|
Post by The Evil Biscuit on Sept 7, 2010 18:47:37 GMT -5
Sunlight streams through an open window, casting a warm morning glow on this room. The air is rich with that sickly-sweet smell of... well, you know, things that are sickly-sweet in their smell. The bed is unmade... hell, everything's unmade. This room is filthy. What a slob. Who even LIVES here. Ah. Yeah, that makes sense. Man, he looks stoned out of his gourd. I bet he doesn't even know his own name. Care to refresh his memory?
|
|
|
Post by The Evil Biscuit on Sept 7, 2010 21:35:52 GMT -5
You can't think. Maybe you need a little 'inspiration'. Rummaging through the unkempt dresser, you produce THIS- -and THIS- and combine the two to make one SWEET BURNIN' SWEET. You inhale. Clarity.You CAPTCHALOGUE the SWEET for later. No sense in burning it all up now. Now, what was your name? Oh come on seriously how HIGH do you even- Well, maybe that first one wasn't so bad. In fact, it's mighty familiar. Heck, that IS your name, isn't it!? Man, that's a cool name. SYLLADEX (COMPRESSION MODUS - 4-)[1 ----] [2 ----] [3 ----] [4 SPLIFF (3)] STRIFE PORTFOLIO: hammerkind
|
|
|
Post by The Evil Biscuit on Sept 12, 2010 19:42:06 GMT -5
The room in which you stand is certainly not much to look at, but hey man, it's Zen. It's got everything you need and nothin' you don't, right? Simple wood paneling, an open-air window with a ratty Jamaican flag serving as drapes. The floor is just dirt - who needs material things between you and Madda Earf, seen? However, you didn't take too kindly to the critters crawling on your things, and you certainly didn't like getting your heels dirty before getting in bed, so you laid a snazzy Persian rug over the main spread of the room. Of course, there's clothes and garbage strewn all OVER the place, and you keep tripping over the heavy array of cables snaking through the middle of the room to the far corner, where your COMPUTER STATION is set up. That's a big damn computer tower... and is it hooked up to a laptop? That's odd... and why are there cables going out the wind- You know what? You need to clean this room. You crack that winning smile and snap to it. Messy room, messy life, right? As you tear into the sheets, your foot slaps against something shoved under the mattress. What could it be? You bend down to investigate. Aw snap it's your HAMMER! You've been looking for that for days now! Such a trusty weapon, and a very reliable tool when not smashing faces in de name'a Jah Army, yah! Even the Gautama had to lay a beatin' on the unenlightened every once in a while. But... but wait... Don't you already HAVE a HAMMERKIND in your SPECIBUS? You pop open the STRIFE SPECIBUS and have a look. SWEET JAH'S GLOWAN BEALLS, BRADDAH Now how did THOSE get in there? Pssh, you don't need them right now. You EJECT them from your SPECIBUS and stash them in a corner, then allocate the SLEDGEHAMMER back where it needed to be. SYLLADEX (COMPRESSION MODUS - 4-)[1 ----] [2 ----] [3 ----] [4 SPLIFF (3)] STRIFE PORTFOLIO: hammerkind { sledgehammer}
|
|
|
Post by The Evil Biscuit on Sept 19, 2010 14:41:32 GMT -5
You walk over to the window. The salty breeze ruffles the Jamaican flag, letting sunlight and blue skies peek in from behind the red, green and gold tapestry. You can hear the whisper of waves gently breaking on not-so-distant shores. The smell of palm and sawgrass drifts across your nose. You take the flag in your hand and begin to pull it back- *GRUMBLE*Sweat Jah, kine! Hell with the window - you're HUNGRY, brah! That SWEET really worked you over. You need some delicious sustenance in you, rattaway. You wander over to your MINIFRIDGE. It's an old Kenless unit, but it works, and that's what counts. It rest atop a huge chunk of concrete, layered with faded, rotting linoleum. It looks like it was torn out of the ground. Whatever, dude. What's inside?! You crack the fridge open and have a look. FUCKing DELICIOUS Fish heads. Your favorite! You grab a handful and power those bitches down. You're STARVING. You crunch another fish head and make your way across the slew of cables snaking across your floor to the COMPUTER STATION. Time to see what's new in the universe.
|
|
|
Post by The Evil Biscuit on Feb 6, 2011 19:14:55 GMT -5
Mose: Check out your blog. You flick on the monitor and open up your BLOG. ____________________________________
EGGS AND BEERCAN
SUBSCRIBERS: 1 READ 1148 TIMES
<<==PREVIOUS PAGE (1 2 3... 64)
1141 - Fished.
1142 - Fished.
1143 - Fished.
1144 - Fished. Four days to birthday.
1145 - Fished. Three days to birthday.
1146 - Fished. Two days to birthday.
1147 - Fished. One day to birthday.
_
____________________________________You suddenly feel like going back to bed. Today is your BIRTHDAY. wheeeeee. You really don't feel much like celebrating. Still, you need to keep track. __________________________________
EGGS AND BEERCAN
SUBSCRIBERS: 1 READ 1148 TIMES
<<==PREVIOUS PAGE (1 2 3... 64)
1141 - Fished.
1142 - Fished.
1143 - Fished.
1144 - Fished. Four days to birthday.
1145 - Fished. Three days to birthday.
1146 - Fished. Two days to birthday.
1147 - Fished. One day to birthday.
1148 - Birthday.
____________________________________Well, you think, it needs a little more than that. ____________________________________
1148 - Birthday. Gonna kill myself today.
____________________________________Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.
|
|
|
Post by The Evil Biscuit on Mar 12, 2011 1:01:26 GMT -5
Mose: No no don't kill yourself! Uh, um, see if you can get through to someone on the Internet maybe! That'd be a great idea... but you don't have any Internet. At least, you don't have full access. Your COMPUTER STATION is on an INTRANET. It's linked to four other computers, and nothing else. Bobo Ashanti has the only working Internet, and he's not letting you on there anytime soon. Aye, most foul tribblin'. The breeze is kicking up. You can smell something... ... burning?SWEET JAHDA GRINNHOUSE, KINEYou grab a few FISH HEADS for the road and dash out the door, momentarily blinded by the sunlight. ONE LOVE, BREDDAH You can see the PORTICUS shining in the sunlight, a near mile distant along the shoreline. You could go see Bobo and maybe hang out with Trax and Woggle. They're good company. You can also see the faint plume of smoke curling into the air behind the tree-crested ridge a few hundred yards east of you. Those SHORE OGRES are muckin' up yon grow-shack, seen? Gotta be layin' dat smacky-smack 'pon dey bald'eads. What do you do? WHAT DO YA DO, LION?! SYLLADEX (COMPRESSION MODUS - 4-)[1 FISH HEADS (2)] [2 ----] [3 ----] [4 SPLIFF (3)] STRIFE PORTFOLIO: hammerkind { sledgehammer}
|
|