Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

I'm sure we have plenty of other interesting stuff to talk about, but I would much rather discuss the following...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J2SLd854S HU&feature=related

Chapter 2

I awaken in a cold sweat from my nightmare and gasp; my lungs burn, pleading for mercy at the sight I just witnessed. In my dream I had some trash to throw away, but I was all out of garbage bags. I shiver at the thought; me, being all out of garbage bags is worse than a terrible punishment.

I check the time on both of my watches, they say it's 2:43 AM. I'm already up, so I might as well stay up and do something productive. It's a good thing I don't have work today as I would have been very cranky otherwise.

I sit down at my perfectly organized computer desk. Not a spot is to be found on my desk nor on my computer; filth is for the ungodly.

Sighing at my desk, I wonder what's left for me in life. I'm a normal guy, with normal wants and normal desires, you know? I live at my average house, at an average job, next to average neighbors. Sure I have a bit of OCD, and have done some extreme things, but who hasn't?

Of course, I'm lonely. I've been lonely ever since I ran away at the age of twelve. I take another breath, considering what must be done. I haven't been with the guild ever since... well I moved into this house. But they're the only ones that can help me, at this time I have little choice.

Approaching a metal door, I look in both directions. It's pointless because the location is so secluded even I feel safe, but I have to do it. I use the key I haven't used in so long, and the door creaks open.

A long, dark hallway leads me to a well-lit room full of people in black robes similar to the ones the KKK wore. Everyone turned to me, mutters circulated, whispers of "general" and "the madman" filled the room. I looked in disgust as a person in a white uniform pasted me. The guild's philosophy was "Hate above all things." It was all part of a plan to fulfill our dread father's political agenda. In order to do this, he collected the most disgusting and psychopathic individuals on the face of the planet into one location... here.

It didn't take long for me to run into someone who knew me. He was a white man, without a full uniform. The higher in rank you were the more the lack of a uniform in the guild was required.

"It's good to see you sir! I thought you were gone for good!" he held his hand out to shake. I didn't give it to him, I know if I did, my arm would be broken in every possible place.

"It's good to see you too," I pat his shoulder instead and passed him. He followed close behind me, asking me how I was doing, telling me how he was doing, stepping on cracks as we were walking. Eventually he asked me what I was doing back.

"I've come to see the dread father," I replied casually.

"He's gone at the moment, what do you need him for?"

"I want to find and kill my biological father."

To whom it may concern,

I'm sorry you're adopted.

Sincerely,
Man who totally doesn't burn orphans on the weekends

I would save Jesus then give him the revolver, I wonder what he'd do with it.

At 2/23/10 07:30 AM, TrevorW wrote:

I personally feel that a sex scene can either be informatively deep and progressive or not, it doesn't matter so long as the right approach is taken for that story. After all sex is a major part of life and we wouldn't be doing life justice if we ignored it. However, I also do not feel a liking towards the over explicit smut...in a creative sense. In fact I would suggest that the sex scene never be pointless; but if not deep, at least purposeful.

I'm choosing to respond to this, because you are 100% correct here. The only exception is if you're writing porn, sex scenes in themselves show character development, move a plot, and most importantly engage the reader. But one must always remember that it isn't always necessary. One can always insinuate that people are having sex (like the show Two and a Half Men) but if you have a story like the one I'm writing (Tale of the Rapist Hunter) these scenes are extremely relevant. This is an interesting topic and when I have more time I might go through more of it.

At 2/15/10 09:15 AM, TheUnwisePoet wrote: Guys, I want to learn to play a music, I want something aggressive and heavy, but nothing too fast because I am just a begginer, what do you recommend?

For Whom the Bell Tolls by Metallica.

Would anyone suggest buying a fretless guitar? And if so why?

I've been a bit more angry than usual, happens from time to time. However I still think your comment was a little less than innocent.

Chapter 1

I wake up to the sound of birds chirping and the sight of sunshine bursting into my room. I feel great and ready to start the day! I throw my covers off, exposing my naked body to the breeze of my open door. No one can see my brown complexion through the window as it was on the second level of the house. Plus, no one else was out and about. I walked closer to the window and stretched; allowing myself to groan in delight, I smiled and put on a simple tee-shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Hey good lookin', whatcha got cookin'?" I said to the bathroom mirror. Brushing my teeth only took a couple of minutes, but putting everything back into place the way it was took ten minutes. I check my watch on my right wrist, then the one on my left. Both of them say it is 8:00 AM.

"Right on time!" I blurt out. It was time for me to go to work at my favorite job, manning the cashier at a liquor store. I dash out to my car with a bounce in my step and joy in my heart, a new day means a new opportunity to do a service for others!

As I stood waiting for a customer, he brought up a six pack of beer. I rang it up and sent it through.

"Have a nice day," I say to the man.

"You too," he replies in a way that reminded me of my father. I shivered. My father was a rapist.

I remember when I was seven and he raped my mother in front of me. They never married each other and it wasn't the first time he did it in front of me either, just the first time I remember in full detail. She begged him not to, pleaded while trying to appeal to his better nature, a nature I'm convinced people like him don't have.

He took out his hard cock, I still remember what he said to me, "pay attention son, this is how you please a woman," he ripped her dress open and tore off her panties, throwing them into the corner. I looked away, and then he smacked my mother.

"Every time you look away, I'll hit your mother harder," She was screaming for him to stop, but that just spurred him to slam into her harder. I remember my mothers tears...

The customer left, I greeted the next customer with a smile...

In the recesses of my mind my father was hurting my mother, my poor mother, groping her breast and sucking the other one intensely. She yelped in pain and by now my father was annoyed. I was sobbing but didn't look away.

"That will be ten eighty-seven."

Fed up with her groans of pain, he forced his dick into her mouth; this caused her to gag. He took her head and shoved himself further into her. Then my father said something in Spanish I don't understand. She was quiet now, tears fell down her soft cheeks.

"Are you watching son?" questioned my father. I mumbled something I can't remember back. Not too long after, he came into her mouth and forced her to swallow. He didn't let her eat that night either, saying she should be full.

"Have a nice day!" I say with a wide open grin.

"You too!" answered the female customer back.

At the end of the work day, I knew what had to be done.

At 2/7/10 11:36 AM, PolishMatt wrote:

At 2/6/10 08:06 PM, zbox101 wrote: That analogy failed beyond belief. Everything I see said from you is now officially discredited in my eyes.

It only failed because you don't have a sufficient amount of neuron connections in your prefrontal cortex to make sense of such a statement. Study some history about Hendrix and WW2, grab a bite, take a walk outside and come back here when you're ready to converse like a normal being.

My knowledge of WW 2 is extensive, go jump off a cliff you mindless waste of time. And against my better judgment, I suggest you research WHERE the neurons would have to actually connect to get the reference, dumb ass.

Prologue

Hiding in the dark seclusion of my secured household I think to myself out of all the things in the world the worst must be laundry.

"I hate you," I say as I stare down at a pile of dirty clothes piled up from weeks of procrastination. My utter contempt for it simply could not be put into words, but I knew what had to be done. Of course, then again I could always but it off longer and say I did it.

"But what will I wear?!" This was serious business. If I can't find something to wear, everyone at the corner markets and food stands will think I'm unfashionable. Unacceptable.

Eventually I decide it's for the best and it only needs done once in a while. Even then I considered just buying new clothes but that would be materialistic of me, and I'm low on cash. Sorting the clothes is the worst; you see I can't just separate my whites, I need to separate every color. Yellows, greens, purples, blues, reds... I can't do it any other way. It has to be like this.

Now on to vacuuming. Oh how I loathe vacuuming. Every single line left on the floor must be perfectly parallel or there will be hell to pay. And when the vacuum gets jammed I go ballistic. It just so happens today it did jam, and I didn't feel like breaking my vacuum cleaner.

"For fuck's sake!" I shout in my aggravation, anger positively spewing out of the pores of my skin. I take a few breaths, and think to myself it's ok, I will calm my nerves with a little, R and R.

I open the door to my basement and flip the light switch to the right. A white light flickers on to illuminate an unkempt room and stairway made of concrete. It's drafty and in my opinion, cozy.

As I descend to the blackened neither realm of my mind, I mean the basement stairs, a tarp comes into my visual range. It spans almost the entire floor and has a lone wooden char on top of it. In that chair was my R and R.

"Hello there," I say with a mock tone in my voice, "my, my, my, don't you just look... adorable."

The man squirmed and made muffled noises through his gag. I undid his blindfold so he could see my smiling face.

"Shh," I put my finger to his lips, "we're going to have a little fun," his eyes widened in fear and he struggled as best as he could against his restraints. I took off my shirt and put it on the stairs. Afterward I commenced rubbing my nipples.

"They're sooooo hard," I say as I cut some of the hair off of them with a six inch knife I produced from my pocket, "oooooh yeah."

I get really close to him and lick the back of his neck. While he's writhing I slice his right shoulder. Laughing, I move down to his tied arm and cut off one of his fingers.

"Mmm... tasty," I start using his finger to rub my left nipple, then my right. After I start pleasuring myself in front of him. There's nothing greater than showing a rapist what they do to people, and the blood... oh the blood just telling you about it makes me want to cum. But I digress.

At the apex of my sexual release, I wipe my desecrated hand all over his face. I stop at the eyeballs and slowly pluck out one of them. After I proceed to shove it into his mouth, "taste it bitch, swallow! Tell me how it taste!"
From the outside, there is no one to hear his muffled screa

At 2/6/10 11:59 AM, PolishMatt wrote:

At 2/5/10 10:16 AM, zbox101 wrote: Why is he so influential to so many people?

That's like asking why there aren't any Jewish people living in Berlin.

That analogy failed beyond belief. Everything I see said from you is now officially discredited in my eyes.

At 2/5/10 09:39 PM, RWT wrote:

At 2/5/10 09:22 PM, zbox101 wrote: Analysis:

Visceral reaction rating: 7/ 10

Common logic flow: low

Grammatical errors: Moderate in amount

Diction: Poorly chosen.

Interpretation of others' words: Poor

Initial helpfulness: Moderate

Post helpfulness: None, but entertaining.

You know what, it's 9:25, I'm stuck on my sudoku, and this thread is going to be at the top of the forum when I log on in the morning even if I don't post.

Dude, we're happy to review anything. Review, not edit. If you aren't going to put any effort into something, don't ask for critiques. Slapping down something off the top of your head isn't in itself a dickish move. Asking for critiques and replying 'Yeah, well, I didn't put any time into it. What do you expect?' That's being an arse. You don't want to hear that your attempt at rhyming sucked. What the hell do you want to hear then?

We aren't here to give you empty praise. If you want us to tell you what's wrong with your writing, we will. He zeroed in on your main issue; the effing rhyme scheme was poorly done. As a result, the poem didn't work. That's not a personal insult; that's candid criticism, and it's what you need to become a better writer.

You got defensive, and said that the flaws are negligible, because you didn't really work on it. He took time to review it, and you dismissed him. That's a dickish move. Trevor has shit to do, as do all commentators on this forum. Unless outright trolling, which he was far from doing, people who take the time and effort to review your crap ought to be treated with respect. They're doing you a favor by reading your stuff. Please keep that in mind in the future.

End Rant.

-~RWT~-

Interesting rant. I do believe I thanked him for the critique and never insulted him in any way. The closest I got was tearing down his response to my gratitude. If you want to say something I did sucks, ok. It isn't that big of a deal; honestly I think you two are more offended than I am.

Praise isn't something I'm interested in, if I wanted that I would have shown it to my friends who know nothing about poetry.

I said the flaws were negligible because it wasn't my goal, it just sort of happened.

And what you call a dickish move I call a matter of courtesy, of course he would prefer I keep it to myself. But that does show to some extent hypocrisy within his own writing.

I would thank you again, but if you qualify my works as crap, I qualify anything you have to say as crap, and will treat it as such.

At 2/5/10 09:18 PM, TrevorW wrote:

At 2/5/10 09:09 PM, zbox101 wrote:

Hmm, never been complimented on cadence before. Interesting. Anyway I wrote this in less than five minutes, and I got exactly what I wanted. As it turns out I wanted to see how many errors people would spot and the content of their reviews. I didn't really mean to make it rhyme however, it just ended up that way. Thank you both for your critiques.

And you will not be reviewed by me again. That bit there is just rude -- if it is the case keep it to yourself. If your going to assume we as a community are stupid and lazy I am going to assume that nothing you write is worth me reading.

Good day yo you.

Analysis:

Visceral reaction rating: 7/ 10

Common logic flow: low

Grammatical errors: Moderate in amount

Diction: Poorly chosen.

Interpretation of others' words: Poor

Initial helpfulness: Moderate

Post helpfulness: None, but entertaining.

At 2/5/10 08:55 PM, RWT wrote:

At 2/5/10 08:46 PM, zbox101 wrote: The point wasn't to make it rhyme, but thank you for your critique.

Here's what we're saying: If you have a rhyme, you'd better stick to it. Even if the rhyme isn't the focus, if it's there, it had better damn well work. A poorly imposed rhyme detracts from the poem. For this, for any poem, you need to really work to make sure the rhyme is perfect. Or, as I would suggest, just scrap the rhyme altogether. You have great cadence, and I think you could write something great in free verse.

-~RWT~-

Hmm, never been complimented on cadence before. Interesting. Anyway I wrote this in less than five minutes, and I got exactly what I wanted. As it turns out I wanted to see how many errors people would spot and the content of their reviews. I didn't really mean to make it rhyme however, it just ended up that way. Thank you both for your critiques.

The point wasn't to make it rhyme, but thank you for your critique.

Dearly Departed

Fire in thy lover's heart
I never could confess
To love when so far apart
The hardest of all test

Crumbling under all the stress
Keeping to my creed
Wishing for a moment of rest
It's my soul to feed

Winter on his gallant steed
Crashes through the earth
He had come to do a deed
That undid my birth

The only thing I regret
The only thing I wanted
Was for you to love me yet
We were always parted.

At 2/5/10 01:44 AM, ChocloMan wrote:

At 2/3/10 08:35 PM, ToastedCupcake wrote:
I'd rather see Hendrix play with his hands than his teeth any day.

Of course, me too, but that doesn't mean that Hendrix playing with his teeth didn't make a lasting impression on, you know, pop culture or whatever

I recognize Hendrix as a great guitarist, but for some reason I never really liked his music. Why is he so influential to so many people?

At 2/4/10 10:32 PM, Lost-Thought wrote:

At 2/4/10 10:02 PM, zbox101 wrote: So... anyone done anything lately? Like shows and whatnot?

my band is playing a show with a couple other bands at a bar tomorrow

Sweet. Hope it works out for you!

So... anyone done anything lately? Like shows and whatnot?

To be honest, Steve Vai and William Murderface are both freaks. However the tongue IS the strongest muscle in the body...

Oh yeah, congratulations on the amp.

At 1/30/10 10:31 PM, TheSporkLord wrote: So I've been practicing two new things, playing behind my head and playing with my teeth. So far playing behind my head has been easy enough and I've actually gotten slightly better at playing with my teeth.

Why would you want to play with your teeth? 0.o

You made multiple spelling errors, convention errors, and grammatical errors. Also, you're story has quite a bit of ADD in it; that is to say you seem to have trouble staying on topic and appreciate the metaphoric over the literal, which is harder to convey in a story.

I personally found it boring. I didn't care too much for it and I found it a bit cliché, as well as lengthy over impactful.

Your story, needs a back story. Too much is missing from this and I personally don't care about the boy's death, nothing absurd is happening to him, nothing about him is something I care about, the only thing you have going for you is that he is a boy of some unidentified young age.

The only round character you have is the main character, and he himself is static.

Not too sure about how things go on now, but I haven't read through all of the 417 pages.

As for the first page information, I don't know how long I've played, I have multiple guitars, and I don't have a favorite band. I do however have something to share...

0--2--3--0--3--5--0--5--7--0--7--8--0--8 --10--0--10--12--0--12--14--0--14--15--0 --15--17--0--17--19--0--19--21--0--21--2 2--22^

Standard tunning, it sounds good on just about any string or guitar.

Thank you very much for your review. I really wrote this in five minutes and the title is just a fancy way of saying, "my quick write." I was indeed aiming for an ironic overtone but I couldn't resist making him a bit bipolar. If you look at it more closely, you will see grammatical errors and the such, but I didn't edit it. Thank you again!

It was a Tuesday evening and had gone just swell, the air tasted a bit crisp with a hint of stale but that was alright. In the suburb was a hub of activity that absolutely reeked of tension and energy; I simply had to see what was going on. In the center of the large crowd of people was a band of punk rockers playing their instruments quite poorly, showing off their cuts and pathetic garbs they called clothes in which had holes in them and shitty logos no one really cares about.

Something had to be done. But what? I thought to myself quickly that this abomination was a disgrace to all things metal (as punk generally is) and it just can't be excepted. So I ran up to the lead guitarist and took his guitar away; this as you can imagine caused quite a stir amongst the crowd.

I smashed that mother fucker in the face until it stopped being funny, and it didn't for quite some time. When the security guards tried to beat me with their nightsticks, I caught them and twisted in a circular motion which effectively disarmed them. I then adjusted to use them as tonfas and ripped the face off of the nearest guard with a single downward stroke.

I left the first one on the ground screaming for his mother and forward rolled over him. I speared the next guard in the gut with both tonfas, and followed up with a quick disembowelment. The blood gushed onto the face of a nearby girl and caused the crowd to disorganize in a chaotic fashion.... But I wasn't nearby done.

I sailed through the air and came crashing down upon the drummer that can only cause a continuous stream of incoherent noise. While doing so I took up a cymbal and threw it at him, I thought it would slice his neck off but this only caused him to suffocate. Pity. By now the singer and bassist split up, so I decided to go for the bassist because everyone knows that his life must suck the most, as even in good music the bassist goes unheard and only prevents the rhythm guitar from sounding craptacular.

He didn't get far before I managed to strangle him with his own bass strings. True they were thicker, but this caused his blood to ooze out like the blood from his cuts. While he was still living I decided to lick the blood from his neck and then I licked his eyeballs. The gurgling noises he made were so cute! I could write about them all day... but I digress.

Now the hunt is on for that vocalist, I will find him and I will make him pay for his emo bullshit, on this I swear.

At 7/13/09 03:41 AM, Robotchk12 wrote: Have you ever noticed that, in Gears of War multiplayer, when you play as a Grenadier, your secondary weapon magically hangs off your back?
Do you think Billy Mays ever went to Sera?!

With Billy Mays, anything is possible, however even though I didn't read the books, I'm pretty sure Sera is Earth, but whatever. Anyway, when you play as any character, take Skorge for example, there is no real reason the weapons hang. And even if there looks like one, all of the characters put away and take out their weapons far too quickly for it to be anything else but magnetic. I think magnetic vest would be revolutionary.

Well I was watching TV, I know big surprise, and I saw an advertisement as done by Billy Mays. At first I didn't take too much notice, but then I saw what was being advertised, a magnetic band that can hold tools greatly reducing work.

The tool bandit itself is a way to organize your tools and keep them close to you at the same time. However, as this commercial went on, it described how it works. Magnetic material is sewn into the fabric, and so keeps things in place. So far as I know, it can hold up to 25 pounds.

Anyway, what came to me is this: I always see weapons being put onto the backs of soldiers in videogames and I thought it was unrealistic, then I saw in my mind soldiers with straps over their weapons or with only one and maybe a strapped sidearm. If you can make bullet clips magnetic, or even weapons of other sorts, you can put it on this arm band, or even make a larger form of it like a vest or belt. One can only imagine the possibilities. Thoughts?

At 7/6/09 03:20 AM, Yukin wrote:

At 7/6/09 12:35 AM, H-K-S wrote:

Except she wasn't swallowing. I pulled my blanket from the bed to see blood, a knife stuffed into her forehead and my dick her in her ribcage area. The semen sliding back into my pubic region with her blood was sickening at the least. But so... erotic. I got up and I looked in her wound and I figured I was pretty damn hungry. So I got some milk and some cinnamon toast swirls or shit and used her body as my cereal bowl. The salty semen and the texture of the blood really mixes with milk and cereal.

DUDE SERIOUSLY WTF IN GOD'S NAME IS WRONG WITH YOU!!!

What's wrong with you? Do you see something wrong with his response?

Anyway, if I wake up, I want it to be to metal. What I would do after that, even H-K-S doesn't want to know.

Spiderman is a superhero that is below what I would call a good superhero, but he isn't terrible. If you think he's so bad, make your own comic. Oh yeah, relationship problems aren't that great to write about if you haven't heard the trolls and troll feeders yet, so I suggested you don't write about them.