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Spore Loves You, Every One
A compilation of short stories and other junk, for your viewing pleasure.
A Buttery Tale
Under Saffron's orders I had to create a story with this beginning and ending... Enjoy!

Begin with: I can’t believe it IS butter!
End with: Never leave your poodle unattended.

“I can’t believe it IS butter!” cried an astonished Spore, licking his fingers. “Maddy, you’ve done it yet again!”
“Thank you, thank you,” said Maddy, taking a bow. She had just run her first human trials on her newest invention – the Butter-A-Tron XP, which took any ingredients, be they food or non-food items, broke down the particles and turned them into, you guessed it, butter.
“What was that batch made from again?” Spore asked.
“A chess board, two balls of wool and your jock strap,” Maddy declared. “I figured that last thing wasn’t very important to you. You hardly ever use it.”
“Wow!” Spore exclaimed. “You’re right! I never did use it much, and now it’s butter. Remarkable!”
Maddy grinned widely. “And you ate it.”
Spore paled a little. “Well, it was good,” he said with a sigh.
“What’s this I hear about Spore eating his jock strap?” Paige asked, sauntering into the room. She brushed her bangs away from her eyes and glared at her two companions.
“It’s Maddy’s new butter maker,” Spore explained enthusiastically. “It can make butter out of anything!”
“Well don’t let her feed you anything else,” Paige scolded. “The last thing we need is another trip to the emergency room. Things are getting harder and harder to explain each time.”
Spore nodded his head in understanding.
“I just came to let you two know that I’m off to work. Be on your best behaviour. And Maddy, don’t encourage him. The last thing we need is Spore blending all of our belongings.”
Maddy saluted her older sister. “Aye aye, Paige! I will hold down the fort like always.”
Paige rolled her eyes and turned to go, sending one last menacing glance back at the two. When she was gone, Maddy turned to Spore.
“You heard her, don’t go turning any of our stuff into butter!” she repeated. “I’ve got a few books to pick up at the library so I’m going out for a bit too. I don’t want to see anything out of place!”
Spore frowned. “You don’t need to tell me twice,” he sulked. “I’m an adult, you know.”
“Sure,” said Maddy. “Well, I’ll be back in a bit.”
Once Maddy left, Spore stared at the Butter-A-Tron XP, sitting all lonely-like on the shelf, not making any butter. He wanted to use it. He wanted to use is really badly. But both Paige and Maddy had told him everything in the house was off limits. It was then that Spore came up with a brilliant plan.
“I know!” he cried. “If I can’t butterify anything here, I’ll just have to go find someone else’s stuff to turn into butter!
And with that, Spore too left his house and began to wander down the street, looking for the perfect specimens…
“Hmm… a lamp post would be cool, but I don’t think I can get it home on my own. Leaves, grass and flowers are much too boring, and that fire hydrant probably has pee on it…”
As Spore continued to walk down the street, thinking deeply, he was stopped short as a small animal crossed his path.
“Why hello there, little poodle!” said Spore, reaching down to let it lick his hand. “You’re a good little boy, aren’t you?”
He pet the poodle for a moment before making an observation.
“Hey, you have no collar! Are you homeless? Would you like to come home with me? I’ve just been out looking for some things to turn into butter with my friend’s new butter making machine…” Spore trailed off as a light bulb went off in his head. He scooped up the dog and hurried home.
A half an hour later, Paige and Maddy came home at the exact same time.
“I thought you were keeping an eye on Spore,” Paige said pointedly as they headed up the walkway. Maddy did not get a chance to respond, for the tell-tale sound of the Butter-A-Tron firing up reached their ears, as well as a new sound… a frantic… barking?
“Spore!” they cried in unison, bursting through the door and into the kitchen.
“Spore, what are you doing?” Maddy gasped in horror.
“How could you?” Paige said, eyes wide. For there, in the middle of the kitchen, was Spore, the Butter-A-Tron spewing out butter at full force…
And a little dog was barfing at his feet.
“All our fine china!” Paige said, sinking to the floor. “I cannot believe you did this after we explicitly told you not to, and you fed it to a dog!”
And it was true. Spore had raced back home, hoping to impress the poodle by feeding is some home-made butter. By then he had forgotten why he had gone outside in the first place and went right to the china cabinet to turn some cups and plates into the thick yellow substance.
Wait, you didn’t actually think Spore turned the dog into butter, did you? Oh no, he just gave it a terrible illness. I can’t believe you would ever… I mean… wow! Never leave your poodle unattended!

Story for Tora
A Delicious Encounter

It was 10:00am and Café Umai, a family run café famous for the three colour coordinated sisters who helped operate it on the weekends, had just opened for business. It was Saturday, and the place had begun filling up quickly. The eldest daughter, Wataame, dressed in her signature colour, blue, was handling the register. The middle daughter, Amaiko, was dressed in pink and was taking orders to tables and making quiet conversation with the customers. The youngest daughter, Alexis, was decked out in green and in charge of cleanup, but since the morning was just beginning, she was keeping herself busy by eavesdropping on the customers’ conversations.
“Did you hear that?” Alexis exclaimed, popping up from under the counter next to the register. “That lady over there thinks her boyfriend is cheating on her! I wonder if it’s true…”
“Seriously, Alexis, you have got to stop doing this,” Wataame said, sighing heavily. The day was just beginning and already her little sister was up to no good.
“But it’s just so interesting!” Alexis retorted. “I mean, there’s nothing else for me to be doing right now anyway…” Alexis’s sentence trailed off, and her eyes widened. She ducked back down behind the counter.
“What is it now?” asked Wataame, appearing only slightly interested.
“It’s him! That guy that comes in here all the time!” Alexis whispered.
“And?” Wataame pressed
“Well, I think he is stalking me!” Alexis blurted. “Whenever he sees me he starts talking to me and he doesn’t stop! I don’t want him to see me or I might have to run away again.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Amaiko had approached the counter and was leaning on it casually.
“Alexis thinks one of our customers is after her,” said Wataame, shaking her head.
“Who?” Amaiko asked, her mouth tilting into a slight frown.
“That one over there, with the purple hair and glasses,” Alexis said, standing up from behind the counter to point.
“Oh, him?”
As they spoke, the man turned his head and caught their gaze. He smiled and waved.
“Now you’ve done it,” said Alexis, pouting. “I suppose I should just go say hi now and get it over with…” With her arms crossed, she sauntered back out onto the customer floor of the café. Wataame and Amaiko watched her, both looking puzzled.
“Hi,” Alexis grumbled as she approached the purple haired young man wearing round wire framed glasses and a sweater vest.
“Heya Miss Alexis,” he said. “It’s me, Spore! I came here for some more of my favourite delicious desserts. Just thought I would save a table before I went up to order. How has your week been?”
“Alright, yours?” replied Alexis flatly.
“Why, my week has been very busy! I had an eye exam and they said my eyesight is worse than ever! I also went to the park to swing on the swings, and I came here a few times to eat stuff, and I also played a few games of scrabble against myself, and I drew some stick figures, and I sewed an entire lopsided quilt and I learned to square dance,” said Spore in one breath.
“Oh yeah.”
“Well I’m gonna go order now!” Spore said brightly. “See you, Alexis!” He got up and went over to the counter. Alexis followed behind, listening intently.
“I would like to order one of every cake and pastry you have,” Spore was saying to Wataame, who was looking at him with an odd expression on her face.
“Umm, are you sure?” she asked.
“Positive,” replied Spore.
“So that will be a slice of chocolate fudge, a slice of caramel drizzle, a slice of… oh I don’t even want to repeat all this. That’s 8 slices of cake and 12 different pastries.”
“Yep, that’s what I want!”
“Ok, well would you like it packed separately or in one box? And next time you’d like to place a large order with us, please call ahead.”
“Oh, no need,” said Spore. “It’s all for here. I am going to eat it now.”
Wataame’s expression didn’t change. “Well, ok then. Just don’t hurl all over our floors. Your total with tax is $108.48.”
As the two girls watched, Spore began emptying his pockets. “I’ll be paying almost entirely in change,” he stated. “And I promise not to barf in here.”
As Wataame looked on in horror, Alexis snuck away into the back where Amaiko was taking out some fresh pies.
“Did I hear that right?” Amaiko asked.
“You bet,” Alexis replied, “My stalker is ordering a truckload of sweets, and he’s paying all in coins.”
“Oh my. I hope he doesn’t get sick. I wonder why he wants all that sugar? Maybe he’s depressed…”
“Nah,” said Alexis, “He’s just weird. You’ll see. Come on.”
So the three sisters watched in horror and fascination as Spore packed away five pounds of sweets in 10 minutes. Amaiko approached him once to ask how he was doing, but his mouth was so full all he could manage was a thumbs up and an awkward smile. When he was done he stood up, clutching his stomach, said a quick thank you to the girls, and waddled to the door. He kept his promise and did not throw up inside the café, though he did leave a vomit trail down the street and up to his front door.
“That was… very strange…” was all Amaiko was able to say to her siblings once the purple haired man had left.
Wataame said nothing, but was looking dismally at the register, which was overflowing with change.
“I told you he was a weirdo!” Alexis cried. She was looking at the mess he had left at his table, trying to think of a scheme that would get her out of cleaning it up.
“Well, let’s put it this way,” said Wataame finally. “It’s only 11 o’clock, but things couldn’t possibly get any weirder today.”
Or could they?
The end.

Story Request from XFateX
I was challenged by user XFateX to create a story involving the characters of her BJDs. This is what popped out of my brain.

This is a story, a story that takes place in a land, and that land is called Dollas, Techsass. When a certain someone named Fate reads the name of this city, it sounds exactly like the very real city that exists in real America, because she is American. On this day in Dollas, four people were about to become linked in a way that no one had even been linked before… (if you just thought about the human centipede, I feel sincerely concerned for you) but I am going to cut the crap now and just get on with it!

Kouji was walking home from school. He had just gotten off the phone with his mother, who had called him to say she was going to be home late and that she had left him some lasagna in the fridge, but as usual the conversation ended in a talk about how he should really be contributing more to the household, and it had left Kouji feeling irritated and stressed as usual.
“Ugggh,” he muttered to himself, “I’m only 14. What do you expect from me? I already make my bed on weekdays, vacuum monthly, and I even take out the trash when asked more than once! It’s not like I’m old enough to get a job or anything-“
Kouji stopped short as he noticed an advertisement on the pole in front of him. “Ranch hand needed. No experience necessary. Positions open for males of all ages. Stop by any time for referral at the address below.” Kouji felt fate (destiny, not the person) tug at him as he read the notice. He pulled out a pen and notebook from his backpack and quickly scrawled down the address and name of the stable. He vowed to go there the very next day to check it out.
“I can’t wait to see the look on mom’s face when she hears how motivated I’m being!” he thought, and skipped the rest of the way down the street.

At the very same time on the other side of town, a man named Kai was walking down the street, sighing and scratching his head. He has just been fired from his latest job as a doorman for making passes at the residents and paying visits to their rooms during his shifts. His rent was due this week and at the moment he was broke. He was thinking about how he would take on just about anything when a gust of strong wind blew a piece of paper right into his face.
“Hmm… ranch hand at a stable, no experience required, hunh?” he said, grinning. “Probably some hot pieces of a** there too. Challenge accepted!” And with that, Kai pocketed the flyer and proceeded to whistle to himself the rest of the way to his apartment building.

Ren was walking back to his car after a quick trip to the grocery store. Things weren’t going so well for him right now. He had just finished college but had been unable to find a job in his field, so instead he was living his nightmare as a manager at a fast food restaurant. All he wanted was to get out of it, and the flyer attached to his windshield as he arrived at his vehicle gave him some hope (the positive feeling, not the doll).
“I would normally pass something borderline sketchy like this, but I could use a bit of honest, hard work right now. I suppose I will check it out tomorrow.” And with that, Ren cranked up the music in his car and even sang along with for a verse or two.

The next day, Kouji arrived at the ranch. He read the sign and couldn’t help but feel something was a little off. Perhaps it was a joke he didn’t quite get? The ranch also didn’t look much like he expected at all. For starters, there were no animals in sight. There wasn’t any sign of a stable as far as he could see, but maybe it was around back. Things looked a little run down, so he hoped they weren’t struggling too much. He approached the door of the main building with a bit of hesitation, but sucked up his courage and turned the handle.
Two men were already inside, one with dark hair and goggles, the other with a devilish look and short red hair. The dark haired male looked clearly annoyed.
“Aw come on,” Kouji heard the redhead saying, “You seriously can’t say you don’t find me even the slightest bit attractive, can you?” The brunette refused to reply.
“Umm, excuse me,” interrupted Kouji, “I couldn’t help but notice you both have a flyer in your hand. Are you here because of the ad?”
The two men nodded. Kouji’s heart sank. Why would anyone hire him over these two perfectly able-bodied adults?
His thoughts were interrupted as an awkward looking young man with large round glasses, spikey purple hair and a tight sparkly suit entered from the back. He looked like he was concentrating on something but he broke into a smile when he saw the three standing there.
“Why hello!” he exclaimed. “I’m Spore, a pleasure to meet you. Are the three of you clients or...?”
Ren spoke up. “We’re looking for work.” He held up the flyer for Spore to see.
“Ahh, yes,” said Spore, scratching his cheek. “I’ll go get the paperwork. Be right back.” And with that Spore scurried quickly out of the room.
“That’s seriously it?” Kai exclaimed, breaking the silence. “Man, what is with this place?”
Kai continued on, but Kouji had stopped listening. He was looking around the room intently. While Spore was talking he had noticed something especially odd. There was a pair of sneakers sticking out from the bottom of a set of long curtains. He decided to approach them when…
“Boo!” a little boy jumped out from behind the curtains, startling Kouji. “Did I make you pee?”
“No!” said Kouji, a large frown on his face. “Who are you?”
“Oh,” said the little boy, “My name is Hope. I live here. Could you take me home with you, please?”
“Of course not,” said Kouji. “My mom wouldn’t like that. And besides, I came here to get a job.”
Hope’s eyes widened. “You want to work here?” he asked.
“Why yes,” said Kouji. “I saw an ad for it and came right away. It said no experience necessary.”
“Oh,” said Hope. “Well that makes a little more sense I guess. You don’t look very experienced. Are you for certain this is the type of place you want to work? I mean, I’ve been here all my life and I’m not gonna lie, I want out. Just take me with you and I will live in your closet or something, kay? I’m pretty good at hiding, you saw.”
“But I found you,” said Kouji.
“I wanted you to,” replied Hope.
Kouji glanced back at the other two men, who by now were staring.
“Well what’s so bad about this place anyway?” Kouji continued.
“Well, you know what goes on here. You saw the sign.”
“Yeah, I did see the sign outside, this place has a weird name. What was it, the Ranch Dressing?”
“No, silly, it’s the Ranch Undressing. You know, it’s a play on ranch dressing you put on your salad, but also makes fun of the fact that this is a male brothel.
“WAIT, A WHAT?!” Kouji, Kai and Ren all yelled at once.
Hope looked confused. “You didn’t think this was like a ranch where you raise livestock did you? In a location like this? With a name like that? Come on!”
“I changed my mind,” Kouji said quickly. “You can come with me and live in my closet, Hope. I’m getting out of here.”
“I second that,” said Kai. “The getting out of here part, I mean. I like to mack on people but I don’t like being macked on, if you catch my drift.”
Ren said nothing and quietly drifted towards the door.

When Spore returned with the paperwork, everyone was gone. He cried a little to himself. Little did he know he had been just like them once. He had innocently sauntered in because of a flyer, and now there was not turning back. But that’s another story entirely.

So anyway, our three heroes and the new addition headed on their separate ways. They would soon reunite at another time in another location, but that is the end of the story of their first encounter. May it live in infamy.

The end?

One of THOSE stories
Spore woke up and completed his regular morning routine. He combed his teeth, flossed his hair, put on his glasses and took a rose petal bath in tepid water. In the warm water, he had many of his usual thoughts, like “which part of the pig does bacon come from?” and “why are my eyes fogging up?” Then he put on his favourite pair of heart boxers, a faded pair of skinny jeans, and one of his many green sweater vests. This was going to be another ordinary day!

No it wasn’t.

Spore went downstairs and into the kitchen. There he found a note from his mother. It read,

Good morning Spore! You slept in again. Your boss called and left a really nasty message on the machine telling you not to bother coming back. Anyway, here is some money.
Love, Mom


“Oooh money!” exclaimed Spore. He snatched up the crisp twenty and rushed out the door. He was happily contemplating all of the sweets and manga he would spend it on when he walked out into the street and was crushed by a bus.
Spore awoke in the hospital in a full body cast. His eyes were swelled half shut but he could sort of see his mummified body and was terrified. He could not move a thing. Even when he focused all his energy on moving his pinky, it would not budge. So Spore did the only rational thing he could think of. He started to scream.
Everything hurt after that so he passed out.

While Spore was asleep he had many strange dreams. In his dreams he saw a pig being butchered, and was quite happy to discover exactly which parts became bacon. He also dreamt of riding camels, and of plucking a nose hair that got out of hand. He thought he heard his mom talking with a male nurse, discussing the gory details of his injuries, but it was much too disgusting to he switched the dream to fluffy kittens and rainbows instead.

When Spore woke up again, he didn’t remember very much. He looked down at his body and saw that he was pretty much a skeleton. He started to panic and flail but his limbs were so weak they could barely lift. His mother ran into the room with tears in her eyes and flung her arms around his skinny frame.

“Oh Spore, baby, I thought you would never wake up!” she cried.

“Waterrrr…” Spore croaked.

A nurse glided in with a cup. “Welcome back!” he exclaimed, handing Spore the cup. His eyes sparkled and his purple hair glistened in the light coming in from the dirty hospital window.

“See?” he said to Spore’s mom, “I knew he would wake up! It was just a matter of time.” He adjusted his glasses and gave Spore a wink.

“How long was I out?” asked Spore.

Spore’s mother would not meet his gaze. She pressed a twenty dollar bill in his hand.

“You never got to spend this… I have been saving it for you the whole time…”

Droplets were forming in her eyes again.

Spore looked alarmed. “Seriously, mom, how long was I asleep? Three days? A week? A month?”

“I’ll tell him,” said the nurse. “Spore, sweetie, you have been in a coma… for ten years.”

Spore started to laugh. “Good one,” he said smiling.

“No, seriously,” said the nurse. “You’re 30 now. I can’t believe there is even any brain activity left after this long.”

“I told you, doctor, there never was any brain activity to begin with…” Spore’s mother began. Spore glared.

“So you’re saying I am a 30 year old man now,” Spore mumbled, taking it in. “That I am old and frail and have missed the best years of my life.”

“Yep, pretty much,” agreed the nurse.

“Alright,” said Spore. “Take me to a mirror.”

“Oh Spore, honey, you don’t really need to…”

His mother was cut off by the nurse, who helpfully pulled out a pocket mirror, stating “Here you go!”

Spore took one look at his face in the mirror and dry heaved for 40 minutes. Then he got on with his life.

Spore realized that now that he was 30, he could do pretty much the same things he did when he was 20. For instance, he still followed his morning routine. He woke up, combed his teeth, flossed his hair, put on his glasses and took a rose petal bath in tepid water. In the warm water, he had many of his usual thoughts, like “why are my eyes fogging up?”, as well as some new thoughts, like “How does the bacon get from a butcher and into my freezer?” Then he put on his favourite pair of heart boxers, a faded pair of skinny jeans, and one of his many green sweater vests that no longer fit well at all due to the fact that he was completely malnourished.
Even after his extensive rehab, it still took him a while longer to get down the stairs and into the kitchen, but when he got there, there was a note from his mother. It read,

Good morning Spore! You slept in again. No one has called for you in nine years. Anyway, here is some money.
Love, Mom


“Oooh money!” exclaimed Spore. He snatched up the crisp twenty and hobbled out the door. He was happily contemplating all of the adult things like newspaper, lattes and moustaches he would spend it on when he walked out into the street and was crushed by a transport truck.

The end

Spore's "Tattoo"
Spore was flipping through the channels on his crappy old 11” TV set when something caught his eye. The channel was 30, TLC, and he had stumbled upon an episode of L.A. Ink. One of Kat Von D’s angsty minions was tattooing a massive portrait of a baby on some buff guy’s back. Spore stared in awe as the muscular man told his depressing story about his infant’s SIDS, and as he cried tears of joy when he looked at the swollen image of the baby’s face etched into his back in a full-length mirror. Spore watched as the baby’s face tightened and relaxed with the flexing of the man’s back muscles. Then the show went back to its usual pointless bickering between shop owners and tattoo artists.
Spore switched the television off, but he couldn’t get the image of the baby’s face out of his mind. He felt as if it was peering into his very soul… Without warning, Spore sprang up from his bed and shouted, “I need to get a tattoo!”
Spore rushed out of his room and crashed out of the front door.
“Be sure to make it home for dinner!” his mother cried. Spore ignored her.
Spore ran one block before stopping and gasping for air. He walked the rest of the way, his hand clasped to a cramp in his side. It didn’t take him long to get downtown. It was only when he made it there that he realized he had no idea where the tattoo parlor was.
Spore spotted the familiar face of a quirky 10-year-old girl, which was partly covered by the brown paper bag she was holding in her hands.
“Maddy!” Spore cried, skipping towards her.
“Oh, hey Spore,” said Madison.
“Whatcha got in the bag?” Spore asked.
“Ohhhhh nothing,” she said suspiciously.
“No really,” Spore insisted, taking the bag. It felt heavy. He looked inside.
There was literally nothing there.
“Like I said, it’s a bag of nothing,” said Maddy, clearly irritated. “Now go ahead and tell me what you’re doing down here. Let me guess, you need directions somewhere… again.”
“Oh,” said Spore, “you know me too well. Then I will tell you. I am looking for the tattoo shop. I am getting a tattoo.”
“You are not,” said Maddy.
“Yes I am,” said Spore.
“Are not.”
“Are too.”
“Are not.”
“Are too.”
“Fine,” said Madison. “But I hope you know that tattoos cost money.”
“Of course I do,” Spore lied. “I have my allowance in my pocket. I have ten whole dollars.”
“Figures,” Maddy said, sighing. “Well, you’re in luck. There’s a really shady tattoo place just around the corner. It is probably extremely unsanitary and you will most likely come home with a terrible disease, but I am sure they will give you whatever you want for your ten dollar bill.”
“Oh, it’s not a ten dollar bill, I’ll be paying in all quarters,” said Spore, grinning.
“Whatever!” Maddy cried, exasperated. “Just get going if you really want to do it, but I’m willing to bet you’ll be too chicken.”
“You’ll see,” said Spore haughtily, starting to storm off.
“Just turn left,” Maddy called after him.
“Your other left…”

Surprisingly, Spore managed to find the tattoo shop. There were boards over the windows and the neon sign read “Rusty’s Needle”. The lights in the LE were out.
“Ahh, Rusty’s Need,” Spore read. “That doesn’t sound so sketchy. I don’t know what Maddy was talking about. He walked inside.
It was quite dark and dank inside the tattoo parlor and as he entered Spore saw a burly man sitting on a stool and lighting up a cigarette off to the side of the room.
“Herrlo thar, mister,” said the man. “What can I do yer for?”
“Well, I would like a tattoo, sir,” Spore said. “But I only have ten dollars.”
“Why, ten’s fair,” said the man.
“Are you Rusty?” Spore asked.
“Nope,” the man responded. “Rusty, er, had to take care of some business, yer see. I’m Bill.”
“Nice to meet you,” Spore said, extending his hand. Bill took it and gave it a rough shake.
“So what was it you were thinking of getting then,” asked Bill.
“Hmmmmmmmmmmm,” Spore muttered. “I didn’t really think that through. What’s popular?”
“Well, I just gave an anchor tattoo to some scrawny lad not an hour ago now,” said Bill. “Did a pretty good job if I do say so meself.”
“Well that sounds lovely!” said Spore. “Maybe I’ll get that then.”
“No can do, little feller,” said Bill. “I never do the same tattoo twice. Say, you look a little fruity. Hows about I give yer a dancing pineapple across yer bottom?”
“Oh,” said Spore, “I am not sure I like the sound of that. How about you just put the pineapple just above my bottom. I don’t want to moon you.”
Bill chuckled. “That sounds alright ter me,” he said. “Come have a lay down right over here…”
Bill pointed to a grimy and battered dentist’s chair, which was in the lowest position. Spore nodded and planted himself in the chair, stomach down. He heard the hum of a needle to his left.
“Now try ter hold still,” said Bill. “This needle ain’t sterilized, and it might hurt a bit.”
Spore closed his eyes and gripped the chair, preparing himself…

About an hour after Maddy got home, she heard a knock at the door. She opened it to find Spore standing there grinning.
“Well, I did it,” said Spore. “I proved you wrong. I got a tattoo.”
“You did not,” said Maddy, inspecting his bare arms.
“Yes I did!”
“Well, where is it?” she asked.
“Riiiggght here!” said Spore, turning around and lifting his shirt up slightly. In the middle of his lower back was a plastic bag duct taped in place.
Maddy giggled.
“What?” asked Spore.
“You got a tramp stamp?” Maddy coughed.
“A what?”
“Oh nevermind,” Maddy said, still grinning. “Well, let’s see it.”
Without warning, Maddy ripped off the tape.
“OOWWWW!” cried Spore, “it’s still tender!”
Maddy peered at Spore’s lower back. Her lips pursed and eyebrows raised.
“Uhh… where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“Your tattoo…”
“Well don’t you see it?”
Spore took Maddy’s hand and led her into the bathroom.
“Look,” he said. “It’s right there.”
Maddy squinted. “That black mole?”
“So you do see it!” said Spore proudly.
Maddy took another look at the mole. On closer inspection it DID appear to be tattoo ink.
“So, let me guess,” said Maddy. “The moment the needle touched your back you screamed ‘OMG IT HURTS SO BAD MAKE IT STOP!’, forked over the ten dollars and had him wrap it up.”
“Not quite,” said Spore. “I only paid him $9.75 because he didn’t get to colour it in.”
“Oh please,” said Maddy. “Just go home, put some ice on your ego and come talk to me when you’re a real man.”
Spore looked puzzled. Maddy showed him to the door.
“Take care of your fake skin cancer,” she said to him as she pushed him down the walkway. “Make sure to have your mom take you for a tetanus shot while you’re at it.”
Spore headed home with his head held high. In his own mind he had accomplished something amazing today.
“Your dinner is getting cold,” his mom said as he brushed past her. “I warned you not to be late for dinner.”
“Just heat it up for me,” Spore replied pathetically, sauntering up to his room. He flicked on the television set and began channel surfing. He came to channel 46, the Discovery Channel. It was an episode of Guinness World Records. The announcer was in the process of interviewing the world’s most pierced woman – 6005 and counting.
Spore jumped up from his bed…

THE END

Storytime
After a long time, it is story time again. My BJDs have made it into this one. Please enjoy.

Spore Meets World

Spore was sitting on the curb with his face in his hands, shuffling some bits of dirt with his sneaker, when I bird came to rest on his shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” asked the bird.
“Well my mom kicked me out,” Spore replied. “She said, ‘Spore, you are 21 and a college dropout. You have no job and no money. You are not contributing anything to this family. You will never amount to anything!’ and slammed the door in my face.”
The bird chirped.
“And now I am talking to a bird,” mumbled Spore, sighing. “I must really be losing it already.”
“Well, you should probably look for a job then,” the bird suggested. “That way you can make some money and show her that you’re not as useless as she thinks!”
“Great idea!” cried Spore, getting up suddenly and sending the shocked bird flying off. “I will get a job and show my mother that I am an adult!”
And with that, Spore began roaming the streets for any sign that some place was hiring. After walking for four hours in the hot sun, he finally found a Dollar Store with a sign in the window:
“Hiring: Apply Within”
Spore went up to the counter.
“Excuse me, I would like a job please,” he said, addressing the unenthusiastic clerk.
“Well, do you have a resume?” she asked.
“No,” Spore replied.
“Work experience?”
“Nope.”
“Well, you can try filling out this application…” she said hesitantly. “We will call you if we decide on an interview.”
“I have no phone,” said Spore.
“Your address then?” the woman asked, clearly annoyed now.
“I don’t really live anywhere right now,” said Spore. “But I could wait outside for as long as you need me to.”
“Forget it,” said the clerk, and she ushered him back outside into the heat.
Spore didn’t have much luck at the next few places he went. For some reason, everywhere he went seemed to require a phone number or an address. The sun was low in the sky when Spore finally arrived at Wally-McD’s, a gigantic superstore that was also a fast food eatery. There was no sign indicating that they were hiring, but he went to the customer service desk to ask anyway.
“I want a job,” he said to the man.
“A full-time position?” the man asked simply.
“Why yes, that would do!” said Spore.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Well, yes,” said Spore.
“Just checking. Right this way then sir…”

Against her better judgment, ten-year-old Madison Blair was shopping at Wally-McD’s. She knew better than to waste her money at such a shoddy department store, but she only needed a few items and her sister had asked her to walk there for her. Maddy didn’t mind too much because she was interested in people watching and there were some sad and miserable things to see there. Speaking of which, at that moment, one was on its way over.
“Excuse me,” said Maddy to the young worker. “Where are the mouse traps?”
“Um… in the aisle with the brooms?” he replied absently.
“Just checking,” said Maddy.
The man turned to leave.
“Hey, wait,” Maddy called. “Are you okay? You look… how do I put this… gaunt and overworked?”
“I’m fine.” The man hesitated. “Okay! I am not fine! I am a mess!” he cried, slumping to the floor. All of the customers around him stopped to stare.
Maddy took his hand, pulled him up and led him to the empty hardware department.
“You need to relax… Spore” she said, glancing at his nametag. “What do you do in your spare time?”
Spore stared at her. “Spare time?”
“Yes, you know, your days off.”
“Well, I don’t have any days off, I work full-time,” he replied.
“Pardon me?” asked Maddy.
“I said I work full-time.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have ANY time off!” Maddy scoffed.
“Well, yes it does,” said Spore. “Here, I will even show you my schedule.”
Spore took a crumpled paper from his pocket and handed it to Madison. She smoothed it out and found Spore’s name. Beside his name it said FULL-TIME in all capitals, and under each day of the week, was clearly typed ‘12:00am-12:00pm’.
“See?” said Spore indignantly. “Full-time.”
“That’s not full-time, you dolt!” cried Madison. “That is an outrage! And illegal! Are you stupid?”
Spore started at her.
“How long have you been working like this?” she asked.
“Well, about two months now,” Spore replied.
Maddy’s eyes bulged. “Two months? You have been working for two months straight?! When do you sleep?”
“Well, I’m kind of sleeping right now,” Spore responded. “After a while I just trained by brain to shut down one area at a time. Shutting down some parts makes me perform weird but I shake them awake when the managers come around.”
Madison just stared.
“What?” asked Spore.
“Does everyone here work like this?” asked Maddy, clearly aghast.
“Dunno,” said Spore.
“What do you eat?”
“Nothing anymore. Used to be fast food everyday but it made me feel really bloated and I started throwing up everywhere so now I just drink lots of water.”
“You are going to die.”
“I know.”
“You’re coming home with me right now.”
And without another word, Madison dragged Spore out of the store and down three blocks to her house. Her sister Nora was in the kitchen when they got there.
“What the heck is that?” asked Nora when she laid her eyes on the smelly, sallow figure that was Spore.
“His name is Spore,” said Maddy. “He is a sad Wall-McD’s employee who just worked two months straight. Be nice to him, he is very stupid.”
Spore hung his head.
“Did you just say he worked for two months?” asked Nora.
“Yes,” said Maddy. “Please show him the shower so I can make him some food.”
“Did you get dish soap and laundry detergent like I asked?”
“I forgot,” said Maddy. “I was rescuing him.”
“Okay,” said Nora, and she led Spore upstairs.

Once Spore was clean and fed, he fell asleep for three days. When he woke up he told his story to the girls.
“I was kicked out of my house! I had nowhere to go!” Desperation was in Spore’s voice. “They offered me a job when no one else would and I took it. I had never had a job before. I didn’t know what it would be like!”
“Well, fine,” said Maddy, “so you are not too bright, but you probably earned a lot of cash in these last two months. So why don’t you just go back to your mother now and show her how well you’ve done. Then we can sue Wall-McD’s for even more. Sound good?”
“I’m scared,” said Spore.
“Too bad,” said Maddy. She made him eat a sandwich and then walked him back to his house, which was only two blocks away. With some coaxing, Spore rang the doorbell.
“Oh my goodness, is that my boy?!” Spore’s mother screamed when she opened the door. “I have been worried sick about you! I felt awful after I kicked you out but I had no way of contacting you and I figured you hated me after what I said! I am so glad to see you! You look… paler…”
“I am, mom,” Spore said, blushing.
“And who is this?” Spore’s mother asked, gesturing to Madison.
“My saviour,” said Spore, grinning.
Spore’s mother looked confused.
“I’d best be going now,” said Maddy.
As she turned to go she called to Spore. “Don’t worry about Wally’s, you don’t have to set foot in there again. I will settle everything for you.”
Spore nodded, not really comprehending. As he headed into the house with his mother, Madison could hear him saying, “You’ll never believe it mom, but I got a job!” Maddy grinned, but only for a moment, as she braced herself and marched on over to Wally-McD’s.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said to the man at the service desk. “May I see your manager?”
“Why, I am the manager,” he replied. “What do you need, little girl? Are you looking for a job, because all of our positions are filled.”
“No!” Maddy exclaimed, “I came here to tell you your employee, Spore, quits.”
“Well, in that case we do have an opening,” the manager said. “If you would just follow me…”
“I said I don’t want a job! Can’t you see that I’m only ten? And besides, you treat your employees like crap. I’ll have you know there is a lawsuit coming your way.”
“If you say so,” said the manager. “But I’ll have YOU know, no one has ever gotten money from us before, and they sure as heck won’t now.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Maddy, and she stormed out of the store.

Spore was living happily again with his mother, who had nursed him back to health, when he received a letter in the mail. It explained that Madison had represented him in court and had been the youngest and only person in the world to sue Wally-McD’s. Large amounts of cash would be filling his pockets shortly. Spore, of course, went to thank Maddy, who explained that it was just one small step for the next ruler of the world, and that Spore was only the first of many soon-to-be supporters, so he wasn’t that special anyway.
And they all lived happily ever after for once I guess.
THE END

Holyyyy Mackeral You Guys!
Yep, it has been 3 years since I posted here. Let's have some Spore stories, shall we? I've got 3 - one for each year I haven't posted I guess.

1. The Md Story
It was the year 2012, and despite suspicions of the end of the world, the world was, in fact, still there. It was around summertime, about a year from when aliens landed and humans found a use of all of their excess packing peanuts. You see, aliens, in fact, have a severe Styrofoam allergy, and what better way to use useless garbage than as ammunition?
Anyways, it was about a year after the aliens had been banished from earth, and Spore had finally found his calling in a biology lab, studying bacterial spores left behind by the aliens that liked to embed themselves into peoples’ feet while they were relaxing on the beach and grow into tentacle monsters. Sometimes while Spore was working he would hear clamour and shrieks coming from the basement, but he had been told not to worry about it. Gossip among the employees had informed him that the lab had previously belonged to a mad scientist whose crazy experiments were not generating him any income. When Spore’s company of employment had taken over, it was said that the scientist had been so difficult to remove that he would have caused more harm had they thrown him out, so they just left him in the basement. Rumour was he never came out. No one knew how he even survived.
One day, Spore was working alone when he heard a particularly loud yell coming from below.
“Does no one ever check on that man?” he thought. He was about to ignore it when he heard it again. He shook his head and sighed. He would never get his work done at this rate. And besides, he was extremely curious.
Spore got up from his station and headed over to the door marked, “Private, do not enter there is a mad scientist who would like to be left alone and may be dangerous, possess weapons of mass destruction, or kill a puppy if you proceed”, and kicked it open.
“Helllloooooo?” he called down. “Are you okay down there?”
Silence.
Spore descended the steps one at a time.
“Hellllooooooooo?”
It was dark and damp in the basement and Spore squinted while his eyes adjusted to the dark. He was amazed by what he saw. There was an entire tropical paradise spanning the large basement, with various ripe fruits hanging from the tree branches. Amidst some of the foliage Spore could see lab equipment and pieces of machinery.
“So that’s how he sustains himself,” Spore thought. “But where is he?”
Spore pushed his way through the branches until he came into a clearing. There sat an enormous machine, covered in wires and knobs and pulsing with electric current. And on the floor lay a dirty old man, scrunched into a ball.
“Hello sir!” Spore called out to him. “Are you alright?”
The ball didn’t answer. Spore approached him warily and nudged him lightly with the toe of his shoe. Spore yelped in surprise as a jolt of electricity surged through him.
“What a stupid old coot,” Spore remarked as he saw that the man was curled up and holding a live wire, which was coming from the giant machine. Spore approached the machine and hit the giant OFF switch. Instantly the man on the floor burst to life.
“What are you doing down here?” he hollered, along with some other incoherent words.
“Well,” replied Spore. “I heard you dying so I came to save you.”
“Fair enough,” said the man. “But don’t touch anything.”
Spore looked around.
“What are you doing with that thing?” he asked, pointing to the machine.
“Top secret,” the mad scientist replied, but Spore had already lost interest and had picked up a set of blueprints from a desk nestled in the trees beside the machine.
“Hmm… a device that causes an electric current to go through the entire world, making everyone forget about the letter A, and making it impossible for them to ever utter the sound again… interesting…” Spore remarked.
“Why you! I thought I told you not to touch anything!” the scientist scolded, running at Spore. Spore shifted to the side, dodging the scientist, who ran into a tree.
“And is this your life’s work?” Spore asked. “How odd. You really must be mad. What use could erasing the letter A from the English language ever have?”
The scientist mumbled something incoherent under his breath.
“Well, if it means that much to you, you’re in luck. I think I can help.” Spore pulled off his shoe and sock and bent his knee so the bottom of his foot was facing upwards. Embedded in his heel was a tentacle monster the size of a large thumb.
“I research bacteria and small organisms that were left on the planet from the alien invasion. Of course, maybe you don’t even know about that since you lived down here this whole time,” Spore said, “But I happened to be able to tame this one. And he is very intelligent.”
“Spore Jr.,” he said, addressing his foot. “What should I do to make this machine run?”
“Why, just switch the red and blue wires and insert that wire on the ground there into that socket,” he replied, pointing his little tentacle arms at the machine.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” said Spore, turning toward the scientist, whose eyes were wide open in awe. “Do as he says if you really want your machine to work!”
The scientist scrambled to the machine, picking up the wire from the ground and plugging it in as the tentacle monster had said. He then switched the wires on the side and stopped moving, staring at his machine.
“How did he know to do that?” the scientist asked, gaping.
Spore ignored the question. “Now, if you hit that ON switch you will be erasing the letter A from the English language forever. Think about it. Think about how much impact this will have on the world. Think about how it will change. I mean, it doesn’t affect me personally, but it does affect you. Think about it. You’re a mad scientist, correct? If your plan succeeds, you will become a md scientist….”
“But that’s what I want!” the scientist cried. “All of my life people have been calling me mad. They refuse to recognise my Medical Degree! Now, instead of being a mad scientist, I will be a md scientist, or scientist, MD and will finally be recognised for my talent as a medical doctor!”
“Oh,” said Spore. “Well, that makes a lot of sense. Go ahead then. Just remember, once it’s done there’s no turning back.”
You cn only guess wht hppened next…
THE END

2. A Sporey Story (A.K.A. Operation Sporeout)
The lone wanderer, Spore McSpore, woke up on his maggoty, stained mattress ready for a new day. The bugs had given him a crawly full-body massage overnight, relaxing his tense muscles. He sat up, yawning, and checked his flesh-eating disease.
“Hmm,” he remarked. “Better than yesterday.”
He slipped into his banana peel slippers and headed downstairs to greet his children; a smiling lawn gnome and a grinning chainsaw with a pair of eyes spray-painted on.
“Hello, Beardy-Spore,” he said, addressing the lawn gnome. “I trust you slept well. Sparkly-Spore, quit baring your teeth!”
Spore sighed, shaking his head at the chainsaw. “Well, let’s see what we have to eat, shall we?”
Spore opened the fridge and pushed aside a jar of glowing slime in favour of a lone egg on a shelf. He took a pan from the pot rack and set it down on the stove’s only functioning burner, switching it to high. He cracked the egg into the pan and happily fried the rotten, bloody chicken embryo, humming a tune that sounded a bit like Madonna’s hit single ‘Secret of Mana 2’. When he was finished, he split it into three portions for his family.
“Well, this is it,” he stated, scratching the flesh wound on his cheek. He gobbled up his portion quickly, eating it straight from the hot pan with his calloused fingers. Then he went into the bathroom to wash it down with some toilet water.
Next, Spore fed his children, stuffing the egg into the gnome’s gaping mouth. He turned on the chainsaw and put its portion up to the blade.
“Ow! Sparkly-Spore, you bit me again!” he scolded, frowning at the oozing gash across his palm. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
He wrapped his wounded hand in a blood-stained towel, clicking his tongue.
“Well, time for work!” he announced, kissing his children goodbye and splitting his lip in the process. He wiped the blood dripping down his chin with the back of his hand and waved goodbye, heading out into the world.
Spore gallivanted to the post office to pick up his deliveries.
“Hello!” he called to the boss, Mr. Morrison, whose door was closed as usual. He reported to the front desk.
“Oh, Miss Evans, what do I have for delivery today?”
No reply.
He looked into his drawer.
“Oh! Only one today! 26 Maple Lane. Alright!”
Spore headed out. He walked until he got to Maple and put the letter in the mailbox. Then he returned to the post office to fill out his paperwork. Then it was back home again.
Before heading inside, Spore checked his mailbox.
“Oh! I have mail!” he exclaimed. He tore open the envelope happily.
“Dearest Spore,” he read, “You are a handsome devil! Love, Spore.”
“Oh Spore,” he cried, shaking his head, “You are so sneaky, sending me mail! To think you would still be writing me, after all this time! Well, I might as well respond.”
Spore went inside and wrote a quick response on a soiled napkin.
“Dearest Spore,” he wrote, “Thank you for your message. You’re not so bad looking yourself! Love, Spore.”
He checked on the kids before he went to deposit it in the mailbox. They were napping peacefully. On his way back he scrounged through the trash heap that was his front yard for something for dinner.
“Oh! Lucky find!” he cried, pulling out a crushed squirrel corpse.
Spore spent the rest of the afternoon preparing a green gloop and squirrel casserole and put it in the oven. He set the table and seated his children. Before plating his masterpiece he played his obligatory daily round of Russian Roulette. He lost.
THE END

3. Another Sporey Story (A.K.A. Hair Today, Spore Tomorrow)
It was the beginning of winter when Spore decided to grow out his hair. His purple tresses had just passed his earlobes, and rather than getting them trimmed like usual he decided to see how far he could let them go. His female friends congratulated him on his endeavour, looking forward to seeing how their prince would look with long flowing locks. His male friends just shrugged and told him he could do what he wanted, even if they thought it was stupid.
By the end of December, Spore was starting to look a bit emo. His bangs had just gotten long enough to sweep to the side and his nearly shoulder-length hair was slightly dishevelled. Girls swooned when he entered the room. Boys looked away in embarrassment. Spore, as always, was enjoying the attention. He thought he looked quite dashing, and even applied a bit of eyeliner to his lower lids on occasion. For Christmas, he asked for a straightener and on New Year Day he resolved not to cut his hair for the entire year.
By mid-February, Spore’s hair gracefully swept his shoulders and he had a stunning side-bang. During lunch hour girls lined up to braid and style his mane. Some of Spore’s friends tried to reason with him, saying his hair was starting to change him, but Spore would hear none of it. As far as he was concerned, he looked amazing. Why quit now?
When April rolled around Spore’s hair was trailing down his back. He took care to brush it 200 strokes a day while watching some of his latest addictions, Gossip Girl and One Tree Hill, or while listening to his new favourite artists, The Backstreet Boys and Justin Bieber. On Friday nights he went to the clubs and drank cosmos with his girl friends.
By June it was getting hot out. Spore opted to put his hair in a ponytail to keep it off of his neck. Some students from the 12th grade data class had secretly been studying Spore for their culminating activity, and their analysis concluded a strong positive correlation between the length of his hair and his feminine demeanour.
Spore went to prom in a pink suit, and was just as likely to dance with the boys as he was with the girls. At his graduation, the keynote speaker detailed his accomplishments while referring to Spore with the pronoun ‘her’.
The month of July was a blur. Spore’s hair had reached mid-back and his bangs had completely blended in with the rest. His detailed hair-care routine assured he had no split-ends. When asked about his hobbies, Spore would reply “Doing my nails and reading slash”. He had started applying lipstick and occasionally wore heels to the supermarket.
Friends who had not seen Spore in a while barely recognized him. Family members wanted to nominate him for intervention, but his mother wouldn’t allow it, insisting she was happy to finally get the daughter she never had. Spore himself seemed oblivious to all comments regarding his gender. He refused to listen to anyone who said he had changed.
At the end of August, Spore prepared for college. He was unaware of the dilemma his parents, as well as the school’s staff, had over whether to house him in a dorm with a male or female roommate. His roommate Kyle seemed uneasy with his presence, and Spore could not understand why so many guys were checking him out. He continued to watch Gossip Girl religiously every Monday night.
Kyle, on the other hand, tried to make the best of the situation. He invited Spore to a LAN party with some of his buddies. Spore wore his hair loose. It fell gracefully to the top of his buttocks. When they got to the party Spore felt uneasy. How could he play such manly things, like Call of Duty or even Little Big Planet? But the moment Kyle put the controller in Spore’s hand, something magical happened. Spore started winning. He was owning people left and right. Suddenly, his hair didn’t matter. All that mattered was the game. Spore remembered the good times – beating his friends at Super Awesome Amazing Street Fighter IV Revamped Unleashed and levelling his character in FFXXXI the MMORPG.
“Kyle, do you have any scissors?” he asked.
“Well, sure,” Kyle replied. “What for?”
“Quick, bring them to me!” Spore demanded, running towards the bathroom.
Kyle handed him the scissors and watched as Spore took a good look at himself. It was the first time Spore actually saw how much he looked like a girl.
“Hair! You have been taking over my life for too long!” he cried, and he abruptly chopped his hair off, letting it fly all over the room, hitting the walls and falling to the floor in purple clumps.
“Kyle!” he exclaimed when it was finished, “thank you so much! I couldn’t have done it without you. Now sweep up this hair and donate it to Locks of Love pronto!”
From that day on, Spore was back to his manly self. He never grew his hair out again. And even if he wanted to, because he broke his New Year’s resolution, God made sure it would be impossible to ever grow his hair past his shoulders again.
Moral: Keep your promises or God will smite you.
THE END

Well that's it. Hope you enjoyed, whoever might read this...

New goal
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Item List:
Buttoned Down Flora Boots
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