Check your knowledge with fun about fine arts4.04 / 5.00 4,165 Views
Control bullets with your mind4.05 / 5.00 17,551 Views
Unlock and upgrade vehicles and drive your way through zombie hordes in order to escape.3.88 / 5.00 22,996 Views
a man has lobsters for hands. he discovers porn, but can't masturbate to it because he has lobsters for hands. he spends his days riding around on the top of a giant's head, because the giant thinks the man is a fashionable hat.
Jedermann sein eigner truthahn abendessen.
Short version of my Flash Script:
Three people go to a theater. You know how people always leave holes in the rows, even if the theater is full... well one of the characters fills a row and it explodes like a line in tetris would explode when you fill it.
Teacher is writing something on the board, a spitball hits the board, laughs are heard. Teacher turns back around and a rotten tomato hits the board -> class gets a week ISS or etention. Camera pans further and we see the parents who were sitting in on the class high five each other.
More free time for parents YAY!
You are welcome NG.
Better, Faster, STRONGER!
At 1/26/11 09:12 PM, Timmy wrote: the incredible hulk battles zombie pope john paul II.
pico is there too.
DAMN IT TIMMY
Eli's Plan to Take Over the World
This is an E rated script that is probably just over a minute, but my objective was to keep the animators and artists' job simple so it should fly in that regard. There are two backgrounds, little motion, and it has practically nothing to do with world domination. It's more or less is few puns and randomness thrown together off of some figures of speech with anthropomorphic animal characters talking. I'd be more than happy to do a couple voices and compose music for the credits on a short team if that's allowed, but I am no artist nor am I an animator.
[The cast: Eli is a monkey with a weak East Indian accent. Roy is a donkey with a slight Southern accent. He speaks slower. Jethro is an elephant with a Minnesotan accent and a higher pitched voice. Walter is a hare with eyes that aren't quite right and a low pitched stupid voice. All are males.
The set: Eli and Roy are sitting at the kitchen table. I find it easier to use compass points since they are absolute. The counter top is on the north side of the room. It has a sink, a coffee maker, and a box of cereal, I don't care what else. The door is on the west wall towards the north side and opens into the kitchen hinged on the north side. There is a window on the east wall and it's snowing outside. View 1 is from the southeast looking northwest. It shows Eli sitting at the west side of the table with his hand on his cup of coffee and the door just to his right and part of the counter top right of the door. View 2 is from the southwest looking northeast. It shows Roy with his cereal bowl and spoon, and newspaper. Behind him is the counter top and the window. It's View 2 during Roy's script, and View l during everyone else's.]
Eli-So I have this sweet plan to take over the world.
Eli-So...do you want to hear it?
Roy-Hmph [a mumble expressing disinterest while crunching cereal]
Eli-Fine then, I won't tell you.
Roy-[with mouth full of cereal] Why the hell would I care?
Eli-Well, I'm your roommate
Roy-[stares blankly and blinks once]
Eli-Well it seemed like a safe assumption to make-you-you know, seeing as we're eating breakfast together and all. Why else would I be sitting in a kitchen, me-me with the coffee, you the cereal. Why would the the writer set it up like that if not to imply that we're roomies?
Roy-[stops crunching and swallows] When you assume you make an ass out of you and me.
Eli-But Roy, you ARE an ass.
Roy-[mouth full of cereal again] That's beside the point.
Eli-Well I'm telling you my plan anyway.
Roy-[unfolding the paper, now with reading glasses on] Go ahead, I'm not listening.
Eli-Well you should! Maybe-maybe you'll be able to avoid your DOOOM?
Roy-[looks over the paper and shrugs]
Eli-It's the greatest scheme ever! You wouldn't believe how deliciously gloomily, how succulently belligerent it is.
Roy-[looking over the paper again] Hmph, stop using thesauruses. Belligerent is a very weak word for evil, ya know? But it sure seems to apply to you purty well.
Eli-[becoming noticeably irritated] You-you shut up and listen! To mock ME? I may be the greatest mad scientist of all time! My plan is to-
Roy-[starts speaking as Eli begins to say the word plan while setting the paper down] Yer a brassy fella aren't ya?
Eli-I will be heard!
[Jethro bursts the kitchen door open. Eli looks about ready to explode when this interruption occurs.]
Roy-[looking enthusiastic for the first time] Hey, Jethro!
Jethro-[still in the doorway behind Eli] Lordy, Lordy! It's cold enough out there to freeze the balls off as brass monkey!
Eli-Errrrr [not a loud noise, but a low grumble of someone about to explode. It continues until he shatters his mug]
Jethro-Jeez, Roy, what's gotten into Eli?
Roy-Oh I don't know-some new harebrained plan to take over the world.
Walter-[now on Jethro's shoulder] Hey, duh, I told you guys not to leave the toilet seat up.
[Eli shatters mug and it cuts to the credits]
[After the credits (if time to put it in)]
Chuck the Skunk in Eli's seat-[Opening a can of beer] Damnit, it's 11:30 already?
Eli-[from another room and still noticeably irritated still] Maybe if you weren't drunk all the time, Chuck!
I'm blaming typos on the cat in my lap that thinks he can type. He's such a pussy. It has nothing to do with the fact that I've been drinking.
Also, I just read something about the scripts being too restrictive. Hell, I don't care how much the script is changed. That's part of any collaborative effort with other artists. This is just how it plays out inside my head. Luck to the rest of the writers.
This is our world, torn by strife, reduced to rubble by Angels and Demons, an ultimate battle of good versus evil. But... can these forces be defined as simply as "good" or "evil"? As the blood of thousands has told, no, and some few brave souls have taken a stand against both the "Angels" and the "Demons.
I hope that someone likes this summary, even if it's almost impossible to cram a great deal of story in only 3 sentences!
I hope this shows up before the deadline hits.
This is a premise based on starcraft 2.
The entire animation would revolve around a faceless player(which could stand for the everyman of the starcraft world) getting instantly beaten by korean players and "cheese" strategies he cannot defend against.
His "final and ultimate" strategy to"beat" starcraft 2 is to provoke North Korea into nuking South Korea, letting him finally have a chance at winning a normal game of Starcraft 2.
Well I already posted my story but hopefully you'll accept my summary of what I posted on page 1 of the comments:
Basically the ship's computer from Metroid Other M develops a romantic obsession with Adam Malkovich, and the moment Samus arrives to take his helmet at the end of the game the computer goes ape-s**t and detonates the place. This also explains why the ship self-destructed when it did at the end of the game :)
There is no Mercy, only DoDonPachi
I have no concept of time, both in pacing and in deadlines.
This is a fact of life and we all will have to deal with it in one way or another.
i guess. Maybe not.
My mind drew into a flurry as rough cloth glided over stainless steel. The house was plastered in its contamination; it was simply not the way of a bachelor such as myself to attend to such things when the career-life consumed so much of my limited time. It was the first instance in which I was to be graced with the luxury of true company in months. It was an old University friend, a man by the name of Rohbart Bulnderson. True company, someone to converse with of times gone by at a level of competency on par with my own, and I needed these damn dishes clean.
I was seized with a cold sweat, it was not in my nature to worry about a matter as trivial as spotless china, yet the thought clung and did not cease its hold upon me. My hands began to rack as if in convulsion; why was I having so much trouble cleaning these god damn dishes!? I looked down to see I had begun washing the utensils I had already finished with nearly fifteen minutes prior. Had I been so distracted by my fabricated demons? I put the knife now laying in the cloth back into its designated drawer and continued on, every so often looking back to make sure I had placed it correctly. That it was straight, even. Then I cleaned it again, to make sure.
I heard a sharp tone from across the house; my guest had arrived. I quickly dumped the few soiled plates that remained into the sink and made a hasty flight towards the door whilst clumsily throwing on an expensive leather jacket.
Rohbart was a man whose substantial size matched a stature for which he was renowned. He was renowed, cherished even for the work his international archaeological exploits. Bold whiskers betrayed a sense of grit that finely combed ends were soon to rectify as posh, pointed nose led downwards into an inviting grimace. Rohbart was an exemplary image of a gentleman and lifetime scholar; if he hadn't so frequently dressed in the disheveled rags of a street urchin one would have a task of distinguishing him from the world's most elite. I had always assumed that he saw no value in public appearance. Perhaps it was simply ignorance, but men like Rohbart Buldnerson were never ignorant. Men like Rohbart couldn't afford to be anything less than the model.
"Ah! Gregory Drendle! My god, surely it's been more than a year since last we met under such private circumstance," he bellowed out in an ursine voice.
"Yes, of course. It's good to see you too Rohbart," I announced somewhat timidly, dwarfed as I was encroaching beneath his presence. "Come inside, I'm sure you have many tales to relate from your travels."
His eyes lit up like a child spying an fifty dollar bill upon the floor, "Ha! That and more my dear Drendle! Quickly, let us make haste to your parlor; time is barely of the essence, yet the opportune moment draws quickly form our grasp! This late hour is perfectual by my figuring; you shall be left agape by the treasure I hold at this very moment. Yes, it must be now I show you. Showmanship is as much a part of any trick as the materials themselves, no? And this light, the atmosphere! God! What a night!"
I casually drifted a hand in the direction of the living room. "Yes, of course Rohbart."
Rohbart was not what one would call a soft-spoken man; in fact there were few features of the man one could call soft. Stern was a better word, perhaps even endearing, even if he did trip over his Thesaurus one too many times. While his words were boastful it was a rare occasion that he did not deliver upon them. Even now I spied a hempen satchel tied in haste, hanging limply off his tattered overcoat. I caught a glimpse of something through a small partition in the top, something remarkable, and instantly I coveted it beyond anything.
"Drendle, I need a moment to prepare," Rohbart stated plainly as he placed his fortune upon the table that served as a centerpiece for the humble room the two had arrive in. "Fetch us some drinks from your pantry, something hard. I gather that we shall both have a long night ahead of us."
I made my way back into the kitchen, making careful glances towards the prize Rohbart began to unwrap with an inordinate amount of delicacy. I quickly grabbed two tall glasses and a bottle of the vintage vodka I had been saving; it certainly wasn't extraordinary, but it would have to do for tonight. As I reached into the drawer to retrieve a corkscrew I spied a familiar face staring back into my own. It was my reflection; it was the knife. I was once more gripped by wrenching chill that consumed my entire being, growing stronger with each passing second. Time seemed to slow down as a dull, persistent pain began to boil and swell within the darkest chambers of my mind. Thoughts brewing, overwrought with vile cravings I dare not admit. I snatched the knife from the drawer and placed it in my pocket, tracing my finger along the back edge of the blade. The heft, the weight of it; it brought me comfort. It was close; it was out of sight. I was safe.
I made my way pack to the room in which Rohbart resided, poison in hand. "The booze, yes! Here, let us free our spirits before our minds. To kinship eh?" I poured out two glasses of the alcohol as glasses clinked and a brief fit of laughter among acquaintances erupted.
The merriment ended quite abruptly as the room grew stiff under Rohbart's command. He set his glass down on the table and then turned towards me. Rohbart looked me dourly in the face with pale blue eyes, eyes that demanded respect. "Now listen to me Drendle, I know I may have had a bit of good humor about this piece I'm about to unveil to you, but let me assure you that this is a most serious matter." He guided my vision to a spherical object upon the table covered with a fine, inky cloth. He brought me back into his gaze, "I mean it Drendle. This particular treasure was found among a tomb of ancient artifacts said to be virtually priceless by almost every one of my scholarly peers. It's said to hold an immense power, power beyond the capabilities of a mortal mind. Even I have yet to look upon it since I found it in that tomb; even I am afraid. I must confess, I came here because I felt the need to show someone my discovery and I trusted you to know few people who could try to do my reputation harm. I am trusting you with this Drendle."
I simply nodded; I had no nothing to add. My thoughts were only on what lay beneath the cloth.
"So without further ado!" Rohbart clipped the cloth off of the sphere with a single sweeping motion. It nearly broke the room with its pure radiance. There it lay, a shining mass of solid gold, encrusted with gems of texture and coloration I had could barely conceive. "From what I am told," Rohbart whispered to me with a tone of satisfaction, "this piece is known as the Egg of Osiris, the Egyptian god of the afterlife."
I was simply stunned, speechless. The nerve of the thing, to be so beautiful, so unobtainable, yet just within reach. Why did it choose him?
"The story I was told said that the Egg holds the ultimate knowledge of life and death. Anyone who is to bare witness to the contents within will be taken to a higher plane of consciousness, bathed in the sterling ecstasy of infinite perception, a limitless understanding of the universe. They will be more than human, and at the same time less. Quite astonishing, no?"
I nodded, trapped by the egg. It was I felt it. The sting of the knife in my pocket that pierced my mind with a undeniable rage. The heft of it began to drag me into the floor, the carpet around my feet sucking me in. Then the burning, god the burning. It wanted nothing more than to escape, to taste flesh, to fulfill my desires. I reached in to withdraw the knife, to cast it away, when it felt as if my hand were consumed by the flames of Hell itself. An inferno engulfed every nerve in my appenadage as I reached for the blade; I slipped, and the metal dug deep into my skin. "Now, it had to be now!" my body screamed as I finally placed bleeding fingers around the handle of my salvation.
"Well, open it." Rohbart ordered. "I'm the one taking advantage of your time and booze, it seems only fair that you be the one to peek inside first."
I grew limp. Me? It chose me? Rohbart had turned away now, was that it? Had it chosen me? Finally, it had been me that was granted such a privilege? There he was, vulnerable, but there was the egg. Mine.
I latched onto it, twisting at the ancient halves with all my might. It was mine, it would all be mine soon enough. It began to budge as the light of the room reflected off the rising upper crust of the egg. I was blinded, but my drive was undeterred. I felt a slight jolt and the egg gave way. It was open. Here it was, now was my time. My sight returning, I took in the bounty before me...
He spoke with his back still towards me, "Yes Drendle?"
"This egg is full of chocolate."
"Oh.... Well fuck."
I took one of the confectionaries from the glimmering shell and swallowed it whole. It was super delicious.
There are a couple of pairs of mismatched people who walk separately along a road. Each group stops at a sign and discuss what it could mean. The sign says, "This sign is self explanatory."
This is me following Tom's suggestion of 2 or 3 sentences for a story. I think it sounded funnier before when I was just throwing ideas back and forth with my friend. But I keep forgetting some of my ideas and keep trying to get something posted. Though If I may suggest, A ninja should have a conversation with a Koala bear.
It's about this kid who's sitting at home alone at night in his parent's house.. he submits a shitty flash animation and as soon as he hits "submit" the place begins to shake. The windows get hit and broken by plungers and lollypops as the house begins to get attacked by NG level weapons. The attack grows progressively worse and finally, at the end, is crushed by a level 60 giant hand smashing the continent he lives on in a major blam-slam! >:@
Paying the Piper
Kimlinh "Hnilmik" Tran
[[hello, super old, stupid-wordy screenplay...]]
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - STREET - AFTERNOON
It is autumn in this vacant suburban neighborhood and not a
sound could be heard, save for the occasional passing bird.
CARLOS VIDAN, late 20's, a tall black man with a large bulky
build stands idly on the sidewalk with his rounded face
fixed in a neutral expression, framed by the short curly
hair on his head across his cheeks and to his chin.
He doesn't stand out in his purple and yellow striped shirt,
save for his dirty jeans and sneaker. He adjusts his glasses
and the dogtags on his right wrist flashes the light of the descending sun.
In his left hand is a large briefcase.
Carlos's sights are fixed on Jacob's two-story house and he
opens the gate to let himself into Jacob's lawn to walk
briskly to the front door.
(sings "Suicide is Painless")
Through early morning fog I see,
visions of the things to be...
INT. JACOB'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - AFTERNOON
JACOB SWINT, 20's, a lanky-built Asian with black hair, save
for the the front fringes and bangs dyed blond, sorts
through DVD's in a black hoodie on top of his unmade bed. In
his pierced ears are headphones playing music. On the upper
lip of his gaunt face is some light facial hair.
His almond-shaped eyes scan through the DVD titles until he
notices one in particular.
Hello, what do we have here?
Jacob holds up the DVD case and examines it closely. He gets up
and sits on the revolving chair beside his desk.
He rummages through a drawer for a magnifying glass, a pen,
and a piece of paper.
He opens the case and examines the disk with the magnifying
glass before scribbling a note on the paper.
You thought you could fool me, huh?
He scribbles a note on the paper.
That's what you get for buying
cheap movies from some guy off the
street: Crappily pressed disks. I
should've known better when I saw
the cardboard box--He probably
lives in it.
The doorbell rings, but Jacob ignores it and checks the
If the region code is for China,
I'll be pissed...
It keeps ringing until he reluctantly stops writing and
pushes himself away from the desk. He gets up before the
chair crashes against the back wall, where movie posters are
He puts on his dark blue baseball cap, pulls up his loosely
fitting jeans, and leaves the room.
INT. JACOB'S HOUSE - FOYER - AFTERNOON
Jacob walks past an open doorway leading to a terrace and
heads down the stairs as the doorbell keeps ringing. He
unlocks a series of locks, then opens the door. Jacob
stares at the larger Carlos with a sour expression.
What do you want?
I heard you got some DVD's from a
friend of mine.
What's it to you?
Carlos undos one of the latches on his briefcase and a bunch
of DVD's tumble out. Jacob's features light up.
Niiiice! I'll get the DVD's to trade for--
The compartment behind the DVD's also falls out, revealing a
cattle prod. Jacob's face contorts into terror as Carlos
takes the cattle prod and drops the briefcase.
Jacob runs up the stairs and Carlos gives chase. Carlos
quickly keeps up and at the top of the stairs, he jabs the
cattle prod at Jacob, but misses and stabs it into a wall.
Cut off from his room, Jacob runs out onto the terrace.
EXT. JACOB'S HOUSE - TERRACE - AFTERNOON
Jacob scrambles to get away from Carlos and notices he has
nowhere else to run as a railing saves him from nearly
falling over the edge.
Jacob turns around to see Carlos getting rid of the cattle
prod and heading straight for him. The Asian knocks down a
nearby side table and picks up a chair to defend himself.
Screw off! I didn't know your friend was
selling me crappy DVD's!
Carlos rushes in and catches the chair just as Jacob swings
it. Jacob pushes him away and makes a break for the door.
Carlos swings the table and knocks Jacob into a wall.
Jacob is stunned, but recollects himself in time to see
Carlos raise the chair to hit him again. Jacob pushes
himself off the wall to throw himself into Carlos.
Carlos stumbles back and breaks the railing behind him. He
grabs Jacob and the two fall over the edge.
3 Sentence Condensed Version of the long ass thing i copy/pasted from Word and then didn't format to the forum:
This bro has another bro over and it's like "Hey bro check this wicked shit out it's like I found an Egypt or something."
Other bro is like "Man I'm crazy as fuck I'm gonna kill you or something."
And then non-sequiter. Rim-shot.
This should be short enough. I think it's fairly obvious what it was based on.
The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.
Soon, the man in black realized that wearing black in a desert isn't a good idea, and he had to slow down, panting. The gunslinger caught up with him before to long, shot him in the kneecaps and left him there without water. All the while, they said nothing.
Now he lies there, already delirious. He dies.
ceci n'est pas un blog.
(get it? It's a link to a blog.)
A couple guys beat off in the same room... but it's not gay.. they're not looking at each other or anything.
These cats are playing jazz out in the alley... and. ahem. Well I mean, it's cats playing fucking jazz.. like upright bass and trumpet and nylon string guitars and shit. COME ON,
Fidel Castro ships all these Cuban prisoners to the U.S. in the eighties and one of them has a fucked-up face and starts selling blow and wearing white suits and buys a tiger and gets shot and falls in a pool.
Okay, I'm being spam-esque, but here's a good one.
That scene from Armageddon where faggot fucking Ben Affleck is playing with toy cars or animal crackers or whatever it was on that chick's belly... but WITH OTTERS.
Think about it, chief.
Two velociraptors are about to watch the ballet. They are very high class, sophisticated and cultured velociraptors. None of the cast survive.
A commercial for a Newgrounds Tank as if it were a commercial for a used car you could buy.
Pico kicks down the double-doors to his school, armed with his fully automatic rifle confronting a horde of his nemesis in the hallway. Alerted to his presence, Pico opens fire on them. With every shot, a tiny memory flashes in his mind on what life could have been, his expression reflecting on how he longs to have a normal, non-violent life...he wants to be a dentist...raise a family, have a nice home...he reloads his rifle's magazine with a bitter expression...he confronts the final enemy at the end of the darkened hallway, the only lightsource from the doors he came from...his long shadow stretches into the blackened abyss, ground littered with bodies. It's himself. (Creatively end it.)
At 1/27/11 02:40 PM, Phobotech wrote: It's himself. (Creatively end it.)
Actually, fuck that. Let that be the ending.
Breaking News! A building in Nevada was found to contained hundreds and hundreds of short gray creatures who have been brutally murdered, most mutilated by multiple gun shot wounds and blunt trauma. Doctors perform an autopsy on them, puzzled as to why their feet and hands aren't attached. As they try to seperate the "cross" in their face, make it really gross, slimy, and horrifying as the eyes and teeth and nose holes are hidden within the layers of fat or skin that's seemed to grow over them. Doctors vomit into a bullet-hole with such intensity, the vomit leaks out of other openings around the body, causing the rest of the medical staff to vomit on each other, on the body, on the medical equipment...the room fills with vomit.
The Newgrounds Revolution:
There once lived a select group of individuals who controlled Newgrounds, the Bourgeoisie run by Tom Fulp and Wade Fulp, and the Proletariat, led by Johnny Utah and Stamper. Johnny and Stamper, sick and tired of the power usage by Tom and Wade Fulp, and by the force labor on their end, decided to start a Newgrounds revolution.
It was a normally Friday morning to Tom when he walked in the office. He noticed that his two finest immigrants, Johnny Utah and Stamper, were not working. He shrugged it off and decided that he would take off a chunk of their current pay, which was nothing by the way. Tom then sat down and logged into his shining check of gold website, Newgrounds.
He noticed something was horribly wrong. Johnny and Stamper had invaded the front page and changed the coding. Now, the normal background was just a picture of Gigantor, naked, doing terrible things to Draconious. Meanwhile, the small flash images on the page were all of art done by Stamper, which shall not be named due to the HORRID nature of these.
Enraged, Tom demanded that his slave, Luis, help him find the perpetrators. The only problem was, Luis was on the side of the Proletariat, and secretly had Johnny and Stamper under his desk, which was only two feet high. Tom didn't notice the two, and stormed off trying to find Wade and possibly cry to him. Luis nodded to his compatriots, and gave his comrades two giant maces, that he somehow pulled out of bag of magical items. Johnny and Stamper charged at Tom and Wade, there was a glorious battle (meanwhile the famous song from the Rocky Horror Picture Show named "Time Warp" is playing in the speakers in the office). In the end, the Bourgeoisie are victorious, and newgrounds is safe for all of the 13 year olds who like to see Stampers "fantastic" art.
There, and to the entire Newgrounds team, Love youuuuu :D
I say, what?
Hope i'm not too late...
Feeling peckish Ned considers taking an egg and frying up that uber omelette for lunch.
Ned takes the egg and gets rustled by a velociraptor, who also plans to eat this egg.
Ned then charges down the mountain in a plan to escape the Raptor,-INSERT SLAPSTICK COMEDY HERE-
Ned obviously makes it home and fries that super egg, but how did he out-wit the dinosaur with greater intelligence than him?
Lets find out.
NO BOB!!!-Classroom Chaos
two men in a classroom before some kids classes start are talking untill bob goes and says "hey joe look at thys" Bob takes out a piece of paper and shows it to bob
it looks like a poorly drawn stickman with the name joe near it pointed to it by an arrow,under the stickman is the word stewped(yes its stupid spelled wrong)
joe gets angry and takes a kids lanyard and throws it at bob in slow motion,then right before it hits bob the screen goes black and says CANNOT SHOW CONTENT TOO VIOLENT...HERE IS JOE CHOCKING BOB WITH A LANYARD(just that but with credits)
alternate end 1: when joe gets angry he gets so angry his face explodes
alternate end 2: when joe gets angry bob throws him on a landmine,joe says " Awe shi) BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
alternamte end 3:when joe gets angry the two are suddenly near a cliff joe says"how did we get here?" bob throws him off the cliff joe says"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW SHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII"splat
"Have you ever wanted to hit someone? You know, the office bully, the noisy next door neighbour, even your own brother, but they just aren't within reach. Maybe you could do it sometime when you see them but now, its easier-
just dial 0800 PUNCH and we will deliver that extra-special message for you. Our trained messangers, with years of experience could be speeding their way to deliver your satisfaction and peace of mind.
Choose between the basic Smack-in-the-chops at only £55 or the deluxe Thunderstruck, guarenteed to send your annoying acquaintance to hospital- we even call 911 for no extra charge.
We offer absolute anonymity and no money will be taken from your account until the message has been delivered.
Call 0800 PUNCH NOW!
Base, Case (and Case) Chase, Dace, Embrace,, Face, Lace, Mace (Mace and Mace) Pace, Plaice, Race (& Race), Space and Trace. Yep all of them, the whole damn lot - ALL belong to us.