Scratch

Wickimen wrote:

Agg725 wrote:

ilackoriginality wrote:

Hi.

^ story #2

XD umm.. aha

Here's a dumb story:

There once was a rock in someone's backyard and when their dad mowed the lawn the mower hit the rock and the rock went just over his head and just missed his face and the family was so relieved that their dad wasn't taller or else it would have hit him and it would have hurt so they put the rock in a cage so it couldn't hurt anyone and they named it Rocky but they didn't know why and that's how they came up with the concept of pet rocks, but someone else came up with the idea and was going to share it with the public so they paid him to keep quiet and let them handle it, so they finally told the newspaper and they got rich and famous and they bought a mansion for Rocky with everything he ever needed like a 5 tv sets 5 radios, and 200 computers, each with their own minecraft server, and Rocky got rich and famous too and there was a rocky fan club and he lived in his mansion forever and ever cause rocks never die.

what a dumb story.

Pet rocks were popular in the 60s, before Minecraft! 

'Tis why it's so dumb

ilackoriginality wrote:

G0d what a dumb st0ry!

ikr?

Does it have to grammar right

Once upon a time there was a boy who loved science, infact, he loved it so much that he ran out and went to the science shop of science and bought the store but, unfortunately, the store owner was a lion and it was not pleased with the boy so he kicked him out and destroyed the science store to make the boy sad and the boy cried all the way back home when suddenly he got another idea and went to the shop of jewely, bought all of the jewels with his magical money that flies away and made an elephant out of them, then the jewel elephant got mad at the lion so the elephant sat on the lion and the lion died of magical bee strings from magical bees that came from the elephants butt and the boy got bored so he became a medic and the elephant was bored too, so it became obsessed with wolves and stalked them but the wolves hated the elephant so they turned into pixies which made the elephant so sad that it turned into a potato.

The end.

Last edited by ToxicQuillz (2012-08-05 22:11:43)

In a dark, desolate citadel lay a young Scratcher, with a stickman project in his hands - he approached a big, sinister-looking man and very carefully handed him the stickman project; the sinister-looking man - let's call him John - scrutinized the project and ripped it up - "What is this garbage?" he yelled in anger - the young Scratcher shivered in fear and responded, "I'm sorry, I'll do better." and then he did better.

The end.

In my opinion, people shouldn't write long sentences, especially in school projects, mostly due to the fact that long sentences annoy teachers because they can't read it properly because there isn't enough periods (or, if you are English, full stops) so they don't have a chance to take many breaths and therefore pass out or something bad like that before they get a chance to finish the sentence; therefore reading it incorrectly and causing the students to either think that the teacher has some weird issue or that they should write long sentences to make the teacher pass out, which could probably get the students in lots of trouble, especially if they do it on purpose, frequently, and with a malicious mindset; probably enough trouble to land them in a detention (if the students get in trouble, their parents would most likely get mad at them).

You should make a "featured sentences from this topic" section. 

@Agg--I believe it's meant to be a joke in itself 

@sci--Thanks    You should write one, I've discovered they're quite amusing

BirdByte wrote:

You should make a "featured sentences from this topic" section. 

Perhaps

BirdByte wrote:

Wickimen wrote:

The white cat--so it appeared anyway--across the snowy avenue, pawing through your next-door neighbor’s trash bins--you never like your next-door neighbor anyway--made you stop on your paper route--a useless task anyway (the papers became unintelligible with ink blurred from wet snow)--and watch for a moment; you didn’t really know why, but maybe it was because you liked cats in general, and it perhaps reminded you of a cat you had once had as a child (in a time when children were entrusted with the job of “paper route,” but aren’t anymore and you wish it wasn’t like that, even though you’re glad for some of the extra money from this extra job), even though really, this small white cat was nothing like yours, that big, beautifully shaggy monster with glass-green eyes, a cat you had secretly adored even though you always complained about her, and how funny she looked, like a lion next to your tiny dog, and you had been devastated when she didn’t show up after school that Tuesday in November, especially when they said she had just gotten lost and had found a new home with a nice big backyard--there was nothing wrong with your own backyard, and you knew the truth, anyway--and you naturally wondered if this cat was some other unhappy kid’s, wondering where Snowy had got off to; so, on impulse, you tossed a paper in the driveway you were on, a driveway where you had already thrown a second paper on accident while considering the cat, and came across the street, taking breaths of sharp air, to see whether this abandoned specimen had a collar or not, and much to your surprise you realized it wasn’t a cat at all but one of those little odd-faced dogs, “bull terriers” you believe them to be called; like something out of a Chris Van Allsburg book, you loved those when you were a kid--but that was so long ago, children had paper routes then, imagine--well, maybe they still do, in some places anyway--and, having fond memories of your old dog and Chris Van Allsburg books, you approached cautiously and held out your hand in a friendly sort of way: the dog, of course, came over, ears erect and eyes bright, and you noticed, close up, that there was no collar and ice had cut jagged scowls into its paws, which made you pity him and ask something along the lines of, “Where’s your owner, fellow?”--but you never liked talking to animals anyway--and you didn’t like the way “owner” sounded anyway--and he couldn’t understand you anyway--although he seemed to, because he looked at you curiously and with immediate trust; so you decided you liked this dog, and if you couldn’t afford to keep one right now, well, perhaps things would change soon--so you took him home next door for your daughter anyway--and you didn’t notice that the stupid next-door neighbors were missing their dog anyway--but you didn’t like them anyway--anyway--well anyway.

These are fun 

Loled at the end. XD

Yeah I tried to make them all rather vaguely humorous

Agg725 wrote:

Wickimen wrote:

BirdByte wrote:

Loled at the end. XD

Yeah I tried to make them all rather vaguely humorous

I like it. Anyway. 

Anyway

Wickimen wrote:

“Helium balloons are disappointing,” remarked a passerby wearing a strangely tilting black hat (purchased from a nearby store only minutes before, though he tried to act as though he had quite familiarized himself with it), who had owned many a helium balloon and had never before expressed his opinions on them but had quite often thought about it, especially that morning as he held the cup of now-lukewarm coffee in his hand, purchased just before the hat and not quite before the shoes he now wore, the receipts of all aforementioned items that were now lurking somewhere in the Starbucks trash bin, for he didn’t want anyone to know he had recently been such a “feckless spendthrift,” to use a phrase he had always dearly hated--or perhaps it was because he wanted to remain anonymous as possible, but no one really knew, for no one on the poplar-lined, curiously named Oak Avenue had seen his face or heard his name before, and he had not really gained any sentimentality for it or them yet, while he was spending his time mostly alone in a depressingly whitewashed old house on the corner of the broken gray road where many people stayed, but only temporarily; and so as he made this statement, making great pains not to make expectant eye contact with any other pedestrians, he clung to the hope that perhaps someone might remark on his strange and abrupt statement, and, when no one did so, began to stir at his unfinished espresso in embarrassed silence, now wishing that he had never said anything at all--but perhaps, he suggested to himself, no one had heard him; yes, that would be preferable, wouldn’t it--alas, the next moment, someone asked in polite indifference what he had said, and he only shrugged and said that now he couldn’t remember: this was certainly a lie if he had ever told one, for it drifted in the back of his mind all day, and sighing, he wrote in a crisp black notebook that evening, in his untidy, sloping hand--“Helium balloons are disappointing,” but no one ever knew exactly what he meant, even when it was discovered after his death some thirty years later in the same house.

lol what even is this
I wrote it and decided to make a lame topic in which you can uh
Post sentence-long stories 
Preferably overlong ones but I guess flash fiction works

Once upon a time, I hit a dog with a clock.

The end.

I can write sentences too, wicki.

I hate cement.
Wires are useless.
I am not a good writer.