MB's hermitage: trespassers snuggled
POSTED BY: mincingbeast
UPDATED: Thursday, October 12, 2017 06:30
VIEWED: 42324
PAGE 3 of 7
I wish to die, and to visit Paris. I am not Madame Bovary, however. Woe is me, alas and alack.
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Quote:
Originally posted by mincingbeast:
I wish to die, and to visit Paris.
Preferably not in that order.
I considered suicide on Friday night, but then didn't know what I'd do with the rest of the weekend...
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It is not order I desire, but rather incompatible absolutes. And awful literary allusions.
And also, illegal drugs.
Senseless violence, too.
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Ah, youth!
Sounds like a pretty good weekend in Vegas. Oooh - they have a tres outre kitschy kopy of the Eiffel (Awfful?) Tower there, too!
I'm sensing road trip!
Mike
"I supported Bush in 2000 and 2004 and intellegence [sic] had very little to do with that decision." - Hero, Real World Event Discussions
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Quote:
Originally posted by mincingbeast:
It is not order I desire, but rather incompatible absolutes. And awful literary allusions.
And also, illegal drugs.
Senseless violence, too.
(Megatron) *Soundwave, we are nearing the area known as Troll country, blanket their communicatiuons, so The Fallen can whipe these pathetic insects of this land.*
(Soundwave) *Soundwave acknowledges.*
-In Troll country-
It's a nice day, nice as it can get when people are being tortured, and Mincingbeast is communicating with the Devil, when, his $1 walkie talkie shuts down. BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(Megatron) "Puny trolls, i am Megatron, servant to The Fallen, your NEW master."
A ships crashes, and a figure steps out of the smoke, a figure, with glowing red-gold eyes.
"Mom, he has her chip. He has her."
John Connor,"Born To Run", TSCC EP 2x22
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transformers are not welcome in troll country. in fact, no robots are welcome in troll country--not even sexbots. furthermore, nothing is welcome in troll country. do not let the piles of trash and bones, or the puddles of urine fool you: this is not a hospitable place.
if Megatron were to show his face in troll country, he would be sodomized (in his tail pipe), and then pimped out to Go-Bots for drug money.
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The following is a traditional story of Troll Country, once upon posted in a He-Man Forum. Tear out your eyes before you read it: don't read it. Die.
Merman and Beastman were waiting for He-man. They had been waiting a long time. And before the waiting, it had taken even longer to agree on a place to wait.
“Somewhere under water!” gurgled Merman.
“In the jungle!” snorted Beastman.
At first it seemed no compromise could be reached, because not even Skeletor knew where there was an underwater jungle. But then Skeletor told them to ambush He-Man in the swamp, and if there was one thing that they could agree on, it was whatever Skeletor said. So they had been waiting in the swamp for a long time. What would Skeletor say about that?
“This is the part of the ambush that I hate” said Merman, “I like the part when I get to summon the creatures of the sea, and fight with my trident. But I hate this part.” He fidgeted with his trident, as much as his cramped position hidden behind the log would allow.
“Patience!” counseled Beastman. “A hunter knows patience.”
Five minutes of mosquito bites and fetid swamp water later, Beastman said “I hate He-Man.”
Skeletor had foreseen that He-Man would probably not be visiting the swamp any time soon, which was fatal to the plan of ambushing him there. Skeletor corrected for this flaw with a bit of cunning.
“Press this button when you’re in the swamp”, Skeletor had instructed, “and He-Man will think that there are people in need in the swamp…but he will be wrong!” And then Skeletor had laughed, and so Merman and Beastman had laughed, too.
“You probably pushed the button wrong” snapped Merman in the swamp. “Give it to me, and let me push it.”
“I already pushed it!” snarled Beastman.
There had been great disagreement over who would press the button to lure He-Man to his doom. Skeletor never specified who was to have the honor.
“Skeletor intended that I send the false distress call!” shouted Merman.
“Only I am close enough to the master to press the button!” growled Beastman.
They struggled over it, and at length Beastman came away with the device, and ran off pushing the button repeatedly while staring over his shoulder as Merman pursued him. This was shortly before they assumed their positions for the ambush, and much, much earlier. They had been waiting a long time.
“He-Man is not here yet! The false distress signal is not working.” Merman said.
“I can see!” countered Beastman.
“Then push the button again!” snapped Merman, standing up from his hiding spot and stretching.
“I hate you, and am going to sodomize you” said Beastman.
In less time than it takes to relate, Beastman
had Merman’s shorts down, his face on the ground, and his bare scaly ass in the air. As masterful as he was in positioning Merman, Beastman had trouble with his own loincloth, and when he finally triumphed over it, the wiener that plopped out was distinctly small, orange and limp—and totally disinterested in anything that was happening in the swamp.
“Oh my god what the fuck!” Merman explained.
“I am going to fuck you in the butt as soon as I get a boner!” Beastman roared into Merman’s ear. His breath tickled Merman’s neck. Merman struggled to escape, and Beastman struggled to achieve a boner.
Maybe it was Merman’s nerves, or maybe it was the situation, or maybe it was the fact that Beastman couldn’t get a boner, but Merman got a boner. He tried to hide his boner, but Beastman saw it, and then Beastman got a boner, too. Beastman cackled malevolently.
“And now for sodomy!”
“No sodomy!” Merman cried. Merman no longer had a boner.
And then there was sodomy! Beastman enjoyed it very much, but not for gay reasons, and Merman disliked it very much.
“I’ve got AIDS!” Beastman howled at the height of his enjoyment.
“Now you’ve got aids!” Beastman laughed as he pulled his wiener out of Merman’s butthole with a sickening pop.
Merman leaked DNA and shit from his butthole; some was his, some was only recently his, and some was possibly infected wit
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it is dark at noon in troll country, where the rivers run with AIDs.
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Troll country is a ghetto; Troll country is Ultima Thule. Welcome to my self imposed exile, but don't tarry long, because I'm high on PCP and hate, and not to be trusted.
Troll country is a traditional Jewish ghetto, and a pox upon the cocks of those who appropriate my ancient stigma to celebrate their urban debasement.
By decree, everything with a mouth must eat shit from the stomach of a dead dog.
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