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 Posted: Mon Mar 26, 2007 4:11 pm
I'm not "back", just here to take care of something that's been bothering me... I'm sure that you probably know a little about Gestalt (the sum of the parts is greater than the whole...). If you don't, look it up, it's fascinating. Here's what's been bothering me: I have a stub of a story that I wrote well over a year ago and I've always wondered what someone else could do with it. Starting to see how the whole Gestalt thing fits in? No? OK, then I'll explain it: I'm going to post that little stub and I would like whoever feels like it to add to the story, be it a little, a lot, I don't care. In fact, you could just add one line. I just want to see what happens... Oh, and tell your friends to come and add to it too... -= STORY =- Quote: "Sir, I need your ticket. If you don't give me your ticket I'll have to call se- Are you all right sir?" A bead of sweat slowly formed on his pale brow as he stumbled a few steps back. His hand instinctively reached for the counter and it seemed to stop mid-fall, his grip tight in a primal fear. "Leave-leave me alone! Just, leave me alone!" he yelled, his sentences broken by the feeling of his insides desperately trying to get out. A few security gaurds came rushing around the corner and another came in from a door behind the counter. One of them reached for his gun, but none of them made a move. Unsure if they needed to help the man on the floor in front of them, escort him out, or run from him, they just stood there, watching him. Ok, have at it and see you in June. -Tsuji
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Posted: Thu Mar 29, 2007 8:09 pm
His face was turning pale, and veins protruded from the skin. A spot on his forehead, without warning, split open and back into the hairline. Blood dripped down his face and neck. For a moment no one moved...
He tried to force himself up, pulling his leg forward, but it slipped out from under him, smearing a crimson streak across the tile. He fell hard, his other hand which had clutched his chest fell away, and more blood escaped from under his jacket.
Two guards jumped forward to stabilize him, and he shot out his arm to grab one of their wrists.
"Ahh!" a muffled crack resounded as the guard tried to pull away. "Let go! Let go!"
"Leave me!" The man yanked him down into one of the walls, slamming his head at an awkward angle.
The other guard grabbed at the arms, and pulled them backwards. He twisted away, pulled the guard down low, and kicked him hard in the face. The guard leapt back, clutching a ruptured nose. The rest looked back and forth, taking hesitant steps from side to side. Blood was freely flowing down the man's clothing. He lowered to the floor again, pain now pulsing throughout his body. On his belly, he struggled his way towards the door, his soaked hands sliding away from him.
Another guard jumped at him, baton ready. The man reached up to block, but was too slow this time. He was knocked in the side of the head, and when he turned to run, got hit in the back of it. He fell on his face, still and silent. The protruding veins faded, and the guard then flipped him over, checking his pulse. "He's still alive."
Another guard called from the back of the group, sitting up from the fallen man near the wall, "Officer Kale's dead..."
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Posted: Tue Oct 16, 2007 2:43 am
A low rumbling shook the ground as if a great beast finally awoke from its ancient slumber. Without warning, one of the walls exploded and the large fragments crushed an unlucky guard. After the dust settled, a shape started to become clear. It appeared as if a huge glass pitcher was standing about the scattered rubble. Upon closer observation, the glass pitcher had two arms and two legs. A face seemed to be imprinted on the front of the glass. He held one M60 machine gun in each hand, and with a smile, he turned to face the remaining guards.
"Oh yeeaah!" he said with glee. One of the brave guards quickly covered the distance to bash the glass pitcher man with his sturdy baton, but to his surprise, his shattering strike bounced off the monster's body with no apparent damage.
Bullet proof glass. He's made of bullet proof glass. Hahahaha!!! the courageous guard thought. He only had a moment before he saw the unstoppable storm of hot lead.
No one can stop the Kool-Aid Man. No one.
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Posted: Wed Oct 17, 2007 3:21 pm
They died before they hit the ground. Their mangled uniforms were barely recognizeable; so brutal had the walking fruit punch's assault been.
With a triumphant "Oh yeeeeaaaaah!", the Kool-Aid Man waddled toward the double doors of the opera house.
Being that he could only say one phrase one way, sounding triumphant was quite the feat. But he did it.
His progression was cut short, a blood-stained hand gripping his leg stubbornly. Turning his face upwards, the once unconcious man sneered into the glassy face.
"I knew you'd come, Kool-Aid Man.... You're not killing His Highness on my watch," he muttered.
Muscles rippling with the force of awakening power, he shakily pushed himself to his feet, eyes closed tightly in the effort of maintaining screams. His skin split along his back, his scalp tearing. It was as if someone had run a blade from the bottom of his spine to the center of his forehead. Quite the gruesome effect.
From the remnants of the bloody, discarded flesh stepped a figure far larger than should have been possible. It loomed over its adversary, crystalline figure glinting in the light of chandelliers high above. In a voice like the crashing of the ocean, the churning of seas, and the tinkle of tv-sized ice cubes in a vat of sugary beverage, it spoke.
"KOOL-AID MAN....I AM.....YOUR FATHER."
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Posted: Wed Oct 17, 2007 3:28 pm
The Kool-Aid Man quailed at the force of his father's voice.
With the sound of glacial breaking, the Kool-Aid Dad grabbed his son, speaking with voice of a pounding surf.
And it's time...
A demonic grin flashed across the crystalline surface.
... For a SPANKING.
And with the sound akin to the splitting of the earth, the Kool-Aid Dad meted out the punishment upon his wayward son.
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Posted: Wed Oct 17, 2007 5:41 pm
Gazing upon the battered shell of his son, he raised his ancient arm up to the sky and brought it down one last time. Everything felt wrong. He should have heard the comforting sound of his son's body shattering, but instead, he found his hand to be covered in splinters from the now very dead log.
"Oh yeeaaahh!" said the Kool-Aid Man as he emerged from the shadows.
"I SEE YOU LEARNED SOME NEW TRICKS SON." he boomed.
"Oh yeeaahh!" he replied.
"I SEE YOUR VOCABULARY FAILS TO EXCEED TWO WORDS." His distaste was made quite apparent as each word seemed to etch itself into reality with the force used to say them.
"Oh yeeaahh!" retorted the Kool-Aid Man as he brought out his M60 machine guns again. He continued to smile as he prepared for this eventuality with his custom made ammunition. He fired upon his father and bullet casings rained down on the ground around him. The keen observer could see "Patricide Projectiles" carved into them. He continued to smile.
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Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2007 9:04 am
Of course, one doesn't exist this long in the world without picking up a trick or two of their own.
With speed unknown to man and beast alike, The Kool-Aid Dad dodged bullet after bullet, catching each and every one like some great magnet-handed monstrosity.
With voice dripping palpable menace, the Kool-Aid Dad rumbled, Don't make me bring your MOTHER into this, Young Man.
From behind his rotund sphere of a body, he drew forth the instrument of summoning his wife: A 75% discount sale coupon for any clothing store in the world.
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