Wildrun
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Post by Wildrun on Feb 13, 2009 17:30:22 GMT -5
*grabs camera* XD *evil cackle*
Grante, Ash-o. You stop creating everything that makes this site what it is, and lose all resemblance of importance in the eyes of ones currently present. They come after you, you are forever being chased, and Rocky the Immortal Lawyer can do nothing to save you. Wildrun, however, simply sits backs and ponders on why she feels the need to torment her beloved admins. Not that that does you any good, mind.
I wish I would break the Friday the 13th curse and never get my finger caught in a *%^^$@!*-roflcopter-!8+/*+=8!@4#*! door ever a-$%*#!ing-gain!
...*door slams somewhere* $@%!?
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Ashstripe
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I'm not normally a religious man - but save me Superman!
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Post by Ashstripe on Feb 13, 2009 19:33:42 GMT -5
Granted. You don't slam your fingers in the door. However, they do get slammed in a window and trampled on by a passing Giant Robot, whose identity cannot be revealed at this time. However he was saying something about 'fighting them on the beaches'.
I wish...Ahh...My Valentines day was more fun?
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Wildrun
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Post by Wildrun on Feb 13, 2009 19:52:09 GMT -5
-.-" Ash-o, you know I respect you (and can't start a revolution without being mericlessly crushed), but please don't take offense when I say that YOU might be slammed by a window in the near future. Okay? Just a warning. >P Granted, Ashy-boy...your V-day takes you places, meets people, and does things--one of those things is learning to fight with a bottle of sily string against a mass of possesed fighters and possibly win. You attempt this in real life and a giant window crushes you out of nowhere a fairly-sized see-through leviathian shaped like a window twists you like a pretzel into a heart shape and gives you as a present to his love. Awwwww. I wish I could focus on what I'm typing right now?
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Yves
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Post by Yves on Feb 13, 2009 20:09:41 GMT -5
Granted. You acquire the ability, but you still lack the initiative. Now, not only do you fail to focus on anything in particular, but you are now reprehensible for it, because it's your choice. So, the intergalactic tribune for the furtherance of psychological justice lands in your backyard, and arrests you for violating statute 6543621 B, paragraph three, sentence two, clause eighteen, of the universal declaration of mental behavior, which states that, "...any person who is capable of focusing on something must focus as such,..."
There are many exceptions to this rule, but your lawyer isn't good enough to recognize the 362 you qualify for, so they might as well not exist. However, you fail to notice all this, because you are too busy choosing not to focus on anything in particular. You continue in your self-made obliviousness until the court finds you guilty, and promptly forces you to play 90's arcade games until dead.
I wish my rats would be a little more affectionate with me.
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Wildrun
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Post by Wildrun on Feb 13, 2009 20:26:50 GMT -5
90s arcade games?! NOOOO!!!! *twitch*
...Granted, dearest Yves. Your rats adopt the personalities of slightly alcohal-induced French nobelmen/women, constantly giving you hugs, kisses on the cheeks, presents, and whipped cream. However, this cmes with the catch of everyoneo nthe sigh becoming fed-up with them and locking you all in the Happy Dancing Children Room. The Immortal Space lawyer, your counsel of defense, is too busy re-writing the Interglactic Tribune for the Furtherance of Psychological Justice's constitution to pay you any attention, or help. And sense we all know how flaw-ridden the ITFPJ's constituion is, you'll be sining 'Ring Around the Rosy' for a while now, won't you?
...I wish I could get my hands on the book Watchmen before I go see the movie.
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Yves
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Post by Yves on Feb 19, 2009 0:31:20 GMT -5
Granted. You then read the book, slowly, and painfully, as is the way all sensible people read Watchmen. However, unlike most sensible people who read Watchmen, you cannot stop reading the book after page five, or even after page 100, or even after you've finished the book, because your copy is even more cursed than usual. It is not only among the worst graphic novels ever written, but it steals your soul, destroys your corporal body, and forces you into a preternatural time-loop where you forever believe that you are reading Watchmen, when in fact you are merely not existing.
I wish some new animation company would spring up and dominate the market with traditional-style American animation for young adults x3
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Wildrun
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Post by Wildrun on Feb 20, 2009 20:22:43 GMT -5
Granted. That company is run by Rorschach, the Watchmen'ss leading anti-hero. In his question to crush all scum of the earth, he hears your comment just above this post and flattens you like a pancake, using you as a welcme mat for the company's front door and also using the emotions on your face as people walk over you through the front door to represent various expressions on the faces of the company's characters.
...I wish I could finish this doughnut. DX
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Yves
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Post by Yves on Feb 21, 2009 2:50:35 GMT -5
Granted. The doughnut is delicious, and you enjoy it immensely. Furthermore, it does you very little harm, aside from filling your intestines with lots of saturated and trans-fats to absorb and line the casings of your body with.
In fact, the the whole affair is so incredibly pleasant and natural, that you begin to question how this could possibly be so in a game designed to bring about misery and pain. The question weighs down on you day and night--"When is it coming? There must have been a bomb in the doughnut, a dimensional warpgate which will shortly send me off to the land of demons and Charley Chaplain, a microbial fast-food lawsuit designed to put my liver out of business on account of managerial malfeasance... something! The game could not be that simple, Yves could not be that merciful..."
You slowly develop a paranoid complex, as you spend your days as a pathetic, shivering, wide-eyed and clinically insane bum. Every corner to you is an opportunity for Yves to strike, and every sewer-port in the street is a potential route to implacable fate.
Eventually, the stress reaches such a pitch, that you decide life is no longer worth living. You grab the nearest razor, and raise it to your throat as you despairingly look into the murky tempest of the storm above. As the rain drips down your nose, and onto your chest, you imagine the feeling of blood running down your neck, the sharp pain, the slow asphyxiation and then...
"But wait," you think, "isn't this what He wanted in the end anyway? Couldn't this all just be a clever ruse, a ploy to bring about an ironic self-destruction through my own fear? After all, in the end, the only real enemy here is fear! I will not be my own victim. I will begin to live again, screw Yves!"
And so, you lower the razor, and as you do, you suffer a fatal doughnut-induced heart attack, and I laugh.
I wish Pepe le Pew the skunk, Sylvester the cat, Persephone the kitten, and Elmer Fudd (human) would form an Irish Barber Quartet, and go on to success and fortune.
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Post by ferretface on Feb 21, 2009 4:20:08 GMT -5
I...
...
You....
...
Cat...
...
Barber...
...
Gahh...
*Shakes head repeatedly* Uh, I mean, they do so, and their fame becomes widespread! Their hit songs include "I wish I cud shoot dat wascally wabbit," "Slapstick Physics (oh, how I hate thou), and "*Pffft* Oh, GODS! AAAARGH! GET OUTTA THE BUILDING! *Blamblamblam* *Koff koff* And other outtakes". But then a scandal involving the fact that Sylvester had eaten le Pew comes out into the press, then the unfortunate cat explodes from indigestion. Then Elmer Fudd makes a fur coat out of Persephone, before being chased off a cliff by protesters with painful, hard billboards. He almost reaches the other side, before making the mistake of looking down.
In the end, only Bugs Bunny is left, gorging himself on carrots over the corpses of the others.
*Apologetic cough*
Ahem.
But, uh, I wish that I had the ability to summon vindaloo at will.
Yeah.
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Ashstripe
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I'm not normally a religious man - but save me Superman!
Posts: 292
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Post by Ashstripe on Feb 21, 2009 17:32:15 GMT -5
Funnily enough, some of my wishes have been coming true - uncorrupted too. XD, I'm assuming your Friday 13th curse got a little worse then Wildrun? =P
Granted. But Ash, being the clever clogs that he is. Has no idea who or what Vindaloo is, so he goes through a process of elimination summoning whoever he thinks could even come close to matching his mental image of this Vindaloo character. Some of his main choices are the Soviet Union, Chun Li, Pappa Gnome, Mikey the Squealer and a guy he met at the bus stop the other day - who practices Voodoo or one of those 'outsider' religions.
None of them are particularly pleased with being interrupted during their favourite past times and a Gang War begins with you in the middle. Simultaneously starting World War 3, assassinating Kevin Rudd and making me spill some of my hot, hot pie on myself.
I hope your happy.
I wish...Oo err...I could get new Speakers for my Computer...With lasers.
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Wildrun
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Post by Wildrun on Feb 21, 2009 17:42:13 GMT -5
why, Yves...!? WHYYYY?! *throws lightsaber through the air in a final bid to avenge myself as I fall off my rocker--erm, i mean, the starship. Yeah, the starship.*
Granted, Ash-o...Your newspeakers have all the technology of Vindaloo-Domo-Robot Hiter (whoever that is), and the only thing they lack that could possible make your life any more perfect is if they had some sort of las--
*the discarded lightsaber falls through the air and lands perfectly in the speakers outsretch, uh, invisible...arm-like...things...yes...*
Oh, hey, look at that, they have lasers. Lightsabers, technically, but what're you gonna do? Hmm, oh dear, they seem to be growning rather big, aren't they? And turning white. And mutatiing. maybe it's the light exposure. Oh, gee, Ash, look, your speakers just turned into General Grievious the II. Aren't you thrilled? Well, you might be more thrilled if he came to life--
ooh, looky, looky, looky! General Grievious the II just smashed a hole in the wall! IT'S...ALIVVVEEEE~!!!!!
....Uh, might wana run, Ash. :"D *watches the Ashinator run* I'LL SAVE YOU--Look, it's a phone!
I wish I could remember what it was I just said I'd do. Oh, and I also wish I knew why Ash keeps yelling in the background.
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Ashstripe
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I'm not normally a religious man - but save me Superman!
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Post by Ashstripe on Feb 21, 2009 18:10:42 GMT -5
Granted. I asked you, rather kindly and politely, despite being chased by a homicidal killing machine with eight arms and more lava-coated light-sabres than GRH, to GO AND GET THAT TANK THAT I JUST RENTED! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THE DEPOSITS ARE ON THOSE THINGS!?
Meanwhile, I have to go pick up my Rent-a-Nuke to deal with Grevious.
I wish...I could sic Jaws onto General Grevious II.
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Yves
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Post by Yves on Feb 21, 2009 19:39:26 GMT -5
Granted. However, when you do, Greivous quickly comes to realize that Jaws is, very simply, the most incredible of all fish ever to play a role in cinema. As such, he invites the shark to tea at four O'clock in the morning. Jaws, however, feels that this time is somewhat demanding on a fish of his sleep-demands, and counter-offers for lunch at 9 P.M.
As it happens, 9 P.M. was precisely the time which the Jedi Council, Marvin the Martian, Marvin the Manically Depressed Robot, Zaphod Beeblebrox the ex-president of the Galaxy, Martin the Warrior, R.L. Stein, Stephen King and Stephenie Meyer had chosen to assassinate this upstart Greivous. However, when they find the robot having his English Breakfast with someone as awesome as Jaws, they immediately decide that they have clearly chosen the wrong side of this conflict. To try and make amends, they turn on you, and bring with them all the forces of the most non-sensical cinematic and literary powers in modern history.
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Wildrun
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Post by Wildrun on Feb 22, 2009 17:58:15 GMT -5
*starts up the tank* *runs GRH over by mistake* ...Oops. ...I wish that Forget-a-Wish syndrome had never come into being.
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Yves
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Post by Yves on Feb 22, 2009 20:13:05 GMT -5
Ah, right then. Granted. As a result, I make my wish. I wish that the universe had imploded on itself yesterday, and everyone who had ever lived, including myself, ceased to exist in the entirety of time. Corrupt that
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Wildrun
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Post by Wildrun on Feb 23, 2009 20:39:55 GMT -5
It happens. You would be thrilled, but you no longer exist. The thrill and joy you recieve from corrupting and destroying our most heartfelt wishes vainsh, and you never find the wonder in making us squirm ever agian.
Poor Yves.
Meanwhile, I took a trip to another universe (HA!) and am now shaking my head sadly as I try and re-build existence.
I wish I could re-build existence.
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Yves
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Post by Yves on Feb 24, 2009 0:33:03 GMT -5
Granted. Unfortunately, you do this with five materials:
1. Blood
2. Spit
3. Elbow Grease
4. God Powers of Godliness
5. Silly Putty.
Silly, silly Wildrun. Didn't you know that silly putty is the single most unstable substance in any universe anywherewhichhowwhen? In fact, silly putty and taxes are the only two elements present in every universe, as they represent the archetypes of stability, and archetypes are constant in all of existence, non-existences, and lunch-time.
Now, this would not have been the end of world (although it would still have been rather unpleasant), but you make one other fatal error: You recreate the universe while you are eating lunch. Now, as any practiced realiticianologexistetistical under-graduate knows (or rather knew, before I killed them), lunchtime is the twilight between reality and non-reality. All great preternatural events have something to do with lunchtime. Jesus was born during lunchtime in Alaska (where the three wise men were), Muhammad was enjoying his afternoon soup when the K'oran was revealed to him, and the Easter bunny lay his first egg at his school's cafeteria after enjoying a particularly sugary Spike.
Now, in most universes, lunchtime is only current in a limited number of spaces. On Earth, for instance, there are less than 1,000,000 lunches going at any given time, which is a very small number for an infinite universe. However, because you create your universe during lunchtime in non-existence, every time everywhere is designed for lunchtime. After a couple weeks of seeming normality, this forces reality and non-reality to mix, which again, wouldn't have been so bad, but the interwoven silly putty causes the mix to be very unstable, which is bad in ways we cannot comprehend. However, understand this: It means that we all do not really exist, we just think we do, or rather, that's what we would think if we existed enough to think that we didn't exist. In reality, reality doesn't exist, because it mixed with stable instability, and so the universe is nothing but a paradox. Which doesn't sort of exist in any way. It does, however, recognize the rules of English prose, and therefore reprimands me for my sentence fragment.
I wish Stephen King would realize that
A. He's a great writer
B. It only shows when he writes decent-lengthed books about semi-believable plots /=
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Ashstripe
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I'm not normally a religious man - but save me Superman!
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Post by Ashstripe on Mar 9, 2009 23:35:56 GMT -5
Mmm...I'm not particularly creative today...My brain's in logic mode.
Granted. Stephen King does in fact, realise that he is a great writer, to the extent where he believes he is the best writer since the invention of writing itself - this of course has egotistic results.
So Stephen King begins to speak with a "European/German" accent, drinks wine constantly and insists that his greatness will never be truly realised until people(Such as yourself Yves.) realise the brilliance of his epically long epic novels(despite however brilliant his shorter works with more believable plots may be.)
His latest works tend to be compilations of scrawled pages containing the phrase "You bad book! Why won't you be good!? I give you ink, the gift of talent...And this how you repay me!? UGLY!".
Soon enough, he finds a nice niche writing ideas for reality TV shows, most concepts containing ideas about stuffing people in a place where they don't want to be - for monnies.
On the topic of 'Epic'.
I wish whoever wrote, directed or even produced Epic Movie, Meet the Spartans, Disaster movie, or whatever junk(I have much more descriptive words..) they are still sprouting out would be shot, beaten with lead pipes and impaled by King Leonidas from 300.
IN THAT ORDER.
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