| This is the story of Lonely Joe. A man, for whom, love was a constant woe. He looked for it here, he looked for it there, But poor Joe could not find it anywhere. And so he resolved to love himself, Little did he know it would affect his health. He spent many passionate nights alone; Just a man, his hand, and the privacy of home. One morning, however, he awoke to a scare, The palms of his hands had grown copious hair. This did not worry Joe for long; he quick grabbed a razor, To shave ‘way the hair as if nothing major. He spent many passionate nights alone; Just a man, his hand, and the privacy of home. One morning, however, he awoke to a fright, Sometime during the night he had lost his sight. This did not worry Joe for long; he quick bought a cane and dog, Still he continued loving his log. He spent many passionate nights alone; Just a man, his hand, and the privacy of home. One morning, however, he awoke to a dread, His hands were now gnarled and twisted. This time there was no quick fix for Joe, For he had reached the depths of inferno. Unable to use his hands and blind, Joe lost his home, and with it his mind. He now aimlessly wanders all the land, Begging strangers for a helping hand. |
 Alucard and Seras |
| Woah that was well written, and very interesting. |
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| Part 1 I HAVE AN ADDICTION. Jeremy Nickle had typed these words not twenty minutes ago and had spent the subsequent time mulling over them. He had finally come to the conclusion that, with regards to him, truer words had never been typed. His office was of a modest size, it was not the grandeur that attracted him but the privacy. Allowing him to close the door and lock out the world. In his own private space he could do whatever he desired, much like he was prepping to do now. The wall behind was lined with average sized windows that poured sunlight into the room, he had worn black dress pants to work today. The black would attract the sunlight and with it the sun’s heat, warming his thighs and loins where he sat. This provided a sensation he found quite agreeable. PING! The computer balked out, alerting him that his download was complete. And about damn time if you asked Jeremy, it had nearly taken an hour. He brought up the Download Complete window and clicked Open. And sure enough she appeared on the monitor. The shot opened on only her feet but he could tell, he had seen them enough times in enough adult features to recognize those ten little piggy’s anywhere. The nails were painted with her signature toe nail polish, Venetian Violet. The camera panned along the length of her legs, he liked that they were not runway model long and thin, but supple and smooth; something you could really sink your teeth into. Jeremy was suddenly struck with the image of two sun burnt legs that caused him to shudder with unease, the message could not be clearer. He paused the video and turned from the computer screen, and there she was. Ever watching him, judging him. Unblinking, unnerving in her vigilance. He turned the picture of his wife around so she was watching the door. There was no way he would be able to reach a state of arousal in her presence, even if it was just a photo of her. With her disparaging gaze averted, he was free to resume his viewing pleasure. The camera was now focused primarily on her crotch over which she wore a tasteful black panty that he would very much like to taste. It continued to roam her; across her tummy, over her bellybutton (an inny, very important, very cute), pulling back ever so slightly to get a full shot of her voluptuous breasts (not comically enlarged, natural, big enough to fit one in your mouth) cupped in a bra that matched her panty, further up trailing the slender of her neck, and finally resting on her face. And what a face, most might dismiss it as plain – even common, but those fools miss the beauty it holds of a natural quality unhindered by massive amounts of make-up which has become so prevalent in the industry and abroad. No, she was like an apple from the garden, ripe and unfettered. If Jeremy had no previous knowledge of her profession as a public fornicator he might have been fooled. The cinematographer asked a question, what it was exactly Jeremy could not be sure but undoubtedly something lewd. With a cute giggle she started to respond, “Well, the first time I ever…” but he could not properly concentrate on the answer, for Jeremy was in a state of panic. In his libidinous anticipation he had overlooked something integral, the volume. While he did not register what the young lady on his monitor was saying, he could nonetheless hear her voice loud and clear; which meant that other people could hear it as well, people behind the door, people he worked with. With a quick jerk he moved the mouse to pause the video, and then muted it. He leaned to the side of his computer and stared past it to his office door, and waited. Any minute he expected someone to barge in and announce in a resounding cry, “Aha! You were watching pornographic material, Jeremy Nickle!” Thus, all his past indiscretions would be brought to light. “It was you who charged all those 1-800 phone calls to the company, Jeremy Nickle! It was your copy of hustler that was found hidden in the cooler at the company picnic, Jeremy Nickle! It was all you, Jeremy Nickle! You, you, you, YOU!” Oh the shame, oh the indignity. Oh the shame and indignity! And then he would never be able to show his face at work again, heck they would probably fire him on the spot. And then he would be unable to get a similar position at any other company, for surely they would circulate a notice between businesses detailing his numerous acts of deviancy. And then there was his wife, whom he would have to relate the entire sordid affair to with his tail hanging limp between his legs. And then- 10 minutes had already passed before he realized not a single soul had so much a breathed on his door. Perhaps he had over reacted? Jittery Jeremy’s mind began to ease and he was ready to click play when what he had most dreaded occurred. KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK! |
Alucard and Seras |
| Part 2 Somebody was knocking on his office door. It’s nothing, he hoped, just an employee with a question and nothing more, knocking on my office door. Still it had to be answered, to not do so would be suspicious. He stood, straightened his pants, which had become fairly hot but not enough so to produce any unsightly bulges, maneuvered round his desk and to the door. Behind it was not his accuser but his secretary, a woman whose intelligence, diligence, and composure had caught his eye immediately during her interview. Not to mention she possessed other assets he found desirable in a secretary. “I’ve read over your proposal three times since you gave it to me yesterday,” If only she knew there was something else he would like to give her, “and I made only the slightest amount of changes.” She was being kind, his type up was lambasted with her corrections. She planned to go over each note, but he did not mind. Being 6 feet and she 5’5” at the most, Jeremy could give the appearance of listening to her and studying the pages in her hands when in fact he was staring down her blouse. It was loud red, quite unlike her normal attire, and she had only buttoned up three quarters of the way leaving her cleavage exposed. By no stretch of the imagination was she bosomy, but enough so to draw him in. Plus she had not worn a bra today. Her words floated just outside reach of his ears, every once in a while he would answer her back with a: “I see your point” or “that never occurred to me” - all the while his eyes never straying from her chest. Two tender fleshy globes of conservative size, pale skin with nary a blemish, the gentle curve of the beast as it came down to the middle of her chest and up again to the other one. He thought of the video he wanted to watch. He thought of her in that video. He thought of her on all fours with him- Jeremy’s breathing had slowed to almost nonexistent, he was light headed. The blood in his head was migrating down south, a feeling much welcomed if he was alone in his office but with his secretary just inches away (inches, he could close that gap easily) it was inappropriate. More to the point it was embarrassing. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other hoping the blood would take a detour to his thighs rather than pooling in his crotch. It was stupid, the human body did not work like that. Still he did it, hoping to defy his overzealous self. For a split second his secretary hesitated, then continued pointing out his mistakes. She must have taken notice of his shimmying and shuffling. That was okay with Jeremy, so long as she did not find out why he was doing it. If she told the other employees? Who cares! Let them think him an oddball, which he was not, rather than a pervert, which he was. He frantically raced through his mind searching for anything to kill an erection: that rank chili his aunt made when he was younger, that time in high school when he was intoxicated and decided the best way to cut his hair was with fire, a dead squirrel he once saw on the way to work. Wait, work! That was it. With a sly glimpse over the shoulder he caught sight of it, the photo he had turned toward the door where he currently stood. Yes, that did it. He might as well of had a dead fish dangling between his legs after that. With blood circulating to his brain once again, Jeremy came back to the world of cognitive thought. Just in time to hear the end of his secretary’s notes, “And that’s all of them. Really a very good proposal Mr. Nickle, but with just a little tweaking it will be great.” “Good, good.” He concurred, acting the apt pupil to her lecture. “I value your input as always and will get right to fixing it once I finish with my research…alone in my office.” Smiling to punctuate the end of their discussion, he moved to go back into his office when she did something she had never done before. She reached out and grabbed him. The only time they ever came into contact was by mere accident, their bodies pressed together due to an overcrowded elevator or their hands brushing by as they passed papers, but now she had initiated a connection. To Jeremy this meant only one thing: she wanted him. And judging by how firmly she gripped him, she wanted him bad. Who could blame her? He looked down to see where she held him, her thin delicate fingers wrapped around his long thick forearm. Meeting her gaze, Jeremy was disappointed to discover no lust in her eyes but rather work oriented urgency. “What?” “This proposal,” she broke to him, “has to be presented today. Right now.” “Now?” “Now.” “To whom?” Whatever color was in her pale face, drained away speedily. Under a hushed tone she breathed out a name, “Ms. Coffi.” Wonderful. Ms. Coffi: strong, black, and if you make one wrong move she will cream you. Jeremy Nickle really wished he had listened to his Secretary’s notes now. |
Alucard and Seras |
| Awesome... |
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| Final Part With a weak wrist, he feebly took the proposal from her. Ms. Coffi, he had about as much chance of pleasing her with this proposal as he had of pleasing his wife on any given night. Go to her office? Why not send him to the bowels of the inferno and be done with it? Shoulders slumped, back hunched, and head well hung; Jeremy shuffled off. The company he worked, Key Berries, occupied three floors of the Manors Building, not the biggest skyscraper in town but still no slouch in the height department. Each of the three floors had the same basic design; offices lined the walls, a labyrinth of cubicles in the center, with a washroom and lunchroom occupying ends at odds in corners. Cubicles all came in one tiny size, while the offices ranged from small (like Mr. Nickle’s) to large. The latter is what Ms. Coffi had; she had fought as strongly to get the biggest one on the floor as he had to get the smallest. He remembered the last time he had been called to her office to present a proposal. So racked with nerves, he came off sounding like Bob Newhart doing a routine. She ripped into him like he was a virgin’s vagina. For a week afterwards his performance suffered both in work and at play, he did not wish to relive the experience. But what could Jeremy do? It was his job. Before Ms. Coffi’s office was the desk of her secretary. Whereas Jeremy had chosen a willful woman to work with, she had gone for someone more submissive. A mousy looking lady prone to mumbling and inopportune moments of clumsiness, you could not really blame her for the way she was though. Who knows what kind of person she was before Ms. Coffi pummeled her into her current state? In the tiniest voice he could muster, Jeremy whispered over, “She in?” “Is that Mr. Nickle out there?” A voice like thunder came from a mahogany door behind the secretary. Both flinched. He had barely uttered anything audible. How could she have heard him? She could not have heard. Had she actually sensed him, like a tiger sensing its prey in the night? Jeremy was hit with the powerful urge to turn tail and scamper back to his cozy little hole where it would be safe. Oh no, he thought, my hole! by which he meant his office. In his melancholic state he had completely forgotten about his computer. Specifically the video currently paused on his computer. He had left it there, for the whole world to discover. If anyone came into the office looking for something all they would have to do is catch a glimpse of the screen. And then… How could he be so stupid! He mentally kicked himself. He had to go back, now! No two ways about it. But before he could make like a hockey stick and get the puck out of there, the voice called to him. “Enter.” Not a request. He entered. Her office was always a sight to behold, not only because it was four times the size of his but because the fourth wall that faced the street was completely made of glass. On his first trip to her office, it looked to Jeremy like the fourth wall had not even exist, and if Ms. Coffi were so inclined she would eject him from the building the fast way. Besides being intimidating, the glass wall let in a vast amount of light to fill the room, almost like being in a giant light bulb and the heat produced caused him to perspire in the most inappropriate places. Contrasting the grandiose appearance was a noticeable lack of furniture. Just a desk and her seat, anybody stopping by was expected to stand. So Jeremy stood, erect as it were, before a woman that could make him anything but. She was a strong black woman which stuck out in Jeremy’s mind, not because he was a racist but because those two traits meant she had worked ten times as hard as him or anyone else in the company to get where she was. She deserved her position and then some. Sitting where she was in a white dress shirt pulled tight over her bosom, her hair was short and her face lean accentuated with brilliant eyes. She focused on him like predator watching prey; Jeremy could have peed himself then and there. Her chocolate lips parted to say, “Let’s here the proposal.” No thunder in here tone, more intimate. With just the two of them, her voice was soft like butter, soothing, but her curt choice of words reminded him that one screw up meant behind. A quick scan of the papers in hand gave him enough info to proceed. “What I am proposing is…” and a rambling stuttering Jeremy went into his spiel. Despite his left leg twanging of its own accord and a few verbal stumbles, Jeremy thought he was doing a fairly competent job. And that made him happy – until it hit. TAP! My Lord, it sounded like a bomb went off in the building! TAP! He looked up from his notes to see what could be the cause! TAP! Ms. Coffi was tapping her plastic pen on her metal desk! TAP! Was this woman mad?! “Continue.” She said in that damnably silky way of her. Tap! Jeremy shuffled through what he had in hand trying to find his place. Had he been at the top of the page or the bottom? Or Heaven forbid he was somewhere in the middle, he would never find his place again. What if he was on the wrong page entirely?! His heart palpitated sporadically. TAP-TAP! She had picked up a rhythm now. TAP-TAP! It was not helping. TAP-TAP! Was she trying to mock the beating of his fretful heart? TAP-TAP! Could she hear his heart? Was it beating so loudly? It certainly felt that way to him. TAP-TAP! This woman is going to give poor Jeremy a heart attack! … Nothing. … A queer silence overtook the room…Ominous…Foreboding…Some shit was about to go down. He looked to Ms. Coffi to see what new form of office torture she had conceived. It was even worse than he feared. The pen, no longer tapping, was held firmly between her fingers with the end in her mouth. The fiend! For you and I it would look like nothing more than someone chewing on their pen, but for Jeremy it appeared oddly like fellatio. Fellatio, a word so beautiful it was enough to get his sap rising. The flood gates had opened. The heat from her expansive windows had set him ablaze from the waist down, what he once thought impossible before Ms. Coffi was now happening, and no amount of shimmying and shuffling could stop the Cyclops from rising. He moved the papers he had kept close to his face for reading down in front of his groin to hide the unruly creature. Oh the shame, oh the indignity. Oh the shame and indignity! Whatever could Jeremy do? There he stood: sweating like Nixon, stuttering like Claudius, verily aroused, with a Proposal that needed presenting, and the papers needed to do so were down below his waist. And so he thought: Fuck it. Proposal be damned, he spoke unhindered from his heart because at this point he had nothing to lose. What then spewed forth from Jeremy’s mouth was a spectacular stream of bullshit not ever before or even ever after witnessed again in the history of Key Berries. Jeremy Nickle, a man on the edge with nothing to lose, pulled facts out of thin air and used words much bigger than was necessary. Thus, his loquacious proposal came to its dénouement, providing a magnanimous masterstroke of prestidigitation to circumvent the fact that everything he said was jejune. “Good” was her only comment, but beneath her penetrating glare Jeremy thought he detected the slightest of smiles. Still holding the paper before his manhood, he pivoted out the door. He allowed himself a moment of peace standing outside her office that came to an abrupt end with intrusion of a mechanical whirring. It was Ms. Coffi’s secretary sharpening her pencil. He watched as she slid the length of wood out of the plastic cavity, raise it to her puckered lips and blow ever so gently away the shaving round the tip. Unsatisfied with its sharpness she rammed the shaft back into the opening, forcing it deeper and deeper. He could have watched this all day, if not for the fact that THE VIDEO WAS STILL PAUSED ON HIS COMPUTER SCREEN! Jeremy dashed back to his office as fast he could with a piece of paper obscuring his erection. Sure people noticed, but they simply saw some sweaty man running round the office and not some sweaty man running round the office with an erection wagging before him like the tail of an excited dog. Already he could see his secretary was not at her desk, and as he neared Jeremy knew why. Not needing to look through the open doorway, he knew she was in his office. She was going though his papers, he could hear them rustling. His flesh itched all over, every atom in his body screamed: RUN, RUN, RUN! But his natural curiosity inched him forth. In baby steps he tiptoed his way towards the door, she would not hear him this way and if he saw that she knew what he feared he could then slink away unseen. Peeking one eye around the frame of the doorway, Jeremy spied her standing behind his desk. All must be lost, he thought. Before he could make his escape, she spotted his head peeping her. “Mr. Nickle?” Damn it. Hand caught in the cookie jar, he walked in head down trying to avoid eye contact. He would have cried if he had not sweated out the tears not long ago. “How did the presentation go?” In the choked up voice of a child he said, “Well.” “That’s good. I knew my notes would help.” “I value your input as always.” “Thank you very much Mr. Nickle.” She moved round his desk making it seem like she was about to leave, but Jeremy knew she was faking him out. He could tell there was more she wanted to say, something just on the tip of her pink lips. All he could do was wait. She stopped somewhere between him and the desk, here it comes: “Is that Mrs. Nickle?” “Pardon?” She was pointing to the framed photo that glared at them. “Yes, that’s my,” he searched for the right word, “my wife.” “Oh,” she seemed to be staring fondly at the photo, why she would be was beyond Jeremy. She looked to him and smiled, “She’s a very beautiful woman, Mr. Nickle. You’re very.” And with that she was gone, pulling the door behind her. Still trying to process the compliment he had been paid, Jeremy sat down in his seat and looked to his screen. The Windows logo is what greeted him. Having left the computer inactive for so long the screensaver had come up. Thank God for screensavers. Jeremy felt like dancing, felt like singing, felt like jumping out his window and flying to the moon – but settled for a quiet, personal, “Fuck, yes.” He moved the mouse, and was ready to start the video when hesitation stayed his hand. It was what his secretary said. He picked up the photo of his wife and looked into her face. He repeated what she had said, “Lucky.” Jeremy opened the bottom drawer of his desk, set the frame in it, closed back the drawer and locked it. He was lucky alright, lucky that neither his secretary, boss, wife, or anybody else knew what he was up to. He clicked play. |
1eyedjokerAug 2, 2009 2:19 PM
Alucard and Seras |
| 1eyedjoker’s Snow White Once upon a time in a far away land there lived a beautiful Queen in a beautiful castle, populated by beautiful servants. And she possessed a many beautiful things. There was a beautiful chifferobe, and an even more beautiful armoire. There was a beautiful pussy, and an even more beautiful doggy. As you can tell, almost everything in the castle was beautiful, except for the Queen’s daughter. Snow White was her name and she was a horrendous sight. She had a pig nose, she had beaver teeth, her eyes were not on the same level nor of the same size (the right being noticeably larger than the left), and there was more hair above her lip than on the whole of her scalp. The Queen despised her ugly child and frequently voiced her displeasure. Often she could be heard requesting “Snow White! If you insist on venturing out of the basement during the day, then please wear some sort of beautiful bag over your not so beautiful face.” If there was ever a visitor to the castle she would introduce Snow White as “The ugly one.” She was cruel with her insults and even encouraged her servants to do likewise. And so, Snow White was meant to feel bad because of her appearance. At a young age she decided that if she could not be good in terms of looks she would be good in deed. She would assist the servants in cooking and cleaning and any other chores that were needed to keep a castle beautiful. Yet all her hard work could not please the Queen. When Snow White turned sixteen, her mother came to a terrible conclusion that her daughter’s ugliness was not just a faze. It would haunt her the rest of her life, unless she did something. That night, she told one of her servants to take Snow White deep into the woods and murder her. The servant, not wanting to displease the obviously insane mistress, ran straight to Snow White’s room, threw the sleeping girl in a sack, and ran deep into the woods. It was just after dawn when Snow White began to awake. Seeing the restlessness in the sack, the servant turned it upside down and out tumbled the surprised girl. “Where am I?” she asked, “What’s going on?” The servant bluntly retold what the Queen had told him. Snow White’s monstrous face contorted first in disbelief, then grief. Sour tears streamed from her loopy eyes, her lips curled revealing her bucked teeth, and snot bubbled from her pig nostrils. She cried and wailed and honked, for her life was about to end. The servant looked upon this quivering mess of beast and felt pity. He could not kill such a poor creature that had never known kindness. So he turned his back to her, resolute in his decision to lie to the Queen about her daughter’s death. With the servant’s back to her, Snow White seized the opportunity. She grabbed a large rock off the ground, lifted it high above her head, and brought it down with a sickening crack on the man’s skull. He hit the ground and she hit him again and again. When she had finished there was no longer a head on the body, blood and brains pooled in the dirt and stained her dress. Terrified, she ran. Snow White ran deeper and deeper into the woods, becoming utterly lost. Completely alone, she cried once more. Day passed, night came, and with it the howling of hungry wolves. Surely they would find and devour her. She was about to lose all hope when her eyes spied a tiny light in the distance. She followed it to its source, a large house in the middle of the woods. Afraid, hungry, and cold; she went to the house, opened the door, and entered. What she found were seven handsome men sitting at a long dinner table with a bounty of food before for them. Their heads turned in unison to her direction, and she suddenly remembered how ugly she was and that her dress was now covered in bloody brains. Snow White closed her eyes and waited for the screaming to commence…but it never came. “Who’s there?” asked one of the men. “Me,” responded Snow White. A chuckle rippled among the men and one of them asked, “And who’s ‘me’?” Snow White’s eyes shot open, something was weird with these men. She took a closer look and saw a milky white fog over each man’s eyes. All seven men were blind. Snow White breathed a sigh of relief and told them a quick lie, painting herself as a lost traveler in need of help. They believed her and invited her to join them for dinner. She accepted. All eight of them ate their fill and afterward the men prepared an extra bed for Snow White. The next morning, the blind men offered Snow White the chance to live with them, provided she cooked and cleaned for them. She was already accustomed to doing these things from her time at the castle, so she once again accepted their gracious invitation. With Snow White running the house, life was better than ever for the seven blind men. Every day they would tell Snow White how glad they were that she lived with them and how much they loved. This made Snow White happier than she had ever been. But every once in a while one of the men would ask to feel her face to know how beautiful she really was, and Snow White would tell them “No!” For she feared if they knew how ugly she they would cease to love her. While Snow White was living it up with seven handsome single men, her mother the Queen started a crusade. She was purging her land of every ugly thing. From snails to poorly decorated barns, nothing was safe. Soon enough a rumor reached her about an ugly girl living with seven blind men in the woods. Unable to leave this rumor unchecked she went to investigate. Disguised as an old and less beautiful woman, the Queen discovered the house in the middle of the woods. She was shocked to see that the ugly girl people spoke of was none other than her daughter. She was also very angry to find out that the seven men she lived with were incredibly good looking. Filled with spite, she produced a magically poisoned apple, just one of many magically poisoned items she carried around for just such an occasion. The Queen took the apple to the house and called out, “Apple for sale!” “Apples?” Snow White opened the door, “Did you say apples for sale?” It had been so long since The Queen had seen her daughter; she had almost forgotten how ugly the girl truly was. Now seeing her up close again after so long, the Queen vomited a little in her mouth but was able to keep the ruse going by swallowing the bile. “No, my dear, I said apple for sale. Singular.” “O,” said Snow White disappointed, “no thank you. Eight people live in this house and one apple could never feed all of us.” She was about to close the door when the Queen wedged her foot into the doorway, “Wait!” She held the apple before Snow White. “Look at this beautiful apple. Sure, it can only feed one person, but why shouldn’t that person be you? You must spend all day cooking and cleaning, you deserve a treat.” The apple did look delicious, and Snow White did wish to eat it. So she paid for the fruit and took a big bite, but no sooner than once the apple piece was in her throat that the magic poison affected her. She fell into a death like slumber and the Queen cackled and clucked all the way back to her castle. When the blind men returned home they nearly tripped over Snow White’s lifeless form lying in the doorway. They shook her and cried for her, but she would not awake. They were all very sad and with her dead they finally got a chance to feel how beautiful she really was; however, as their hands ran over her face they realized she was not really beautiful at all. So they dumped her corpse in a vegetable patch for compost and continued with their lives. Soon a Prince from a neighboring land happened upon the vegetable patch. He was in search of a pumpkin for the annual Halloween Jack-o-Lantern contest where the person with the most horrifying Jack-o-Lantern would be crowned King of Halloween. The Prince had won the past two years in a row and was going for the hat trick. Unfortunately, this year he had yet to find the perfect pumpkin. Searching through the vegetable patch near the blind men’s home, he found Snow White’s corpse. Enchanted by her grotesqueness, he decided that her head was more horrifying than any Jack-o-Lantern could ever be. So he planned to cut off her head and enter that into the contest. He pulled out his trusty cutter and made the first incision across her throat. As soon as Snow White’s throat was open, out popped the poisoned piece of apple and she came back to life. The Prince bandaged up the slit he had made and she thanked him with a big sloppy horse like kiss on the maw. She then told him about the old woman and the apple. The Prince, having been in the company of said Queen many times had heard her bragging about poisoning her daughter with fruit, and deduced that she must have been the culprit. Outraged at the Queen’s villainous ways, the Prince and Snow White devised a plan to teach her a lesson. At the annual Halloween Jack-o-Lantern contest people from all over congregated to show off their carved pumpkins. The Queen was quite displeased with how so many people reveled in ugliness. She made sure to stand a safe distance from all the horrid Jack-o-Lanterns. The Prince noticed the Queen off by herself and quickly found his way to her side. “How good to see you,” he said embracing her. “Come you must see my Jack-o-Lantern. I’m particularly proud of this one.” He led her by the hand. She tried to protest, but he moved so quickly and held her hand so firmly that they were before his presentation before she could even utter a syllable. In place of a pumpkin the Prince had a large box. This stupefied the Queen, “But where is your pumpkin?” With a wink and a sly smile the Prince told her it was inside the box, but if she wished to see it she would have to lean in close. The Queen leaned in. “Closer,” he said. And she did. “Closer,” he said. And she did. “Closer,” he said. And the Queen leaned in so close the tip of her pointy nose nearly touched the front of it. Knowing she could not get any closer, he lifted up the box revealing a crouched Snow White. “Boo,” the girl said. The mean old Queen shrieked till her lungs burst and she fell down dead from equal parts shock and disgust from Snow White’s ugly mug. Everyone rejoiced. The Prince’s Jack-o-Lantern was declared the most horrifying of all. He was named King of Halloween now and forever, and as a Queen he took Snow White. They lived happily enough ever after. |
1eyedjokerFeb 11, 2010 6:47 AM
Alucard and Seras |
| Hahahaha this was the best Snow White parody! As funny as all Brothers Grimm stories are. |
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| Hehe I like this version of Snow White. *10 stars* |
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| First part of a one-act play I'm writing: Familial Ties Scene I Mother Linda is working in the modest kitchen of her house, preparing breakfast for her sons. She hums along with her cooking. Linda is a strong, stout woman dressed in jeans and a bright blouse. Though in her late forties she looks younger. Her kitchen looks fairly clean, but the appliances are noticeably old. There is a small round table in the center of the room with three uncomfortable looking wooden chairs around it. Someone knocks on the door to the kitchen. She sets down a frying pan and wipes her hands on her apron. Linda: Coming. The knocking grows louder. Linda: I said I’m coming. She starts walking to the door. Someone is banging very loudly now, the door is shaking from the knocks. It is an annoying sound. Linda: Hold your horses! I’m right at the door! She unlocks the door and lets in her eldest John who is tall, thin, and clean shaven. Like his mother, he looks younger than his actual age which is in the late twenties. He likes to hear himself talk and takes pleasure in making outlandish and offensive comments to aggravate others. Right now, he is cold and displeased. John: Jesus Christ, it’s cold out there. Linda locks the door behind him, she does not look happy. Linda: You know, you shouldn’t hold knock like that. The door could break. John: I was FREEZING to death! My balls have literally shriveled to the size of raisins. And my nipples (unzips jacket) are perkier than Pam Anderson’s. And my- Linda: Alright, alright. I get the picture. Come, sit down, some breakfast will warm you up. She leads him to a seat and sits him down at the small round table. Linda: So what would like? I got fried eggs, oatmeal- John: Got any Lucky Charms? Linda: Lucky Charms? John: What can I say? (fake Irish accent) Blame it on me Irish blood. Linda looks quite displeased with his choice of breakfast, John cannot help but cave. John: I’ll have oatmeal. Linda: Good. As she busies herself getting his food, John looks around. John: Where’s Chris? Linda: Getting ready. John: I had hoped he’d be ready by the time I got here. Linda: You be nice to him, he’s going through a rough patch. John: I know, I know. And when have I ever not been nice to him, mom? He is my younger brother after all. Linda: Since the day I brought him home from the hospital you’ve been messing with him. Poking and prodding and ruthlessly teasing- John: Well that’s your fault for bringing him home instead of the pony, like I had wanted. The breakfast is placed before John. Linda lingers over him to dispense further admonishment. Linda: I don’t want to hear any talk like that today. John: What? They’re just jokes? Linda: They aren’t funny. How about a little compassion for the boy? His fiancée just died. John: Yeah, Yeah. That is sad. Believe it or not, I do feel sorry for him. I do! And they were so close to the wedding. Linda: Just a week before they were to be wed. John: It’s a fucking tragedy. (pause) Don’t worry, mom, I’ll be appropriately lugubrious once he decides to grace us with his presence. Linda: Enough of all this sad talk. Eat. She sits down next to John and just watches him eat for a while. She wants to say something, but waits for the right moment. Linda: Speaking of marriage, when are you and Holly going to get married? John: Mom. Linda: You know my sisters call every week and ask when you are going to get married. John: Well you can tell them the same thing I tell you- Both: “When hell freezes over.” Linda: But why? Why won’t you two get married? John: I believe in marriage as a commitment, not a ceremony. In our hearts Holly and I already married. And isn’t that what’s really important? Linda: Hm. John: (smiles) And this way, when we eventually break up I don’t have to give her half my stuff. Linda: How did I ever raise such a cold-blooded child? John: I like to think of myself as pragmatic. Love is finite. So why get married? Linda: You’re so cynical. John: Marriage didn’t do you any favors. Linda: That’s different, I married the wrong person. You and Holly were made for each other. Chris: You two really are good together. Chris is standing in the doorway to the kitchen looking haggard. He hasn’t shaved in weeks, his hair is not combed, and his clothes are not ironed. Due to his situation he appears older than John even though he is two years younger. Chris: You should get married. John looks to his mother, then back at Chris. John: Um…yeah. Linda: What would you like for breakfast, honey? Chris: Got any Lucky Charms? Linda: Yeah, yeah! I’ll make you a bowl. John is upset at his mother’s willingness to indulge his brother, but doesn’t say anything. John: How you feeling, Chris? You feeling better? Chris: I’m okay. John: Okay, okay. You ready for today? Chris sits silently. Linda looks a little worried. Linda: You prepared to go back to Jersey? Chris: I don’t know. John and Linda share a look of uncertainty. John: Nah, you’re ready. You’ll be fine. Chris: I’m not sure I can. Linda: We’ll be there to help you. Chris: I’m not sure I want to. John: You have to. Linda: John! John: I’m sorry, mom, but this…this isn’t healthy. Linda: Don’t listen to him, honey. If you want to stay here a few more days until you feel ready that’s alright with me. Chris: Maybe tomorrow. John: You don’t have any more time. The lease will be up by Monday, we have to do it this weekend otherwise the landlord is going to throw your stuff out in the street. And in Jersey it won’t remain in the streets for long. (pause) It’s been two months. And in all that time you haven’t progressed at all while living here, if anything you’ve regressed. Watching TV all day, eating cereal, not going out, having your mommy do everything for you - It’s like you’re a little kid all over again. He takes a breath to look from his brother to his mother then back to Chris for another tirade. John: You look just like you did after she- (stops himself) You’re not dealing with her death by locking yourself away from the world in here. You need to get out, you need to move on. You need to. Chris: Okay. John waits for him to say more, but Chris does not. John: What is that? Is that “okay” I’m right? “Okay” you’re going go back to Jersey? “Okay” what? Chris: Okay. Exhausted John looks to his mother. She doesn’t know what to do. John: Okay, let’s go. |
Alucard and Seras |
| I was about to comment and say this sounds like your family and all the names and stuff....then I read the very top.....dumb moment. But I really like it, it's real, not cheesy, and you describe everything perfectly. |
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| Hey where's the rest? I know I'm a little late here but... |
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| Re-writes have stifled my progression. Won't get to it until my winter break. |
Alucard and Seras |
| Oh Joker I can't wait till you make it big!! Then I can say I know someone famous :) |
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