#1
Doesnt have a title, no real compelling character plots, and will not make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Its kind of a monologue thing, that i wrote cause i like to write. Leave your feelings, opinions, hatred of, or kudos to. Constructive crit if you must do so.


It is a classic case of “You’re dammed if you do, and you’re dammed if you don’t.” To go west, into the front, is to march to your death at the enemy hands. Mud, rats, shells, and bullets all have their arms wide open to you, waiting with rapturous anticipation. Too many men had gone to the west, only to stay in the west. Well, to be completely honest, I haven’t heard of anyone to survive it.
Off to the north and south, Mother Nature herself is there waiting for you, to bring you right back to her, and such is the nature of things. No matter how many bullets you dodge, how many times a piece of shrapnel flies that fraction of an inch to either side of your head, or how many fusillades of enemy troops who decide to miss you, Mother Nature most often ends up taking you herself.
“Right back where you came from!” you can hear her exclaim from the high, snow-capped mountains, entrenching you between enemy fire, and friendly fire. It is only one’s credulity in others that makes them believe otherwise, and they are the ones who are lying face down, face up, hell, even face off, right now in the mud, the blood, and the other messes that war has a way of creating. But the Bitch Herself is a more merciful outcome than what would happen if you decide east is your way to go.
Many believe to walk into the rising sun would be their salvation! Only to be baulked by a grinning man with a happy trigger finger, and a few crafty looking things sewed on the shoulder of their spick and span “military” uniform. It matches your own, minus the blood, mud, bullet holes and God knows what else. These men aren’t part of the military, they are part of a sick and twisted international game of Risk. They aren’t in this war to serve their country, they own the county, anyone in the military serves them. They simply sit back, push the little pieces where they need to be pushed, and if they push back, they shoot them in the head. It is only a moderate estimate of how many the enemy killed, and how many they had killed, so they could hire some more phone operators to send more men in. No great loss, it only makes things a little more interesting.
So there’s the swift but brutal death at the hands of the enemy in the west, (Where the sun sets for EVERYONE! Harharhar) the cold and miserable death at the hands of Mother Nature to the north and south, and a good old hello goodbye from your boss in the east. Oh, and where I’m currently stationed: right smack dab in the middle of it. You can call it no-man’s land or you can call it hell. You can call it anything you damn well please but it doesn’t change what it is. This is an area where a new form of coquetry emerges, where unction is preformed, where men die, suffer, decide their fate, commit suicide out of indecision with their bayonets (it’s a difficult thing to put the trigger to your head when the gun is almost 3 feet long). Men, completely lost for words, thought and life, are all together in one place. It is like we were dumped here and told to decide how we want to die. Some men go abstinent in moving. They stay in one place, for days at a time, until they finally collapse and die with a look of relief on their frozen faces.
You could die here, but that isn’t your decision. Some jet could drop a bomb, kill 40 guys and life would go on, or the enemy could get wise, send a group of men to attack our trenches, and kill another 100 or so. Another thing to do is to go insane. But even then, you make up your mind in a strange way, usually running right up out of the trenches, screaming into the west, only to be mowed down from the knees and lay there screaming and bleeding to death.
No great loss.
I guess my decision was made up the second I got here. I don’t want to suffer like the other men, I don’t want to die at the hands of my own people and I am too realistic to think I can scale the mountains and survive. To the west it is then, where the sun will set, for me at least, for the final time. Rallying a few men to go with me isn’t a problem, most are looking for someone to think for them, to tell them where to go and what to do. So I will. I tell them we were going to win this thing and go home. We can do it ourselves. We’ll kill the bastards on the opposite line, and do something that will prove us “victorious.” So late tonight, we will rise from the trenches and storm the enemy lines, thinking in our heads what ever will be, will be.

Que Cerra Cerra.

No great loss.
#3
Here is my story (Better than yours)

It's about me and my friends time in drafting, and other stuff.

I call it

CAP'N CRUNCH AND THE MILD BURRITO GANG

Through the hard efforts of the Mild Burrito Gang, Darrel Hammonds rose to become the top woman in a society dominated by furbies and the occasional bean bag chair. Mrs. Hammonds work hard to secure a future where weasels were the dominate hair style and instead of New Car Smell, you got Used Tampon smell. But to understand the complicated beast that is one winged, brown eyed bung hole of death, you must first understand the event that transpired to create this brownie making tramp.

So, if you dare, to look into the future, ignore the lamp post and grab a handful of Raisin Bran, then come with me to the time known as... The Ye Olde Drafting Dayz.

*As our scene opens, our young mis-shaven heros are once again foraging through the dense jungle only known Sir Darrels pubic hair*

"Hey there is nothing here." Dempsey exclaimed. So they left. Thus ending Ch.1 in your Ingrown Hair text book.

Mr. Hammonds was a mild mannered kid who loved cars, making brownies and the occasional cactus up his ass, but unlike most kids he had a dark side. One that would create an army of vagina hat wearing midgets lead by his butt buddy Dime bag.For you see Matt loved taking a great big pounding in the butt, but nobody could fill that gaping anus like Darrel. Hell, even Sasquatch couldn't compete with a tool like his. Because Darrel bought all his tools at Home Depot, and got $20 cash back for being in the club house building contest sponsored by Jeep, Wrangler, and the Grand Cherokee himself.

Late one day in France the howling of wolves and tom cats filled the air. As Dempsey was about to unload a small Rambo clip into the wild blue nothing, I told him to stop. Because there was a village of sausage making, toothpaste using, big boned, short, greasy, bald guys with spoons. Thus making them invincible to any amount of ammunition no matter how ridiculously long it might last. The only way to decently kill them was by eating their second born child and having Sasquatch holla "I am dollar, here me roar."

This was not the end, for Jesus had a plan to keep them safe from drowning in a bowl of vanilla wafers, for you see the Evil Morris had one weakness... the inability to do things for himself. Thus nothing was there, mainly because he ate it all, or I said so.

Three days later, Darrel got pregnant from Jessica and on the Maury show, Matt turned out to be the drunk redneck father that took his shirt off and got his moobs censored because they were "too realistic". Thus leading to the age of Darrel Hammonds, the cave living, limp dick, son of a towel boy that doesn't have a nose.

Thus like all good movies we find out what happened to everyone at the end.

Troy = He became the new penis cap for a drill sargent in the Marines. He was sent to 'Nam where he ran into a midget named Bob. His last words were "If you look past the beard and adams apple, she is very sexy -- and the right height -- albeit a bit manly. All we know at this point is that he hasn't left the house in years, which explains the smell cause his shower is outside.

Darrel - Darrel like most guitar playing hippies of his time, became a roadie for Motley Crue. He filled in for one guitarist one night and got noticed. He made a solo album which featured at No. 1 on the chart with "Lesbian Seagull" He died at the age of 43 after choking on a peanut.

Dime Bag - He became an ass hat. He is still worn to this day.

Hammonds - He was eaten alive by the worlds largest mosquito after smoking some pot and running into the woods butt naked. Most witnesses tried to stop him, but after thinking about it, they really didn't give a damn. It is rumored that he is heaven drinking pina coladas and waiting for the next Bunghole Surfers Concert. But I've been wrong before.

Jessica - She fled to Canada after hearing that is was perfectly legal to walk around topless. I still visit her often.

Sasquatch - After a long drinking contest between the both of us. It turned out that he was the winner because he had just enough change to get another 40 after we already had 10 and we had just chugged a handle of Cap'n. Last time I saw him he said he was going to jump in a wood chipper and go to sleep. I called him a pussy and then passed out on the couch.

Jesus - Jesus didn't do much, he spent all his time playing guitar, drinking, and remembering the good ole glory holes... days... of 'Nam. Yeah that sounds right. Most of the time now-a-days he spend his time helping out charitable organizations like running over old people, and the extinction of the 3 toed turtle.
Random Metal-X fact:

Metal-X now sponsors: Blood Culprit!


"Ass Fuckingly Loud"

\m/^_^\m/ New Songs Up!!! \m/^_^\m/
#6
<yawn> meh, hoped for a semi intelligent response, apparently not. I got one person who comes into the thread simply to say no one will read it (some1 plz do to spite him lol), then one who makes up a useless story about nothing.... then an 07'er who randomly appears... man,sometimes i wonder about the state of ppl in general.
#7
Quote by Devon_555
<yawn> meh, hoped for a semi intelligent response, apparently not. I got one person who comes into the thread simply to say no one will read it (some1 plz do to spite him lol), then one who makes up a useless story about nothing.... then an 07'er who randomly appears... man,sometimes i wonder about the state of ppl in general.


lawl u l0ze
It's difficult to win unless you're bored.
#8
Quote by Devon_555
<yawn> meh, hoped for a semi intelligent response, apparently not. I got one person who comes into the thread simply to say no one will read it (some1 plz do to spite him lol), then one who makes up a useless story about nothing.... then an 07'er who randomly appears... man,sometimes i wonder about the state of ppl in general.



Its a damn good story about nothing
Random Metal-X fact:

Metal-X now sponsors: Blood Culprit!


"Ass Fuckingly Loud"

\m/^_^\m/ New Songs Up!!! \m/^_^\m/
#9
i didnt read it!
Quote by brandooon
Buy both pickups. Rub icyhot on both of them. Sandwich your penis between them and walk to the nearest homeless shelter with your brand new icyhot penis sandwich.
#10
Quote by Devon_555
<yawn> meh, hoped for a semi intelligent response, apparently not. I got one person who comes into the thread simply to say no one will read it (some1 plz do to spite him lol), then one who makes up a useless story about nothing.... then an 07'er who randomly appears... man,sometimes i wonder about the state of ppl in general.


WELL if you want a semi-intelligent response, then publish your little story no one cares about. At least the reviews may be semi-intelligent.

btw, we're all giving our own humble opinion , don't be such a **** mongler about it.
#11
Quote by Metal-X
Its a damn good story about nothing


You'd think someone thats been on this site for almost 4 years would get bored on an internet forum... guess some ppl really do have no lives. Oh well, my time at UG is about to run out, its getting slightly annoying and stale... ive been in the forums for like, 6 months and its already gotten to me. Que Cerra Cerra. No great loss.
#12
Quote by Devon_555
<yawn> meh, hoped for a semi intelligent response, apparently not. I got one person who comes into the thread simply to say no one will read it (some1 plz do to spite him lol), then one who makes up a useless story about nothing.... then an 07'er who randomly appears... man,sometimes i wonder about the state of ppl in general.


Wtf do yo expect? This is the pit afterall. And Metal-X's story was a beautiful piece of literature up there with The Illiad, Moby Dick and the "Where's Wally" Series
Quote by J.R.R. Tolkein
All that is gold does not glitter; not all those that wander are lost.


Quote by CowboyUp
If a mute swears, does his mum wash his hands with soap?


Food for thought from AussiE
#13
I thought it was pretty good. Kudos. It could have gone without some of the little jokes you put in, which just killed some of the effect (the face off thing for example, it's not bad... just sort of... out of place...) but otherwise good job.
OH NOES! My sig is gone.
#14
Quote by Devon_555
You'd think someone thats been on this site for almost 4 years would get bored on an internet forum... guess some ppl really do have no lives. Oh well, my time at UG is about to run out, its getting slightly annoying and stale... ive been in the forums for like, 6 months and its already gotten to me. Que Cerra Cerra. No great loss.



I love this place.

Its the only place that I can type random stories and not get in trouble for it.... wait, I can do that everywhere!
Random Metal-X fact:

Metal-X now sponsors: Blood Culprit!


"Ass Fuckingly Loud"

\m/^_^\m/ New Songs Up!!! \m/^_^\m/
#15
Quote by Devon_555
<yawn> meh, hoped for a semi intelligent response, apparently not. I got one person who comes into the thread simply to say no one will read it (some1 plz do to spite him lol), then one who makes up a useless story about nothing.... then an 07'er who randomly appears... man,sometimes i wonder about the state of ppl in general.



Is it just me or in every thread with an 07er in it, you come and talk about how there an 07er... does it matter that much?
#16
Quote by Devon_555
<yawn> meh, hoped for a semi intelligent response, apparently not. I got one person who comes into the thread simply to say no one will read it (some1 plz do to spite him lol), then one who makes up a useless story about nothing.... then an 07'er who randomly appears... man,sometimes i wonder about the state of ppl in general.



I read your story and I liked it, though it tends to drag in the middle.
Poor advice.
#17
Quote by stellar_legs
I read your story and I liked it, though it tends to drag in the middle.


and not to mention how queer it is, hur hur hur hur hur hur.
#18
Quote by PW019-box
and not to mention how queer it is, hur hur hur hur hur hur.



Do you have bruises on your knees?


Because you be trippin'!
Poor advice.
#19
the story sounds like a cliche ripoff of the introduction to a movie. and the only reason you wrote it was to make a monologue you thought sounded 'cool', that was dramatic in an apathetic sense. it has no value, cannot relate to anything, and would never evolve into a story. hell, i could whip some crap like that up in five minutes, maybe even just make it up as i typed, not taking any time at all to think. it's really easy to write that kind of crap, and the stupid 'que cerra cerra' phrase isn't as cool as you think it is. its not like you're the only one who gets its underlying 'coolness', it's not cool. you just think it's cool because it's random. anyway, the whole story sounds ripped off anyway, so i guess you could just divert all these criticisms to whoever wrote the original.
#20
Quote by Devon_555
Doesnt have a title, no real compelling character plots, and will not make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Its kind of a monologue thing, that i wrote cause i like to write. Leave your feelings, opinions, hatred of, or kudos to. Constructive crit if you must do so.


It is a classic case of “You’re dammed if you do, and you’re dammed if you don’t.” To go west, into the front, is to march to your death at the enemy hands. Mud, rats, shells, and bullets all have their arms wide open to you, waiting with rapturous anticipation. Too many men had gone to the west, only to stay in the west. Well, to be completely honest, I haven’t heard of anyone to survive it.
Off to the north and south, Mother Nature herself is there waiting for you, to bring you right back to her, and such is the nature of things. No matter how many bullets you dodge, how many times a piece of shrapnel flies that fraction of an inch to either side of your head, or how many fusillades of enemy troops who decide to miss you, Mother Nature most often ends up taking you herself.
“Right back where you came from!” you can hear her exclaim from the high, snow-capped mountains, entrenching you between enemy fire, and friendly fire. It is only one’s credulity in others that makes them believe otherwise, and they are the ones who are lying face down, face up, hell, even face off, right now in the mud, the blood, and the other messes that war has a way of creating. But the Bitch Herself is a more merciful outcome than what would happen if you decide east is your way to go.
Many believe to walk into the rising sun would be their salvation! Only to be baulked by a grinning man with a happy trigger finger, and a few crafty looking things sewed on the shoulder of their spick and span “military” uniform. It matches your own, minus the blood, mud, bullet holes and God knows what else. These men aren’t part of the military, they are part of a sick and twisted international game of Risk. They aren’t in this war to serve their country, they own the county, anyone in the military serves them. They simply sit back, push the little pieces where they need to be pushed, and if they push back, they shoot them in the head. It is only a moderate estimate of how many the enemy killed, and how many they had killed, so they could hire some more phone operators to send more men in. No great loss, it only makes things a little more interesting.
So there’s the swift but brutal death at the hands of the enemy in the west, (Where the sun sets for EVERYONE! Harharhar) the cold and miserable death at the hands of Mother Nature to the north and south, and a good old hello goodbye from your boss in the east. Oh, and where I’m currently stationed: right smack dab in the middle of it. You can call it no-man’s land or you can call it hell. You can call it anything you damn well please but it doesn’t change what it is. This is an area where a new form of coquetry emerges, where unction is preformed, where men die, suffer, decide their fate, commit suicide out of indecision with their bayonets (it’s a difficult thing to put the trigger to your head when the gun is almost 3 feet long). Men, completely lost for words, thought and life, are all together in one place. It is like we were dumped here and told to decide how we want to die. Some men go abstinent in moving. They stay in one place, for days at a time, until they finally collapse and die with a look of relief on their frozen faces.
You could die here, but that isn’t your decision. Some jet could drop a bomb, kill 40 guys and life would go on, or the enemy could get wise, send a group of men to attack our trenches, and kill another 100 or so. Another thing to do is to go insane. But even then, you make up your mind in a strange way, usually running right up out of the trenches, screaming into the west, only to be mowed down from the knees and lay there screaming and bleeding to death.
No great loss.
I guess my decision was made up the second I got here. I don’t want to suffer like the other men, I don’t want to die at the hands of my own people and I am too realistic to think I can scale the mountains and survive. To the west it is then, where the sun will set, for me at least, for the final time. Rallying a few men to go with me isn’t a problem, most are looking for someone to think for them, to tell them where to go and what to do. So I will. I tell them we were going to win this thing and go home. We can do it ourselves. We’ll kill the bastards on the opposite line, and do something that will prove us “victorious.” So late tonight, we will rise from the trenches and storm the enemy lines, thinking in our heads what ever will be, will be.

Que Cerra Cerra.

No great loss.


http://www.xanga.com
#22
Well, i guess I'm the only one here that actually read and liked the story.


*sigh*
Member #1,267,859 of the I'd die for Dethklok club. PM Vigilantius to join.

Infanterist of the First Reich of the Grammar Nazis.

Quote by MusicMan00
I noticed the avatar before I read what you said. Then I read it. Then I laughed.
#23
Here's my constructive criticism... I'm pretty sure it's "Que Sera Sera" just so you know.
Quote by terrencemaddox
Dude, role playing in general is already crossing that line...putting on a wizard hat and running around spanking each other with plastic swords is just too far.


Remember Kids,

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#25
Quote by Devon_555
<yawn> meh, hoped for a semi intelligent response, apparently not. I got one person who comes into the thread simply to say no one will read it (some1 plz do to spite him lol), then one who makes up a useless story about nothing.... then an 07'er who randomly appears... man,sometimes i wonder about the state of ppl in general.


If it was formatted correctly and didn't look like some crappy weblog it might be a bit more appealing.
<Dobzilla> because "when you were born, they thought yo' momma shit herself."
<Frehnchy> ...
<esther_mouse> ...
<Rankles> ...
<RaNdOm-FeLiX> ...
<Dobzilla>