From the DurtGurl Group

[DurtGurl]

An Author's Hangout script in the Monty Python style:

Title: Lit Hangout Song
From: The Literotica Bulletin Board and the Search for the Holy K-Basin.
by Quasimodem


Earl: Look, my liege!

(fanfare)

The Lit Hangout!
The Lit Hangout!
The Lit Hangout!

(It's barely virtual.)

Shhh!

Oggbashan: Authors, to your new home. Let us click ... to ... Lit Hangout!


[song]

We're authors of Lit Hangout, we write porn if we're able.
With loving wives, where incest strives ‘gainst beasties from the stable;
We post lots in Lit Hangout, and argue 'bout we know nought.

We're authors of Lit Hangout, our stories un-read-able
We, most the time, just bitch and whine, that writing is mis-er-able.
We' act mad in Lit Hangout, we misspell typos all a-bout!

Although we're all il-leg-ib-le,
We mostly only babble,
Between our posts, we screw our hosts, and impersonate our labels,
We stay busy in Lit Hangout:

(MathGirl-Solo): I have to shovel scat-about!



Killer Muffin: On second thought, let's not, The Hangout is a cluster-fuck.

Assorted Poster 1: (mumble) Fucking, right on. . . . .
Assorted Poster 2: (mumble) You misspelled "cluster-fuck" . . . .
Assorted Poster 3: (mumble) Kissy-huggy, cara mia
Assorted Poster 4: (mumble) Piss off, Bitch . . . .
Assorted Poster 5: (mumble) Isn't a cluster-fuck really a clique?
Assorted Poster 6 (mumble) I'm looking for a story about a guy and a girl, anybody . . . .
Assorted Poster 7: (mumble) Three to four days, if the camel isn't sick . . .

 

[raphy]

I laughed. A lot.

(Some peole have way too much time on their hands!)

 

[DurtGurl]

(Some peole have way too much time on their hands!)

There are worse things to have on your're hands, buster.
DG

 

[gauchecritic]

Scene: The General board

Og: Hello there.

GB1: Who the fuck are you?

Og: I am king Og and these are my fellow authors.

GB2: hoo is it?

GB1: He says he's K. Og.

GB2: What's he want?

BG1: I'll ask him. What do you want m8?

Og: I and my noble authors are on a quest for the "Story Which Scores Only Fives" and we want to know if your master will join us.

BG1: Well I'll ask him but I don't think so, We've already got 1 you c. (aside) I told them we already got 1. tee hee hee

Og: What did he say?

Perdita: He said they've already got one.

Og: Are you sure?

BG1: Oh yes, it's v. Hot

Og: Can we see it?

BG1: Of course not you are Literary Types

Og: Then what are you?

BG1: We r readers. Y do you think we speak in text?

Og: Then what are you doing on Lit?

BG1: Mind u'r own bizness

Og: If you do not let us read the Story of Fives then we shall take this Bulettin Board by force.

BG1: You don't frighten us you writing pig-dogs, with u'r Nom-de-plumes and u'r story typing tactics. I piss on u'r scat stories, and u'r 2 page intros b4 u get to the sex.

WH: What a strange person

Og: Now look here my good man...

BG1: I dont want to talk wiv u no more, u user of dangling participles, you storyline seekers, u'r plot is stolen from chyoo and u'r female POVs are written by men. Now go away or I shall taunt you a 2nd time.

Edited to add. This scene has absolutely no backing from the Durtgurl Group and is entirely fatuous.

 

[Svenskaflicka]

So nice to smell you again, DurtGurl! Where have you been for so long?

 

[MathGirl]

. This scene has absolutely no backing from the Durtgurl Group and is entirely fatuous.

At least that part is true.
MG

 

[oggbashan]

Scene: The General board

Og: Hello there.

GB1: Who the fuck are you?

Og: I am king Og and these are my fellow authors.

****

Og: Now look here my good man...



BG1: I dont want to talk wiv u no more, u user of dangling participles, you storyline seekers, u'r plot is stolen from chyoo and u'r female POVs are written by men. Now go away or I shall taunt you a 2nd time.

Edited to add. This scene has absolutely no backing from the Durtgurl Group and is entirely fatuous.

I object!

By the stage in the conversation where I am supposed to say "Now look here my good man..." the AH army would have routed the GB army and sent it reeling back screaming for its "Mummy".

Only stage Englishmen say "my good man..." King Og would have crowned BG1 with a mace long before that. A flock of nymphomanic sheep, some fourfoot bms and a castle full of garderobes ensures that the GBers stay out. They lost last time and with the DurtGurl group in the AH the GBers have no chance of winning a rematch. They can split infinitives, dangle participles and txt as much as they like. We can do all that and produce pathos, meiosis, zeugma and the cha-cha-cha.

Og

 

[Guest]

This is the best stuff I've read on the AH in ages. Maths, I truly admire your technique, but Gauche gets my "Special 5", despite Ogg's nitpicking. I also like that I had one line that could easily be cut.

Write more please.

Perdita

 

[MathGirl]

Originally posted by perdita I also like that I had one line that could easily be cut.

Dear Perdita,
Quaz wrote that piece, except for one line. Guess which one?
MG

 

[Guest]

Quaz wrote that piece,

Maths,

I am in chaos. Quaz is Gauche?

Perdita

 

[gauchecritic]

The jigs up. Run for my life Quas.

Gauche

 

[Guest]

I'll accept the truth from no one but Maths or Svenska. Maybe Rumple. Nah, not Rumple.

Perdita

 

[MathGirl]

Dear Perdita,
Quaz as in Quasimodem, dear. He is gauche, but he isn't Gauche.
MG

 

[Guest]

Maths,

I am no longer in a chaotic state, but I do not believe anything you say. I rely only on my reading skills. Gauche is gauche, Quaz is neither. You? I cannot say.

Perdita

(who can't afford to be more non-plussed than she was a half hour ago.)

 

[5extant]

An Author's Hangout script in the Monty Python style:

Title: Lit Hangout Song
From: The Literotica Bulletin Board and the Search for the Holy K-Basin.
by Quasimodem


Earl: Look, my liege!

(fanfare)

The Lit Hangout!
The Lit Hangout!
The Lit Hangout!

(It's barely virtual.)

Shhh!

Oggbashan: Authors, to your new home. Let us click ... to ... Lit Hangout!


[song]

We're authors of Lit Hangout, we write porn if we're able.
With loving wives, where incest strives ‘gainst beasties from the stable;
We post lots in Lit Hangout, and argue 'bout we know nought.

We're authors of Lit Hangout, our stories un-read-able
We, most the time, just bitch and whine, that writing is mis-er-able.
We' act mad in Lit Hangout, we misspell typos all a-bout!

Although we're all il-leg-ib-le,
We mostly only babble,
Between our posts, we screw our hosts, and impersonate our labels,
We stay busy in Lit Hangout:

(MathGirl-Solo): I have to shovel scat-about!



Killer Muffin: On second thought, let's not, The Hangout is a cluster-fuck.

Assorted Poster 1: (mumble) Fucking, right on. . . . .
Assorted Poster 2: (mumble) You misspelled "cluster-fuck" . . . .
Assorted Poster 3: (mumble) Kissy-huggy, cara mia
Assorted Poster 4: (mumble) Piss off, Bitch . . . .
Assorted Poster 5: (mumble) Isn't a cluster-fuck really a clique?
Assorted Poster 6 (mumble) I'm looking for a story about a guy and a girl, anybody . . . .
Assorted Poster 7: (mumble) Three to four days, if the camel isn't sick . . .

Assorted Poster 8 : (sings ) its christmas its christmas in heaven!

 

[Seattle Zack]

PLAYGROUND BOARD: NIGHT

KING OG and RUMPLE, thoroughly shaken, begin to hear noises of postings in the overstuffed threads around them. Suddenly there is a heavy mouseclick behind them. They turn in fear...

Sudden CUT TO BIG CLOSE-UP of a frightening black-browed evil face.

TALL KNIGHT: Heat-Seeking Moisture Missile!

KING OG and RUMPLE recoil in abject fear. KING OG peers into the darkness.

KING OG: Who are you?

SIX VOICES FROM DARKNESS: Love Muscle! ... Man Juice! ... Honeyhole! ... Spunk Pistol!

An extraordinary TALL KNIGHT in all black walks out from the dark. His AV is extremely fierce and has a gruesome countenance.

KING OG: Who are you?

TALL KNIGHT: We are the Nitwits Who Use Ridiculous Euphemisms!

RUMPLE: No! Not the Nitwits Who Use Ridiculous Euphemisms!

TALL KNIGHT: The same!

KING OG: Who are they?

TALL KNIGHT: We are the keepers of the sacred words. Sperm Piston ... Swamp Tunnel ... and Hairpie!... Stickyspurt!

RUMPLE: Those who hear them seldom live to tell the tale.

TALL KNIGHT: The Nitwits Who Use Ridiculous Euphemisms demand ... a sacrifice!

KING OG: Nitwits Who Use Ridiculous Euphemisms ... we are but simple smut writers. We seek the wise Dr. M who lives beyond this board and who ...

TALL KNIGHT: Trouser Snake!

KING OG (recoiling): Oh!

TALL KNIGHT: Guzgash!! Buggaring Wand!

KING OG (cowering in fear): Oh!

TALL KNIGHT: We shall say Goo Tower! again to you if you do not appease us.

KING OG: All right! What is it you want?

TALL KNIGHT: We want ... an incest story!

KING OG: A what?

TALL KNIGHT: Beef Curtains! Pecker Cheese! Hershey Highway! Quim Nuts ... Jizz Weasel ... Pink Squishy ... Flesh Hammer!

The AH REGULARS mumble in dismay in the background.

KING OG: All right! All right! ... No more, please. We will find you an incest story...

TALL KNIGHT: You must return here with an incest story or else ... you shall not pass through this board ... alive!

KING OG: Thank you, Nitwits Who Use Ridiculous Euphemisms! You are fair and just. We will return with an incest story.

TALL KNIGHT: One that's not too long.

KING OG: Of course.

TALL KNIGHT: Maybe a mother-daughter slut thing ... sex on the first page ....

KING OG: Yes ...

TALL KNIGHT: And a brother who discovers them and joins in ...

KING OG (wearily): I'll see what I can do.

TALL KNIGHT: Now - go!

KING OG and RUMPLE turn and depart.

Shouts of "Dingleberry!" and "Chocolate Cha Cha!" ring behind them.

Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely a figment of the reader's fevered imagination

 

[MathGirl]

Dear Zack,
They should have demanded a shrubbery.
MG
Ps. Nee. Nee.

 

[A7inchPhildo]

#5, #5, #5 Hell all of ya can have a 5 for creativity or something.

Did you all think of other peoples feelings before you wrote? Not them, what about everyone else you didn't include?
I feel so left out. I guess I need to piss off more people to be recognized. I thought the AH was about writing, getting and giving help, boy was I wrong!

Just a step below the GB.

 

[gauchecritic]

Brilliant Zack.

Note to Durtgurl Group: Looks like you'll have postable pastiche if the muse and silliness continue.

Gauche

 

[MathGirl]

Originally posted by A7inchPhildo I thought the AH was about writing, getting and giving help, boy was I wrong!

Dear 7,
Who ever gave you that idea? You're right about one thing, though: You're wrong.
Helpfully,
MG

 

[A7inchPhildo]

Wow, thanks now I feel like I belong. The peeps over at the other boards wont even give me that. You are my friends I can tell.

 

[MathGirl]

Dear 7,
We're always here for you. Ready, willing, and able to point out the error of your ways.
Speaking for the group,
MG

 

[Quasimodem]

Title: WRITE DOWN YOUR SHITE
From: The Literotica Bulletin Board and the Search for the Holy K-Basin.
By: Quasimodem



A manure spreader creaks along a cruddy road through the Global Village.
Kiwiwolf howls. People are crawling through the mud. A shepherd grunts.


LAUREL wearily trudges beside a manure spreader, carrying a pitchfork.


SHEEP: Baaa! Baaa!

LAUREL: Bring out your shite!

LAUREL: Bring out your shite!

LAUREL: Bring out your shite! etc. occasionally she take a swipe at a passing author with the tines of her pitchfork.


As each author comes forward with his or her reeking manuscript, they throw it on the manure spreader, then holds out their hand for an "E."


LAUREL: Write down your shite, then bring out your shite. This isn't brain surgery, you know.

(LAUREL takes a vicious swipe at one author head and gets a scrap of rubber caught on one tine.)

LAUREL: (continuing) Bring out your shite!


An Author comes out with a great bundle of papers glued and taped together over his shoulder. A harried-looking Editor is trotting by his side. The Author starts to heave the mangled manuscript onto the manure spreader.


AUTHOR: Here's my first . . .

LAUREL: Upload it.

EDITOR: (feebly) It's not done yet!


LAUREL: (suprised) What?

AUTHOR: Nothing! How do I upload. . . .

EDITOR: It's not done yet!

LAUREL: Here! He says it's not done yet!

AUTHOR: Yes it is.

EDITOR: It is not! I needs proofreading.

LAUREL: He say it needs proofreading.

AUTHOR: No it doesn't. It's completely done. Do I upload in Word, or WordPerfect.

EDITOR: The spelling's crappy, too!

AUTHOR: No it's not! Haven't you heard of Creative License?

LAUREL: I can't accept it like that? I'll gum up the HTML!

EDITOR: I don't want MY name on it....

AUTHOR: Who said your name is on it!

LAUREL: I can't take it ...

EDITOR: I tell you it's cruddy!

AUTHOR: Look, do me a favour. I only got one word processor.

LAUREL: I can't!

AUTHOR: (Arms upraised) Is everybody a bastard around here?
Here, I'll correct it! "Kunalingus" . . It should be "k. u. m. a. l. g. a. s. . . . There! Satisfied?

EDITOR: There's a lot more. It needs a rewrite, too!

AUTHOR: Oh, all right. Wait here, this'll only take a minute.

LAUREL: No, I've gotta get to Oggbashan's manuscript. That's a full load.

AUTHOR: When's your next round?

LAUREL: Thursday.

EDITOR: I think I'll resign ...

AUTHOR: (to Editor) You're not fooling anyone, you know - -
(to Laurel) Look, isn't there something I can do?

(they both look around)

EDITOR: (Shouting) It's a piece of shite! It's a piece of shite!

(Laurel jabs the pitchfork through the messy manuscript and tosses it on the manure spreader. The Editor shakes his head sorrowfully.)

AUTHOR: (throwing out his chest) Ah. That's better.

SHEEP: Baaa! Baaa!

LAUREL: Good-bye now, I must get to Oggbashan's desk right away.

AUTHOR: Whatever. By the way . . . how soon will it be posted . . .

LAUREL: (smiling) Ask someone else.


PERDITA and her trusty servant, MATHGIRL, "ride" through the town and past the group.


AUTHOR: 'Who's that then?

SHEEP: Baaa! Baaa! Baaa!

LAUREL: I don't know. Must be a Good Writer, though.

AUTHOR: How's that, then?

LAUREL: She hasn't got shit all over her.


(LAUREL moves away with the manure spreader, towards Oggbashan's hovel.


SHEEP: Baaa! Baaa!

AUTHOR: (To Perdita) Hey, you! How soon will my story be posted?

MATHGIRL: Three to four days, but it can be a week if the pigs are busy rooting up truffles.

SHEEP: Baaa! Baaa! (beat) Baaa! Baaa! Baaa! Baaa! (beat) Baaa! Baaa!

 

[The_Fool]

I am in fucking awe....

 

[Guest]

PERDITA and her trusty servant, MATHGIRL,

Perdita