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Chapter 1: Paranoia, Crime, Coincidence, Naivety and Vengeance

Inscribed on the inside cover of Maxwell Alder's Journal;Not Dated

If anything goes wrong, your name is Maxwell Alder, son of Irene and Oliver Alder both of whom died when you were at the age of ten. You were born 12/21/2077 and were raised in an orphanage after age ten. You used to be a doctor but are now a private eye. Your office should contain all you need to know about the tricks of the trade. Your office is located at 2100 Feuter Road. There is a widespread disease known simply as the Impotency Virus. As its name suggests it causes infertility in both males and females as well as memory loss under unknown conditions. For whatever reason you have experienced memory loss more than others, eight times to be exact, seven times as a child and once as an adult. Should your office be gone or something worse has happened rendering you unable to acquisition your job as a private eye you can trust the following people: Bill Tempur, Stacy Tempur, and Frank Raymond. Also regardless of the charm that the President's speeches seem to give off Feuter is a complete jerk.

Emerson's Café:10/27/2110

"So you actually write the President's speeches," Stanley was amazed. He had his eyes locked on Joseph's paper that he was waving around.
"Well, I've helped write a few of them. There's a whole committee of speech writers there," Joseph had finished his lunch a while ago and was only staying to gloat about his job.
"Wow. A whole committee just to write that douche's speeches? Seems unnecessary, it just makes him look like more of an arse."
"Arse? I'm in charge of making him look like a saint, which I do!"
"That's what I'm saying. It contradicts what he does and makes him look like a total hypocrite. Also, the arse thing is something I inherited it from my British dad."
"Aren't you and your dad buddy cops or something?" Stanley laughed.
"He used to be a cop. He quit because he hated my guts. Doesn't stop me from being one though," he flashed his badge nonchalantly, "Although I have to admit that the job is a bit slow. The gang hasn't been doing much lately so I've had to deal with lowly common criminals. I hate dealing with the scum. Speaking of which, you should do this job with me. I'm body guarding some rich dude with a huge house. The guy's paranoid of the Renegades attacking him, so he'll be locked up in his room the whole time."
"Yeah, sure," Joseph got up getting ready to leave, "Your turn to cover the bill dude."

Police Interrogation Room:10/24/2112

"Bill! Bill! Settle down or we're putting cuffs on you." Bill Tempur wasn't a very patient man and as a result was throwing his chair around a room with himself being the only one in it. A deep voice had been coming from the wall for ten minutes attempting to calm Bill down. Meanwhile, Bill had been yelling back similarly attempting to explain how he was innocent. Eventually it devolved into two people yelling with no rhyme or reason to their argument.
Bill sat back down in his chair and patiently waited for whatever they were going to say next. "You said you were innocent. If you're innocent then who murdered Frank Raymond?" Bill began shaking his head realizing how purely unbelievable his story would sound to the police.
" I know you won't believe me but... two men in black suits shot him down and then set me up." Bill laughed. There was a short silence when he heard the only door in the room unlock. A blonde crop strolled in and sat himself in the other chair. The cop shook Bill's hand and then introduced himself.
"Hello, my name is Terry Ratchman, my partner used to be Stanley Orkut before he was gunned down by a merciless gang we call the Renegades. I believe I know those two men in black suits and I'm going to help you prove your innocence."

North Meridian Hospital:11/03/2110

"We have to preserve his innocence Frank"
"Daniel you think I don't know that?! I can fix him, you just have to give me time."
"No there's no way that'll work. I'm doing the injection and there's nothing you can say or do about it to change my mind."
Nicholas had woken up on a hospital bed with no idea of what was going on. He was surrounded by devices which he had no knowledge of and was in a place he'd never been before, all of which were severely confusing for the child.
"Daniel I implore you to reconsider, he needs us to be there, when the time comes."
"No Frank you need him. Now back off so I can get this thing underway."
The doctor who Nicholas now knew as Daniel slid the hospital curtain back and entered his room. The doctor picked up a clipboard at the end of the bed and looked through the papers.
"Nicholas," the doctor walked to the side of the bed then crouched down to his level, "Recently you've done some bad things. Right now I'm going to inject you with this needle," he pulled out a large shot with a sickly green liquid filling it, "And all your worries will wash away, but I need you to promise me something first."
"What?" Nick was trying to recall what exactly it was that he had done but everything he could think of was shrouded in a certain fogginess.
"Nicholas, I'm going to need you to promise that you won't do bad again. We saved you this time but next time we aren't going to be here. Next time you are going to be alone, Nicholas." The statement made Nicholas suddenly afraid. He panicked only to realize he was strapped to the bed he was laying on.
"Daniel we don't have time, they're converging on our position," Nicholas still hadn't seen this Frank person but he seemed to be in an awful rush. The whole situation was starting to rub Nicholas the wrong way. The doctor got rid of the small air bubble in the shot making a tiny bit of the liquid squirt out. "Daniel! We have to go! Now!" The doctor stuck the needle in Nicholas's arm and injected.
Colors around him started to melt and swirl. He felt light, as if he was being set adrift on a feather across the ocean. The doctor's smile was the last thing to go along with Daniel's final sentiment.
"Tell Maxwell that I said hi."

?:10/24/2112

"Rebecca do you know a Maxwell Alder?"
"No, why?"
"He's been hosing around and I'm thinking about killing him off."
"Klaus you're always thinking about killing anybody but who I wanna kill."
"Rebecca, for the last time, Loretta is a necessity."
"Aren't I more of a necessity, though? Laura can't do anything!"
"She has attributes that are invaluable to me; end of story." Klaus slid a file forward on his desk indicating for her to pick it up. She crossed her arms and stayed where she was.
"I want you to choose, right here and now."
"Choose what Rebecca? This isn't a popularity contest for God's sake."
"You know this isn't about your approval."
"If that's not what it's about then why are you asking me? Why not just do it?"
"I need to know you won't hurt my husband as compensation or something."
"Fine."
"I can do it!?"
"Find and kill Maxwell Alder first, then do as you wish." She felt overjoyed as she grabbed the file on the other side of Klaus's desk.

Imagine the most beautiful body you can think of, any body you want male or female, except it has the head of a dog (from the neck up same size as a human head). Would you have sex with it? The body is willing btw.

You can put a bag over its head but it will whimper at least once every minute to remind you that you're fucking someone with a dog head.

This question should be easy for furries but difficult for others.

Personally, I would

It's a TOUCHING story, hawhawhawhaw

At 9/9/11 05:19 PM, RacistBassist wrote:

At 9/9/11 05:16 PM, Iamsofuckingcool wrote:

At 9/9/11 05:08 PM, RacistBassist wrote:

At 9/9/11 04:38 PM, Iamsofuckingcool wrote: whatever, he's fucking awful and you ALL know it.

As evident by his meager career.

EXACTLY!

It's just mainstream readers BULLSHIT!

Wait, are you suggesting that a niche minority has more authority on what is considered to be good then a much larger group?

Critics generally do. Not that I think King is a bad writer, I haven't read any of his work so I don't have any authority on the subject.

"Bob you should put a metaphor at the end of your puff piece"

"Pfftchppthphcphtphp"

"What's so funny Bob?"

"Nothing just watch my piece later lol"

Being themselves

I find this incredibly hard to believe

Every single one of you

Dickneck

Buy a man slave and then shit all over his hand and tell him to wipe it on the nearest old asian lady, likely this will lead your man slave to be covered in rice bags and onions which you will then use to make onion fried rice, an uncommon dish native to those in Portugal, after making said rice take it and throw it all over orphan's faces and as they grovel in the dirt attempting to eat the delicacy take your man slave and beat them to death with his cock, unfortunately cleaning up of the cum will be necessary, take the rest of your money and use it to wipe up the splooged orphanarium or whatever the hell they call 'em these days and then throw the money at a nearby hot dog vendor.

Then you watch a hot dog vendor get his hands all sticky lulz

At 8/4/11 04:21 AM, Piggler wrote:

At 8/4/11 04:20 AM, Jackdabomb wrote: I was asleep until you started talking to me arsehole

Sorry...want me to tuck you back in?

Okay... but make sure to get me a warm glass of milk

I was asleep until you started talking to me arsehole

At 7/31/11 12:06 AM, wuggums47 wrote: Source please?

I will not trust this without a link to a respected medical journal.

Here's a youtube video from a respected doctor in the field explaining the phenomenon.

And now come the new strain of wannabe bronies as well as the former bronies evolving into hipster bronies

You're posting a thread to the Newgrounds forums. What's the topic?

That when you have to poop bad you can just rub your balls and then you won't have to poop anymore. My constipation is living proof of this.

Oh my god this is what I've been trying to say, porn should totally be illegal

How would it go?

"Ca coo ca coo"

nngmm I'm just a birdie too

At 7/30/11 03:00 AM, zag wrote:

At 7/30/11 02:51 AM, Jackdabomb wrote:

At 7/30/11 02:34 AM, zag wrote:

At 7/30/11 02:31 AM, Jackdabomb wrote: I had bubble tea once, that was pretty good. I can only drink any other tea if I have a shit ton of sugar.

what kind of bubble tea was it?

Green tea bubble tea.

just green tea? what was it sweetened with, if anything?

I meant bubble tea with the flavor being green tea. I don't know how they sweeten the thing.

Gentlemen, from this day forward you will all refer to me by the name betty

It takes me 400,000 laxatives to shit for... twelve seconds

At 7/30/11 02:34 AM, zag wrote:

At 7/30/11 02:31 AM, Jackdabomb wrote: I had bubble tea once, that was pretty good. I can only drink any other tea if I have a shit ton of sugar.

what kind of bubble tea was it?

Green tea bubble tea.

OH SHIT... brb got some stuff to do

If I force them to does it still count?

when you cross an owl with a bungee cord?

...

My ass.

The book reads like a book in the Bible, simplistic but the way it uses certain words can cause people to look into it for a deeper meaning. No doubt children will have to read this in schools ten years from now and figure out what the tarp was a metaphor for.

I had bubble tea once, that was pretty good. I can only drink any other tea if I have a shit ton of sugar.

At 7/30/11 02:22 AM, Whysomangry wrote: I refuse to go bi

It's not a choice, boy, you're a bisexual and that's final.

Ctrl+F "Jackdabomb"

I guess that means no one

You pay to society and in turn society builds a nice little safe bubble around you, it is often penetrated and it isn't the most ideal of abodes. You think you are providing for yourself but in reality you're suckling at the teet of society like everyone else. Society has been established and built up over the years by contributing members. What I'm getting at is that for everything around you society has given to you either directly through you working at a job or indirectly through your parents. Now you may note that you worked for those things, true, but that's only because the system exists where you put in one thing and receive even more from the other. Society was built so that you often get more than you deserve and in a way you are very much in debt to society. If you think you're getting less than you deserve than the only way to fix that is build an even better society but you won't do that because you're too not willing to put that much effort. A lot of work used to mean that over time you would ground yourself and get satisfaction. Nowadays a little bit of work means instant satisfaction which to you is not all that satisfying so you demand more and more of the euphoric milk of which you feast upon. You shouldn't be proud of your uselessness. In fact you should be damned ashamed because not only are you being a douchebag for that but you are also being a little bitch for complaining. Get the fuck out of my gene pool you narcissistic ass.

Welp, that's just my opinion.