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-   -   Write a paragraph (http://i-mockery.com/forum/showthread.php?t=69704427)

Tadao Mar 26th, 2010 02:10 AM

Write a paragraph
 
Object is to try to tell a whole story in one paragraph.

Tadao Mar 26th, 2010 02:11 AM

I held my breath until the door closed. It was just after Noon and already I wanted to lock up and get a drink. The shop is never busy and the only people who come in are guaranteed to be sad and angry. The customer who just left needed to renew five licenses on her children, she only had enough credit for three. Now I have to send a notice to (*************) to cover my ass. I can't ever let my guard down after Tom was caught showing pity on a quality service agent. Fuck it, only fools use my services anymore and I can't deal with another one.

Grislygus Mar 26th, 2010 02:39 AM

"Is itsum the puppies? Yes, itsum da puppies! DAAAAAW, is oo da cutest widdle itt bitty guy? HUUUUUUUUH? Yes it is! YES IT IS! *gasp* Is this bacon? Is this some BACON that mommy's got? HUH? Does mommy have some BACON on her plate? DAAAAW, DOES THE BACON TASTE GOOD TO THE PUPPIES? HUH? Are we gonna go now? HUH? Izz we gonna pay the check and leave the restaurant patio and GO HOME? Huh? HOME? *Gasp!* DOES THE PUPPIES WANNA GO HOME? Does it? Is itsum duh puppies?"


"GODDAMNIT LADY, SHUT THE FUCK UP"

Tadao Mar 26th, 2010 02:48 AM

I can actually smell the bacon. GOOD JOB!

Zhukov Mar 28th, 2010 04:53 AM

I could still see her through the front window, her bent over arse obscuring the rest of the street. She couldn't hear me but I could hear her, and her crying kids. Soon enough she would be the one crying when they took her kids away, and as hard as I am to bribe, Agents are a lot tougher.

King Hadas Mar 29th, 2010 09:51 PM

It has been experimenting. Instead of referring to itself as I or me, it has been calling itself it in an attempt to deflate it's bloated ego. It hasn't been easy for it. In sentences it thinks it often mistakes itself for common inanimate objects such as "it," as in talcum powder or "it," as in a bottle of mustard. This can be troublesome since when mistaking itself for "it," as in a bottle of mustard, it takes on a bottles of mustard's most salient feature, that is of course it's inability to feel human remorse. Poor Mr. Wilkins, what happened to you was unfortunate but don't worry, It'll be sure to take real good care of Mrs. Wilkins. Mwa ha ha ha

Esuohlim Mar 29th, 2010 10:28 PM

The ship was mistakenly asserted to be unsinkable.

Zhukov Mar 30th, 2010 01:24 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by King Hadas (Post 678802)
It has been experimenting. Instead of referring to itself as I or me, it has been calling itself it in an attempt to deflate it's bloated ego. It hasn't been easy for it. In sentences it thinks it often mistakes itself for common inanimate objects such as "it," as in talcum powder or "it," as in a bottle of mustard. This can be troublesome since when mistaking itself for "it," as in a bottle of mustard, it takes on a bottles of mustard's most salient feature, that is of course it's inability to feel human remorse. Poor Mr. Wilkins, what happened to you was unfortunate but don't worry, It'll be sure to take real good care of Mrs. Wilkins. Mwa ha ha ha

That's awesome.

Sacks Mar 31st, 2010 06:35 AM

It was then I spotted you through the razorwire while milling around the fence separating the men and women. I'd come accustomed to taking some wild falls in my time, what with having my plane shot down twice now in battle. Though the sensation of falling half a mile while burning alive seems a bit humdrum compared to what I'm feeling just looking at you. Cold, damp, and stark naked standing by the women's showers covered in delousing powder. You are truly an angel.

ZeldaQueen Apr 4th, 2010 01:08 PM

He knew the Earth was sinking. Every day it went a little lower, dipping into the pan of space like a ping pong ball in a swimming pool. Soon they would be too far away from the sun - heat, life, warmth, health, sucked away forever. They would be frozen and dead forever, miserable forever. Half of the internet said it was true. The rest called him a lunatic. When both sides verify the story, which one is true?

Zhukov Apr 5th, 2010 11:03 AM

I remember hearing their sounds for the first time and being utterly puzzled. It was strange. It sounded like I wasn't hearing anything important, yet I wanted to listen. Of course, later on we were told how beautiful their music and speech was, and I suppose it was, but when I first heard it I think I expected more. It was, and still mostly is, a lot of what might be described as oceanic music. Sort of 'wavy'. This music is interupted with what we came to call their speech, rougher than an average males voice, but seemed to flow like Mongolian throat chanting. It wasn't unpleasant, and many people fell in love with it, but it wasn't any more spectacular than a human in the street asking for the time. You could easily make their sounds with your own tongue.

Wiffles Apr 6th, 2010 05:28 AM

The stench of death lingered over the village like an ethereal cloak. The sun hardly peaks over the horizon anymore. Klara, the woodworker's daughter looked across the hazy field. Faint glows from a pyre can be seen from a distance. The villagers were setting ablaze carcasses of people and beasts that have succumed to the blight. Her brother is supposed to be on "cremation" duty today. The yearning can be clearly seen from her face as she wished his safe return. The faint glimmer of hope that could be seen from her eyes suddenly dissipated as rough coughs are heard from the adjacent room. "Father has been like this for a few days now". As she readied the hot water and towel she couldnt help but notice blood oozing from the nostrils and mouth of her father as he fought for every breath. She hugged him crying. Droplets of red stained the bed furthermore, as she looked for the source, she realized that the drops of blood were her own tears. "Dear God, what is happening to us???."

King Hadas Apr 19th, 2010 05:12 PM

"You're a cheap whore you know that." Albert Greengrumbles own outburst gave him pause. Why? Why did he feel the need to emasculate his video game console? Certainly the game he was playing was cheating, but still. God he hoped no one had heard him, but even then his grandmother sat in the adjacent room shaking her head. "What's wrong with that boy?" She wondered, "Over a video game. It just ain't... it, umm, what? Wait a minute, that's not right." Her thoughts trailed off as she stared at the piece of paper laid out in front of her. Her face had puckered up in perplexity, then, ferocity! She rose and with the fury of a thousand ancestral madmen she roared, "Sudoku is for fags!"

Zhukov Apr 20th, 2010 05:17 AM

I'm pretty impressed with everyones abilities.

Wiffles Aug 12th, 2010 02:42 PM

Cold empty darkness. This has been my panorama for the past billion years or so. Have I been alive this long? It could be just a nightmare with no end in sight. You see, I can't die. I would love to. It would be pure liberation from this curse if I suddenly died. Why was I born indestructible? Am I a god? 2014 was the day my ordeal began, the day I came to this world. I grew up in a normal city with a loving family, married, raised a ton of kids generations apart. I somehow stayed the same. I cant die, grow old or get injured. I look 30, not bad for someone billions of years old. It was fun for the first few hundred years then family and friends started dying. It was ok. Id move on and find new friends and family to love. Ive kept on with that for a few thousand years, even helped alot of people in the process. It kinda went downhill when humanity started dying out. A series of calamities hit. Plagues, famine and wars over the limited resources. For thousands of years the earth was barren. People reduced to scavenging and cannibalism. Even they died out. The seas dried up. The sun eventually shone its last rays. The earth by now was long gone reduced to ashes and dust, torn apart by its star's demise. The bright starlit sky long gone. Exhausted all their gases long ago. Somehow Im still here. Im sure Ive already gone insane countless times. Ive got no one for so long. Endlessly drifting and tumbling along in space. Id sometimes hold imaginary parties if I encountered space debris every thousand years or so. I even married some rocks. What irks me to this day is, I still dont know my purpose. I want to die, but gave up hope dying long ago.

captain516 Sep 11th, 2010 12:46 PM

The curtain lifts, and we go into action again. It's funny, I don't get that feeling in my throat right before it happens anymore. The people in the audience have become invisible to me. Maybe it's in light of what happened. I don't know how Joe feels, but I bet he's the same. As for the new guy..fuck what he thinks. He's just here so that the public doesn't suspect anything's wrong. It's not his fault he's preforming with us right now, and he certainly had nothing to do with "the accident. Still, I hate him already. Richard insisted we continue the show, and knowing him, he'll force us to continue preforming with this kid. These costumes make us all look the same, so no will ever guess. To his credit though, Richard kept his head and managed to find a third guy before intermission ended.

Shadowdancer21b Sep 11th, 2010 11:30 PM

He knelt in the cool earth, his breath shaky and fogging in the air before him. His hands are steady as he brushes the loose earth away. There! A dull glint in the early dawn light. The mine's fuse was loose, and easy to remove. "Amateurs have no place in the demo game." he grunted to himself before digging it free. He barely had time to see the pressure prong as earth slipped free.
BOOM!

wizbenny Sep 12th, 2010 10:59 PM

He sat at his computer, reading a request to write a one paragraph story on one of the forums he visits often. As a professional writer, he thinks to himself that he can really do something to knock everyone's socks off. Then he realizes that he won't be paid for his efforts and decides to go watch some Internet porn instead.

Sacks Sep 16th, 2010 07:09 AM

..the place smelled like licorice and Walnettos, but the sweets had gone stale. I was sweating bullets as I walked into the kitchen. She'd got the drop on me, all 2 barrels of it. I pulled my rod ducked behind the avocado refrigerator. "So this is it" I thought, "It's me or GramGrams."

Pentegarn Sep 17th, 2010 06:54 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by wizbenny (Post 697911)
He sat at his computer, reading a request to write a one paragraph story on one of the forums he visits often. As a professional writer, he thinks to himself that he can really do something to knock everyone's socks off. Then he realizes that he won't be paid for his efforts and decides to go watch some Internet porn instead.

Well I'm hooked.

Tell us more about this porn of which you speak

Blasted Child Sep 17th, 2010 08:24 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by wizbenny (Post 697911)
He sat at his computer, reading a request to write a one paragraph story on one of the forums he visits often. As a professional writer, he thinks to himself that he can really do something to knock everyone's socks off. Then he realizes that he won't be paid for his efforts and decides to go watch some Internet porn instead.

You get paid for watching porn?

wizbenny Sep 17th, 2010 01:16 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Blasted Child (Post 698303)
You get paid for watching porn?

If only... to live in such a world...

King Hadas Oct 27th, 2010 07:56 PM

The man wanted his mail fast! Express. Expedient. Over-Night Delivery! No worries, I'd developed the fastest mail around. Font-size number one, printed in braille across the side of a 9mm bullet. He begged me for snail mail then. "Shut up," I said, "and pay attention because...the mail always goes through."

King Hadas Oct 27th, 2010 08:30 PM

My thighs are thick like fire hoses engorged with the blood of tigers. These tight shorts keep them well seen. My leisurely strut only makes their dynamism even more disconcerting. I could easily overtake my target and fuck it full of mail, but it's a nice day. No hurry.

King Hadas Oct 27th, 2010 08:34 PM

Whirling winds of 120 mph tore out all of the mailboxes on my route. An inverted drill custom built by that mad bitch mother nature sang in the distance. I could see them, spinning in that cyclone like black hammers flailing ludicrously to fulfill postal services obviously out of order. "Through rain or sleet," I said, jaws clenched.


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