True Story (Fiction)

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goddammit, now i'll have to search posts every day that contain my name...

/me loads a new plane full off afghans and directs it to shralps cave

 

Marnix one word here, EGO! Geeez i think the most likly place i would be in this story is in that cage...lol And i would have kicked her butt for pullin my hair!

 

Don't you understand?!?! The need of Marijuana for Kevlar and Kitiara was sooo strong that Kitiara easily torn the steel of teh cage apart so she could reach me, and Kevler even thought: No Marijuana on the day that I die? Then i retunr to live!

why all these critisism... I thought I was funny

 

Bah! That was a great followup Marnix

 

Thank you Wildfire! At least some appriciation! It costs lots of time to write such story

 

Next up: the SPers Halloween Carnival.... I'll leave it to the experienced SPers, though. Lessee what everyone will be wearing....

 

Without anyone noticing, Jesper walked into the room and cried :Hello everyone!
Noone seemed to notice since noone knows him anyway.
Jesper walked up to Tal to get his nametag but Tal had forgot to make one for him, since he didnt know him anyway.
Finally Jesper walked home to his home in the wilderness and noone heard from him since...

Did i mention that noone knows me anyway?

[ September 08, 2002, 22:42: Message edited by: jesper898 ]

 

Now that this old post has been resurrected, C'Jakob simply mutters under his breath, "Heh."

 

I guess I was there somewhere, maybe rolling a dice or two, or just lounging around

 

Fortunately, soon comes myself - Xaelifer,
with a half-full glass and a black cat's purr!
(After about two months away from great SP,
once again I am along and shouting poetry!)

Fortunately, there's no one to hear,
for everyone's busy reading the FAQ of the year;
http://www.sorcerers.net/ubb/faq.html is where it's at
With a pint of dry whiskey and a baseball bat

But wait - here we go! Still a chat room I see!
Perhaps here's a place, a place for me;
Nope - creativity surge is where time flies
no matter what I write, I get 0 replies!

What do I do? There's no place to go!
Tried so many places feel like a cyber-ho
Ah, there's one down here that ain't so blue
religion rambling novels and homosexuals too!

It's whatnots - where I can fit in
Get to talk all day 'bout Jesus, and your sin;
Between gays, high-school and 9-11,
did you get carpal tunnels? I got seven!

But I shouldn't fret or I'm a hypocrite;
maybe Whatnots isn't the best in the pit
I do need a game which I can play
Howbout Icewind Dale 2, whattya say?

Ah, here we go - got some great game forums!
Damn not many words rhyme with forums!
Pick a name, class, stats and a race -
got to cruise and see what's happenin' in Sorcerer's Place!

Phew. Thyar's me rap. Maybe it will be adapted by slipknot. Anyhow, it's good to be back. I suppose this post is actually a hilarious judgement of board popularity, so my rank is not yet elite. Hmmmmmmm... the question is

What do I have to do to get laid by Shralp?

Try, try again?

 

Xaelifer: Great rap...poem..thing. Love it

And about Shralp, it's all in the bootylicious.

[ September 22, 2002, 18:16: Message edited by: Z-Layrex ]

 

I couldn`t be the first one to notice that this topic`s title seems a bit self-contradictory could I ??

 

Hey, I just called it "True Story." Some eeeeeeevil mod added the "(Fiction)" bit.

Damn editors. Always screwing up the art.

 

Next Morning

Sniper looks up and wonders where he is. After looking around for several minutes, he remembers everything and takes another look around. (note: while on stage, he has a pretty clear if hazy view) Surrounding him is a mass of slumbering souls planted all over the place; some on their chairs; some on the tables; some on the floor; some on the stage; and weirdly, some were somehow plastered to the ceiling... how they got they he hasn't a clue.

"Numb nuts ... I could drink them under the table!" he mutters himself

Shrugging, he picks up the black ibanez electric guitar by his side and plugs it into the amp. He turns up the volume, goes into distortion mode and awaits some feedback while wondering what to play. While wondering he notices a very clean spot in the hall. On further inspection he notes that Taluntain is grasping the table, wide and bleary eyed muttering something or other about his table not being touched by the others and how it is still spam free. Sniper shrugs and tries playing a few chords.

"Sweet" he says to him self

Several minutes later, the hall is filled with some moderate duty punk rock that his band used to play starting with acouple of fast songs but progressing onto slower songs that talk about the fall of the 'Suicide Sausages', his band. A tear trickles down Sniper's face...