Rolling On The Floor Laughing My Ass Off. No idea what the PIMP stands for.IG-88E wrote:???Kelly Antilles wrote:*ROTFLMAOPIMP*
How Stravo Got His Groove Back
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[stabs Aya repeatedly with a giant metal spork]Kelly Antilles wrote:*grabs Iggy's sledgehammer and holds it threateningly* What did you say?Aya wrote:*pats Kelly on the back* There, there, it's ok, it happens so everyone when they get old. *hands her a jumbo pack of Depends*
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Okay, I'll stop before I get to any major veins or arteries.IG-88E wrote:Play nice, people. Or at least play without inflicting too many grievous injuries.
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I most certinaly did NOT sa--- *stops, stares at cleavage and begins drooling*Aya wrote:*Grabs Stravo and holds him up as a shield* Uh...he said you were getting old.
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The posts that started it all:
Captain_Cyran wrote:Iggy and I could do it...we'd have to cross the state though, but it's no big deal.2000AD wrote:Alternatively is there someone out there who can go and chain Stravo to his computer so he can write all three non-stop?
Captain_Cyran wrote:No no no Stravo, if Iggy and I were to hurt you, you wouldn't be able to write anymore.Stravo wrote:I feel oddly alarmed and wonder if perhaps I'm facing a Misery situation.... (Imagines Iggy holding me down as Captain Cyran swings that big old slegdehammer.)
We'd just chain you to your chair infront of your computer, leaving your hands free enough to type, we'd bolt the chair to the ground. We'd give you food to eat, water to drink, and a bottle to piss in.
Captain_Cyran wrote:*Gasp* How could I forget the Caddle prod?!IG-88E wrote:You forgot the cattle prod for when he falls asleep.Captain_Cyran wrote:<snip>
[/i]
Ph34r teh eyebrow!!11!Writers Guild Sluggite Pawn of Chaos WYGIWYGAINGW so now i have to put ACPATHNTDWATGODW in my sig EBC-Honorary Geordie
Hammerman! Hammer!
Hammerman! Hammer!
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[cuddles wit da kitty] awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww..............Singular Quartet wrote:And this is why I have my avatar.Kelly Antilles wrote:*chuckles* You really like this avatar, don't you?Stravo wrote: I most certinaly did NOT sa--- *stops, stares at cleavage and begins drooling*
So I don't ahve to deal with it...
Good story, by the by, and MArk, we expect more soon, or else.
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IG-88E wrote:Play nice, people. Or at least play without inflicting too many grievous injuries.
Awww...ruining my fun *Puts his knife away* Anyway.
I'm loving every minute of this Iggy. It's a laugh a sentence.
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PART 3: On the Hunt
*fade in on STRAVO'S living room. STRAVO is seated at the computer and is staring at the screen. KUJA is seated on the couch. His hammer is unsheathed and he is repeatedly tapping the floor with the end of the shaft. CYRAN leans against the wall, alternately watching STRAVO and looking out the window. STRAVO looks over at KUJA, an annoyed expression on his face*
STRAVO: Will you stop that?
KUJA: Stop what?
STRAVO: That tapping. *KUJA resheathes the hammer* Thank you.
CYRAN: Any luck?
STRAVO: *coldly* No more than thirty seconds ago.
CYRAN: *sigh* Can't you go any faster?
STRAVO: No. You can't rush work like this. You have to let it happen in its own time.
KUJA: Put in some technobabble. That's what Star Trek writers do when they can't think of anything.
STRAVO: And we all love that, don't we?
KUJA: Point.
*STRAVO stands. Instantly, both KUJA and CYRAN pull out ridiculously oversized blaster rifles and point them at STRAVO*
CYRAN: Where do you think you're going?
STRAVO: The kitchen. I want a drink.
CYRAN: Oh.
*KUJA and CYRAN replace their rifles as STRAVO walks off*
KUJA: Man, I didn't think it would be this slow.
CYRAN: I hear ya. The guy's writing as slow as a peanut butter river.
*silence*
KUJA: Where the hell do you think up stuff like that?
*CYRAN shrugs. There are a few moments of silence, then a door slams*
BOTH: What the-?!
*KUJA and CYRAN run through the door that STRAVO walked through and end up in the hallway outside the apartment*
CYRAN: Shit! He tricked us!
KUJA: Let's go!
*the two Black Mages rush down the stairs just in time to see STRAVO dash out the building's front door. By the time they exit the building, STRAVO is already halfway down the block*
CYRAN: Come on, let's get him!
KUJA: *assumes heroic pose* Quick! To the Blackmagemobile!
CYRAN: You mean the Mustang?
KUJA: Well, yeah.
*KUJA and CYRAN dash around the corner of the building to a blue-green Mustang, the front end of which happens to be buried in a fruit stand. They climb in and KUJA hits the gas. Unfortunately, he forgets to put the car in reverse and the Mustang lurches forward, crushing the remains of the fruit stand*
KUJA: Get your Uzi. While I drive, you wave it around and fire sporadically.
CYRAN: Why?
*silence*
KUJA: Why not? Just do it.
CYRAN: Okay.
*cut to: STRAVO running down the street, avoiding various pedestrians as he does so. After a few moments, he makes his way to a phone booth and dials a number*
STRAVO: Come on, pick up. *pause* Pick up, damn you!
*there is a click on the phone line*
DALTON: Hello?
STRAVO: Rob, is that you? Listen, I need your help!
DALTON: What's up?
STRAVO: Kuja and Cyran showed up in my apartment with a bunch of weapons and now they're chasing me around Manhattan!
*a pause*
DALTON: So what do you want me to do about it?
STRAVO: Anything!
DALTON: Well, I'm kind of busy-
*the Mustang bursts out from around a corner roughly three blocks away. CYRAN leans out the window, screaming incoherently and firing his Uzi into the air. The crowd does not appear concerned*
STRAVO: Shit, here they come! You gotta help me before these two psychos kill someone! Like me!
*the Mustang gets closer. CYRAN spots STRAVO and yells even louder. KUJA hits the gas and the car accelerates*
CYRAN: Hey, not so fast! We're not supposed to kill the guy!
KUJA: YEEEEEEEEEEEHA!
*CYRAN groans*
STRAVO: Rob, I'm serious, I'll meet you at the café, bring lots of heavy weapons! I gotta go now!
DALTON: Hey, wait just a damn min-
*STRAVO drops the phone and dives out of the phone booth just as the Mustang slams into it, shattering the glass and obliterating the booth completely. The crowd still does not react*
STRAVO: Close one.
*STRAVO ducks into an alley as the Mustang begins to swing around*
KUJA: You can run, but you can't hide!
*cut to: DALTON'S home. DALTON hangs up the phone and turns to the nearest closet. Opening the door reveals a massive arsenal of sci-fi weaponry, which DALTON somehow manages to cram into his jacket*
DALTON: Let's rumble.
*fade out*
*fade in on STRAVO'S living room. STRAVO is seated at the computer and is staring at the screen. KUJA is seated on the couch. His hammer is unsheathed and he is repeatedly tapping the floor with the end of the shaft. CYRAN leans against the wall, alternately watching STRAVO and looking out the window. STRAVO looks over at KUJA, an annoyed expression on his face*
STRAVO: Will you stop that?
KUJA: Stop what?
STRAVO: That tapping. *KUJA resheathes the hammer* Thank you.
CYRAN: Any luck?
STRAVO: *coldly* No more than thirty seconds ago.
CYRAN: *sigh* Can't you go any faster?
STRAVO: No. You can't rush work like this. You have to let it happen in its own time.
KUJA: Put in some technobabble. That's what Star Trek writers do when they can't think of anything.
STRAVO: And we all love that, don't we?
KUJA: Point.
*STRAVO stands. Instantly, both KUJA and CYRAN pull out ridiculously oversized blaster rifles and point them at STRAVO*
CYRAN: Where do you think you're going?
STRAVO: The kitchen. I want a drink.
CYRAN: Oh.
*KUJA and CYRAN replace their rifles as STRAVO walks off*
KUJA: Man, I didn't think it would be this slow.
CYRAN: I hear ya. The guy's writing as slow as a peanut butter river.
*silence*
KUJA: Where the hell do you think up stuff like that?
*CYRAN shrugs. There are a few moments of silence, then a door slams*
BOTH: What the-?!
*KUJA and CYRAN run through the door that STRAVO walked through and end up in the hallway outside the apartment*
CYRAN: Shit! He tricked us!
KUJA: Let's go!
*the two Black Mages rush down the stairs just in time to see STRAVO dash out the building's front door. By the time they exit the building, STRAVO is already halfway down the block*
CYRAN: Come on, let's get him!
KUJA: *assumes heroic pose* Quick! To the Blackmagemobile!
CYRAN: You mean the Mustang?
KUJA: Well, yeah.
*KUJA and CYRAN dash around the corner of the building to a blue-green Mustang, the front end of which happens to be buried in a fruit stand. They climb in and KUJA hits the gas. Unfortunately, he forgets to put the car in reverse and the Mustang lurches forward, crushing the remains of the fruit stand*
KUJA: Get your Uzi. While I drive, you wave it around and fire sporadically.
CYRAN: Why?
*silence*
KUJA: Why not? Just do it.
CYRAN: Okay.
*cut to: STRAVO running down the street, avoiding various pedestrians as he does so. After a few moments, he makes his way to a phone booth and dials a number*
STRAVO: Come on, pick up. *pause* Pick up, damn you!
*there is a click on the phone line*
DALTON: Hello?
STRAVO: Rob, is that you? Listen, I need your help!
DALTON: What's up?
STRAVO: Kuja and Cyran showed up in my apartment with a bunch of weapons and now they're chasing me around Manhattan!
*a pause*
DALTON: So what do you want me to do about it?
STRAVO: Anything!
DALTON: Well, I'm kind of busy-
*the Mustang bursts out from around a corner roughly three blocks away. CYRAN leans out the window, screaming incoherently and firing his Uzi into the air. The crowd does not appear concerned*
STRAVO: Shit, here they come! You gotta help me before these two psychos kill someone! Like me!
*the Mustang gets closer. CYRAN spots STRAVO and yells even louder. KUJA hits the gas and the car accelerates*
CYRAN: Hey, not so fast! We're not supposed to kill the guy!
KUJA: YEEEEEEEEEEEHA!
*CYRAN groans*
STRAVO: Rob, I'm serious, I'll meet you at the café, bring lots of heavy weapons! I gotta go now!
DALTON: Hey, wait just a damn min-
*STRAVO drops the phone and dives out of the phone booth just as the Mustang slams into it, shattering the glass and obliterating the booth completely. The crowd still does not react*
STRAVO: Close one.
*STRAVO ducks into an alley as the Mustang begins to swing around*
KUJA: You can run, but you can't hide!
*cut to: DALTON'S home. DALTON hangs up the phone and turns to the nearest closet. Opening the door reveals a massive arsenal of sci-fi weaponry, which DALTON somehow manages to cram into his jacket*
DALTON: Let's rumble.
*fade out*
Last edited by Kuja on 2003-08-03 07:36pm, edited 2 times in total.
JADAFETWA
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Why, whatever do you mean?Kelly Antilles wrote:*hehehehehe* This is getting better and better.... however.... I do hope PotF is not suffering in the meantime. You may have a bigger hoard on your hands than you and Cyran bugging Stravo.
*notices a large amount of people wandering through the streets of Buffalo carrying sharp pointy things*
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NICE, now we have good old Dalton joining in on the fun. This is getting better and better. Its so good I've stopped writing stracrossed to see what will happen next.
Wherever you go, there you are.
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LOL Sort of defeats the original purpose...Doh.Stravo wrote:NICE, now we have good old Dalton joining in on the fun. This is getting better and better. Its so good I've stopped writing stracrossed to see what will happen next.
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