Litsters In History.
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Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
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I've never seen you this lazy.gman23 said:
It's a little scary, frankly.
No worries, we'll live. Pass on the mail.
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
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Do we?Olivianna said:
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
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I have several alts that may be of assistance.just pet said:
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Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
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I didn't remember those at first...gman23 said:
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Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
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As I recall, they were highly amusing.
(edited for God and Country and the fucking English people sir, etc, who etc.)
(edited for God and Country and the fucking English people sir, etc, who etc.)
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Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
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Right.
Hang on a moment...
Okay.
This is the
No, that wasn't right at all...
hang on...
Hang on a moment...
Okay.
This is the
No, that wasn't right at all...
hang on...
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
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That was a bit cool... with an exaggerated font, though, perhaps?gman23 said:
Just a bit?
Just that though, no more.
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
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You keep competing for "most special" without realizing that you are all special!!bad_girl23 said:
That's why you're my alts!
Damn! I almost wish I'd never had alts, if I'd known it would be this much trouble!
(Not really. You're my alts, and I love you all, despite the Morlocks.)
The only reason I have to tell you this is to give some drama to the people who hang around here all the time! This is Hamlet for those who can't be troubled to read it. We all die in the end, by the way. (for those who can't be troubled to read the bleeding thing.)
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
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Um kay bye
*waves like the wizard while Dorothy waves back*
*hopes he remembers how this thing works*
*waves like the wizard while Dorothy waves back*
*hopes he remembers how this thing works*
Alright, I tried. But I'm just not witty enough, I'm afraid. (Well, I'm tired too, but mostly it's the lack of wit.)
Feel free to write your own Krastner thingies now.
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Krastner Tries to Decipher the Japanese Messages before Pearl Harbour
“Mr Krastner!” the US Secretary of State barked. “Just what is it you’re doing? You’re supposed to be decoding those Japanese messages, damnit!”
“That’s what I’m doing!” Mr Krastner retorted angrily.
The Secretary stared. “Mr Krastner,” he said slowly, “You’re cutting and pasting bits of those transcripts onto a poster. What, exactly, are you doing?”
Mr Krastner ignored him, taking out his little red scissors, and snipping away. Biting his lower lip with concentration, he carefully removed the lid from the jar of paste, and spread one perfect, thin layer over the back of the paper, resisting the urge to lick the paste while he was at it.
“Mr Krastner,” said the Secretary, tapping his foot.
“I told you!” Mr Krastner shouted. “I’m doing my job! I’m saving the people of America!”
“Wait a minute,” said the Secretary, seizing up one of the cut and pastings. “These aren’t the transcripts! Why, these – these are just newspaper articles! About – what’s this about Bush’s views toward sex?”
Mr Krastner snatched the sheet of paper back angrily, his face turning a deep red with rage. “Don’t you tell me how to do my job, damnit! I’ll cut, and I’ll paste, and I’ll do what I want!”
“Mr Krastner,” said the Secretary, breathing in slowly, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist you get back to deciphering those coded messages. It is imperative for the safety of millions of people.”
Mr Krastner put down his red scissors slowly, and took a step threateningly towards the Secretary. This might have worked a bit better had Mr Krastner been slightly larger than five foot, but as it was, he only came up to the Secretary’s chin. “Listen, you,” he said menacingly (or at least what he felt was a menacing manner), “You think you’re some sort of big shot around here, like you can tell me what to do…”
“What the fuck? I’m the US’ Secretary of State!” The Secretary uttered incredulously.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Idiot talk. I don’t listen to idiots. Shut up before I put you on ignore.”
“Mr Krastner!”
“Alright, you IDIOT. I’m working, here. I’ve got every right to cut and paste, and do whatever the hell I want. I don’t have time to sit around here arguing with IDIOTS. If you don’t like it, piss the hell off!”
“That’s it,” the Secretary muttered. “I’m getting security.”
As the two burly men in black suits dragged Mr Krastner out of the room, kicking and screaming and shaking his fists, the Secretary shook his head. “Good luck with saving the world,” he called.
“I’ll get you Dixon!” Mr Krastner hollered as he was dragged away. “Your day of reckoning will come! Just you wait!”
“Huh?” said the Secretary. “Who the hell is Dixon?”
That night, when the Secretary drove him from work, he found on his doorstep a letter…
Feel free to write your own Krastner thingies now.
-----------
Krastner Tries to Decipher the Japanese Messages before Pearl Harbour
“Mr Krastner!” the US Secretary of State barked. “Just what is it you’re doing? You’re supposed to be decoding those Japanese messages, damnit!”
“That’s what I’m doing!” Mr Krastner retorted angrily.
The Secretary stared. “Mr Krastner,” he said slowly, “You’re cutting and pasting bits of those transcripts onto a poster. What, exactly, are you doing?”
Mr Krastner ignored him, taking out his little red scissors, and snipping away. Biting his lower lip with concentration, he carefully removed the lid from the jar of paste, and spread one perfect, thin layer over the back of the paper, resisting the urge to lick the paste while he was at it.
“Mr Krastner,” said the Secretary, tapping his foot.
“I told you!” Mr Krastner shouted. “I’m doing my job! I’m saving the people of America!”
“Wait a minute,” said the Secretary, seizing up one of the cut and pastings. “These aren’t the transcripts! Why, these – these are just newspaper articles! About – what’s this about Bush’s views toward sex?”
Mr Krastner snatched the sheet of paper back angrily, his face turning a deep red with rage. “Don’t you tell me how to do my job, damnit! I’ll cut, and I’ll paste, and I’ll do what I want!”
“Mr Krastner,” said the Secretary, breathing in slowly, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist you get back to deciphering those coded messages. It is imperative for the safety of millions of people.”
Mr Krastner put down his red scissors slowly, and took a step threateningly towards the Secretary. This might have worked a bit better had Mr Krastner been slightly larger than five foot, but as it was, he only came up to the Secretary’s chin. “Listen, you,” he said menacingly (or at least what he felt was a menacing manner), “You think you’re some sort of big shot around here, like you can tell me what to do…”
“What the fuck? I’m the US’ Secretary of State!” The Secretary uttered incredulously.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Idiot talk. I don’t listen to idiots. Shut up before I put you on ignore.”
“Mr Krastner!”
“Alright, you IDIOT. I’m working, here. I’ve got every right to cut and paste, and do whatever the hell I want. I don’t have time to sit around here arguing with IDIOTS. If you don’t like it, piss the hell off!”
“That’s it,” the Secretary muttered. “I’m getting security.”
As the two burly men in black suits dragged Mr Krastner out of the room, kicking and screaming and shaking his fists, the Secretary shook his head. “Good luck with saving the world,” he called.
“I’ll get you Dixon!” Mr Krastner hollered as he was dragged away. “Your day of reckoning will come! Just you wait!”
“Huh?” said the Secretary. “Who the hell is Dixon?”
That night, when the Secretary drove him from work, he found on his doorstep a letter…
RobDownSouth
BoycotDivestSanctio
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- Apr 13, 2002
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- 78,839
Bravo, Bad_girl23! 
thanks. Similar threads
