TBA fanfiction

[Philip K Dick]

Chapter 2

   Growing bored of the pathetic croupier, Ghoulman moved his gaze to the other side of the casino, his eyes lingering greedily on the swift bare legs of the nun who'd just knocked out that old pervert as she blazed a path to the women's bathroom. At the far end of the building, annexed to the white tablecloths and bustling waitstaff of the steakhouse, was a bar. Despite ladies night, the bar was overflowing with men. Ghoulman wished more people would have submitted female characters. Now the story, like most works of fiction, would inevitably be a big salty sausage fest.
   Right, the bar. From the sight of his wildly gesticulating arms and flapping mouth, old Frothy Loads was monopolizing the conversation again - likely ranting about some ridiculously specific aspect of Star Wars, Ghoulman imagined. Even though he did hate everyone, Ghoulman held a sliver of appreciation for a guy who blew every penny of his salary at his casino.
   
   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4j_dErEv2U

   "And another thing," belched Frothy, "Why does everyone freak about the Slave Leia costume? Can't a man jerk off to what he wants in the privacy of his own dumpster without being verbally assaulted by these feminist hippie freaks? Huh?"
   "I'm a big fucking brown bear," said the 10 foot tall brown bear in a tank top sitting beside Frothy at the bar.
   Frothy drained the foamy remains of his mug. "And another thing, hasn't anyone noticed that like, the new one is exactly the same as the first movie? Like, its literally a scene-for-scene remake. Am I seriously the only one who's noticed this? Every aspect of episode seven directly parallels the original movie."
   "I'm a biiiig-ass motherfucking brown bear."
   Frothy stood up abruptly, wavering on his knees slightly. "You're right, Bobippy. I ought to take this up with the government."
   "Heh heh heh."
   "Somehow I know this whole Star Wars fiasco is Obama's fault. Come with me, Bobippy. We shall blaze a campaign to the heart of this conspiracy. Away!"
   Frothy's passionate march led him out of the bar and through the steakhouse. As he reached the threshold of the steakhouse where it met the casino, he spun around and called out to the bear.
   "Hey, what was I doing again?"
   The bear gave him a long, expressionless stare. Frothy shuffled his feet, then in resignation, retreated to the men's room. At the door to the bathroom, Frothy halted dead in his tracks. Suddenly, in front of him had materialized the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. A young nun, it appeared, although her habit showed considerable skin and the quality of fabric was that of a low-budget Halloween costume.
   "Hi, mister." she said. Oh shit. She was talking to him. In nearly fifteen centuries of life, Frothy had never once been approached by a woman. He felt dizzy.
   "Boobs," ejaculated Frothy. "Uh, I mean, hi. I don't live in a dumpster at all. Who're you?"
   "My name is Maria Ann Leah Mary Marie Caylee Mariah Maryann Caleigh Anna Lee Jones-Smith de Guadalupe, but you can call me Denise."
   "Huh?"
   "I'm on a nationwide bus tour with my convent preaching the values of abstinence," Denise said, moving out of the way as a group of women exited the bathroom. "What are your thoughts on abstinence, sir?"
   "I don't know what that is, but if it helps me get laid, then sign me up."
   "Well, if you want to know more about abstinence, why don't you visit our bus? We're parked out in the main parking lot, right under the big neon sign. I bet you'll learn all kinds of new stuff. See you there, kay?"
   She punctuated her invitation with a playful poke to his navel before skipping off. Frothy, dumbfounded, remembered he needed to pee. He rushed into the men's room and expelled his urine hastily, too stimulated to bother with accuracy, flushing, or hand washing. He skittered back to the bar and sat down next to Bobippy.
   "Guess who just got hit on by a hot nun?" Frothy's hands trembled with giddy glee.
   "Heh heh heh," The brown bear had his gargantuan paws curled around a 32oz pitcher of beer. He'd had it there when Frothy had left for the bathroom, and did not appear to have drunk any at all.
   "I'll give you a hint. He's fourteen hundred and eighty-eight years old, a trans-monarcho-capitalist satanist, and an amateur sci-fi critic."
   "I'm a big ass bear."
   "No, you idiot. Me! I did. This smoking hot nun babe invited me back to her bus, talking about ohhh, Frothy, I want you so bad, I want you to abstinate all over my face, ohhh yeah!! Oh, Frothy! Oh, you know how I like it, Frothy! Ooooh!"
   The bear glared at him.

[valiums]

Anxious to see what's in the bus. Or if there's really a bus at all...!

[Gladius]

it's even funnier when u think of bobippy as being bobby dudestar

[Gladius]

"Boobs," ejaculated Frothy.

also just picked up on this

[zwimmy]

I thought this thread would be like fanfiction of actual tba members and not just dumb characters made up on the spot.

Disappointing.

[Bamyasi]

Name: zwimmy
Sex: Apache Helicopter
Age: Like fine wine
Short Bio: Very disappointed this thread wasn't even more of a circle jerk than most.

[BluPhoenix]

I thought this thread would be like fanfiction of actual tba members and not just dumb characters made up on the spot.

Disappointing.

dude we've done this a thousand fuckin times

[bd648]

Name: Duke Fredrick Fredrickson
Sex: Male
Age: 108
Short Bio: A crotchety old man trying to spend all his money before he kicks it so his mooching children don't get a penny.

think this
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xnWJGatet8

[Philip K Dick]

I thought this thread would be like fanfiction of actual tba members and not just dumb characters made up on the spot.

Disappointing.

dude we've done this a thousand fuckin times

^

[zwimmy]

I thought this thread would be like fanfiction of actual tba members and not just dumb characters made up on the spot.

Disappointing.

dude we've done this a thousand fuckin times

^

oh

[d-floe]

Name: Sonic
Sex: The
Age: Hedge
Short Bio: Hog

[Philip K Dick]

Name: Sonic
Sex: The
Age: Hedge
Short Bio: Hog

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yTIwLkYNVL8

[Philip K Dick]

I thought this thread would be like fanfiction of actual tba members and not just dumb characters made up on the spot.

Disappointing.

dude we've done this a thousand fuckin times

^

oh

Zwimmy's hands trembled, hovering over the keyboard. She felt a surging, vile sickness in the pit of her stomach, her legs cramping, a horrible paralysis spreading through her like mayonnaise over toast. How dare they? The very though of it made her want to wretch, or maybe it was all that mayonnaise and toast she'd gorged on earlier.
   If they were going to write a TBA fanfiction, how could they even consider... no, how DARE they consider using original characters? To write about the Backalleys, one must use characters based on the actual members of the forums. Not poorly constructed adaptations of trollish replies to a character creation prompt. Right? Numbness and confusion rocked Zwimmy. The very thought of it mutilated her entire worldview. Everything she'd been raised to believe. If they were right... no they couldn't possibly be right. That would mean her life was over. She hugged her knees to her chest, weeping silently as she read on.

[soup]

what the fucking fuck where is chapter 3 where is chapter 3 aaa *bangs cutlery loudly on table*

[Bamyasi]

Zwimmy's hands trembled, hovering over the keyboard. She felt a surging, vile sickness in the pit of her stomach, her legs cramping, a horrible paralysis spreading through her like mayonnaise over toast. How dare they? The very though of it made her want to wretch, or maybe it was all that mayonnaise and toast she'd gorged on earlier.
   If they were going to write a TBA fanfiction, how could they even consider... no, how DARE they consider using original characters? To write about the Backalleys, one must use characters based on the actual members of the forums. Not poorly constructed adaptations of trollish replies to a character creation prompt. Right? Numbness and confusion rocked Zwimmy. The very thought of it mutilated her entire worldview. Everything she'd been raised to believe. If they were right... no they couldn't possibly be right. That would mean her life was over. She hugged her knees to her chest, weeping silently as she read on.

[Philip K Dick]

Chapter 3

   An ear-splitting wail broke out like a siren behind Ghoulman. The manager stopped watching Frothy and the bear in order to fling an irritated look over his shoulder. He scowled at the sight of the Backalley's resident spirit, Attar Till, with blood smeared over his thin, lucid lips, mouth locked in an O shape as he shrieked. He'd materialized, as usual, through several layers of drywall. The ghost now sat with his legs crossed arrogantly, perched on the edge of Ghoulman's desk.
   "Till," snorted Ghoulman. "What do you want? Its ladies night you know. Don't got the time for your tricksy haunts, boy."
   "AAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHOHHHGODDDAGGGGGHH"
   Till stopped suddenly, punctuated his wailing by squeaking out an impressive fart.
   "Sorry, old chum," Till went on. "Wailing in agony is just how I say hi."
   "And farting?"
   "The fart's just for giggles!" A rancid stench had filled the room. Ghoulman wrinkled his nose. Till cleared his throat. "Yeah, anyway, just came to give you a heads up, ol' Ghoulsie. Big trouble in the little casino tonight, my friend. You might wanna take a look out in the main parking lot. Right beneath the neon sign. Some crazy zang done happening out there!"
   "Well ain't you the boy who cried zang. Last time you came in here screaming about some zang, I got pranked. I ain't keen to get pranked twice, ghost. What do I look like to you, a fucking tech support hotline?
   "No, I'm for serious. I could explain it to you, but I think it'd be more fun if you saw for yourself. Look for the bus parked right under the sign. You'll see what I mean."
   "I don't trust you, Till."
   "Why not, Ghoulsie? We got so much in common. I have thin lips, you have thin lips... anyway, woo! Look at the time!" The ghost pointed to his watchless wrist. "I gotta go! My girlfriend's waiting for me."
   Till then slipped on a small, square piece of black fabric directly under his nose. From somewhere he produced a red and white armband emblazoned with a black swastika. He couldn't seem to bring himself to look directly at Ghoulman as he explained. "Um. My girlfriend has a Hitler fetish," he mumbled guiltily.
   Ghoulman glared at Till for a few awkward seconds as the ghost slowly vanished.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_x6A662sCMY

   Hans sulked behind the table, his ego too bruised to respond as a group of patrons approached the table. When they asked him if his craps table was open, he just sighed and buried his face in his hands until they went away. If life was hell, then the Backalleys Casino Steakhouse was Satan's prickly asshole.
   "Hans," said a familiar voice. Hans looked up to see one of the regulars approaching his table. He tried to remember his name. Frosty something. And tagging along beside him, as usual, was an enormous wide-shouldered brown bear wearing a tanktop.
   "That's me," said Hans, tipping his fedora unenthusiastically.
   "You're a good kid, Hans, you know that?" Frosty, or whatever his name was, had taken a seat at the game table. "Not like that motherfucker George Lucas. That guy is a real piece of work. Don't even get me started. And what's up with Korean pop music? Huh? I just don't get it. Someone explain it to me, because-"
   The brown bear interrupted him with a nudge and a low growl.
   "Oh, right. I was coming over here to ask you. Uh... do you know the way to the parking lot?"
   "Why?" demanded Hans. He looked at the huge sign by the door directly in front of them. EXIT TO PARKING LOT, it read.
   "This nun with a bangin' body invited me to her bus, and uh... well, I'm not great with the whole navigation thing. I was around back when they invented compasses, you know. I was just like, hey, how do I use this here thing. And Nostradamus looked at me, one of those looks you know, or maybe he was before your time. I honestly can't keep track anymore. Nobody ever explained to me how to use a clock either."
   "A nun?"
   "Yeah, a nun. Real babe. Imagine Shakira in a habit."
   Hans tried to imagine Shakira in a habit, and decided it wasn't too far away from what Denise looked like. The croupier clutched his fedora with both hands, pondering the situation. Sure, Denise had shot him down. But that didn't mean he had to give up. For one thing, he sure as hell wasn't going to let this jackass and his bear win her over first. He'd read in his pickup artist books that women liked to play hard to get. An idea struck him, and the whole thing suddenly became clear. From the beginning, Denise had been playing an elaborate game of flirtation with Hans. The whole thing about abstinence had been her clever way of telling him she was interested in him as a boyfriend. Yes, it all made sense now. He forced himself to catch Frosty's eye.
   "Sure, I know the way. Follow me, boys!" he said, and led the man and the bear out into the cold night.
   "See, Bobippy! I told you he was a good kid."

[crackers]

fucks given: nun

[Gladius]

denise u filthy two timer ima git u

[Gladius]

oh wait frosty is frothy

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