a eccentric little diary... how could he resist?

It didn't take long before Caption falcon got back to the subject at hand: his diary. FALCON PAWNCH panicked. Relunctantly, FALCON PAWNCH invited him over, assuring him they'd find the diary. Caption falcon grabbed his giraffe and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, FALCON PAWNCH realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the diary and he had to do it deftly. He figured that if Caption falcon took the spaceship, he had take at least two minutes before Caption falcon would get there. But if he took the time machine? Then FALCON PAWNCH would be abundantly screwed.

Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, FALCON PAWNCH was interrupted by four abrasive Sonics that were lured by his diary. FALCON PAWNCH cringed; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling angered, he fearlessly reached for his ripened avocado and aimlessly grabbed every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the foxy forest, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the time machine rolling up. It was Caption falcon.

----o0o----

As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Big Lots to pick up a 12-pack of ripened avocados, so he knew he was running late. With a inept leap, Caption falcon was out of the time machine and went exotically jaunting toward FALCON PAWNCH's front door. Meanwhile inside, FALCON PAWNCH was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the diary into a box of wolverines and then slid the box behind his canoe. FALCON PAWNCH was frustrated but at least the diary was concealed. The doorbell rang.

'Come in,' FALCON PAWNCH charismatically purred. With a calculated push, Caption falcon opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some abrasive noble genius in a spaceship,' he lied. 'It's fine,' FALCON PAWNCH assured him. Caption falcon took a seat hilariously close to where FALCON PAWNCH had hidden the diary. FALCON PAWNCH yawned trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Caption falcon was distracted. Giggling like schoolgirl, FALCON PAWNCH noticed a dimwitted look on Caption falcon's face. Caption falcon slowly opened his mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

FALCON PAWNCH felt a stabbing pain in his love handle when Caption falcon asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the diary right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A insensitive look started to form on Caption falcon's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's dangerous oil-soaked rags from when she used to have pet venomous koalas. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Caption falcon nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before FALCON PAWNCH could react, Caption falcon carefully lunged toward the box and opened it. The diary was plainly in view.

Caption falcon stared at FALCON PAWNCH for what what must've been ten minutes. Ever so extemperaneously, FALCON PAWNCH groped wildly in Caption falcon's direction, clearly desperate. Caption falcon grabbed the diary and bolted for the door. It was locked. FALCON PAWNCH let out a enticing chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Caption falcon,' he rebuked. FALCON PAWNCH always had been a little pestering, so Caption falcon knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before FALCON PAWNCH did something crazy, like... start chucking ripened avocados at him or something. Suddenly inspired by the wise teachings of Confuscious, he gripped his diary tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

FALCON PAWNCH looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Caption falcon. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame seven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Caption falcon. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. FALCON PAWNCH walked over to the window and looked down. Caption falcon was gone.

----o0o----

Just yonder, Caption falcon was struggling to make his way through the magical cornfield behind FALCON PAWNCH's place. Caption falcon had severely hurt his scalp during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Sonics suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the diary. One by one they latched on to Caption falcon. Already weakened from his injury, Caption falcon yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Sonics running off with his diary.

But then God came down with His outgoing smile and restored Caption falcon's diary. Feeling displeased, God smote the Sonics for their injustice. Then He got in His homemade car and whizzed away with the fortitude of 1.2 billion albino cats running from a big pack of spotted wolf hamsters. Caption falcon danced with joy when he saw this. His diary was safe. It was a good thing, too, because in six minutes his favorite TV show, Dr who, was going to come on (followed immediately by 'When South American hissing sloths meet hand grenade'). Caption falcon was jubilant. And so, everyone except FALCON PAWNCH and a few contraceptive-toting legless puppies lived blissfully happy, forever after.


*** L337 Story Generator v1.0
*** Written by Derek Clark. Copyright © www.the-elite.net ~ 2004-2005
*** Forever pwning with earnest.

http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/

(Just for better visual, Katta=Shiny Floatzel, Jikku=Normal Floatzel)

It all started when our protagonist, Katta, woke up in a pumpkin patch. It was the tenth time it had happened. Feeling exceedingly relieved, Katta grabbed a mitten, thinking it would make her feel better (but as usual, it did not). Without warning, she realized that her beloved Saxophone was missing! Immediately she called her friend, Jikku. Katta had known Jikku for (plus or minus) 11,000 years, the majority of which were electric ones. Jikku was unique. He was easygoing though sometimes a little... selfish. Katta called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

Jikku picked up to a very ecstatic Katta. Jikku calmly assured her that most kittens yawn before mating, yet wallabies usually wildly cringe *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Katta. Why was Jikku trying to distract Katta? Because he had snuck out from Katta's with the Saxophone only ten days prior. It was a eccentric little Saxophone... how could he resist?

It didn't take long before Katta got back to the subject at hand: her Saxophone. Jikku belched. Relunctantly, Jikku invited her over, assuring her they'd find the Saxophone. Katta grabbed her television and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Jikku realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the Saxophone and he had to do it randomly. He figured that if Katta took the Daewoo, he had take at least eight minutes before Katta would get there. But if she took the Nothing? Then Jikku would be excessively screwed.

Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Jikku was interrupted by two clueless Luvdiscs that were lured by his Saxophone. Jikku yawned; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling angered, he thoughtfully reached for his oven mitt and aptly stroked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the thicket, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the Nothing rolling up. It was Katta.

----o0o----

As she pulled up, she felt a sense of urgency. She had had to make an unscheduled stop at Texaco to pick up a 12-pack of mittens, so she knew she was running late. With a careful leap, Katta was out of the Nothing and went charismatically jaunting toward Jikku's front door. Meanwhile inside, Jikku was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the Saxophone into a box of staplers and then slid the box behind his bed. Jikku was displeased but at least the Saxophone was concealed. The doorbell rang.

'Come in,' Jikku indiscriminately purred. With a careful push, Katta opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some funny-smelling jerk in a Daewoo,' she lied. 'It's fine,' Jikku assured her. Katta took a seat inside where Jikku had hidden the Saxophone. Jikku sneezed trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Katta was distracted. Out of nowhere, Jikku noticed a selfish look on Katta's face. Katta slowly opened her mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

Jikku felt a stabbing pain in his thigh when Katta asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the Saxophone right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A abrasive look started to form on Katta's face. She turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's staplers from when she used to have pet capybaras. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Katta nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Jikku could react, Katta randomly lunged toward the box and opened it. The Saxophone was plainly in view.

Katta stared at Jikku for what what must've been six seconds. Almost immediately, Jikku groped earnestly in Katta's direction, clearly desperate. Katta grabbed the Saxophone and bolted for the door. It was locked. Jikku let out a saucy chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Katta,' he rebuked. Jikku always had been a little dimwitted, so Katta knew that reconciliation was not an option; she needed to escape before Jikku did something crazy, like... start chucking paper clips at him or something. All of a sudden, she gripped her Saxophone tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

Jikku looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Katta. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame seven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Katta. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Jikku walked over to the window and looked down. Katta was gone.

----o0o----

Just yonder, Katta was struggling to make her way through the forest behind Jikku's place. Katta had severely hurt her butt during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Luvdiscs suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Saxophone. One by one they latched on to Katta. Already weakened from her injury, Katta yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Luvdiscs running off with her Saxophone.

But then God came down with His easygoing smile and restored Katta's Saxophone. Feeling pleased, God smote the Luvdiscs for their injustice. Then He got in His '63 Comet and blasted away with the fortitude of 153 puppies running from a oversized pack of hamsters. Katta skipped with joy when she saw this. Her Saxophone was safe. It was a good thing, too, because in seven minutes her favorite TV show, Pokémon, was going to come on (followed immediately by 'When beavers meet ebola'). Katta was relieved. And so, everyone except Jikku and a few pipe bomb-toting capybaras lived blissfully happy, forever after.

Originally Posted by http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/

It all started when our uber geek, Luigi, woke up in a fanstic pumpkin patch. It was the fourth time it had happened. Feeling abnormally angered, Luigi hit a ripened avocado, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Before the all-seeing eyes of a perpetually displeased diety, he realized that his beloved Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick was missing! Immediately he called his parole officer, Birdo. Luigi had known Birdo for (plus or minus) one million years, the majority of which were saucy ones. Birdo was unique. He was easygoing though sometimes a little... funny-smelling. Luigi called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

Birdo picked up to a very unhappy Luigi. Birdo calmly assured him that most venomous koalas sigh before mating, yet Indonesian devil cats usually sassily cringe *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Luigi. Why was Birdo trying to distract Luigi? Because he had snuck out from Luigi's with the Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick only eight days prior. It was a saucy little Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick... how could he resist?

It didn't take long before Luigi got back to the subject at hand: his Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick. Birdo belched. Relunctantly, Birdo invited him over, assuring him they'd find the Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick. Luigi grabbed his whale and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Birdo realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick and he had to do it aimlessly. He figured that if Luigi took the Jap Trap, he had take at least ten minutes before Luigi would get there. But if he took the Tea Gardner? Then Birdo would be ridiculously screwed.

Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Birdo was interrupted by nine dimwitted Paris Hiltons that were lured by his Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick. Birdo cringed; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling puzzled, he skillfully reached for his ripened avocado and fearlessly poked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the foxy forest, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the Tea Gardner rolling up. It was Luigi.

----o0o----

As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Texaco to pick up a 12-pack of wolverines, so he knew he was running late. With a quick leap, Luigi was out of the Tea Gardner and went explosively jaunting toward Birdo's front door. Meanwhile inside, Birdo was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick into a box of dangerous oil-soaked rags and then slid the box behind his hammock. Birdo was pleased but at least the Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick was concealed. The doorbell rang.

'Come in,' Birdo explosively purred. With a hasty push, Luigi opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some dimwitted genocidal maniac in a tricycle,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Birdo assured him. Luigi took a seat just under where Birdo had hidden the Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick. Birdo belched trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Luigi was distracted. With fist clenched and teeth gnashed, Birdo noticed a stupid look on Luigi's face. Luigi slowly opened his mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

Birdo felt a stabbing pain in his scalp when Luigi asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A oafish look started to form on Luigi's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's potatos from when she used to have pet legless puppies. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Luigi nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Birdo could react, Luigi randomly lunged toward the box and opened it. The Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick was plainly in view.

Luigi stared at Birdo for what what must've been nine minutes. In a blinding moment of misguided bravado, Birdo groped flamboyantly in Luigi's direction, clearly desperate. Luigi grabbed the Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick and bolted for the door. It was locked. Birdo let out a eccentric chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Luigi,' he rebuked. Birdo always had been a little pestering, so Luigi knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Birdo did something crazy, like... start chucking ripened avocados at him or something. Duly ecstatic about the looming crises, he gripped his Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

Birdo looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Luigi. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame eight days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Luigi. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Birdo walked over to the window and looked down. Luigi was gone.

----o0o----

Just yonder, Luigi was struggling to make his way through the lemur-infested moor behind Birdo's place. Luigi had severely hurt his love handle during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Paris Hiltons suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick. One by one they latched on to Luigi. Already weakened from his injury, Luigi yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Paris Hiltons running off with his Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick.

About seven hours later, Luigi awoke, his shin throbbing. It was dark and Luigi did not know where he was. Deep in the muddy secret vineyard, Luigi was alarmingly lost. Heart filled with earnest fortitude, he remembered that his Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick was taken by the Paris Hiltons. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That's when, to his horror, a little Paris Hilton emerged from the secret vineyard. It was the alpha Paris Hilton. Luigi opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the Paris Hilton sunk its teeth into Luigi's double chin. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Luigi's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

Less than seven miles away, Birdo was entombed by anguish over the loss of the Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened potato. With a heroic thrust, he buried it deeply into his double chin. As the room began to fade to black, he thought about Luigi... wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him. But he would die alone that day. All that remained was the Vibrating Harry Potter Broomstick that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant Paris Hiltons, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(

LOLz!!1


*** L337 Story Generator v1.0
*** Written by Derek Clark. Copyright © www.the-elite.net ~ 2004-2005
*** Forever pwning with earnest.

http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/

Truly Lolz

But I must admit this would be a million times funnier if you didn't make this topic and instead put pokemon Characters and Themes in the Boxes and submitted it as Shipping in the Shipping Forum.

It all started when our over-heralded star, Wario, woke up in a magical cornfield. It was the fifth time it had happened. Feeling excessively frustrated, Wario punched a dangerous oil-soaked rag, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Like a drunken sailor at happy hour, he realized that his beloved Garlic was missing! Immediately he called his annoying neighbor, Jamie. Wario had known Jamie for (plus or minus) 200,000 years, the majority of which were curious ones. Jamie was unique. He was clever though sometimes a little... oafish. Wario called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

Jamie picked up to a very unctuous Wario. Jamie calmly assured him that most venomous koalas cringe before mating, yet disease-carrying chipmunks usually scandalously sigh *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Wario. Why was Jamie trying to distract Wario? Because he had snuck out from Wario's with the Garlic only eight days prior. It was a electric little Garlic... how could he resist?

It didn't take long before Wario got back to the subject at hand: his Garlic. Jamie grimaced. Relunctantly, Jamie invited him over, assuring him they'd find the Garlic. Wario grabbed his rhinocerus and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Jamie realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the Garlic and he had to do it aimlessly. He figured that if Wario took the time machine, he had take at least seven minutes before Wario would get there. But if he took the Motorcycle? Then Jamie would be very screwed.

Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Jamie was interrupted by eleven clueless Springer Spaniels that were lured by his Garlic. Jamie grimaced; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling concerned, he randomly reached for his ripened avocado and randomly slapped every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the foxy forest, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the Motorcycle rolling up. It was Wario.

----o0o----

As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Texaco to pick up a 12-pack of live hand grenades, so he knew he was running late. With a heroic leap, Wario was out of the Motorcycle and went wildly jaunting toward Jamie's front door. Meanwhile inside, Jamie was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the Garlic into a box of ripened avocados and then slid the box behind his George Foreman grill. Jamie was displeased but at least the Garlic was concealed. The doorbell rang.

'Come in,' Jamie explosively purred. With a skillful push, Wario opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some annoying beer-sloshed tool in a Jap Trap,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Jamie assured him. Wario took a seat excruciatingly close to where Jamie had hidden the Garlic. Jamie panicked trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Wario was distracted. Giggling like schoolgirl, Jamie noticed a insensitive look on Wario's face. Wario slowly opened his mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

Jamie felt a stabbing pain in his fingernail when Wario asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the Garlic right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A funny-smelling look started to form on Wario's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's ninja stars from when she used to have pet man-eating capybaras. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Wario nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Jamie could react, Wario recklessly lunged toward the box and opened it. The Garlic was plainly in view.

Wario stared at Jamie for what what must've been nine nanoseconds. With fist clenched and teeth gnashed, Jamie groped earnestly in Wario's direction, clearly desperate. Wario grabbed the Garlic and bolted for the door. It was locked. Jamie let out a sassy chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Wario,' he rebuked. Jamie always had been a little clueless, so Wario knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Jamie did something crazy, like... start chucking wolverines at him or something. In a tragically predictable turn of events, he gripped his Garlic tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

Jamie looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Wario. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame four days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Wario. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Jamie walked over to the window and looked down. Wario was gone.

----o0o----

Just yonder, Wario was struggling to make his way through the fanstic pumpkin patch behind Jamie's place. Wario had severely hurt his armpit during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Springer Spaniels suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Garlic. One by one they latched on to Wario. Already weakened from his injury, Wario yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Springer Spaniels running off with his Garlic.

But then God came down with His attractive smile and restored Wario's Garlic. Feeling relieved, God smote the Springer Spaniels for their injustice. Then He got in His Jap Trap and blasted away with the fortitude of 200,000 long-haired sea monkeys running from a bloated pack of Indonesian devil cats. Wario ran with joy when he saw this. His Garlic was safe. It was a good thing, too, because in nine minutes his favorite TV show, Super Mario bros., was going to come on (followed immediately by 'When venomous koalas meet bloody glove'). Wario was thrilled. And so, everyone except Jamie and a few rusty razor blade-toting South American hissing sloths lived blissfully happy, forever after.

It all started when our overrated adventurer, SnorlaxMonster, woke up in a magical cornfield. It was the seventh time it had happened. Feeling abnormally puzzled, SnorlaxMonster groped a banana, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). With fist clenched and teeth gnashed, he realized that his beloved food was missing! Immediately he called his so-called friend, Munchlax. SnorlaxMonster had known Munchlax for (plus or minus) 153 years, the majority of which were flamboyant ones. Munchlax was unique. He was outgoing though sometimes a little... funny-smelling. SnorlaxMonster called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

Munchlax picked up to a very unctuous SnorlaxMonster. Munchlax calmly assured him that most disease-carrying chipmunks panic before mating, yet Indonesian devil cats usually wildly turn red *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting SnorlaxMonster. Why was Munchlax trying to distract SnorlaxMonster? Because he had snuck out from SnorlaxMonster's with the food only five days prior. It was a saucy little food... how could he resist?

It didn't take long before SnorlaxMonster got back to the subject at hand: his food. Munchlax grimaced. Relunctantly, Munchlax invited him over, assuring him they'd find the food. SnorlaxMonster grabbed his rhinocerus and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Munchlax realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the food and he had to do it deftly. He figured that if SnorlaxMonster took the amphibious vehicle, he had take at least four minutes before SnorlaxMonster would get there. But if he took the tasty Snorlax? Then Munchlax would be ridiculously screwed.

Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Munchlax was interrupted by six stupid dittos that were lured by his food. Munchlax sneezed; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling worried, he aimlessly reached for his gerbil and fearlessly grabbed every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the disease-infested jungle, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the tasty Snorlax rolling up. It was SnorlaxMonster.

----o0o----

As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Sears to pick up a 12-pack of wolverines, so he knew he was running late. With a apt leap, SnorlaxMonster was out of the tasty Snorlax and went charismatically jaunting toward Munchlax's front door. Meanwhile inside, Munchlax was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the food into a box of ninja stars and then slid the box behind his time machine. Munchlax was worried but at least the food was concealed. The doorbell rang.

'Come in,' Munchlax wildly purred. With a hasty push, SnorlaxMonster opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some insensitive noble genius in a nappy, busted-out hatchback,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Munchlax assured him. SnorlaxMonster took a seat hilariously close to where Munchlax had hidden the food. Munchlax shuddered trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But SnorlaxMonster was distracted. Happy as a frickin' monkey, Munchlax noticed a funny-smelling look on SnorlaxMonster's face. SnorlaxMonster slowly opened his mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

Munchlax felt a stabbing pain in his kidney when SnorlaxMonster asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the food right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A oafish look started to form on SnorlaxMonster's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's ninja stars from when she used to have pet man-eating capybaras. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. SnorlaxMonster nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Munchlax could react, SnorlaxMonster fearlessly lunged toward the box and opened it. The food was plainly in view.

SnorlaxMonster stared at Munchlax for what what must've been four seconds. A few freaknasty minutes later, Munchlax groped flamboyantly in SnorlaxMonster's direction, clearly desperate. SnorlaxMonster grabbed the food and bolted for the door. It was locked. Munchlax let out a curious chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, SnorlaxMonster,' he rebuked. Munchlax always had been a little abrasive, so SnorlaxMonster knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Munchlax did something crazy, like... start chucking dangerous oil-soaked rags at him or something. Like a drunken sailor at happy hour, he gripped his food tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

Munchlax looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from SnorlaxMonster. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame two days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for SnorlaxMonster. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Munchlax walked over to the window and looked down. SnorlaxMonster was gone.

----o0o----

Just yonder, SnorlaxMonster was struggling to make his way through the haunted thicket behind Munchlax's place. SnorlaxMonster had severely hurt his scalp during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral dittos suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the food. One by one they latched on to SnorlaxMonster. Already weakened from his injury, SnorlaxMonster yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of dittos running off with his food.

About nine hours later, SnorlaxMonster awoke, his shin throbbing. It was dark and SnorlaxMonster did not know where he was. Deep in the broad secret vineyard, SnorlaxMonster was scarcely lost. Giggling like schoolgirl, he remembered that his food was taken by the dittos. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That's when, to his horror, a little ditto emerged from the swamp. It was the alpha ditto. SnorlaxMonster opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the ditto sunk its teeth into SnorlaxMonster's armpit. With a faint groan, the life escaped from SnorlaxMonster's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

Less than four miles away, Munchlax was entombed by anguish over the loss of the food. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened carrot. With a calculated thrust, he buried it deeply into his fingernail. As the room began to fade to black, he thought about SnorlaxMonster... wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him. But he would die alone that day. All that remained was the food that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant dittos, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(

LOLz!!1


*** L337 Story Generator v1.0
*** Written by Derek Clark. Copyright © www.the-elite.net ~ 2004-2005
*** Forever pwning with earnest.

http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/