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Last Active 03-05-13 3:53 pm
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| The Tale Of 1832: The Beginning Of Death
A heartwarmin tale | | 1 |  | rush
presto
the year is 1832 and there is a nasty, gangly man who walks down a broken street in anachronistic or however the hell you spell it clothing, cause of his grungy jeans, the Fender he wails to entombed albums, his long and absolutely filthy hair, and not to mention all of the other things that makes a neanderthal, and he was a local tough who everyone in london feared because of his independent statuses. he was busy downing old brandy shots and philosophizing because he was a darwinist; while all of the deadbeat children avoided him on the streets, he stumbled down to another local bar in order to satisfy his lusty needs for some brandy. the panhandler exuded a stench that was not unlike a bipolar hanging out in a basement.
he limped over to the middle-aged broad across the middle bartender, and sat down on a rusty stool with only one leg, still playing his guitar lightly.
"i need a shot of brandy!"
"but, sir," the faggy bartender muttered, "shouldn't you go home and sleep this off? because i do have some excellent techniques on how to ward off a hangover, even for yale-chinned folks like yourself."
"shut the hell up fag and get me a BRANDY! some oysters and cheese too, bitch. with a cheeseburger and coke."
"whats a cheeseburger and coke?"
"pathetic."
"you dont know what pathetic is"
"yeah im looking right at him. GET ME A BRANDY." | | 2 |  | atheist
piece of time
the bartender scoffed like a snobbish gay britishman and then proceeded to get him his precious brandy. meanwhile, there was a group of three dudes who proceeded to wander in, outlanders as the snobs called them. they were mysterious, arcane folk who people thought were demi gods who dressed a bit more zestily than most, but in reality they were just a bunch of smoking, intern-banging, unhealthy, greasy, passionate, socially outcasted, floridian inbreds who apparently hated mickey mouse and disney in general, finding it gay, which got them exiled from orlando where they came from. they had just released a new performance, a fantastic opera by the name of scream bloody gore, and nobody had heard of it before or after, and there were only eight people in the pit that was 19th century england, that genetic swamp where everyone listened to a bunch of violinists.
"dude who are those guys," the gangly man muttered to the bartender.
"a bunch of low-life scumbags who make awful music."
"have you even heard of rush?"
"who?"
"nevermind. just let me have those oysters."
"theyre uncooked"
"I DONT CARE ILL EAT THEM RAW" | | 3 |  | yes
close to the edge
the floridians noticed this and while they were setting up on the band stage to the derision of everybody else, the guy who appeared to be the leader, a muscular, ill-witted, greasy-haired man who we will call chuck. the guy walked over to the mysterious, brandy-infected oyster devourer and started talking to him, the first person who had actually talked to him directly, without bias.
"dude you eat oysters raw? thats ***ing m/"
that piqued the gangly man's interest, who we will call KILL for the sake of having a name. "whoa dude really?"
"really what?"
"you know what m/ means?"
"yeah totally."
"dude take a seat lets talk"
chuck chambers sat down, his stench unbearable to everyone else except KILL. chuck explained his situation - he had been kicked out of america for publicly denouncing disney as a load of queers; the mayor of orlando, where his band was formed in a haze of heroin needles, happy meals, and beer-pounding karaoke sessions to heavy metal, kicked him and his friends all out, and they had scraped together just enough money to get into england, where they had hoped to continue the original idea that they had: pounding, filthy guitars over smashing drums and gr1m bass, with awesome music about demons and blood and skeletons and peeling off flesh and they had planned to make a concept album about how demons from haiti had decided to dress up as priests and would go into sunday church and proceed to rape every virgin and meanwhile tear the organs from every man alive, including the gay ones and children. | | 4 |  | disney
mickey unrapped
"DUDE NOBODY HERE LIKES THAT MUSIC BUT ITS SO AWESOME"
"nice dude my names chuck, and these guys over there are my friends chris and edward"
"yooooo-BLECK" edward said before vomiting most of his blood.
"i play death metal and doom metal together," chris said.
"dude m/", KILL said.
"yeah whats your name?"
"my name? i dont have one, i am an outlander" KILL said sounding gloomy and bitter.
"oh. we can give you one. how about sparky"
"too gay"
"lawrence?"
"too rich and stupid"
"vizit?"
"foreign and that sucks"
"how about KILL" edward screamed drunkenly.
"thats not a name!" chris yelled back.
"i like it its fist," kill said.
"good your name is KILL. we need a guitarist dude of your caliber why dont you join us"
He had nowhere else to go. KILL walked a lonesome road so he said yes and also because he found them awesome. just before they could leave this dump a crazy, insane guy with red eyes and pulled back eyelids burst in carrying machine guns and proceeded to fire everywhere with concussive thumps, testicle meat and snobbish blood flying everywhere like the cover of KILL's favorite album. the three men in the band, edward, chuck, and chris ducked behind the bar along with KILL, and then the mysterious stranger started to belch out some psychopathic words in a grating, raspy voice.
"MY NAME IS RAVEN AND IM HEAR TO KILL KILL!"
"no he found me..."
"I KILLED YOUR FRIENDS SONIC HANS AND ANGEL AND YOUR NEXT!"
"sonic... angel... hans..."
KILL remembered his fun times with those guys - and then he burst into fury.
"NOOOOOOO!"
And then KILL transformed his arms and legs into machine guns and began firing, Raven turning into a living heap of blood and bones, the death metal band staring in awe.
"dude that was rad you saved us" chuck said.
"i have no friends now..."
"you have us."
"now i have learned about the value of friendship."
"lets get out here." chris said, teleporting.
"agreeeeeeeed" edward said, tripping as he teleported.
"come on friend, grab my arm." chuck said. KILL did, and they teleported.
a minute later, all of england exploded from a nuclear bomb an extremely alive raven detonated.
so that my friends, was the beginning of death, of KILL, and his rivalry against raven. the end. may you learn about friendship from this. | |
MO
03.05.13 | ahaha | apert
03.05.13 | this is pretty awesome | KILL
03.05.13 | what in the name of fuck lol |
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