[Sheep Murderer]

Okay, disclaimer: I haven't written in a long time. These were very quickly made. Please be gentle with this bonfire-worthy attempt at modship creativity. Don't be surprised if I modify them over the next few days.

Lines (so.....bad....):


The spirits of the damned know science. It is the blasphemy that burned their lives and their rest. As he watched the souls desperately snatch up the foglets on his steel worktable, Vince knew the world was doomed.

Yo, my name is Derek and I **** goldfish with thousand-dollar toothpicks.

How he managed to get my intestines around my neck to hang me like an ornament from my Christmas tree, I do not know. What I do know is that my children are in grave danger and I can't get down.

Fido, I thought you loved me, boy. Why are you chewing on my breast?

The shimmer of his aura clashes so gently with the shine of my chainsaw. I could kill this beautiful man forever.



I'll add more sad submissions later.

This post has been edited by Sheep Murderer: 29 November 2009 - 09:17 PM

[Nixie]

Sheep Murderer, on 29 Nov 2009, 10:05 PM, said:

Yo, my name is Derek and I **** goldfish with thousand-dollar toothpicks.

i mean

[Sheep Murderer]

You know you like it.

Slugs are most amiable creatures. They are slimy, ugly, and slow, yet no one can fault them for it. Why can't he be more like that?

The creaking martini glass weighed heavy with its silver contents. Jacky struggled to swirl the drink with a plastic sword as she contemplated the value of submitting her sanity to the concoction. She prayed to the inventor of the stress-relieving brew of vodka, vermouth, and mercury that this would not kill her.

Ants crawled their way up the copper hooks towards Newt's bleeding honey covered eyes. If her lower jaw had not been ripped off for her crimes, her screams would have shattered the lone basement window.

This post has been edited by Sheep Murderer: 29 November 2009 - 10:38 PM

[Sonny]

Sheep Murderer, on 29 Nov 2009, 11:44 PM, said:

The creaking martini glass weighed heavy with its silver contents. Jacky struggled to swirl the drink with a plastic sword as she contemplated the value of submitting her sanity to the concoction. She prayed to the inventor of the stress-relieving brew of vodka, vermouth, and mercury that this would not kill her.

This reminds me of a Mike Hammer novel. Which is a good thing.

[Sheep Murderer]

I had to google that, but thanks?

[ShadowDog]

LMFAO!!

FYI, I'll give my feedback once I've submitted all my choices.

[Foxglove]

Sheep Murderer, on 29 Nov 2009, 09:44 PM, said:

Ants crawled their way up the copper hooks towards Newt's bleeding honey covered eyes. If her lower jaw had not been ripped off for her crimes, her screams would have shattered the lone basement window.

Besides making me think for a second you were talking about our Copper, I think this one promises the most so I like it the best.

[Mr. Winch]

Sheep Murderer, on 30 Nov 2009, 03:05 AM, said:

How he managed to get my intestines around my neck to hang me like an ornament from my Christmas tree, I do not know. What I do know is that my children are in grave danger and I can't get down.

I mildly approve. The last line sells it.

[Sheep Murderer]

"Mildly"? *sigh* Yeah, this makes me feel like I should get out of rusty zombie mode. All of these are pretty bad.

As the walls harshly vibrated with the motions of wild sex, Shawn found himself contemplating the frequency and its detrimental effects on the building. As the dorm was made during the 60's to withstand fallout, he wasn't too horribly concerned.

The purple lights keep ramming against the inside of my skull. I guess that bleach covered cockroach I ate isn't too happy with it's new home after all.

This post has been edited by Sheep Murderer: 01 December 2009 - 06:02 PM

[Sheep Murderer]

The dull strings of lights hung like dead angels from the Satanmas trees that lined the dark path.

My beast of a mother keeps telling me that when I drink I am hit by the train of stupidity. I wish I were hit by a train, then I would never have to see her hovering eyes again.

Where went the "Welsh Wonder" Walter? Twas tonight, the Tented Terror of Toads?

Ever so quietly the boy opened the package containing his grandmother's greatest love.

"Yeah, I should really name my kid Victor and give him a strict upbringing of the British level. Inevitably, he would become the perfect ladies' man. Absolutely lethal!"

What an amazing jawline that girl has! Those high cheekbones that practically block her vision! How I long to wire them together, to retain that rare perfection.

Fate gently left this perfect little blue-eyed baby boy stuffed in my vertical mailbox. Once I sew him back together, he will grow to be such a big healthy child!


Joke only:
Our love was like Spiny Norman. It was the largest around, but was always looking for some other prick.

This post has been edited by Sheep Murderer: 03 December 2009 - 04:01 PM

[Darth Virul]

Sheep Murderer, on 2 Dec 2009, 01:45 AM, said:

"Mildly"? *sigh* Yeah, this makes me feel like I should get out of rusty zombie mode. All of these are pretty bad.

Mr W would like to apologise and clear any misunderstandings his previous statement may fait accompli given form.
With this picture.

[Sheep Murderer]

You can tell Winch that hitting one of my soft spots is not going to save him.


Xexilia basked in the snowglobe of home in search of tranquility. She wished that nothing could break the glass of her sky, but she knew who held the hammer.

(Okay, yes, I was wondering is there are any X names out there....According to babynames, this means "Blind of self beauty". I like it.)

I'm at 19 submissions....I should really stop sometime.

This post has been edited by Sheep Murderer: 03 December 2009 - 06:26 PM

[Sheep Murderer]

The Bacardi bottle opened it's fanged jaws as my lips neared and growled at me. I tried forcing the bottle to kindly give me its contents by forcing the teeth apart, but the beast was just too stubborn.

[ShadowDog]

I knew you couldn't stop. LMFAO

[Sheep Murderer]

Great gods, I know. Kill me. I'm also noticing a theme.

Hey, it's a break from exam time, which is sucking my brains out and dancing of their remains.

[ShadowDog]

I wonder what kind of dance a sadistic exam would put on over someone's remaining brains? I'm bettting, the Foxtrot.

[Sheep Murderer]

The F-bomb Foxtrot?

Actually, what this thread really makes me want to do is write Foglets for Ghosts. The first opening line is based very loosely on this plot bunny I've been cultivating.

[Sheep Murderer]

The Bruckheimer Award:
The flashy ninja sprinted across the telephone lines as if they were pavement, bag in hand.

The Bulwer-Lytton Booby Prize:
Oh, woe: Thy beginning starts with a 'w' because you are bosom friends with women, my mortal enemy!

[ShadowDog]

These are all really good, but I think you started to get a head of steam towards the end there. The last handful seemed looser and freer. Maybe the insanity from your exams?

[Cashmere]

I get the feeling that a lot of creepy characters live inside your head. You decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

[Sheep Murderer]

^Yeah, but I find that they don't always translate well onto paper. Kinda like my story about a soda fanatic who killed people by injecting Coca Cola into people's veins. It just refused to work out...

[GreenLightBaby]

Sheep Murderer, on 3 Dec 2009, 03:56 PM, said:

Ever so quietly the boy opened the package containing his grandmother's greatest love.

Even though you submitted this as a joke, any chance you'll tell us what he found?

[Sheep Murderer]

In this instance, I think it's far more fun watching you fantasize freely.