What's The Worst That Can Happen?

A boy in school sits thinking:

"Oh man, she's so pretty. Just my style too. I've heard she doesn't have a date for the dance. Why don't I just go up and ask her? But, what if I slip and fall on the way? What if I stutter and she takes me for an idiot? What if the bell rings and I am trampled by the passing mob? What if a rouge pack of pit bulls burst through the door and maul me at the most inopportune time? What if North Korea decides to hit the nuke button? Oh god, forbid, the worst thing of all, she says "no" Oh the humanity!"

"Wait a second" the boys thinks to himself, realizing the only obstacle in his way is an empty hallway. "I think I'll take my chances."

"Hey Emily, do you want to go to the dance on Friday?"
"Certainly!"
"Wow, thank you so much, I was so worried abou-gwaaahahaha" An escaped pit bull cut his sentence just short.

A man starts a collection of those pictures of old people that come in wallets, and frames them around his apartment. The phone rings, it has dust on it. He ignores it, and continues taking out more pictures from a pile of newly purchased wallets. The door bell rings, he turns the lights off and waits for whoever it was to leave. Later, he picks up a particular picture and starts to tear up. The phone rings again.

Monday workday

Johnny was at his dull work not doing what he was supposed to do, when he got a text message from his wife. In the message it said "When you get out of work could you please get some diapers and pacifiers at the supermarket, we're running low". Johnny answered her and went back to his daily labours of playing internet games, watching porn and looking out for his boss so he wouldn't find out what he actually was doing.

Some time later Jerry (one of Johnny's co-workers), came up to Johnny, while he was watching a ridiculously racist flash cartoon named "Africa dudes" Jerry asked Johnny if he wanted to grab a drink after work. Johnny knew that he shouldn't, because his wife had asked him to buy baby stuff. But little did Johnny car for that think "Just this one time won't hurt right?" So he accepted Jerry's offer and went back to not doing his work.

Later at the bar, Johnny was having a really good time with the guys from work. "Nothing is as good as beer after not doing any work, right Johnny" Jerry said and all burst into a friendly laughter. "This is the life" Johnny thought, and took a big gulp of his beer.

Later on, around while Johnny had proceed to begin on his fourth beer, he thought "may by I should tell my wife, so she doesn't have to worry about where I am". So Johnny searched through his pocket for his phone, when just then moment he grabbed it he got a message. The message said "None of the stuff needed, the baby is dead ;)". With frozen like kind of state Johnny just glared at the phone, and then took a gulp of his fourth beer.

My own comment: It's a bit weird yes, but I hope my black comedy i appreciated.

Well, i know its a bit too long and its a pain in the ass to read it. But its pretty detailed, so I am sure that it could fit an one minute movie... or two minute, so please read.
And since this is my first time writhing somethign like this (a story for a flash) please give me some comment and criticism.

Ah, and sorry if the english is bad.

Untitled (couldn't thik of one)

AD 2018 New York, Manhattan

John's vision is blurry, he still was half deaf from the explosion and the helicopter crash.
He is losing consciousness, but he mustn't. With all his might he pulls himself together.

Then he sees someone kneeling above him, a young girl. Her clothes look expesive, but they are old and dirty. She is a refugee, one of many in this territory.
She helps him to stand up. His body aches everywhere as if he was thrown against a wall with full might. He pickes up his weapon and checks the clip.
John looks around: The chopper is a mess and refugees have surrounded it, there are also lifeless bodies, some of them wearing the same light armor as him.
"Are you alright?" asks the girl.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Thanks."
"Seventeen-Fifteen, Seventeen-Fifteen, respond!" It was the radio in Johns shoulder, still working. "Seventeen-Fifteen... Allstar, are you there?"
"Hey Steve."
"Hey, youre alive! What the hell happened there?!"
"A rocket got us and we went straight in a building. The pilots, Shoan, Happy and the Chief are dead."
"What about the VIP?"
As Steve was asking, a person in a suit covered in cuts and bruises, but without any fatal injury crawled out of the wrecked chopper.
"Still alive and kickin'"
"'kay, how far are you away from the primary extraction point?"
"About two miles. Large buildings full of refugees, we should come through without beeing noticed.
"DON'T TOUCH ME,YOU FILTHY SCUM!!!!!" suddenly shouted the VIP as the girl tried to help him up.
"And you, Sergeant." replied he to John "Don't screw around and get me the hell out of here!"

Suddenly there were noises that were coming from oudside.
"Shit, these are their trucks, they've found us!"John checked his rifle a second time.
The young refugee girl then went over to one of the walls and started to make a Hole in it. The other refugees started also to get out of the room with the helicopter.
"This way!" she shouted to John and the VIP "These walls have enough space between them, so that you can escape there."
As the man in the suit and the soldier entered the wall, the door was blasted open. The girl wasn't fast enough, so she was caught by the enemy soldiers. But they failed to notice the two men in the wall.

After several minutes of climbing between walls the two men reached an empty dark room whit two doors.
"Which way is it?" asked the VIP.
Suddenly one of the doors opens and the two men fall back etween the walls. Three enemy soldiers enter the room.One of them is holding the girl, that helped John earlier. Her body is covered in bruises.
"So you still won't tell us, where the soldiers from the helicopter are?"asked one of the three men. The girl does not respond.
"Well, we will catch them anyway, there are snipers deployed all over the place. So in the meanwhile, we will have our fun with you."
As John hears that, he takes his knive and is about to attack the three enemies. The VIP tries to stop him.
"Stop it, you moron, if they kill you, they will also find me. Let's go, she is just a worthless refugee, she will die in one way or another anyway."
But John didn't listen and slowly approached the enemy.

The three enemys were dead in an instand, and without a single shot.
"Are you alright?" asked John the girl, as he was helping her to get up.
"Yeah."
"We should get out of here. Fast."
Suddenly the door opens again and another enemy soldier enters the room.
"Hey chief, let me also have some fun with the g... What the f-" The soldier couldn't end his sentence, because johns knife was sticking out of his head.
"Run, take the other door!!!"john shouted tho the girl and the suit guy.

After 10 minutes of running, half a dozen of shootings and several losses on the enemy side Johns group was able to lose the enemy and now they were moving to the extraxtion point.
"We're almost there." said John. He was tired, but it was almost over, so he had to keep going."
"If you haven't done such a stupid thing as saving her, we would have been out of here a long time ago... You do not intend to take her with you, do you?" the VIP was pretty pissed of the whole situation.
"Well, I don't intend to leave her here alone." responded the soldier."We still don't even know your name." said he to the girl besides him afterwards.
"Sarah, Sarah Newman. Um... I wanted to than-"
Suddnly the radio on Johns shoulder started to rustle.
"Seventeen-Fifteen, here is Thunderbird zero-five, ready for extraction? Over."
"Here Seventeen-Fifteen we are ready, get down here. Over."
The three people, trying to get out of these goddamned ruins of former manhattan, now could see a chopper, that was approaching to the extraxtion point.
"We have to hurry, they can't wait for us for too long." said John to the other two, as he started to run.

Only 100 meters away from the helicopter, that was already waiting.
Suddenly a shot. John acted like always in the drills and every battlefield, hits the grond, ans swiftly moves around.
He instandy scouts out the sniper, who was in one of the taller buildings, which were surrounding the extraction point. After he pushed the sniper back into cover with some good placed shots. He runs to Sarah and the VIP. The sniper got both of them with one shot. The VIP had an leg injury but it didn't look too bad, but he was screaming as if he was thorn apart bit by bit.
Sarah has got it worse. The bullet has hit her in the knee an has thorn of the whole shank. John could see the pain in her eyes, but she didn't scream because of the shock.
"GET ME OUT OF HERE, YOU PRICK!!", screamed the VIP.
But even if it was only for an instand, John was deeplyin thoughts, thoughts a soldier should never have.
He was thinking, about value of life, and he was asking himself:"Why is it so, that one life is valued over another?"
He knew, there was no answer for him to this question. Not for him, a man, who has seen... has done many horrible things.
As he grabbed the young girl, Sharah Newman, about 20 years old, who wasn't important for anyone, instead of the VIP, for whom, so many already died.
He, Sergeant John Groundsberg, didn't think about salvation for himself or anything as noble as saving an innocent girl from this hell. He just selfishly valued her life over the life of the Very Important Person besides him.

The sniper, who got out of his cover, has seen the whole scene. But instead of shooting the Soldier with the girl in his arms, who was almost by the helicopter, the sniper shot his bullet directly into the scull of the other guy, in the expensive looking suit. Reloaded. And the pulled back.

THE END ? ^^

Story told in flashback against monolog.

I am and agent of the N.T.B.

Long ago there was a time traveler. The first of it's kind. All the papers covered it. The only problem is that when it left it took the last hundred or so years with it. The energy surge knocked out every computer and electrified power source. They just don't work anymore. Don't ask.

Now the only way out of this world is to find that time traveler and send them back to set things right. So this is what we do. We hunt anything and everything unexplained in the hopes this might be the day they set for. There are those who stand against us, wanting either what they have now or to use the gift for their own reasons. As for me, all I'm waiting for is that sigular gift of Not To Be.

Mind Games

A man lay in a dimly lit room lying against a wall, blood slowly dripping onto his head.

"Unggh..." He groaned.

His eyes slowly began to open.

He then felt the dripping of blood onto his head, and curious, he checked his head for wounds.

As he checked, a drop of blood contacted the top of his hands, and without thinking, he looked up, and quickly diverted his eyes away from
the ceiling.

The sight of a mangled corpse hung from the ceiling, hanging from nothing, but somehow hung...

"Where the hell am I?" He spoke outloud.

He sat there, trying to recollect his thought of how he got here, but then it dawned him.
He couldn't remember anything.

"Who am I...?" He hastily thought.

The man got up off the floor and scanned the room.

Two candles dimly lit the room, both on opposite sides of the room.

As he scanned the room more, he realized that the whole room was covered in blood.

"What the hell..." He quietly said to himself in disbelief.

As he scanned the room again, he noticed a person sitting on a chair in the centre of the room, and by the looks of it, the person was tied down,
and by the looks of it, was a male.

"Hello?" The man said to the person.

The person gave no response, and was the person's head was facing towards the floor.

"Are you alright?" The man asked.

The person still gave no response.

Curious, he walked over to the person, and stood in front of him.

Dried blood stains were all across the person's shirt, and by the looks of it, most of the blood was pouring to the floor.

Slowly and carefully, he lifted the person's head.

His eyes were then met with a horrific sight, and he quickly stepped back.

The person's throat was slit, and where the eyes were... There was blood, lots of it, but no eyes...

The man slowly staggered back from the sight, and ended up bumping into a wall that had one of the lit candles.

"I have to get out of here!" The man said to himself.

The man quickly scanned the room, and saw a door on the opposite end of the room, right beside the other candle.

The man quickly made his way to the door, and turned the handle.

Locked.

The man then heard rattling behind him.

The man turned his head towards the noise.

And in the chair, the body was shaking madly.

Then, the body turned it's head, and fixed a blank stare onto the man.

"Going somewhere?" The man heard.

The voice did not come from the corpse, but from all around him, he couldn't tell exactly where the voice came from.

The man became petrified with fear, though the body was tied down, and it couldn't escape.

As he blinked his eyes, the corpse was then standing, and still staring at him.

Each time he blinked, the closer it got, and the more afraid the man became.

The man then slowly blinked his eyes, and when he opened them, the corpse was face to face with him, staring at him curiously.

The man felt his heart racing in his chest tremendously.

Then the corpse raised one of it's hands, and brought it down on the man.

The man quickly flinched, and closed his eyes immediately.

...

After waiting for something to happen, he reopened his eyes, and was no longer face to face with the corpse; it was back in the chair, tied down.

"Shit..." The man said with relief as he clutched his chest.

Then the door opened behind him, which made him fall back onto the ground.

"Ooommph!" The man grunted as he hit the ground.

The man then looked up into the darkness as he was on the ground, then looked back in the room where he came from.

"I'm not going back in there..." He quietly said to himself.

The man thought for a second.

He needed a light, wandering in this kind of thick darkness without a light would be stupid, and possibly suicide, due to what he witnessed here.

The man got up off the ground and looked into the room where he came from.

As he was looking, he spotted a flashlight on the floor by the corpse in the chair.

"Looks like there's no other option..." The man said as he entered the room.

He slowly and carefully walked into the room, keeping an eye on the corpse as he approached it.

When he came close enough, he reached for the flashlight, and got it.

As he was pulling away, a hand grabbed his arm.

He then was staring face to face with the corpse again; the corpse then let go of his arm.

"You'll never be safe within these walls!" He heard many voices say around him.

The man looked away from the corpse, and quickly ran out the door, and into the darkness.

As soon as he got ten feet away from the door, it immediately slammed shut.

The man turned on the flashlight, and shone it at the door.

"No going back now..." He said to himself.

"Dammit... Looks like this flashlight won't last long..." He stated outloud.

The flashlight only illuminated a dim orange light into the darkness, which only gave a little bit of light.

The man then began walking into the darkness.

After one minute of walking one direction, the flashlight was beginning to die.

"No! Dammit!" The man said as he began smacking the flashlight; Then, it went dead.

As the man was smacking the flashlight, he felt something brush against his leg; He then began hearing footsteps coming from all around him.

"C'mon!" The yelled as he was smacking the flashlight.

The flashlight then flickered to life.

As the flashlight came to life, the man stopped dead in his tracks; Wide eyed and scared, he looked all around him.

No matter which direction he looked, corpses of many kinds were blankly staring at him.

Many of them had no eyes where they should be, while many were missing many limbs.

The man then began hearing a demonic laugh coming from all around him, the laughter piercing his skull, began driving him mad.

The man dropped to his knees clutching his head as he began feeling a tremendous pulsing sensation in his head, and in the process,
he dropped the flashlight, which was now dying on the floor.

Amongst the demonic laughter, the man began hearing screams within his head, making the pulsing more painful.

The man then began to feel himself bleeding from his ears; Then from his eyes.

The man then closed his eyes.

The flashlight began dying off now, going dimmer and dimmer, until it left the man in the darkness.

Then it was all over...

Sharovipteryx ("Sharov's wing", known until 1981 as Podopteryx , "foot wing"), was an early gliding reptile, from the middle-late Triassic period (230-225 million years ago). Eram aproximadamente oito polegadas (20 cm) de comprimento, com uma cauda muito longa, e pesava cerca de 7,5 gramas. It was approximately eight inches (20 cm) long, with an extremely long tail, and weighed about 7.5 grams. Ele pode ter estado estreitamente relacionados - ou talvez mesmo ancestral - de pterossauros , [1] embora este ainda é controversa. It may have been closely related - or perhaps even ancestral - to pterosaurs , [ 1 ] although this remains controversial. Ao contrário de pterossauros, sua membrana de vôo principal foi esticada entre as longas pernas traseiras e não os seus membros anteriores muito curtos. Unlike pterosaurs, its main flight membrane was stretched between long back legs rather than its very short front limbs.
Sharovipteryx mirabilis. Sharovipteryx mirabilis .
Suplente interpretação esquelético por David Peters. Alternate skeletal interpretation by David Peters.

Se Sharovipteryx era um parente dos pterossauros, então a sua membrana pode ter esticado a sua frente pernas, ou ele pode ter tido uma membrana separadas se juntou aos seus membros frente sozinho. If Sharovipteryx was a relative of pterosaurs, then its membrane may have stretched to its front legs, or it may have had a separate membrane joined to its front limbs alone. Uma membrana secundária é visível entre as coxas eo tronco. A secondary membrane is visible between the thighs and the trunk. membranas da asa frontal não foram vistos; Peters (2006) afirmou ter seguido os dedos [2] e que mostram semelhanças com Cosesaurus e Longisquama e, em menor medida, os pterossauros . Front wing membranes have not been seen; Peters (2006) has claimed to have traced the fingers [ 2 ] and that they show similarities to Cosesaurus and Longisquama and to a lesser extent, pterosaurs . Alguns cenários tê-lo como um animal que pula, que surgiriam no ar e então controle sua queda com a sua "asas". Some scenarios have it as a leaping animal, which would spring up in the air and then control its fall with its "wings". Isso se encaixa bem com a crença de que os pterossauros evoluiu de correr, pular antepassados, pois alguns cientistas acreditam que eles não tinham adaptações para viver em árvores. This fits well with the belief that pterosaurs evolved from running, leaping ancestors, because some scientists believe they lacked adaptations for living in trees. No entanto, outros sugerem que Sharovipteryx iria para cima de uma árvore em sua fortemente agarradas as patas traseiras (sua concepção global parece pobre para subir), e então a primavera no ar. However, others suggest that Sharovipteryx would run up a tree on its sharply clawed rear legs (its overall design seems poor for climbing), and then spring into the air. Os membros anteriores parecem demasiado curto para quadrúpede correr ou subir. The forelimbs seem too short for quadrupedal running or climbing. Essa configuração foi provavelmente necessária a fim de libertar os membros anteriores da tarefa de andar e permitir que eles se tornem outra coisa. Such a configuration was probably necessary in order to free the forelimbs from the task of walking and allow them to become something else.

Sharovipteryx era um bípede. Sharovipteryx was a biped. Comparado, por exemplo, lagartos vivos capazes de executar bípedes, Sharovipteryx tinha uma pélvis melhor, mais vértebras sacrais, mais membros posteriores, um tronco mais curto e uma cauda fina. Compared to eg living lizards capable of bipedal running, Sharovipteryx had a better pelvis, more sacral vertebrae, longer hind limbs, a shorter torso and a thinner tail. A diminuição dos músculos da cauda e do aumento da musculatura pélvica pode mostrar que Sharovipteryx estava em seu caminho em direção a um pterossauro, como o metabolismo, provavelmente homeotérmicos. The diminution of the tail muscles and the increase in the pelvic muscles might show that Sharovipteryx was on its way toward a pterosaur-like metabolism, probably homeothermic. Não foi em função ondulações do tronco para a locomoção e, portanto, não estão sujeitos à retenção do transportador sobre a respiração durante a corrida. It was not depending on torso undulations for locomotion and therefore not subject to Carrier's Restraint on breathing while running.

At 1/19/11 12:04 AM, ForegoneKaden23 wrote: Mind Games

A man lay in a dimly lit room lying against a wall, blood slowly dripping onto his head.

"Unggh..." He groaned.

His eyes slowly began to open.

I think this is pretty good. A good thriller definately.

Once on a quiet morning, in this land of snow and ice
A young girl was born to a couple; Alice and Bryce
They took her home days after, and life began anew.
The baby's name was Sydney; Sydney Donnahue.

Hours to days and days to months and months to years went by.
Poor Sydney Donnahue was 7 years old when Alice and Bryce would die.
The tears fell, frozen, unto the bloodied snow.
A drunken fool called Cindy Lou had run the couple through.

Poor Sydney D. had no one left; nobody to love or care.
Cindy Lou had knifed the two for which she wished God spare.
A habit she had from childhood early began to cycle through.
In boots stained red, Sydney walked off, stepping on footprints. Donnahue's.

All neighbors and folk from around the town would look at Sydney and say.
"Your mother's a Surgeon, your dad a Doctor, some big shoes to fill someday!"
So Sydney D. would tail her dad, stepping carefully each time.
Making sure to place her feet where daddy's boots outlined.

The legend is that death is close if you see Sydney D.
A girl of 7, tromping by; black hair and boots bloodied.
For on the day of New Years Eve, when her parents died.
She followed daddy's footsteps; a reaper for all time.

I apologize, but I typed in an error. The line with Cindy Lou running the couple through, should be "A drunken fool called Cindy Lou had caused their final throes,"

A man is stuck in a loop. Every few seconds his body instantly moves back to the same position and the same spot, which makes it impossible for him to eat, sleep, walk, finish long sentences and many other things that are vital and necessary to living. When he tries to eat food or drink water, for instance, it disappears from his stomach the second he gets back to the original position when he had neither in him.

He eventually wakes up to find that it was all a dream and goes to get a drink of water, but as he begins to drink the water, it happens again, and he either makes en expression of fear or an expression of laughter and acceptance.

End

The Birthday

A guy named Fred is minding his own business in his kitchen.
Billy - Hey Frank! Guess what?
Fred - *sigh* What?
Billy - You know what!
Fred - Uhhhh... no, I don't.
Billy - Oh, c'mon, you know what spe-cial day it is to-day, huuuuuuum?
A moment of silence.
Fred - No, I still don't.
Billy - Ahhh, your joking! You must know what day it is today!
Fred - God, how much time do I have to repeat myself? No, I do not know what day it is today! So would you please tell me what it is?
Billy - Well, you know, is that special type of daaaay?
Fred - Yes?
Billy - When something special is born on that daaaaay?
Fred - Yes?
Billy - Something or someone you care about? That was born on this day?
Fred eyes gets big.
Fred - Oh yeah! I'm so sorry Billy, I almost forgot! Thankyou for reminding me!
Billy has a huge smile on his face.
Fred - Today is the 10th anniversary of the donut shop across the street!
Billy's face gets all sadly surprised.
Fred - Well, don't just stand there, come! They are giving free donuts today!
Fred goes out of house. Billy stays inside.
Billy - Oooohhh... I thought he would remember...
Fred comes back in house.
Fred - Hahaha! You actually thought I would forget your special day for donuts?
Billy, Wait, you remember?
Fred - Of course I do! Quick, come outside, a presnt is waiting for you!
Fred gets out of house.
Billy - Oh boy, he DID remember!
Billy gets out of house. We now see Fred on a huge angry dragon.
Billy - WHAT THE FU-
The dragon eats Billy before he finishes his sentence. Blood goes everywhere.
Fred - Happy Birthday Billy!

Here's my submission, in the form of a letter

---

Dear Crumpled Toes,

I (as in Fimpish [as in THE Fimpish]) am about to tell you about me. Which is a privilege because it doesn't happen too often.

It all started back in 92 when the great Chinsey McFarlane took over Australia for the split second before he was taken to the hospital for the morbidly obese. Although he was the great leader that her was; he could not win the battle against cholesterol. Despite this great tragedy that had occurred, something else just as amazing, although not as well advertised had happened. I was born. But not in just any normal way.

The Great Hunglingly of the Klintoman tribe had successfully spliced the genes of a human and a hippo, creating something so terrific that the world was in awe. Yes... it was I. Which, by the way, explains my uncanny ability to communicate with hippos. And to be able to call the one hippo with the power to fly, also known as the Great white hippopotamus, or better known as Dookie the Great. Personally he likes being called Humphrey, so i call him just that.

Yes he is very nimble and majestic. And we have had many good times together, such as the time we flew to the moon and met a man named Jimmy Blimp who could fly as well. The three of us went back to earth to fight crime for a short period of time. Though as time went on we split up due to both legal reasons and those of our own. We are all still friends and visit every now and then.

What happened to them after this you ask? Well, Jimmy Blimp currently owns the fast food store Blimpie's and is developing a cure for aids. Humphrey is a Buddhist monk. And as for me... well I am trying to open a restaurant run entirely by hippos, but am having trouble due to pay and tax reasons.

Well, here you are. now you've heard my story. I hope you've learned from it.

Sincerely,

Fimpish

If this doesn't get accepted for a jam, I'll submit it. The Jam inspired to make something topical and Newgrounds-centric, perhaps more serious than comic than most.

A Lesson in Patience

When we were young, my buddy and I used to lay flat upon the far end of his idyllic golf course-sized yard and stare straight up into the rosy pink sky near nightfall.

"See those clouds?" he asked. Well, that was obvious. Yes. "The way the sun hits those clouds at this time... well, there's that moment when they turn gray, and the sky really starts to darken. I want to watch for that moment."

I turned my head to him. "But how does it happen?" I asked. "You know?"

But too late... my friend pointed skyward. "You missed it!" he cried. "You weren't looking! If you were patient, you'd see the clouds change color every time you watched a sunset."

Too true.

Now a disenfranchised Tankman Captain and I were on this rickety rowboat during the aftermath of a massive flash flood, instigated by the oh-so fun Clock Crew. The remnants of Newgrounds City drifts along, smelling like countless drowned rats. I haven't seen my brother Helbereth for a week; we got separated during the confusion. I wanted to start our "Freedom" project at long last, or ask Ms. Kerger about a Final Fantasy/Legend of Zelda crossover. Yet the havoc wrought by Cheeto, Choke and their ilk, every last floral criminal mastermind with IQs of ten apiece, TEN DAMN IT! ... Well, you get the idea.

"Hey Neo, cut the melodramatic self-narration!" So says the self-proclaimed Captain barking orders and directions so I would row out to nowhere and find ourselves very lost. "No-one knew it was going to end like this because nobody saw any Jeff Goldblum references in this year's Clock submissions. Not even you! So suck it in and keep rowing. There's got to be more survivors floating 'round on driftwood."

"Driftwood is a Moody Blues ballad," I interject. "It's also where you find corpses turned to zombies by the psychokinetic force of the admins' hatred."

"Shut your mouth, private!" cried the Captain. "I don't want to hear that negative attitude out of anybody! No is not a response, soldier! We can't give up hope! You just got to be patient!"

To which I whipped both oars out of my hands. They landed fifteen feet from the buckling craft, one on each side. Considering the exhaustion I suffered throughout this ordeal, such a vulgar display horrified and also satisfied me.

"What do you know," I hissed, inches from the Captain's face, "about patience?"

"Well," he rasped, "I sat through the middle of Titanic, if that paints a rosy enough picture for you."

That is when the image above, from my childhood, swept me into its undertow. I shook my head from side to side and backed away from the Captain, landing upon the boat's seat, staring at the damage I had wrought several feet nearby. Was I becoming just as random and destructive as the fiends that had conjured this catastrophe? Did I not add to their idea of a Speakonian chucklefest? Then a rifle, long since emptied of its five-five-sixers, struck my chest in an ironic gesture of goodwill.

"Come on, we'll paddle our way to the oars," the Captain explained. So we did. Long and brutal, given we had improvised tools. It felt more like a negative 6 penalty, rather than negative 2, when attempting that feat. Lucky thing the waters were not turbulent.

Upon securing both of the oars in silence, we continued our journey westward, assuming daylight would last longer that way. But it waned faster the more we busied ourselves amidst the deep. Strained and aching from the depleted epinephrine in my system, I hoisted the oars back on deck and lay flat. An eerie calm fell to us both, as the Captain retooled his drenched rifle, contemplating.

"There's got to be a whistle blow somewhere out here," he muttered. "They're for everyone's safety and sanity."

"A Clockwork Flash Flood rarely instigates the whistle blowers," said I. "Clocks generally behave themselves. Now the Kitty Krew and Star Syndicate... they're like the Penthouse and Hustler to the Clocks' Playboy. Nobody's going to blow the whistle to save their lives out here; they don't perceive the Clocks as any real threat."

"Don't get dark on me again private," said the Captain. "There are still people to be saved, and Flash to be preserved even after a disaster like this one. Keep your eyes and ears peeled. Like I said: Patience."

[Continued in Next Post]

[Continued From Prior Neo Post]
Thus I stared into the waning sky. The methane emissions that surround Newgrounds City picked up the pinks and greens, highlighting the only beautiful thing to behold within all one million square miles of its organic amalgam of absurdity. "Sir," I said. "Look up into the sky for a minute."

"And why are we wasting time on this?" he asked... not without some amount of pragmatism between the lines.

"See if the clouds turn from pink to gray."

"The only pink-to-gray action I want to see, buddy, is a burger frying to perfection before my eyes!" The Captain sighed. "But I bet I ain't as hungry as that poor thing flying around."

I spotted the Captain's omen, a harrowing one to behold: a single crowing raven. No gull would dare devour debris from a digital disaster, but how a crow got out here was anybody's guess.

"Raven," I said, pointing. "On his way to fresh carrion. Makes our discussion about the likelihood of survivors moot."

But while I said that, the creature sailed straight down and perched upon my outstretched finger. It surprised me for a moment, but not as much as the creature's ruffled feathers, glassy eyes and greasy grip. This thing was ancient for its species.

"Kind of dead-lookin'," commented the Captain. "Old crow. Chuck it or cook it."

"Asaroki," blurted I.

"Asa... say what?"

"Asaroki," I said. "Old Crow."

"Where'd you hear that kind of word before?"

Before I could reply, I heard something even more interesting: a high-pitched ring, far into the chilly plain. Before I could speak in its absence, it rang again. The raven turned and flew towards the sound. Riiiinnng. Riiiinnng!

In unison, the Captain and I called it for what it was: "Whistle!"

With newfound strength, not from anger or adrenaline but clear-sighted aspiration, I kickstarted the boat with those soaked oars like the little engine that certainly can. "Where's the raven going?" I cried to the Captain (you never face where you're rowing, see). But the whistle would not cease, an aural beacon leading us straight back to where hope still drifts.

I turned to where the action was: a girl, struggling to kick and hold onto a slim board while blowing a whistle. Even amidst the noise, the raven perched upon her head. "She's alive," I cried, widened-eyed. "No doubt about that whatsoever!"

With my oars aside, I dipped over the edge and held my hand out. She paddled over, clutched it with icy grips, and I leaned back to pull her in. She shivered and coughed, drenched and miserable while the Captain wrapped her in his trench coat.

"Hey, pull yourself together!" I cried, when she stopped shivering, thinking she was losing it just as we had pulled her from the water. "Tell me, what's your name?"

She lifted her head and struggled to speak. "L... L--"

"Your Account Name," I said. Aliases are harder to remember, so her brain would get a workout... to prove it still worked correctly. It took considerable effort for her to reply, so I had to remain patient.

"A--Artist G-Gamer Gal," she stammered, chattering all the way. "Y-You?"

Good thing she was asking questions--it was quite alive, that brain--so I introduced myself: "Neophyte Ronin... Intrepid Corsair Films."

In that moment I felt the urge to crane my neck skyward again. Like always, the sky had changed to gray while I looked away. Yet this time I felt as though I didn't actually miss anything, as though the colors around me had brightened instead.

~Fin~

Suggested Soundtrack:
Bad-Man-Incorporated: the Sunset Song (291755)
Demon-Slayer12: Cyanyde - Sea of Blood (275471) [Intro 0:00-0:55]
GonetheAnti-Hero: Drink or Drown (113902)
mr-vincent: Sweet Song (283740) [End Credit]

The Heroic Actions of Waiterman and Bus boy
----------------------------------------
-------------------------------
Opening on Floyd's dinner, a very muscular man and a young lad take a seat in a booth. A young waitress goes to the table asking for their order.

Waitress: "Hey there boys what'll you have"

Muscular man: "Why, do my eyes deceive me, and angel had descended from heaven just to take my order"

Waitress: "(blushing) Oh you're too much"

Muscular man: "No my dear, you are "too much", I'll have the prime rib, well done with mashed potatoes and gravy"

Waitress :"( turning to the lad) And for you?"

Lad: "(a little too exited) I'll have a cheese burger!"

Waitress: "Prime rib and cheese burger coming right up"

Muscular Man: "I shall count the seconds that tick by till we meet again."

The waitress laughs joyously as she walks to the kitchen to give the chef the order, the head chef, and owner, can be seen telling her that he is off to the store in the background as she enters the kitchen

Muscular man: "Ah my boy, these are the good days, the days you treasure for the rest of your life"

Lad: "Gee I hope every day is like this"

Muscular man: "me to kid, me to"

Just then, a scream can be heard. Looking at a neighboring table a skinny sly man can be seen dashing from the table as the waitress screams in terror

Waitress: "Help, help somebody help, that man didn't leave a tip! (Points in the direction of the fleeing man)"

Muscular man: "(standing up) What! No tip, (turning to the Lad) that fiend"

Lad: "is it time to go?"

Muscular man: "(standing heroic) indeed it is my lad, indeed it is. I think it is time to serve some Justice (rips off his cloths revealing a formal waiter uniform done up like a super hero uniform) and I Waiterman shall serve it up hot, steamy, and with a cup of moderately tasting Joe (Joe referring to coffee)"

Standing there for an awkward moment he looks to the lad

Lad: "(pointing to the bathroom door with his thumb) I'm gonna change in the bathroom
Waiterman(formerly Muscular man): (saying to himself) than I shall stall"

Waiterman (formerly muscular man) dashes over and blocks the man who didn't tip

Waiterman: "halt fiend of the non tipping arts"

Non-tipper: "I am the Non-tipper; I never leave a tip and you... uh...."

Waiterman (or director whichever is funnier): "(whispers in the Non-tippers ear) Waiterman"

Non-tipper:" Waiterman shall never stop me, (insert over done evil laugh here)"

Lad: "(appearing out of no ware at waitermans side to the surprise of waiterman himself) you shall never get away Non-tipper!!"

Waiterman: "Right you are Bus boy"

Waiterman reaches over to a stack of conveniently placed on a stand with a sign above them saying "conveniently placed plates" and starts throwing them like ninja stars at the Non-tipper hitting a few people in the process. Dodging the plates the Non-tipper heads towards the door. To his surprise he finds Bus boy (formerly the Lad) standing in front of the door.

Non-tipper: "out of my way child"

Bus boy (formerly the Lad): "I won't let you get away"

Spying the fire exit door the Non-tipper starts to run in that direction. Waiterman starts throwing forks and other utensils at the Non-tipper. The Non-tipper makes noises of pain as he is hit by the utensils. Bus boy once again, somehow, stands in front of the exit.

Non-tipper: "what is with this kid?"

Bus boy: "I'll stop him."

Non-tipper: (knowing he is caught) alright waiterman (as waiterman continues to throw utensles and other cookware at him) you've got me, I surrend....( gets cut off as a pan hits him in the face) owch man, that really hurt! I mean I'm surrendering here.
Waiterman ignores the Non-tippers surrender and continues to throw things at him.

Non-tipper:" Stop it, hey wait, that hurts, (insert other lines of annoyance that would be said if someone was in that position)"

Waiterman pulls a bazooka out of what seems like his pocket

Non-Tipper: "HOLY CRAP!!!!!"

Firing the bazooka there is an exaggerated explosion. Viewing from outside the Dinner can be seen blowing up. Crawling out from under the rubble Waiterman and bus boy gather themselves together.

Waiterman: "(looking at bus boy) Well bus boy, another crisis averted. Always remember my boy, tables wait for no man. (Looking out at the audience with a serious face) and always leave a tip. Come Bus boy, let's go get some ice cream."

Bus boy: "Yeah!!!"

At this waiterman walks away with Bus boy skipping behind him
A few seconds after they walk of a delivery van drives up to the dinner, the Head Chef and owner of the dinner who left earlier slowly gets out of the van. He stands in the parking lot looking at the smoldering dinner as tears come to his eyes. He stands for a few seconds looking at the rubble before a sign that had the dinners name on it and stood next to the dinner falls on him and the van.

I've noticed some erros in my entry, so I'm just posting a fixed version now. Nothing new just fixed

Monday workday

Johnny was at his dull work not doing what he was supposed to do, when he got a text message from his wife. In the message it said "When you get out of work could you please get some diapers and pacifiers at the supermarket, we're running low". Johnny answered her and went back to his daily labours of playing internet games, watching porn and looking out for his boss so he wouldn't find out what he actually was doing.

Some time later Jerry (one of Johnny's co-workers), came up to Johnny, while he was watching a ridiculously racist flash cartoon named "Africa dudes" Jerry asked Johnny if he wanted to grab a drink after work. Johnny knew that he shouldn't, because his wife had asked him to buy baby stuff. But little did Johnny care for that thinking "Just this one time won't hurt right?" So he accepted Jerry's offer and went back to not doing his work.

Later at the bar, Johnny was having a really good time with the guys from work. "Nothing is as good as beer after not doing any work, right Johnny" Jerry said and all burst into a friendly laughter. "This is the life" Johnny thought, and took a big gulp of his beer.

Later on, around while Johnny had proceed to begin on his fourth beer, he thought "may by I should tell my wife, so she doesn't have to worry about where I am". So Johnny searched through his pocket for his phone, when just the moment he grabbed it he got a message. The message said "None of the stuff needed, the baby is dead ;)". With a frozen like kind of state Johnny just glared at the phone, and then took a gulp of his fourth beer.

Forewarned - 660 words

Dylan stumbled, laughing, out the elevator and onto his dorm's floor.

"I'll see you weirdos tomorrow in class," he called to his friends in the elevator as the door closed. Their muffled, rambunctious farewells followed him as he wandered away and through the drab, brown hallways to his room. A day of video game tournaments and movies had worn him thoroughly, and tomorrow's homework still loomed at this late hour. Most of his floormates were asleep by now; the rest were elsewhere getting drunk, leaving Dylan the sole inhabitant of the hallway.

When he groggily retrieved his keys from his pocket and reached for his door's lock, Dylan paused abruptly. Draped from the handle and blocking the keyhole was a plain white sock. Dylan cocked an eyebrow and lifted the sock a bit with his key. It didn't look like one of his socks, but it could have been his roommate's. His freshman mind couldn't fathom why else it would be there, but he wondered why his colleagues would be so thoughtful to return a single sock. Then again, missing socks were always a pain in the ass, second only to empty liquor bottles.

Rolling his eyes, he snatched the sock off the doorknob. A loud thump from the room stopped him again before he could unlock the door. He took a moment to listen, and as he waited, he began hearing shuffling, grunts, and tidbits of dialogue. One voice sounded an awful like Will's; the other sounded somewhat feminine. Dylan didn't quite expect his drunkard-of-a-roommate or his friends back this early, but perhaps they had started drinking earlier today and therefore finished earlier.

Casually, Dylan unlocked the door and entered the room with the sock in hand. He didn't question why the lights were off, but when he flipped them on, he at once cursed himself for not doing so.

The grunts and groans and voices only lasted a moment longer, but they continued long enough for Dylan to catch an "Oh yeah," a "That's it, baby," and a few other bits of trite sexual squeals. The rest played out in relative silence.

In the middle of the room, propped between both of their beds, sat a large cardboard box. Two crude, white sock puppets stood over the "stage." One was fully erect; the other was slightly bent towards the other's base where a hairy arm protruded. Behind the box, Dylan could make out an upright naked ass.

There was a prolonged realization between the two entities. Dylan glanced horrified between the two pairs of googly eyes which lolled absurdly atop the puppets. The sock puppets, in turn, watched back, mouths agape. Gagging, Dylan realized the bent sock puppet had on what looked like lipstick and fake eyelashes.

A man popped up from behind the box suddenly, his nudity at once very apparent when compared with his two covered hands. Dylan jumped and took a moment before he realized who he was seeing was, in fact, Will, albeit with his head covered by a black pantyhose. From behind the darkened mesh, Will's eyes were as wide as his sock puppets'.

"Uh, dude," Will stammered, quite lucidly. "Can you give me a few more moments or something?" Dylan couldn't bring himself to reply. He could only shudder as he realized Will had moved the "male" sock puppet's mouth in sync with his own words.

Silently, Dylan dropped the sock in his hand and walked hurriedly out of the room. He slapped the lights off and slammed the door. Fumbling and cursing, he grabbed his key and locked the door.

Traumatized and nauseous, Dylan placed his back against his door and slid to the floor. Breathing heavily, he slowly looked forward blankly down his hall. Seconds later, the grunts and gasps started again in his room.

He sobbed quietly and slowly dropped his head into his lap. All down the hall, it seemed the doorknobs had spontaneously grown plain, white socks.

END

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-"

-The End-

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

-------

In The Lost & Found

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.

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.

Bucket Brain

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.

The Doom of Newgrounds

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...

Tim farts.

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.

End.

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.

The end.

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.

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.

kay?

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 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.