An interactive story of love and adventure3.98 / 5.00 11,029 Views
Turn-based PvP Arena Battler3.91 / 5.00 3,753 Views
THE WORLD HAS BEEN INVADED BY ALIENS! It's up to a nerdy, lazy high school kid to save it!3.83 / 5.00 6,172 Views
Flash Movie Curse
It was an average Sunday afternoon in the Weston house, where the gentle, melodic ring of silverware drifted through the air as the two resident teenagers, Frank and Hank, both satisfied their hunger pangs which slipped into their bellies over the course of the night. Both had porcelain bowls full of crunchy, sugary cereal adrift in a white ocean of milk. It was just as Frank lifted his spoon to his lips to sample these tasty nuggets of nutrition when he found something that distracted him from his intention; causing him to sink the spoon back into its bed of cream.
"Holy shit." he exclaimed, his eyes widening with a sudden realization that chilled his soul, "Do you see that??"
Both held their breath in a silent, unnerving anticipation as Hank turned his head to face the entity that Frank had discovered.
"Ah, hell. A disembodied camera!" Hank spat, his eyes sharp with venomous hate, "If we're being watched, something bad's bound to happen, like we get eaten by sharks or we find out our dad's a stripper!"
A sudden wave of anxiety gripped the two young boys, as they both shifted their eyes, vigilantly watching for whatever ill-meaning fate was lurking for them just off-screen.
"Dammit..." Mumbled Frank, who pushed his bowl of warming cereal aside in the hope that if something might do them in, at least it wouldn't spill the milk over the floor, "I hope it doesn't lead to a scat or furry joke. I can't stand those."
"Or, g-god forbid, some gay joke. I'm comfortable with who I am, thank you, I don't need a wacky set of situations to make me think otherwise." Hank declared indignantly, still unable to shake some of the worry from his tone.
The fear in the room seemed to swell with each passing moment as both the boys' imaginations continued to flash with wilder and wilder guesses of what fate had in store for them, what sort of cruel circumstance they'd find themselves the unwilling players of, what sort of deranged joke they'd be the punchline in. As the camera switched between close-ups of each of their respective faces, a film of slick sweat started to formulate on their foreheads... the kind of that accompanied unbound terror that came with the knowledge that something horrible was just about to happen, but not being able to know what specific torture or misfortune you'd be forced to endure. But that didn't stop the speculation...
"M-maybe it won't be so bad." Hank reasoned, his voice quivering, "maybe it'll be one of those hentai things where a girl will... I-I dunno... smothers us with her tits."
"Oh, come on. Don't be so naive. This is Newgrounds, home of tasteless humor. If anything, a giant penis will break a hole through the wall and slap us with its balls so hard we'll be decapitated."
Hank cringed at the thought and gave a unnerved stare at the flower-wallpaper behind them, hoping that some perverted cock-version of the Kool-aid man wouldn't jump out at them.
"Wait." Frank announced, in the light of a sudden, solemn epiphany, causing the panicked Hank to turn to his brother, thirsty for hope. "Maybe the joke is just how us being aware of the camera is making us paranoid."
...At this, Hank had a realization of his own, transforming his lead-heavy fear into a glistening golden anger. "What if there isn't even a joke? What if someone was just fucking with u-"
An actual "For Sale" Bulletin board ad I wrote awhile ago. The idea is that this guitar is a piece of shit. With the right voice actor, comedic timing and animation, it could be humorous. (you might have to cut it down to reach a minute timeline)
For Sale - Satan's Guitar
There comes a point in every mans life where he feels the need to pass down some history or perhaps a legacy; that time is now. For the low price of $150 you too may enter the gates of manhood.
I bought this guitar for 350 dollars from a retired mercenary that fought in both World War I and World War II. The only reason he sold it was because his right arm bitten off by a shark in the Philippines while stationed there as a shark handler. When he sold it to me I had to arm wrestle him for the honor to buy it; I broke his arm in 7 places.
What kind of Guitar is it? I don't know, I'm not a Guitar scientist. What I am though is a manly guy looking to sell his guitar. This instrument is made out of sinister basswood and kick ass Super Slinky strings. The volume knobs don't work so you can't turn the guitar off, but if you think that deterred me from rocking out, you're way wrong. The first thing they teach about rock is that there is only one volume level, and that's eleven. Not having working volume knobs is like saying "FUCK YOU WORLD, JUST TRY AND STOP ME".
The guitar has some rusted strings, but that just shows people how much of a bad ass you are. Everyone knows rusted strings on a guitar mean that you probably played it underwater and that's bad ass in itself.
This beast of uncontainable power sounds sick when pushed behind a Huge Swollen Pickle, a Big Muff, or any of other overpriced analog pedal that makes obvious sexual references to your manhood.
Additionally, this instrument of all immense evil comes with a moldy retro plaid case to keep it secure and to throw any would be thieves off the trail.
If you email me asking about being "firm" on the price I will tell you right now that I am NOT. $150 is only my starting price, you may want to pay me more after you see it in person. (585)555-xxxx
The story takes place in a galaxy far in the future where man had fallen to world wide epidemics and diseases population had almost been wiped out. Bio-enhancements were being experimented. Ironically the "enhancement" took away your thinking capabilities and made you into a living weapon. With cat like reflexes, endurance comparable to cockroaches and, the strength of a gorillas, skin as tough as a tree-bark, the ability to survive without food or water for months packed successfully into one vaccine. These bio-enhancements made a simple toddler able to take wipe out a platoon of field trained soldier while armed. They had tested everything to perfection except one thing...
The body's evolution over time...
A year after the vaccine for bio-enhancements had been sent out they started to notice weird changes in the lab subjects it seemed they had transcended to something that was neither plant nor animal or fungi but all of them. The genes accelerated the bodies rate of evolution allowing one to consume and evolve further to become stronger. It didn't even take a full day for major cities to be wiped clean, once every ones bodies' fell to their primal instinct and evolved.
That day... E-Day changed humanity forever for better or worse.
The world that was once considered to be a utopia of perfection and galactic power soon fell to be known as Chimera, the evolving planet. But In the midst of it all there was a colony that still stood. Here there were 2 parents struggling with their young child trying to find a shelter. As they were too poor to afford the cost for all of them to get in they spent all their savings getting vaccinated so they sent the child alone. They whispered something in his ear and shed tears as they see their son enter the metal doors.
It has been 72 hours since then and the last colony is on the verge of being overrun. The child fell into neurotic state since then and walks towards his death bed... a wild one starring at him straight in the face as he bring his resolve he accepts death and invites the primal creature to devour him. The beast then opens its mouth and claws around him and the boy unflinching. The abomination then just walks away for another victim.
The boy falls to his knees and screams, "why cant I carry out your dying wish and just die!!!"
The boy keeps living his life trying to take to his grave the guilt of the sin he believed he commited. The crime that all those in that world believed was the only truth. He now lives with the purpose to try to die without knowing that the only sin the generation before him commited was trying to become god.
KhrisPy For U
And now it's time for... Morien's Epic of Epicness!
...It was a fine summer day in Cosgrove Hill. The aroma of Hindenburg explosions and semen filled the air. I was positioned at the old oak tree- You know, the one with the incident where some kid got his penis stuck in a knothole? The one tree on the corner of the street that has the Chong's Fish Mart? You know the place.
In any case, there I was, resting beneath the shade of the tree, which oddly enough, was on fire at the time. It must have been that damn guy running around wearing some weird Sonic-Pikachu-combination as a costume, screaming at the top of his lungs, "ZAP 2 DA EXTREEEEEEME!" Actually, on second thought, no. It couldn't have been him. He was trolled so hard yesterday that he wound up falling asleep from way too much stress.
Of course, it didn't take too long for the flames to catch up to me, no matter where I ran, the fire drew me back in, like I was some kind of moth or something. Which is Ironic, now that I think about it, because my mother WAS a moth. Hmmm. Needless to say, I had received some minor 2nd degree burns that day, along with a lawsuit from some guy who claimed that I stole his idea for a new type of fuel. So now, if you'll excuse me, this house isn't mine. I broke into it. And now the police are on their way. Good day.
And that, was Morien's Epic of Epicness.
Our Falcon, who art in Mute City, Give us this day our Falcon Punch. SHOW US YA PRAYERS!
the room is dark. she is snoring there on the bed. the light from the TV shines on her toe poking out from under the sheet. he is tired. he will not go to bed. he would prefer to sift through his thoughts shaking through the dirt looking for answers, reasons, reason and sense. what do you have to give? write something do something be something? he gets up and covers the toe. there are no thoughts until the thought comes. he is waiting for the thought of all thoughts. he is waiting to suddenly understand. to be enlightened. his heart hurts. there is a pain in his chest, a real non metaphorical pain. a burning from too many cigarettes smoked.
outside it is cold. the ground is covered with white snow that shines in the darkness as snow shines on a cold night under the moon. smoking a cigarette he feels like a child pretending his hot breath is the smoke of a cigarette. and he spits and certainly the spit was thick and black. and he spits again, into the snow, and the snow turns resin black. the snow turns resin black like his spit had turned resin black from too many cigarettes smoked and too much marijuana out of the gravity bong.
the floor of the bathroom is cool and sticky. in his underwear sitting cross-legged on a small circular rug he is carful to not let any of his bare legs touch the ice cold tiles. a gravity bong is a 2 liter bottle, the bottom cut off., the bottle sits in a bucket of water and at the top of the 2 litter bottle there is place to insert the weed, then thru some pulling, physics, and fire, smoke then enters your lungs, a large dosing at a time. taking his time he broke up enough for four hits from the grav bong. thoughts did not arrive during the preparation or ingestion of the grav bong, in fact, thoughts were held off, waiting to be flushed out with the assistance of drugs. once he smoked the ideas, the idea, would come.
in the bathroom, he sits on the closed toilet. a throne, a thinking throne, where thoughts are born. POP, an idea for a story came, it was a brilliant idea, a hero, not the typical hero, but the anti-hero who saves the naïve and whose journey does not seem so just, but the conclusion the sacrifice of our anti-hero delivers the clear moral. the fan in the bathroom rumbled so loudly, it reminded him of her snoring. and like that his story, his brilliant idea was gone, and he did not know it was gone or that it had even been there. like many stories and memories, it was forgotten. and he thought, I would like to masturbate.
in the bathroom, he stand. he looks into the laptop computer which was balancing over the sides of the sink. he searches for katy perry. then big boobs. then redhead he is done and there are no thoughts. emptiness. he does nothing like no one else does nothing. he really does nothing.
it is cold outside. he shrinks into his jacket while he smokes another cigarette.
the room is dark. it is cold but the chair he sits in is directly under the heating vent. the rush of hot air is rejuvenating like a tall glass of water. she is snoring again. the thoughts are saying go, run, leave. he starts to think of how? the snoring gets louder it is all he can hear. the snoring and the rush of hot air on his face and there is nothing else. the snoring climaxes with a loud snorting, she rolls and is finally quiet. the room is silent. the thoughts say stay. he is tired. he gets into bed and is asleep in minutes. at four AM he wakes up. hours pass and he lays still scared and tired. he falls back asleep around seven after she goes to work.
cigarettes kill, so let's all die.
The president caches one of his ministers watching Newgrounds flashes when he should be working. A sinister-looking guy with "Youtube" printed on his t-shirt, cap, and trousers convinces the president that Newgrounds is the source of all the evil on this earth. The president shuts down Newgrounds, but as soon as he presses the gigantic red "Blam website" button he hears voices from outside. Outside are many Newgrounds characters(Pico, P-bot, Bitey, Madness-men ect.) all complaining. They trow in Tom Fulp and he strikes down the "Youtube guy" and saves the day by shoving the president how fun Newgrounds can be.
Upon a land that has witnessed many great battles and much bloodshed, a great warrior stands. He bears a huge mustache and beard and stands atop a boulder as he rests his sword by his side. He looks upon the masses of people worshipping him all around. They chant "Our king, our king, our king!"
He raises his sword, about to speak when...
*scene cuts to a fat guy at a cubicle in his office, sleeping at his computer*
*he has a very large mustache as seen in the previous scene, but no beard*
"Tim, Tim..hey Tim! Wake up and get back to work damnit!" yells his boss. Tim sighs and slowly gets back to work.
(The whole "Our king" chanting is his boss shouting "Tim" but as he is daydreaming, he hears it "King")
"Wait a second..I have a mustache!" says Tim. He grabs his mustache with both hands and pulls on it. Screen starts to shake, his face gets red and a great build up...
His boss sighs, and says "Seriously Tim, I sometimes think you're retarded." And walks away.
Tim mutters, rests his head on his hand. He scratches his mustache, bored and feeling defeated..
*Giant explosion* Everything in the office is burnt away, his boss gets on fire and burns.
*Screams of agony heard in the background*
Tim is glowing in the aftershock as it slowly fades away, he still sitting in the same position but with a confused look.
Tim looks around, notices everything destroyed and his boss on fire.
"...aww..shit" says Tim.
Summary version of the (admittedly lengthy) story that I posted earlier in this thread, as per Tom's request:
When you fish upon a star...
There is a fish who likes to jump above the ocean water. He can jump further than any other fish and is hailed as a hero, yet a challenger arrives and jumps further. He trains and trains but still can't jump as far, until on his final effort he succeeds when a passing gull scoops him up for its breakfast. Once again he is a hero.
I can't say I am happy about the much shorter restriction though- this basic plot was quite obvious from the longer one, yet if I had only submitted this the story would rightly have been viewed as crap. While I appreciate that animators want to give their own particular slant to a story, creativity is all a writer brings to the table, and I feel that in making it so short my own creativity and ideas are being restricted in favour of somebody else's. After all the task set was to write a short story that could be animated in under a minute (which the original undoubtedly could have been), not a couple of vague sentences that can hardly be considered a story at all.
Buy the Newgrounds Writing Anthology
Sig by lebastic
A guy gets to exist at the beginning of time, because he knows what love is. He calls it hardcore science. So he spends years and years building things scientifically, until his greatest invention: the xbox 360. believes its whatever a woman is and is in love with it.
If mine was too long and detailed, here's a short one...
To help save the oil crisis, a man when on a search to find an alternative. What he found was a wild african boar that excretes something that can replace oil while having sex with men. Scientist start to have gay sex with boards to get enough material to synthesize and replace oil.
A bear walks into a large city. As he/she is walking around he/she encounters a drug dealer who upon seeing the bear runs in terror and drops his goods. The bear, being a bear, gets curious and sniffs at the drugs inducing a drug induced trip where he/she invisions everything in the city as beautiful delicous fish. Hilarity ensues. Pedobear acceptable.
A man has his back facing the camera. He is obviously crying. He is holding something in his hands. He is screaming things like "Why" and "What kind kind of god would let this happen". He finally gives one last sob and Screams something along the lines of "Why the fuck is there no peanut butter!?!" Cut to a scene of the peanut butter jar scrapped clean. Slowly the camera pans out and you see that the world around him is going to hell. People dying, raping pillaging or something is going on this guy just cares about his PB.
The Battle of Newgrounds
On a normal peaceful day on newgrounds, just before one of the biggest event to all of the flash charectors begins a terrible stom appeared and out from the storm came Wadolf and DarkTom came down to the portal and imprisoned most of the charectors but there were those that were able to escape from their wrath and came across the portal's greatest charector creators. With the help of the creators, they are able to form an army and attack the DarkTom and Wadolf's dark version of the HQ for all of the other charectors' freedom.
The world is dull and grey. Everyone is sad. Until a man and his magic boombox, turn the world back into color.
This is my signature
I don't post writing here, but I figured I might as well since it only has to be a few sentences by tom's request.
Acid Fortress 2
In a fast paced scenario, a man accidentally takes acid from his friend's drink while playing Team Fortress 2 (or any fps game, I would just prefer tf2). During his First acid experience he sees care bears, orange juice, dinosaurs, double rainbows, and various acid things.
It's not the best story, but I could see this being very funny being an animation.
The Icicle Adventures
Antwon was your regular sixth grader, he studied,played,had normal friends. He was African-American.
One day his father asked him if to work where they study elements. They working on a secret project
Project ZX3. While working on ways to use it for important purposes( like curing cancer).But in a freak accident Project ZX3 exploded blasting Antwon into liquid hydrogen(which is SUPER COLD). In the explosion Project ZX3 with liquid hydrogen fused into Antwon giving him power beyond the human imagination.(Powers are Freeze Breath,Ability to freeze the air around into any shape:Sword,Sycthe
Spear any weapon he chooses). Knowing that the world is corrupted (and that with super powers comes super responsibility) Antwon has a choice. A.Not help the world in it's time of need or B. Become a hero, become a legend, become Icicle, and save the world one villain at a time.
DA King Has Spoken
Papa Bear: "I'm sorry Baby Bear, but there cannot be any witnesses"
Unaware of what Papa Bear was saying Baby Bear pointed at the woods and shouted
"look!" <///Slash///> Baby Bears' head rolled to a gentle stop.
He picked his tiny lifeless body and placed it in the freshly dug grave.
The camera pans upwards to reveal the woods ..burnt.
But Papa bear felt someone was still watching him.
Tom Fulp is writing code for Alien Hominid. But Tom seems to be upset with his work; and goes totally insane and morphs into a giant monster thing and attacks other creators, (even if they weren't fanous before Alien Hominid because that would more funny lol) nobody really seems to care though, as this has become a norm for Tom recently...
The cold unforgiving tiled floor impacted my jaw as my body suddenly went limp. I opened my eyes and my vision swam. As my world finally came back into focus, I lifted my head and groaned. I turned and glanced at the tank mounted on the wall which I had fallen out of and sighed. DOM had killed me again.
Gripping my throbbing head, I curled up on my side and squeezed my eyes shut tight. Maybe if I squeezed hard enough I could will my soul out of this cursed existence. I heard his standard-issued boots clacking against the tiles as he walked across the room toward me.
"Get up." He said flatly.
"Go away Alan. Just let me die alone." I mumbled around my arms holding my head. The next thing I felt was his boot's steel toe kicking me in the side. I felt my rib crack and flinched but didn't get up. He could kick me until oblivion, until all that was left under his heel was a pile of pink mush. I didn't care, I had dealt with worse. I used to think that I was alone in this chamber and that Alan and the others were just figments of my broken and molested mind until the first time Alan hit me. I mean, figments couldn't break bones, bruise flesh, or choke the very life from me could they?
Kneeling down so that he was right next to my head he whispered: "You're gonna have to get up eventually. You know it; I know it, so why not stop this pointless 'I give up' charade and get back to work?"
"It can't be done. We've tried everything. He might as well just stay there on the floor," another voice murmured from the doorway.
Alan rose and moved back across the room. I opened my eyes to see him punching Scott to the floor. Poor pitiful Scott, he gave into DOM's rule before all of us. His now defeatist outlook has only given Alan a reason to target him. Alan knows he's weak, and Alan wants to push him to the brink and then over it. I think he just wants to see if he can get Scott to take his own life.
"Why don't you just go die in a corner you piece of shit." Alan spat in disgust and bloodied Scott's face with the heel of his boot. Hank, who had been leaning against the far wall, sprang up smiling widely and took over for Alan in the beating of Scott into the floor. Hank. The physical embodiment of every battle-crazed warrior and bloodlusting barbarian all wrapped up in one muscled silent package. It was his silence that scared me more than anything, the way his eyes could tell you all the vile and twisted things he wanted to do to you while his mouth didn't even move, but only smiled.
Then I felt Julia's hand caressing the side of my head. I turned my view away from the carnal violence of the next room and looked again into the most beautiful face I have ever seen. She smiled at me and then began helping me to my feet with a simple: "Come on. You need to eat something."
Julia carried me past the rows of chrome chambers each containing another identical copy of me suspended in the familiar green liquid I always find myself waking up to. No matter how many times I've looked, there were never anyone else's faces in those tanks. I always just found myself staring into a murky green mirror. I shuddered and moved with her into the next room. The stark white walls made of the same cold tile as the floor burned into my retinas. Every room I have ever been in here had had the same walls, the same fluorescent lights and the same black orbs in the room corners. DOM. The facility's supercomputer. Always watching me. Always making notes on my progress. Always silent.
Julia and I shuffled across the room over to where a white vinyl couch and a white end table sat bolted into the floor. These two items were the only things in this room which we had come to call Home. Those and the Door, a silenk dark obelisk which stood in the center of the far wall; it wasn't just black, it was nightmare incarnate. A black so deep light seemed to sink into it and disappear. I tapped the end table, which was really more of a cube, and like always a small circle opened and a plastic glass containing a thick grey liquid rose up out of it. My only source of nutrition, I quickly drank the bitter vitamin shake and placed the glass back on the circle so that it could again disappear into the table.
I looked up at the Door and saw the light in the wall above it declaring this to be a Blue day. Blue meant I could be tested at random at any point during today. I thought this was unfair of DOM seeing as I had just died again, but I had learned long ago never to fight His choices for fear of Him changing it to a Red day. The last time we had instilled a Red day was the first time Eric's mind had abandoned him and all coherent thought buried itself into his subconscious. I looked over at Eric who was again in his corner scratching another of his cryptic diagrams into the wall. I walked over to him and asked:
"How are you doing, Eric?"
Not stopping he muttered: "Baby in the cauldron fell, see the grief on Mother's brow; Mother loved her darling well, Darling's quite hard-boiled now." He then stopped as if to consider what he had just said and giggled maniacally to himself before going back to his work. I slowly walked away and sighed:
"Alright then I'll see you later."
"Father heard his Children scream, so he threw them in the stream, saying, as he drowned the third, Children should be seen, not heard!" Eric called over his shoulder and continued his mindless scratching. Scritch, Scritch, Scritch. I can still hear that sound when I'm alone, like Eric is there inside my mind, carving his runic diagrams and symbols into my dreams.
The deep echoing base tone cut through everything. It froze Hank in mid swing at Scott; it caused Julia to shudder uncontrollably; it pushed it's way through every surface into the very fibers of my being and echoed inside my head long after the noise itself had ceased. The only one the noise had not frozen in place was Eric who continued his work in the corner. Alan then moved slowly away from the bleeding Scott over to me. We all finally shook off the paralyzing effect of the sound and moved in front of the Door. The sound always signalled a change. In fear we all stared at the light and willed it to turn green. In columns of fiery red the word AUDIT appeared on the Door. I looked at the others in dread and they stared back each with their own wordless emotion. I stepped up to the threshold and the Door swung open to once again admit me into hell.
An audit is used by the manufacturing industry as a universal "stress test". The product being audited is pushed to all its limits until either the testing is over, or the product breaks down completely. In this case I was DOM's product; in fact I was no longer sure I ever existed outside DOM's domain of white-washed facility walls. Perhaps DOM had created me here to amuse him while he waited out the eons in this place until his power supply finally shut down.
Walking into the room DOM had reconfigured for the audit, I saw the familiar starting layout of the labyrinth of interconnecting hallways that would make up my test. The objective was simple and it was always the same: make it to the other end of the maze alive and push the red button to end the audit. I couldn't remember the first time I had ever been audited, but I imagine I must have been cocky. I had learned since that nothing in DOM's world is as simple as it appears and in this case the halls and dead ends of this maze were riddled with a menagerie of gruesome traps. Pitfalls of spikes, razor thin walls of blades you couldn't see until they sheared your nose from your face, and even surges of fire that would shoot down the halls, scorching everything in their path to a cinder. I cautiously stepped forward and the floor gave way beneath me. I soon found myself suspended in midair by some sort of invisible barrier over sets of giant rollers methodically gnashing below me. I took a moment to catch my breath and swallowed. DOM had some new tricks in store for me this time.
Listen, do you hear it?
That's the sound of no one caring.
The Door silently hinged open to admit me back Home. I staggered through the threshold and managed to limp a few feet in before the floor again remorselessly greeted my face. Then Alan was standing over me looking down into my face with his trademark condescending smirk.
"Well, well." He chuckled menacingly, "Looks like you had a fun time. Oh, and what's this? It seems you went and got your foot chopped off too!"
I groggily looked back at my leg to see a bloody stump extending from my shredded pant leg. I must have clipped it on my way through the audit.
"Hey at least you didn't die this time." Alan continued mockingly, "Maybe you're finally getting the hang of this!"
Julia and Scott were then on each side of me. "C'mon Scotty, let's move him over to the couch."
They laid me down and Julia tore off a piece of her shirt to use as a tourniquet to stem the bleeding from my leg. She then went over to the end table and it produced for her a synthetic replacement foot, compliments of DOM Himself. She looked at me and smiled before clicking it in place over my exposed tibia.
"Why bother?" Scott sighed, "The euphoria from blood loss would be a welcome relief."
Alan walked towards us and punched Scott in the mouth on his way by, "Because Scotty boy, he needs to keep his strength up in case of another audit. Or... in case of a Red day." He smirked as Scott flinched at the mention of the most dreaded thing DOM has ever thrown at us. During this exchange, Hank leaned against the wall grinning and looking on mutely at the goings on. Hank often reminds me of DOM. Silent, observing, and only causing pain.
When next I came to, things had resumed their normal pace. Alan was pacing the room, probably thinking of another way to either manipulate us or escape while Hank was grinning and staring at Scott like an eager attack dog awaiting its master's command; Eric was in his corner still scratching away, and Julia, sweet caring Julia, was asleep by my side. I sat up slowly as to not disturb her and walked back across the room over to the Door. DOM's synthetic limb had me moving like I had never been maimed. I stared at the Door and willed it to give up some secret as how to escape this perpetual hell. Turning I looked up at the black sphere from where DOM observed and my hand curled into a fist, fingernails cutting into my palm.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?" I screamed, "WHAT MUST I GIVE FOR YOU TO LET ME GO!?" DOM didn't answer. DOM never answers. DOM just observes and records. Then I heard a wet gurgling sound from behind me. I tensed and slowly turned around in fear of what new horror DOM had unleashed on us. I was expecting anything and everything, but not what I turned to see. Scott was on the floor clutching his throat. I rushed over to him to see thick crimson red pouring out from where his fingers clutched at his throat. A sharpened shard of the plexiglass the vitamin shakes were dispensed in stuck out from between his fingers. He looked up at me with a combined look of fear and peace on his face. I whipped my head in the direction of where Alan and Hank stood.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM YOU BASTARD?!" I screamed at the smiling Hank.
Alan answered for him, "Calm down. Scotty there did that to himself. Guess he couldn't stand to live another minute of his pitiful little existence anymore. Yup, he'd been sharpening that piece of plastic for about two weeks now. I just never believed he would actually do anything with it. Haha! I gotta admit I'm impressed with how far he really took that sad clown routine!"
I looked back down at Scott's dull sightless stare and I felt the delicate balance of our little world tumble into the beginnings of madness. It was like with Scott's death a piece of myself had also been lost to oblivion. Then I felt a sudden spark of hope. The tanks! If I woke up in one everytime I died, wouldn't the same happen for Scott? I desperately began searching the hall where all the tanks resided. I peered into each and every one, but to my building anguish, found that each only contained a copy of myself. I slowly collapsed against the last tank near the hall's entrance and hugged my knees.
Then Alan was standing over me, "Just forget him. He's gone and there's nothing you can ever do to get him back. You failed him by not finding us escape. His blood is on your hands." I shuddered and clenched my hands as tightly as I could. It wasn't my fault; I hadn't known he had planned on eventually killing himself. But still, had I ever really talked to Scott? Had I ever taken him for anything but granted? Oh god, could I have stopped this?
"It's funny though," Alan remarked. I looked up to see him rubbing his chin thoughfully, "I've never seen you so motivated, so driven to do anything until just now when you were trying to find old Scotty boy in here." I looked up at him and saw a devious idea taking form behind his eyes, then just as suddenly it was gone and so was he.
Listen, do you hear it?
That's the sound of no one caring.
A man (Man 1) is sitting on a park bench, looking sullen, when another man (Man 2) sits beside him.
Man 2: So which will it be?
Man 1: I don't think I can-
Man 2: You have to choose.
Man 1: I-
Man 2: You don't have a choice in this matter. Well, you do, but... Well you know what I mean.
Man 1: I guess I just thought I'd have more time.
Man 2: You've had all the time we can give you.
Man 1: Okay, okay. Just... Let me take a second to get ready, you know?
Man 2: Tick tock.
Man 1: Fine, you know what? Marry Data, fuck Robocop, kill Megatron.
Man 2: Seriously? Fuck Robocop?
Man 1: I don't know, he just seems like he would be a very attentive lover.
Man 2: No, no. I know what you're talking about. It's just Megatron... He seems so... Flexible.
Man 1: Oh man, right? And that shrinking thing he does? Just think what he could do.
Both of them imagine it.
Man 1: Can I change my answer?
Man 2: No.
-The Birth of "Sad Keanu"-
Keanu Reaves purchases a sandwich from his favorite establishment. He walks over to a park bench and unwraps it to find that it is not what he had hoped for. Heartbroken, he proceeds to eat it alone. And so begins the era of Sad Keanu.
There was a house, it had been empty for several years, condemned, then a man, wearing a pink shirt and basketball shorts moved into the house, which was not legally his, as it was still under toxic screenings, suddenly, many of the children in the neighborhood started to dissapear. Now, in that house, in a closet, there is one box, and it is full of free candy.
Wow this banner is really old and makes me cringe a little bit
After reading the "Buckshot of news," I decided to try something new
A man breaks into a back of the building, thinking its a bank. He tries to get to the safe in a complex way. He gets to the safe, realizes that it's an armory for a police station, and slaps his head.
"Would you kindly..."
A team of police is preparing to raid a drug house. It is revealed to the viewer that the main character's teenaged son (the main character is an officer on the team) has been missing for months after becoming involved with hardcore drugs. The officers reach the drug house and break in. They are met with little resistance and secure the residence. Suddenly cries are heard from an officer upstairs. They run up and find the officer is yelling at a man holding a knife. He is saying "Put down the knife! I will shoot!". But the man is obviously dangerously high, having so much of the drug in his system he has gone mad. In a drug fueled rage, he rushes the officers with the knife. Our main character shoots him before he can reach them.
"Jesus Christ, did you see that guy???" An officer yells. But the main character is crying.
"What's the matter! Look, you had to shoot!" Asks another officer, as the main character sinks down over the body.
"...My son..." chokes the main character, as he gazes down at what used to be his boy.
A kid is a schizophrenic, and he is seeing things. Turns out he is not. He is really a seeing a world beyond ours. Only him, and another girl know about this. They need to stop the evil from happening, which is supposedly what is causing random deaths in their town...
In too deep?
Gamecenter ID: ALonelyWeeaboo
PSN: Lonely Weeaboo
XBL: noobasaurus253 Just mention you added me through Newgrounds
Title: Chilly's First Day
Once, a penguin crawled from beneath his parent. Sliding across the thick ice, he landed in the water and immediately chased a small fish, heedless of the large and dangerous predator behind him. Despite many hazards, the small bird eventually evaded the predator, trapping it with sheer luck and returning to the safety of the ice sheet.
At 1/25/11 01:23 PM, TomFulp wrote:
:THOUGHTS? Should we start over with the stories, implementing a 1-3 sentence rule? If you are planning to submit a story this week, consider something in this range.
Regarding this, I made my story shorter:
Dahlia watched over him, she saw how he took off his pants just to follow up with his boxers. , she stoped him before he took them off, and pushed him over the bed. She climbed upon him and started to take his shirt off. Then she saw his naked chest and proved by herself what Cynthia told her:
Men have nipples too
On a lonely lab atop a mountain, a lonely scientist plays around with a new gun he has created. The gun was designed to shoot funk, techno, punk, etc at people and get them dancing till they go insane.
"I have gone to meet myself. If I return before I get back, hold me here because it is very important that I see myself before I get confused."
the toxic mold told its children to stay close. They were also toxic mold. This irritated their parent, the toxic mold from the first sentence. Scientists did not approve of them, but later changed their minds when they found that toxic mold added to fine cheese created a delicious snack.
Jedermann sein eigner truthahn abendessen.