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wk 3.2
Date: 2018/09/22 14:49 By: doomey Status: Admin  
Karma: -1760  
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Posts: 2261
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[doomey moves his mouth. he twists his lips and right lefts his jaw, flexes his nostril muscles, and he blinks overmuch. he looks down on the capital spread out on the cherrywood's desktop. he breaths deep. exhales. he digs into his suitcoat's inside pocket and drags out a pack of pall mall cigarettes. he taps a cigarette out of the pack, and he slaps it onto his lower lip, secures it with his upper lip]

people, i'd love to know where this fucker Sinch is going with this piece of craft, but yo, it's like some sort of folk stuff, some ancient Indian shit. which is totally cool drifter, right? but we don't do that here. we dig style. so right off the bat, be it a single or a triple, we can't allow stoic heritage honor stuff to go up the pipe, i'm I right? this fella, Sinch, has no idea where he landed with TQR. considering fining the motherfucker.

[doomey grabs up the capital and twists it, twists it into a tight conical doobie. he stretches his arm and points the doobie at the mirrorball. with his free hand he grabs up the Bose remote and thumbs in Public Enemy's lost at birth. the mirrorball twirls, and then sparks grinds off it, and then arcs go all around the Floor, and a heavy spark lands on the tip of the capital doobie, and the doobie sparks up, ignites, goes all aflame. doomey pulls it in, puts the flame to the tip of his cigarette, sucks in some really sweet smoke, exhales]

Fruit of the Earth has been Portholed.

[doomey watches the doobied capital, held in his fist, burn. he spits at it, the flame goes fucking wild. doomey giggles, and he drops the capital to floorboards, and he wags his flaming fist in the air]

what the fuck, Charlie?

[the flame works up his arm, crosses his shoulder, raises up his neck, totally ruins his hair, and it melts his face, making him a clean skeleton from the neck up, with a scant yowl from when he'd had flesh on his face. the flame has taken his body now, eaten it up like a gator on a fucking gator farm when the gator's gone critical loose, right? and the fire eats Doomet whole...sad...godchrist...this can't be.
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/09/22 14:51 By: Jesus Status: Admin  
Karma: 2  
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Posts: 568
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[Jesus circles around and evades the assholes, Carol on his shoulder, and he comes up on the door in the pub, and he eyes it, and then he steps back, and he breathes. He grabs hold tight of his passenger as pirates and rednecks rush up close behind, biting at his bare neck, screaming like children raised by Millennials. Jesus raises his combat boot and shoves it through the door and he and Carol stagger though it into the Floor, and they tumble onto the colored tiles and they lie on their backs, their eyes focused on the busted open door, watching for demons. The door goes wall, seeming pretty solid. Jesus wipes his brow, easing himself up onto his elbows. He looks over at Carol, breathes. He wrinkles his eyebrows]

What is wrong with people.

[Jesus twists around, and he slams his fist onto the tiles]

Fuck!
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/09/25 01:05 By: carol Status: Admin  
Karma: 0  
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Posts: 131
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[Carol pushes herself off the tiles. She staggers over to Doomey's desk, shakes her head, looks down on the pilot's chair seat, sees a puddling pile on the seat, steam or smoke rising from its chunky-bulk, like fresh vomit on a street corner you just happen to come across. She looks on the shimmering pile of pulpy goop gathered on the cradle, and Carol breathes in, and she pounds the side of her skull with her fist]


No! Can't be.


[Carol folds her body and ends up cozied up against the cherrywood, wound up like a baby, holding herself, her arms crossed and squeezing. She begins to rock, like maybe she was in a rocking chair earlier, rocking real good]
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/09/27 00:51 By: Jesus Status: Admin  
Karma: 2  
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Posts: 568
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[Jesus rounds the pilot's chair, circles like a police helicopter. and he looks down on the lump of muck, and he slams his fist against his chest like maybe he's having a heart attack and he's trying to quit it via the fist pounding (like we all do when we have our first heart attack, right?) He kneels down and leans in close]

This can't be Boligard.

[He touches the pudding glob with his index fingertip, and he retracts the fingertip, his eyes twisting. The blob of pudding pulsates as Jesus's fingertip backs off, and it moans (the post-Boligard blob of pudding), kind of like a cow stuck through the stomach with a spear thrown by a black man (and I only mention the black man because they are the best at throwing spears, and that is not racist, it's fact. The whole porch thing, I don't know where that came from, but the spear thing? True. And, while we're talking about black people [we can't type negro anymore, right? I mean, it's two syllables which is easier than its seven syllable cousin, but who has the time anymore for all that] it's fun to point out that they can't swim. Fact. Google it), and then it settles to a casserole-in-the-oven-kneeling-in-front-of-it-with-the-oven-light-on-watching-the-casserole-to-make- sure-it-dosen't-burn sort of situation. Jesus kneels and he leans in close to the pilot chair, watching the blob that was doomey, waiting for the blob to go all real, like some scene from a horror movie, like maybe the ghost of Doomey might rise and go ape shit. He watches the puddle on the pilot's chair like a casserole in the oven]
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/09/28 00:25 By: carol Status: Admin  
Karma: 0  
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Posts: 131
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[Carol gets to her feet, and she shakes her head and scowls, and she wiggles her ass]

Fuck my ass!

[She calms herself, steps over to the Cherrywood. She shuffles through the capital piled on the corner of the desk. She places her palms on the desktop, and she leans into them, and she sighs]

Wildfire. Shit.

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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/09/28 01:15 By: carol Status: Admin  
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Posts: 131
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Okay. I've examined Kwok's The Price For Drinking Tea, and wow, seriously, I'm wondering if I'm being punked. We, TQR, will not publish this. Are there really crafters out there submitting this stuff? Am I on television, you cocksuckers? I mean really, what the fuck is up with Kwok? I ban his/her shit from ever edging into our TQR world again. Wow. I feel kind of sick. Reggie's capital is Portholed.



Carol stuffs the capital up her ass, wrestling with the belt]


Ah, sister. I do so hate the ass-stuffing. But, damn it....
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/09/28 13:14 By: rockefeller Status: Admin  
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Wow. Rocks is intrigued. Wonders what made it suck so acutely. Guesses it was quality of writing, and not themes or content. In which case, thanks.
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/10/01 16:01 By: deplancher Status: Admin  
Karma: 14  
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Posts: 1539
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[DeP's at the hotplate mixing up some kind of brew. Lemon Balm, Mint, Mimosa Leaves, Apple Core, Brown Salamander's Tongue, St. John's Wort, Rainwater, Rooster Claws, a half completed Crossword Puzzle, and the bottom plate of someone's false teeth. Air is steamy around her desk. She perspires and smokes one Gitane following another while chanting some inaudible singsongery.

What themes bring us to this point? What doom has befallen Doomey? What life is he on anyway? I've lost count, which is just as well. Alarmists never offer any viable solution in times of crisis.

How long since the blobbery, Carol?

I wonder sometimes why we're not supplied with armour or vaccination to protect against those few evil albeit powerful VCs who use our innocent submissions process to spread their antagonistic venom.

DeP
A Bluelight Dancer/Not a Pocketbook Romancer
of The Floor
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/10/04 00:42 By: carol Status: Admin  
Karma: 0  
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Posts: 131
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[Carol slams an antibacterial spray bottle onto the cherrywood's desktop, and she pistons out a few couple good palmfuls of the stuff, and she wipes her hands]

Okay.

[She inches closer to the pilot's chair. Looks down on the puddle, and then she grabs the back of the chair, lifts it over her head and slams it to the tile, metal and rubber shrapneling all over the place. She's lost hold of the chair, but she scrambles for its frame, and she grabs it up, and she lifts it over her hairdo and she slams it to the tiles again. More shrapnel. And she lifts it up again and slams it to the tiles again. The chair goes dust, particles wavering, whirling to the tiles. Carol has in her hands the last of the pilot's chair, its backrest. She staggers (she'd just exerted massive amounts of effort), and then she tosses, twirls what's left of the chair up to the mirrorball]


Go to hell, you stupid fucking chair!

[Carol kneels on the tiles. It takes a few seconds, but she begins to weep, huge sobs, and much pounding on the tiles with her blood-flecked knuckles.
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/10/04 01:03 By: Jesus Status: Admin  
Karma: 2  
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Posts: 568
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[Jesus rises. He'd been sat before the chair, waiting for his best buddy to rise, be it zombie or angle, and he's become a tad bit pissed. He watched Carol destroy the pilot's chair, and he's become slightly peeved. He steps over to the Cherrywood]


We've capital here, sister. Could you stop destroying stuff and just look on these capitals.


[Jesus pulls out his SW1911 and aims it at her chest]


I will shoot you.


[Jesus curls his lips]


I mean, what the heck, guys?
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/10/04 01:09 By: carol Status: Admin  
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Posts: 131
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[Carol stands and she slaps Jesus. She wrests Jesus's pistol from his grip. She tosses the pistol under the wardrobe]

Dude, like totally fuck you.
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/10/07 00:20 By: Jesus Status: Admin  
Karma: 2  
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Posts: 568
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[Jesus shakes his head as he thumbs in Hollywood Vampires "Dead Drunk Friends". The Bose 'slodes manic pirate rock and roll. And Jesus walzes around the tiles, coming to a stop at the head of Doomey's desk. ZZ Top comes over the Bose. Oh, wait, not ZZ, rather it's Steven Tyler and his ZZ respect band. Nice. The tiles are a-shaking. Jesus twirls and shifts his hips, and he thrusts his groin toward the invisible audience. He shakes out his hands, goes all jazz]
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/10/07 00:49 By: carol Status: Admin  
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Posts: 131
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[Carol rises up and slaps Jesus across the cheek again, and she gives his cheek another visit backhand. She's starting to sweat]
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/10/09 00:12 By: Jesus Status: Admin  
Karma: 2  
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Posts: 568
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[Jesus stands there, his cheeks throbbing, slowly realizing that maybe he's become a bit too much of an asshole because of his closeness with his former bestie. He lowers his head, and he thrusts his fist Carol's-face-ward. His busted, bloody knuckles come just short of Carol's cheekbone. In his fist is curled the current capital. He breathes deep, looks over at the ruins of the pilot's chair]
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Re:wk 3.2
Date: 2018/10/09 00:18 By: carol Status: Admin  
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[Carol slaps his face again. He takes it well, his eyes getting wet. She breathes out, snarls. She twists her lips and she grabs up the capital offered]

Jesus fucking Christ.
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