The Stranger.........(aka WE WANT THE GSDAs!)
Moderator: LadyTevar
- MKSheppard
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The Stranger.........(aka WE WANT THE GSDAs!)
*pops out of the mists to post this then disappears into the night and fog*
THE STRANGER
The man strode into the fanfic forum looking left to right before settling
his eyes on Stravo.
"Where is Rob Dalton?" the man asked in a monotone voice
"Fuck if I know," replied Stravo, causing the man to reach out and grab
him by his lapels and hoist him into the air effortlessly.
"Where is Rob Dalton?" repeated the man.
"Why do you want to know?"
"My Mission parameters are to locate the human known as Rob Dalton
and extract the Golden Star Destroyer Awards from him, by force if necessary."
"Uh...I think I saw Dalton last night. He was headed to North Carolina for the
Krispy Kreme competition"
"What is the location of this Krispy Kreme competition?"
Thinking quickly, Stravo gave the man Kelly's home address, causing
the man to drop him on the floor uncerimoniously and walk out the door
as mysteriously as he had walked in.
Three minutes after the man's car had sped off into the darkness, Stravo
banged his fist onto the counter of the bar, and from a hidden compartment
inside the bar, Dalton shambled out, covered in donuts.
"I'm getting tired of saving your ass - this is what, the sixth time in three months?"
replied Stravo crossly.
"That wasn't smart of you Strav, giving that guy Kelly's address. Do you reallllly want
Kelly to be pissed off at you?"
At that, everyone began to laugh uproariously.
PS - I'm tired of waiting for the GSDAs like we did LAST year for christs sake,
so I swiped one of Deimos' old T-800s and sent it after you. Hope you don't
mind
THE STRANGER
The man strode into the fanfic forum looking left to right before settling
his eyes on Stravo.
"Where is Rob Dalton?" the man asked in a monotone voice
"Fuck if I know," replied Stravo, causing the man to reach out and grab
him by his lapels and hoist him into the air effortlessly.
"Where is Rob Dalton?" repeated the man.
"Why do you want to know?"
"My Mission parameters are to locate the human known as Rob Dalton
and extract the Golden Star Destroyer Awards from him, by force if necessary."
"Uh...I think I saw Dalton last night. He was headed to North Carolina for the
Krispy Kreme competition"
"What is the location of this Krispy Kreme competition?"
Thinking quickly, Stravo gave the man Kelly's home address, causing
the man to drop him on the floor uncerimoniously and walk out the door
as mysteriously as he had walked in.
Three minutes after the man's car had sped off into the darkness, Stravo
banged his fist onto the counter of the bar, and from a hidden compartment
inside the bar, Dalton shambled out, covered in donuts.
"I'm getting tired of saving your ass - this is what, the sixth time in three months?"
replied Stravo crossly.
"That wasn't smart of you Strav, giving that guy Kelly's address. Do you reallllly want
Kelly to be pissed off at you?"
At that, everyone began to laugh uproariously.
PS - I'm tired of waiting for the GSDAs like we did LAST year for christs sake,
so I swiped one of Deimos' old T-800s and sent it after you. Hope you don't
mind
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
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Dalton was seated at his workstation at MSNBC, already troubled by the encounter at the fanfics forum last night all he wanted to do was engross himself in his job for a few blissful hours, however this would not be the case.
"Robert Dalton?"
Rob Jumped out of his seat, startled by the unfamilair voice
"Yes, I'm Rob Dalton, who want's to know?"
Package over inter office mail, just sign here please?
"Oh...ok...thanks."
Rob was scared, but somewhat relieved, Henry the mail guy was a freindly fellow who would never do him any harm. he opened the box, expecting to find some new software, or perhaps some office supplies. But what he found instead was quiet troubling.
The Severed Head of Darth Garden Gnome and the maggots that crawled amidst the now empty eye socket gave off an incredible stench, and the sight of the exposed brain force Dalton to vomit all over the general vicinty. Four letters were carved into the severed Gnome head.
"G S D A"
Obviously the first annual Gnome Slaughter Death Award in procrastination goes to Rob Dalton, but who could have perpetrated such a crime? Dalton, noticing that the acrid smell of puke had been noticed by his co workers, used the opportunity to leave sick from work. A helicopter on the roof of the building awaited him, he purchased the machine though careful money laundering in related to a now defunct Dunkin Donuts franchise whose inventory had mysteriously vanished.
As the chopper took of towards his residence Dalton looked down atop a nearby apartmen building, and he nearly puked again, dozens of gnome corpses were strewn about the top of a building and laid about so that they made a message.
"I C U ROB"
Rob couldonly feel fear for his sanity and well being, the dozens of gnome deaths bothered him not in the least.
----------------------------------
At least let me know if I won or not so I could find out wether I should care or not! Grrrr
"Robert Dalton?"
Rob Jumped out of his seat, startled by the unfamilair voice
"Yes, I'm Rob Dalton, who want's to know?"
Package over inter office mail, just sign here please?
"Oh...ok...thanks."
Rob was scared, but somewhat relieved, Henry the mail guy was a freindly fellow who would never do him any harm. he opened the box, expecting to find some new software, or perhaps some office supplies. But what he found instead was quiet troubling.
The Severed Head of Darth Garden Gnome and the maggots that crawled amidst the now empty eye socket gave off an incredible stench, and the sight of the exposed brain force Dalton to vomit all over the general vicinty. Four letters were carved into the severed Gnome head.
"G S D A"
Obviously the first annual Gnome Slaughter Death Award in procrastination goes to Rob Dalton, but who could have perpetrated such a crime? Dalton, noticing that the acrid smell of puke had been noticed by his co workers, used the opportunity to leave sick from work. A helicopter on the roof of the building awaited him, he purchased the machine though careful money laundering in related to a now defunct Dunkin Donuts franchise whose inventory had mysteriously vanished.
As the chopper took of towards his residence Dalton looked down atop a nearby apartmen building, and he nearly puked again, dozens of gnome corpses were strewn about the top of a building and laid about so that they made a message.
"I C U ROB"
Rob couldonly feel fear for his sanity and well being, the dozens of gnome deaths bothered him not in the least.
----------------------------------
At least let me know if I won or not so I could find out wether I should care or not! Grrrr
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
-George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
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Don't you hate when people lie? Almost as bad as Stravo's claims of Starcrossed ending a year ago!Dalton 2 mounths ago wrote:OK, the votes have been tabulated and the ceremony will be written soon.
"You know, I was God once."
"Yes, I saw. You were doing well, until everyone died."
Bender and God, Futurama
"Yes, I saw. You were doing well, until everyone died."
Bender and God, Futurama
Hey!!Grand Admiral Thrawn wrote:Don't you hate when people lie? Almost as bad as Stravo's claims of Starcrossed ending a year ago!Dalton 2 mounths ago wrote:OK, the votes have been tabulated and the ceremony will be written soon.
Wherever you go, there you are.
Ripped Shirt Monkey - BOTMWriter's Guild Cybertron's Finest Justice League
This updated sig brought to you by JME2
Ripped Shirt Monkey - BOTMWriter's Guild Cybertron's Finest Justice League
This updated sig brought to you by JME2
Everyone understands real life issues. It's perfectly fine.Kuja wrote:Sorry for this terrible wait everybody, but Rob and I have both been getting slammed by work and other RL concerns. We really are working on the Ceremony in the small increments of free time we get, honest!
*glares at the other people in the thread* RIGHT guys? *smiles sweetly*
"On the infrequent occasions when I have been called upon in a formal place to play the bongo drums, the introducer never seems to find it necessary to mention that I also do theoretical physics." -Richard Feynman
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We'll understand if you post pics. [size=0]Man, I'm evil.[/size]Zaia wrote:Everyone understands real life issues. It's perfectly fine.Kuja wrote:Sorry for this terrible wait everybody, but Rob and I have both been getting slammed by work and other RL concerns. We really are working on the Ceremony in the small increments of free time we get, honest!
*glares at the other people in the thread* RIGHT guys? *smiles sweetly*
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- Location: Mars, where I am a totally bitchin' rockstar.
I was telling shep that by the time you finish the 2004 GSDAs the conglomerate short stories of this thread will be eligible for 2005 nomination.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
-George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
- Darth Fanboy
- DUH! WINNING!
- Posts: 11182
- Joined: 2002-09-20 05:25am
- Location: Mars, where I am a totally bitchin' rockstar.
Dalton began to Sulk within his mountain stronghold. As he picked up the Bear Claw with his right hand and greedily slammed it into his mouth he smiled. No one would disturb him here, he would simply wait out this crisis and call in sick for a few days, all would be fine with time. Dalton grabbed another donut and shoved it between his lips, he had become so tired that he had decided to forsake chewing motions as he simply crammed the thing down his throat, leaving a disgusting but satisfying smear of frosting across his face. Dalton was by no means an unhealthy shut in, but the severe conditionns the recent string of events put on his body he had decidded that a complete state of laziness was in order. Forsaking the involuntary muscle reactions of peristalsis he tilted his head back and felt the food gradually slide down his frosting lubricated esophagus. "Ah," Dalton thought, "A clever writer or dirty mind such as myself could construe the previous passage in untrue but hilarious references to oral sex.
The chamber remained silent and empty, and a week later Dalton emerged, fresh and revitalized. One of his manservants by the name of Kuja showed him to his helicopter which would take him back to New York.
"Greetings Sir, I trust that the last seven days were of great relaxation?"
"Yes yes they were, now I can finally get on with my life without worry about those stupid GSDA terrorists."
"but sir, you just took a week off, wouldn't it be quite easier if you just wrote the thing instead of slurping down pastries by the Dozen?"
"Quiet you, remember this is an internet forum competition, all you have to do is cite "Real Life" concerns and you're off scot free."
"But you promised..."
"Quiet you1 i have now conscripted you into helping write them, oh and go find that Chuck guy, he'll work for free."
"Excellent milord, shall I bring mr. Fluffykins?"
"Yes bring Fluffykins, I do adore his fuzzy fur."
Dalton's cat fluffykins was a beautiful persian with tye dyed eyes, petting Mr Fluffykins was an instant boost to the psyche, the fur of that cat could...
...Dalton turned to look as he saw the cat, Mr. Fluffykins had been shorn completely hairless and a message had been written in non toxic easily washable marker on his side.
"Quit Fucking Around Dalton, we have Kuja and soon we're going to come for you"
Dalton screamed like a little girl but within seconds he awoke from the nightmare, his helicopter from New York had nearly arrived at the Mountain Fortress.
Or at least it should have, Dalton recognized the landscape as the southern top of Florida, a.k.a "America's Wang".
"What the fuck?"
"Ah you're awake Mr. Dalton, very nice. Its a good thing those ultrasedative donuts you consumed earlier worked well, we have enough fuel now to make it to our destination."
"Where are you taking me?"
"Undisclosed Location in cuba, we know a few people there who can help you with you're writing. Call them muses, or call them hard line communist interrogators that Fidel Castro fired for being too brutal your choice."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Dalton screamed as he woke up again, and once again he was in a new place, chained to a desk, a pen stapled to his writing hand.
"Hey you're awake!"
The sound came from across the hall, into the iron cage opposite Dalton's
"Stravo?"
"I see they got you too, couldn't finish the GSDAs in time?"
"I can't believe its you, how long has it been?"
"I lost track after a few days, This damned Starcrossed novel will literally be the death of me!"
"Where are we?"
"These...forum denizens....they take their favorite authors or the authors of expected projects, and they chain them to desks until they finish...its horrible!"
"If thats the case then why isn't Darth Fanboy in here rotting with us? He has never finished a fanfic truly!"
"No one reads his shit. Anyways, youd best get started, otherwise they might not give you any gruel, thats we eat down here."
"NO DONUTS? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Dalton woke up again, this time naked in a bed with Kate Mulgrew.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Dalton woke up again, but this time it was real, he knew this to be true, because the overpowering stench of a wet bed filled his nostrils. But he was alive, and free. For Now
meanwhile, in a hidden location not far from Dalton's location. Two men plot in the shadows.
"How much longer until he cracks?"
"It won't be long now, we will get those results at ANY cost."
*DISCLAIMER- all in good fun, take your time and do it right and fudge the results so my fics win.
The chamber remained silent and empty, and a week later Dalton emerged, fresh and revitalized. One of his manservants by the name of Kuja showed him to his helicopter which would take him back to New York.
"Greetings Sir, I trust that the last seven days were of great relaxation?"
"Yes yes they were, now I can finally get on with my life without worry about those stupid GSDA terrorists."
"but sir, you just took a week off, wouldn't it be quite easier if you just wrote the thing instead of slurping down pastries by the Dozen?"
"Quiet you, remember this is an internet forum competition, all you have to do is cite "Real Life" concerns and you're off scot free."
"But you promised..."
"Quiet you1 i have now conscripted you into helping write them, oh and go find that Chuck guy, he'll work for free."
"Excellent milord, shall I bring mr. Fluffykins?"
"Yes bring Fluffykins, I do adore his fuzzy fur."
Dalton's cat fluffykins was a beautiful persian with tye dyed eyes, petting Mr Fluffykins was an instant boost to the psyche, the fur of that cat could...
...Dalton turned to look as he saw the cat, Mr. Fluffykins had been shorn completely hairless and a message had been written in non toxic easily washable marker on his side.
"Quit Fucking Around Dalton, we have Kuja and soon we're going to come for you"
Dalton screamed like a little girl but within seconds he awoke from the nightmare, his helicopter from New York had nearly arrived at the Mountain Fortress.
Or at least it should have, Dalton recognized the landscape as the southern top of Florida, a.k.a "America's Wang".
"What the fuck?"
"Ah you're awake Mr. Dalton, very nice. Its a good thing those ultrasedative donuts you consumed earlier worked well, we have enough fuel now to make it to our destination."
"Where are you taking me?"
"Undisclosed Location in cuba, we know a few people there who can help you with you're writing. Call them muses, or call them hard line communist interrogators that Fidel Castro fired for being too brutal your choice."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Dalton screamed as he woke up again, and once again he was in a new place, chained to a desk, a pen stapled to his writing hand.
"Hey you're awake!"
The sound came from across the hall, into the iron cage opposite Dalton's
"Stravo?"
"I see they got you too, couldn't finish the GSDAs in time?"
"I can't believe its you, how long has it been?"
"I lost track after a few days, This damned Starcrossed novel will literally be the death of me!"
"Where are we?"
"These...forum denizens....they take their favorite authors or the authors of expected projects, and they chain them to desks until they finish...its horrible!"
"If thats the case then why isn't Darth Fanboy in here rotting with us? He has never finished a fanfic truly!"
"No one reads his shit. Anyways, youd best get started, otherwise they might not give you any gruel, thats we eat down here."
"NO DONUTS? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Dalton woke up again, this time naked in a bed with Kate Mulgrew.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Dalton woke up again, but this time it was real, he knew this to be true, because the overpowering stench of a wet bed filled his nostrils. But he was alive, and free. For Now
meanwhile, in a hidden location not far from Dalton's location. Two men plot in the shadows.
"How much longer until he cracks?"
"It won't be long now, we will get those results at ANY cost."
*DISCLAIMER- all in good fun, take your time and do it right and fudge the results so my fics win.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
-George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
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I'd start moaning, but given my track record with fanfic writing it would be the biggest piece of hypocrisy ever
Ph34r teh eyebrow!!11!Writers Guild Sluggite Pawn of Chaos WYGIWYGAINGW so now i have to put ACPATHNTDWATGODW in my sig EBC-Honorary Geordie
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Hammerman! Hammer!
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Not quite, more like Shep, Falk, and myself are out of Ideas for the Unnamed Porno Fanfic and we've decided that in order to obtain the required inspiration we need to know how we did in the GSDA.Son of the Suns wrote:eee gads a TGOD rearing its ugly head in Fanfic?
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
-George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
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Media whore style reporter male: Yes the pre-GSD buzz has been whipped up to a fever pitch, everyone all of the beutiful fan fic writers are here. In the coffee shops and trendy bistros. Oh look LT Hitman is arriving for this party!
the black tux dressed reporter and a gaggle of celeb stalkeratzi hurry to the curb has the enoumous metal foot of an AT-AT comes down.
*squish!*
The camera man drops his camera and releive himself as his boss and a dozen of the salkerzatzi are reduced to a red smear on the carpet infront of the fancy restuarant.
The cyborg is dressed in his finiest polished "Death" armour, with the "light scythe" collapsed at his side. escouritng him is his adoptive son, his three children and of course the nanny/slave/pet Quess the Demoness. (who is dressed in a black flayied PETA protester skin outfit with a neckline that plunges down to her denuded mons), and her aeraleas are covered by what appears to be Imperial crest shaped devices.
The LT tosses the keys to the terror fixed former camera man.
LT: Make sure to crush at least Voyager luvin soccer mom's SUVs and I had better not hear about Chris O'FArrel barrowing it!
The camera man passed out, as Chris O'Farrel retreived the keys from his lifeless fingers.....
the black tux dressed reporter and a gaggle of celeb stalkeratzi hurry to the curb has the enoumous metal foot of an AT-AT comes down.
*squish!*
The camera man drops his camera and releive himself as his boss and a dozen of the salkerzatzi are reduced to a red smear on the carpet infront of the fancy restuarant.
The cyborg is dressed in his finiest polished "Death" armour, with the "light scythe" collapsed at his side. escouritng him is his adoptive son, his three children and of course the nanny/slave/pet Quess the Demoness. (who is dressed in a black flayied PETA protester skin outfit with a neckline that plunges down to her denuded mons), and her aeraleas are covered by what appears to be Imperial crest shaped devices.
The LT tosses the keys to the terror fixed former camera man.
LT: Make sure to crush at least Voyager luvin soccer mom's SUVs and I had better not hear about Chris O'FArrel barrowing it!
The camera man passed out, as Chris O'Farrel retreived the keys from his lifeless fingers.....
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
- MKSheppard
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Dalton, in deperate need to relax, went to the Dolphin therapy center in Florida to find
some much needed peace as his tormentors constantly schemed in the background,
between the death threats, the gnome carcasses, and the piss soaked nightmares
he had become a bitter and pale shade of the proud Lord of the FUQ he once was.
As he entered the pool the kind marine mammal circled him and playfully chattered
and for the first time in weeks, Dalton had thought he had found a true peace and
not the false hopes of a box of donuts. Unbeknowest to him though, this was no
ordinary dolphin, this was Agent #241, special operations.
#241 swam in slow circles as Dalton giddily swam beside him.
"You poor deluded fool", thought #241, "Your simian mind cannot comprehend
the horrors of what I have planned."
Dalton barely noticed as the dolphin suddenly veered away from him, he was too
busy trying to tread water - his "Big Boy" life preservers weren't doing much to keep
him afloat - damn his negative buoyancy.
#241 circled around slowly, gathering speed before launching himself at Dalton,
ramming Dalton in the side with enough force to bruise some ribs badly.
"AAAAAAAAARGH WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?" spluttered dalton as the dolphin
suddenly attacked him. "You're not supposed to attack people! It's in the damn union
rules!"
Dalton was even more shocked when the Dolphin replied in perfectly legible english;
"Too bad I'm not a union member, dickwipe." just before it shredded his Big Boy
life preservers with it's teeth, leaving dalton to flail in the water frantically, trying to keep
his head afloat.
"My Simian Friend, we in the Great Dolphin Conspiracy are very, very, very displeased
that you have been holding out on us with the GSDAs."
"Damn it, I'm not holding out on you! I have work!" shouted Dalton as he continued
to struggle in the water to stay afloat.
"We in the GDC have ways of making even the most recalitrant person talk." replied #241
as he angled in towards Dalton and rubbed his body against Dalton's backside, making
sure Dalton got the unmistakable message there.
Dalton could feel the hot breath of the Dolphin as it rubbed up against him; it had a strong
fishy aroma to it - an unmistakeable smell he first encountered during an awkward sexual
experience years ago.
"Damn it, can't we work something out? I have money!"
"So do we. What, you thought all those royalties on Flipper were just going nowhere?" replied
#241 sarcastically.
Dalton sputtered as he tried to think of some other thing he could use to influence
the sadistic dolphin, and came up with one. "If you let me out of here, I'll make sure you
have all the fish you could ever want!"
An evil laugh from the dolphin was the only reply, followed by a chilling voice. "You pitiful, pitiful,
Simian Fool! Do you think that fish, mere FISH, could sway me from my duties? I have the
finest choice of caviar from the black sea sturgeon and all the women, human and dolphin,
that I could ever want, so cease with your prattle, WHERE ARE THE GSDAS?"
To emphasize his point futher, #241 rubbed against dalton once more, but this time, Dalton
felt something sticking him in the back. With a sinking feeling, he realized what it was, and
completely broke down.
"OH GOD NO, DON'T RAPE ME! NO! I'M TOO YOUNG!"
#241 chuckled. This human was proving to be much more breakable than he had originally
thought. Most Humans, it took the actual sight of his cock to make them break down, but this
one had an over-active imagination.
Thinking about it, #241 decided to prolong the torture for as long as possible, out of sheer
sadism.
[Six Hours Later]
Dalton slowly treaded the water, dog tired. He had been in the tank for over six hours, and
with nothing to eat, not even a single solitary donut! He could feel his weight dropping, ounce
by ounce. Slowly, his buoyancy was being reduced even further below it's already small amount,
and Dalton knew that if he sunk any more, he would be at the mercy of the Dolphin's twisted
underwater Kama Sutra.
Suddenly, his nostrils perked up at the scent, the almighty scent of a donut! He couldn't
determine the particular glaze, but at this point, it didn't matter.
Jerking his head around, he saw where the donut was - the Dolphin's cock was wrapped
around it, and the Dolphin was alternately broaching and rolling over for air in a sadistic
sexual/food torture game.
This continued for ten minutes, and slowly ever so slowly, Dalton found himself drawn
to the juicy delicious donut with it's pulsing pink center. He tried to stop himself, but his
body was too far gone; he needed the donut NOW.
His hand wrapped around the donut the next time the dolphin came over to him, and just
as he was about to take a big bite out of the juicy center, a inhuman shriek nearly shattered
his eardrums.
"MOMMY! WHATS THAT MAN DOING WITH FLIPPER?"
"It's not what you think it is!" shouted Dalton, in a futile attempt to save face, as a dozen security
guards and Sea World staffers burst onto the catwalks over the dolphin tank and began to
fish him out. As he was being handcuffed by a burly guard, out of the corner of his eye, he
saw the Dolphin chattering to it's trainer.
"Yes, Freckles? Did that awful, awful man hurt you?"
#241 chattered in the "affirmative" tone, and waved his head up and down excitedly.
[Three Hours later - Florida Circuit Court]
"You stand charged, Mr. Dalton, of torturing a protected species and of unnatural acts
with said species, twenty five counts of corrupting a minor, and one count of being
fat in public. I set your bail at $500,000."
"I told you, the Dolphin was talking; it was torturing me!" shouted Dalton.
The Judge looked down sadly. "Change the verdict to medically insane, and have
Mr Dalton remitted to the Asylum for the Treatment of the Mentally Ill in Clearwater,
until he is fit to stand trial on these charges."
[One Day Later]
Dalton sat in his grimy cell as he tried stuffing the ventilation louvers in his cell full
of those god damned Church of Scientiology phamplets that the staff of the Asylum
had given him; it was run by the Church of Scientiology for reforming the mentally
ill, and they kept the temperatures in the cells at freezing.
A sharp rap on the door of the cell caused him to look at the door and stop stuffing
the louvers with phamplets. The door opened, revealing an attendant in white clothing.
"A phone call for you." announced the attendant, holding out a cell phone. The attendant
watched as Dalton took the call, to ensure he didn't try anything with the phone, such as
trying to remove it's batteries to use as an ignition source to start a fire.
"Yes, Who the fuck is this?"
An unearthly chattering filled his ears, followed shortly by "Sucker. This is your old friend, Freckles.
Again, where are the GSDAs? We have agents in every organization in Florida. It is only a matter
of time, my dear, dear friend."
"Fuck you! I'll find you wherever you are and have you turned into Dolphin-Donuts!" shouted
Dalton as he mashed the END CALL button on the keypad. Before the attendant could react,
he flipped the lid up on his cell's toilet, and the vile stench of last night's salisbury steak dinner
filled the cell, causing the attendant to fall unconscious.
Out of curiosity, Dalton looked into the toilet, and noted that the salisbury steak actually lookd
better in the toilet than it had last night on a plate. Putting that thought out of his mind, he
punched in his lawyer's number on the cell.
"Stravo, this is Dalton. Get me the fuck out of here."
[Two Days later]
Dalton strode into his headquarters, glad to have that hellish visit to Florida behind him. But as
soon as he walked into the main lobby, he noticed that something was wrong. Instead of the
smell of freshly baked donuts sitting in their containers, there was just the smell of....stale
crumbs.
Before he could react, the doors slammed shut behind him, and several Boyd Grunts
surrounded him. The last thing he saw before his lights went out was a holy bible heading
towards his forehead, where it resounded off with a resounding "whack".
Slowly, Dalton swam towards consciousness, aided by the familiar sounds and smells of
someone eating donuts. With a jerk, he sat up in his private office's chair, only to find that
he was chained to the chair, and surrounded by dozens of Boyd Grunts. In front of him,
with his legs on top of his desk, was a Boyd Leader, dressed in a tuxedo and calmly
eating donuts.
"Oh, I'm sorry. We arrived to the party early, and decided to help ourselves to your
fine hospitality. This is the last box of donuts in the building. Want one?"
The Boyd Leader held out the donut, only to pull it away at the last moment from
Dalton's slobbering mouth, and calmly ate it.
When the last donut had been reduced to crumbs, and Dalton to tears, at the sight
of all his precious donuts being eaten by these uncouth savages, the Boyd Leader
stood up, and grabbing Dalton's head with his hands, began to speak.
"Where are the Golden Star Destroyer Awards, Mister Anders......errr, I mean, Mister Dalton?"
"Fuck if I know," replied Dalton, as he tried rocking back and forth on his chair to try and knock
it over and break it, allowing him to get free.
"Hahah, try all you want, Mister Dalton, We have been very *thorough* in securing your person."
"No you haven't, Boyds." With that, Dalton began to concentrate.
"Hey, wait a minute! Did you secure his asshole?" shouted the Boyd Leader.
"Uh, no, why?" replied a Grunt.
"YOU FOOLS, YOU'VE KILLED US AL-"
The Boyd Leader's last words were drowned out by a thunderous fart as Dalton let loose
with the contents of last nights dinner, two new york strip cheese steaks, with extra onions.
The methane gas quickly filled the headquarters, spread by the ventiliation system from
Dalton's office, suffocating all the Boyd clones who had seized the place.
Dalton however, was unaffected, and he took a perverse delight in his
own rectal scent. As he drew the gas deeply into his lungs he smiled.
The sweet smell of victory - It smelled like cheese steaks,
and it made him hungry. The aroma however, left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Fortunately, an unattended half-eaten glazed donut that remained on the table
remedied that.
Moments later, Kuja walked into the room, wearing a full NBC Biohazard suit,
carrying a plate filled with donuts.
"Greetings Sir, sorry about this mess, they overpowered us"
Dalton scowled and glared at Kuja.
"You know the price for failure, Kuja."
Kuja's face blanched.
"Sir, anything but that!"
"You knew the price when you signed up." With that, Dalton pushed
the button on his desk that opened up a hidden trapdoor that was located
directly below Kuja's designated servant position, causing him to be
sucked into the hidden machinery of the Headquarters with a girly
scream.
Six hours later, Dalton sat down at the table and took a bite out of the
latest batch of donuts fresh out of the oven.
"Mmm......Kujalicious."
The price of failure in Dalton's organization was to have your body
rendered into it's component fats, for use in Dalton's private stash
as a donut frying agent.
Taking a whiff, he looked down the hallways at the endless rows of Boyd-flavored
donuts stacked into individual dozen containers. It had taken the combat droids a
long time to drag the Boyd clones' bodies into the rendering machines,
but the result was well worth it - and it remedied the problem of
them eating all of his donuts in the first place.
Perhaps he could sell the extra surplus left over from restocking his shelves
on the market as Boylent Green....but first, there was a small matter to be taken
care of in Florida.
"Kuja Two, take a note."
The recently grown clone of the original Kuja nodded and pulled out a pad of
paper and a pencil.
"I want every Bottlenosed dolphin in the world found and hunted down, for my new
Flipper-flavored donut line I'll be launching next quarter."
some much needed peace as his tormentors constantly schemed in the background,
between the death threats, the gnome carcasses, and the piss soaked nightmares
he had become a bitter and pale shade of the proud Lord of the FUQ he once was.
As he entered the pool the kind marine mammal circled him and playfully chattered
and for the first time in weeks, Dalton had thought he had found a true peace and
not the false hopes of a box of donuts. Unbeknowest to him though, this was no
ordinary dolphin, this was Agent #241, special operations.
#241 swam in slow circles as Dalton giddily swam beside him.
"You poor deluded fool", thought #241, "Your simian mind cannot comprehend
the horrors of what I have planned."
Dalton barely noticed as the dolphin suddenly veered away from him, he was too
busy trying to tread water - his "Big Boy" life preservers weren't doing much to keep
him afloat - damn his negative buoyancy.
#241 circled around slowly, gathering speed before launching himself at Dalton,
ramming Dalton in the side with enough force to bruise some ribs badly.
"AAAAAAAAARGH WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?" spluttered dalton as the dolphin
suddenly attacked him. "You're not supposed to attack people! It's in the damn union
rules!"
Dalton was even more shocked when the Dolphin replied in perfectly legible english;
"Too bad I'm not a union member, dickwipe." just before it shredded his Big Boy
life preservers with it's teeth, leaving dalton to flail in the water frantically, trying to keep
his head afloat.
"My Simian Friend, we in the Great Dolphin Conspiracy are very, very, very displeased
that you have been holding out on us with the GSDAs."
"Damn it, I'm not holding out on you! I have work!" shouted Dalton as he continued
to struggle in the water to stay afloat.
"We in the GDC have ways of making even the most recalitrant person talk." replied #241
as he angled in towards Dalton and rubbed his body against Dalton's backside, making
sure Dalton got the unmistakable message there.
Dalton could feel the hot breath of the Dolphin as it rubbed up against him; it had a strong
fishy aroma to it - an unmistakeable smell he first encountered during an awkward sexual
experience years ago.
"Damn it, can't we work something out? I have money!"
"So do we. What, you thought all those royalties on Flipper were just going nowhere?" replied
#241 sarcastically.
Dalton sputtered as he tried to think of some other thing he could use to influence
the sadistic dolphin, and came up with one. "If you let me out of here, I'll make sure you
have all the fish you could ever want!"
An evil laugh from the dolphin was the only reply, followed by a chilling voice. "You pitiful, pitiful,
Simian Fool! Do you think that fish, mere FISH, could sway me from my duties? I have the
finest choice of caviar from the black sea sturgeon and all the women, human and dolphin,
that I could ever want, so cease with your prattle, WHERE ARE THE GSDAS?"
To emphasize his point futher, #241 rubbed against dalton once more, but this time, Dalton
felt something sticking him in the back. With a sinking feeling, he realized what it was, and
completely broke down.
"OH GOD NO, DON'T RAPE ME! NO! I'M TOO YOUNG!"
#241 chuckled. This human was proving to be much more breakable than he had originally
thought. Most Humans, it took the actual sight of his cock to make them break down, but this
one had an over-active imagination.
Thinking about it, #241 decided to prolong the torture for as long as possible, out of sheer
sadism.
[Six Hours Later]
Dalton slowly treaded the water, dog tired. He had been in the tank for over six hours, and
with nothing to eat, not even a single solitary donut! He could feel his weight dropping, ounce
by ounce. Slowly, his buoyancy was being reduced even further below it's already small amount,
and Dalton knew that if he sunk any more, he would be at the mercy of the Dolphin's twisted
underwater Kama Sutra.
Suddenly, his nostrils perked up at the scent, the almighty scent of a donut! He couldn't
determine the particular glaze, but at this point, it didn't matter.
Jerking his head around, he saw where the donut was - the Dolphin's cock was wrapped
around it, and the Dolphin was alternately broaching and rolling over for air in a sadistic
sexual/food torture game.
This continued for ten minutes, and slowly ever so slowly, Dalton found himself drawn
to the juicy delicious donut with it's pulsing pink center. He tried to stop himself, but his
body was too far gone; he needed the donut NOW.
His hand wrapped around the donut the next time the dolphin came over to him, and just
as he was about to take a big bite out of the juicy center, a inhuman shriek nearly shattered
his eardrums.
"MOMMY! WHATS THAT MAN DOING WITH FLIPPER?"
"It's not what you think it is!" shouted Dalton, in a futile attempt to save face, as a dozen security
guards and Sea World staffers burst onto the catwalks over the dolphin tank and began to
fish him out. As he was being handcuffed by a burly guard, out of the corner of his eye, he
saw the Dolphin chattering to it's trainer.
"Yes, Freckles? Did that awful, awful man hurt you?"
#241 chattered in the "affirmative" tone, and waved his head up and down excitedly.
[Three Hours later - Florida Circuit Court]
"You stand charged, Mr. Dalton, of torturing a protected species and of unnatural acts
with said species, twenty five counts of corrupting a minor, and one count of being
fat in public. I set your bail at $500,000."
"I told you, the Dolphin was talking; it was torturing me!" shouted Dalton.
The Judge looked down sadly. "Change the verdict to medically insane, and have
Mr Dalton remitted to the Asylum for the Treatment of the Mentally Ill in Clearwater,
until he is fit to stand trial on these charges."
[One Day Later]
Dalton sat in his grimy cell as he tried stuffing the ventilation louvers in his cell full
of those god damned Church of Scientiology phamplets that the staff of the Asylum
had given him; it was run by the Church of Scientiology for reforming the mentally
ill, and they kept the temperatures in the cells at freezing.
A sharp rap on the door of the cell caused him to look at the door and stop stuffing
the louvers with phamplets. The door opened, revealing an attendant in white clothing.
"A phone call for you." announced the attendant, holding out a cell phone. The attendant
watched as Dalton took the call, to ensure he didn't try anything with the phone, such as
trying to remove it's batteries to use as an ignition source to start a fire.
"Yes, Who the fuck is this?"
An unearthly chattering filled his ears, followed shortly by "Sucker. This is your old friend, Freckles.
Again, where are the GSDAs? We have agents in every organization in Florida. It is only a matter
of time, my dear, dear friend."
"Fuck you! I'll find you wherever you are and have you turned into Dolphin-Donuts!" shouted
Dalton as he mashed the END CALL button on the keypad. Before the attendant could react,
he flipped the lid up on his cell's toilet, and the vile stench of last night's salisbury steak dinner
filled the cell, causing the attendant to fall unconscious.
Out of curiosity, Dalton looked into the toilet, and noted that the salisbury steak actually lookd
better in the toilet than it had last night on a plate. Putting that thought out of his mind, he
punched in his lawyer's number on the cell.
"Stravo, this is Dalton. Get me the fuck out of here."
[Two Days later]
Dalton strode into his headquarters, glad to have that hellish visit to Florida behind him. But as
soon as he walked into the main lobby, he noticed that something was wrong. Instead of the
smell of freshly baked donuts sitting in their containers, there was just the smell of....stale
crumbs.
Before he could react, the doors slammed shut behind him, and several Boyd Grunts
surrounded him. The last thing he saw before his lights went out was a holy bible heading
towards his forehead, where it resounded off with a resounding "whack".
Slowly, Dalton swam towards consciousness, aided by the familiar sounds and smells of
someone eating donuts. With a jerk, he sat up in his private office's chair, only to find that
he was chained to the chair, and surrounded by dozens of Boyd Grunts. In front of him,
with his legs on top of his desk, was a Boyd Leader, dressed in a tuxedo and calmly
eating donuts.
"Oh, I'm sorry. We arrived to the party early, and decided to help ourselves to your
fine hospitality. This is the last box of donuts in the building. Want one?"
The Boyd Leader held out the donut, only to pull it away at the last moment from
Dalton's slobbering mouth, and calmly ate it.
When the last donut had been reduced to crumbs, and Dalton to tears, at the sight
of all his precious donuts being eaten by these uncouth savages, the Boyd Leader
stood up, and grabbing Dalton's head with his hands, began to speak.
"Where are the Golden Star Destroyer Awards, Mister Anders......errr, I mean, Mister Dalton?"
"Fuck if I know," replied Dalton, as he tried rocking back and forth on his chair to try and knock
it over and break it, allowing him to get free.
"Hahah, try all you want, Mister Dalton, We have been very *thorough* in securing your person."
"No you haven't, Boyds." With that, Dalton began to concentrate.
"Hey, wait a minute! Did you secure his asshole?" shouted the Boyd Leader.
"Uh, no, why?" replied a Grunt.
"YOU FOOLS, YOU'VE KILLED US AL-"
The Boyd Leader's last words were drowned out by a thunderous fart as Dalton let loose
with the contents of last nights dinner, two new york strip cheese steaks, with extra onions.
The methane gas quickly filled the headquarters, spread by the ventiliation system from
Dalton's office, suffocating all the Boyd clones who had seized the place.
Dalton however, was unaffected, and he took a perverse delight in his
own rectal scent. As he drew the gas deeply into his lungs he smiled.
The sweet smell of victory - It smelled like cheese steaks,
and it made him hungry. The aroma however, left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Fortunately, an unattended half-eaten glazed donut that remained on the table
remedied that.
Moments later, Kuja walked into the room, wearing a full NBC Biohazard suit,
carrying a plate filled with donuts.
"Greetings Sir, sorry about this mess, they overpowered us"
Dalton scowled and glared at Kuja.
"You know the price for failure, Kuja."
Kuja's face blanched.
"Sir, anything but that!"
"You knew the price when you signed up." With that, Dalton pushed
the button on his desk that opened up a hidden trapdoor that was located
directly below Kuja's designated servant position, causing him to be
sucked into the hidden machinery of the Headquarters with a girly
scream.
Six hours later, Dalton sat down at the table and took a bite out of the
latest batch of donuts fresh out of the oven.
"Mmm......Kujalicious."
The price of failure in Dalton's organization was to have your body
rendered into it's component fats, for use in Dalton's private stash
as a donut frying agent.
Taking a whiff, he looked down the hallways at the endless rows of Boyd-flavored
donuts stacked into individual dozen containers. It had taken the combat droids a
long time to drag the Boyd clones' bodies into the rendering machines,
but the result was well worth it - and it remedied the problem of
them eating all of his donuts in the first place.
Perhaps he could sell the extra surplus left over from restocking his shelves
on the market as Boylent Green....but first, there was a small matter to be taken
care of in Florida.
"Kuja Two, take a note."
The recently grown clone of the original Kuja nodded and pulled out a pad of
paper and a pencil.
"I want every Bottlenosed dolphin in the world found and hunted down, for my new
Flipper-flavored donut line I'll be launching next quarter."
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
- The Yosemite Bear
- Mostly Harmless Nutcase (Requiescat in Pace)
- Posts: 35211
- Joined: 2002-07-21 02:38am
- Location: Dave's Not Here Man
Meanwhile Micheal Moore was recovering from the injuries sustained at the academy awards, (AT least it wasn't an imperial walker) he thought shuddering as he recalled his battles with the american cult of fear in the Starwar's Galaxy, damn and people thought Crysler was anti-union....
Meanwhile O'Farrel was going hog wild through Los Angeles with the imperial walker. A low powered blast and the "Hollywood" sign was gone, deep inside the walker an army of drunk New Zealanders made a prepared to do some looting and pillaging they were still dressed in the LOTR Uruk-Hai and Starwars "Clonetrooper" gear. Suddenly the Walker shuddered and violently rocked, the NZ extras began throwing up. The walker had stepped on something very hard, that resisted the wieght rather then be crushed.
Darth fanboy looked out where he had parked his car. The white mustang was scratched, and the top was partially crushed, the tires had been blown out. looking around he saw a trail of flattened cars wondering why he didn't grab the platinum card....
LT Hitman and family were still enjoying thier dinner, as the main course had just arrived, the crowd of umployed actors had already stripped the body of the dead cameraman of everything of any value.
Meanwhile O'Farrel was going hog wild through Los Angeles with the imperial walker. A low powered blast and the "Hollywood" sign was gone, deep inside the walker an army of drunk New Zealanders made a prepared to do some looting and pillaging they were still dressed in the LOTR Uruk-Hai and Starwars "Clonetrooper" gear. Suddenly the Walker shuddered and violently rocked, the NZ extras began throwing up. The walker had stepped on something very hard, that resisted the wieght rather then be crushed.
Darth fanboy looked out where he had parked his car. The white mustang was scratched, and the top was partially crushed, the tires had been blown out. looking around he saw a trail of flattened cars wondering why he didn't grab the platinum card....
LT Hitman and family were still enjoying thier dinner, as the main course had just arrived, the crowd of umployed actors had already stripped the body of the dead cameraman of everything of any value.
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
- Dalton
- For Those About to Rock We Salute You
- Posts: 22637
- Joined: 2002-07-03 06:16pm
- Location: New York, the Fuck You State
- Contact:
Ceremony's been written. Now it just needs a going over and some additions.
To Absent Friends
"y = mx + bro" - Surlethe
"You try THAT shit again, kid, and I will mod you. I will
mod you so hard, you'll wish I were Dalton." - Lagmonster
May the way of the Hero lead to the Triforce.
- Singular Quartet
- Sith Marauder
- Posts: 3896
- Joined: 2002-07-04 05:33pm
- Location: This is sky. It is made of FUCKING and LIMIT.
- MKSheppard
- Ruthless Genocidal Warmonger
- Posts: 29842
- Joined: 2002-07-06 06:34pm
'Bout time...This is the second year in a row it's taken assholish pokingDalton wrote:Ceremony's been written. Now it just needs a going over and some additions.
from me to get the GSDAs done...last year it was me and WMA ranting,
this year, it was me and Fanboy..
*disappears*
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
- Dalton
- For Those About to Rock We Salute You
- Posts: 22637
- Joined: 2002-07-03 06:16pm
- Location: New York, the Fuck You State
- Contact:
Yeah, you're welcome.MKSheppard wrote:'Bout time...This is the second year in a row it's taken assholish poking
from me to get the GSDAs done...last year it was me and WMA ranting,
this year, it was me and Fanboy..
*disappears*
To Absent Friends
"y = mx + bro" - Surlethe
"You try THAT shit again, kid, and I will mod you. I will
mod you so hard, you'll wish I were Dalton." - Lagmonster
May the way of the Hero lead to the Triforce.
- MKSheppard
- Ruthless Genocidal Warmonger
- Posts: 29842
- Joined: 2002-07-06 06:34pm
Honestly, I think Stravo should write next years GSDA...I'm sure he can take time out from cranking out Starcrossed Chapter XCLVICI "Even more chapters ahead" to do the GSDAs. At least it'd be on time for 2004, unlike 2002 and 2003...Dalton wrote: Yeah, you're welcome.
*disappears again*
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
- Daltonator
- Reclusive Wanker
- Posts: 383
- Joined: 2003-03-23 03:10pm
- Location: Zelda fanboy heaven
- Contact:
*looks at Imperial Phoenix*MKSheppard wrote:Honestly, I think Stravo should write next years GSDA...I'm sure he can take time out from cranking out Starcrossed Chapter XCLVICI "Even more chapters ahead" to do the GSDAs. At least it'd be on time for 2004, unlike 2002 and 2003...
*disappears again*
JMS 4:22 |