post youre'rer fav snax in this thread
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#2
General / Tips thread
April 24, 2017 06:43 PM
post ur best tips in this thread
HOT TIP: invest in real estate
HOT TIP: invest in real estate
#4
General / snapchat thread
March 30, 2016 04:39 PM
post your snapchat username in this thread so we can all send each other those horrible dogface filter selfies
#5
General / tumblr sensitivity in real life
March 22, 2016 06:32 AM
I moved to Portland recently. I love it here, but as you might expect from a ultra-gentrified ultra-liberal city composed mostly of white people, I have been experiencing a serious wealth of real life social justice freaks. Reactivist types. Tumblr feminists. Before moving to Portland, my interactions with social justice people were rare, mostly happening with girls I met through tinder. (this is where i would put a thumbs down emoji if i were typing on my phone)
What I mean when I use the terms 'social justice freak' or 'tumblr feminists' is: someone who uses real social issues as a platform to project their ego, or who sexualizes victimhood, or spouts reductive rhetoric in regards to issues like racism, sexism, poverty, politics, etc.
But I refuse to walk on eggshells! I love raunchy jokes and hate sensitivity. I especially hate having PC sensitivity imposed on me. Years ago I had no absolutely no filter, and deliberately provoked offense more often I really should have. But even now, being more grown up and measured, I've offended multiple people with very tame jokes!
What do you think, fellow TBAtertots? What have your experiences been like with gratuitous sensitivity in your real life?
What I mean when I use the terms 'social justice freak' or 'tumblr feminists' is: someone who uses real social issues as a platform to project their ego, or who sexualizes victimhood, or spouts reductive rhetoric in regards to issues like racism, sexism, poverty, politics, etc.
But I refuse to walk on eggshells! I love raunchy jokes and hate sensitivity. I especially hate having PC sensitivity imposed on me. Years ago I had no absolutely no filter, and deliberately provoked offense more often I really should have. But even now, being more grown up and measured, I've offended multiple people with very tame jokes!
What do you think, fellow TBAtertots? What have your experiences been like with gratuitous sensitivity in your real life?
#6
The Gallery / sad songs
March 22, 2016 01:26 AM
hey i'm putting out a new album on april 1st
here is the bandcamp link with some preview songs.
also, if anyone wants to do album art, i don't have that yet.
here is the bandcamp link with some preview songs.
also, if anyone wants to do album art, i don't have that yet.
#8
General / TBA fanfiction
January 17, 2016 05:16 AM
as we move on into 2016, with thebackalleys entering its post-hentai thread era, it comes time for our second collaborative storytelling project.
i consider gay vampire suck, the first tba storytelling project, a success. check it out here if you're too young to remember:
http://www.thebackalleys.com/forum/general/gay-vampire-suck-the-interactive-novel/msg250061/#msg250061
http://www.thebackalleys.com/forum/general/you-all-wrote-this/msg263652/#msg263652
this process for this project will be different. instead of contributing writing, you will be contributing a character, who will be factored into the story.
to submit a character, make a post in this thread including this info:
name
age
sex
short bio
expect the first chapter to be released at the crack of whenever i feel like it!
the story so far (as of 1/24/16)
Characters
Bonnie Ghoulman: The owner of the Backalleys Casino Steakhouse.
Frothy Loads: A fifteen-centuries-old satanist and political radical ("trans-monarcho-capitalist") who won't shut up about Star Wars. A regular at the Backalleys.
Jack "Bubsy" Bishop: A pale, balding, insecure 42-year-old who works as a receptionist at a detective agency. Likes to jerk off to crime scene photos. A regular at the Backalleys.
Hans "The Man" Shuffle: A 33-year-old virgin and dirty croupier.
Denise: An 18-year-old (wink) karate nun, and advocate of the chaste life.
Full name: Maria Ann Leah Mary Marie Caylee Mariah Maryann Caleigh Anna Lee Jones-Smith de Guadalupe
Reginald Bobippy: A 36-year-old brown bear who acts like a college frat boy. Prone to inexplicable fits of rage. A bouncer at the casino.
Attar Till: The mischievous ghost that haunts the Backalleys.
Ice T Freeze Pop Shoujou: A decrepit, half-senile pervert who lurks around the casino and stares at women. One of Bobbipy's cronies. Catchphrase: "UAAHH! Im late for school!"
Leonardo Doujinshi: A Ryan Gosling type.
Binary Boy: Some guy who's always in the background complaining and not contributing.
Xorblax Muhammad Khan: A 43 fast-food franchise owner who believes he's the leader of an intergalactic army of mutant terrorists.
Untitled TBA Fanfiction
Chapter 1
It was ladies night at The Backalleys Casino Resort/Steakhouse. From the two-way glass mirror of the manager's office, Bonnie Ghoulman looked down upon the hapless throngs of patrons. His thin lips curved in a smug smile. Since declaring ladies night 'non-discriminatory', under the guise of political correctness, the casino's Thursday profits had outright tripled. Not only did the women continue to show up in droves, but now the men spewed exponential monies in their desperate quest to get at that hot pastrami.
Ghoulman watched as one particularly pathetic old man fumbled his way through a game of craps at a table with his least favorite croupier.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjG7-5kbevo
"Hit me," croaked Ice T Freeze Pop Shoujo. The decrepit old man, the sole gambler at the table, flung a pair of dice onto the green felt of the table where they ricocheted violently, eventually settling on a pair of snake eyes.
"That's not how craps works," Hans said flatly. The croupier's teeth squeaked as he grit them.
Ice tossed a handful of hundred-dollar bills into the air, absently stroking himself and mumbling "I'm just a little school boy."
The croupier frowned but managed to withhold a sigh.
"Uahh! I'm late for school!" said Ice, right before vomiting a dorito-scented mist of liquor directly into the croupier's face. The old pervert crumpled face-first onto the table, his forehead banging against the snake-eyed dice.
Wiping the liquid barf from his lips and chin with the collar of his shirt, the croupier collected the floating monies, depositing the bills into the secret compartment in the rim of his fedora. Ice was groaning and giggling hysterically. "I'm the winner!" he said, bile leaking from his red nostrils. "I'm turning twelve tomorrow! Tee hee!"
Hans shot a dirty look towards the mirror facing the wall of the manager's office. He could smell that rat bastard Ghoulman from here, sneering at him through the two-way glass. Any halfway decent boss would have sent someone to help him out. Not Ghoulman. Bonnie Ghoulman was a childish bully at best, but mostly a cruel, nihilistic dictator. What little self-esteem Hans ever possessed had vanished within a week of taking this croupier job, and all his insecurities had only been amplified with each passing month under the tyrannical thumb of Ghoulman. Between his boss, the endless drunken screaming idiots, the accusations of rigged games, and the toxic stench of piss and stale tobacco, it took every ounce of dignity Hans had left to maintain the facade of complacency in the Backalleys. The facade was all he had left.
Hans' thoughts were interrupted at the sight of a young woman approaching the table, clad in a nun's habit that showed way too much leg to be authentic. She seated herself directly next to Ice's twitching, semi-conscious body. Hans forced a smile onto his face.
"Cool fedora," she said. "I love fedoras."
Hans tipped his hat to her. "Milady," he said, clearing his throat with a disgusting grunt. "What, dare I, um, perchance, should I call your- a lady such as fine as... ahem, as a rose upon a..."
"My name is Maria Ann Leah Mary Marie Caylee Mariah Maryann Caleigh Anna Lee Jones-Smith de Guadalupe, but you can call me Denise."
"Oooh oh owoaah!!!! Pleased to meet you, heh. Heh. Heh heh. I'm Hans 'The Mans' Shufflerberg, but all my friends call me The. What's a beautiful nun like yourself doing in a trashzone like this?"
"I'm glad you asked! Me and the girls are on a nationwide bus tour to preach the values of abstinence. The Backalleys is our last stop before Seattle."
"Abstinence? I'm all about abstinence! Well, involuntary abstinence, anyway."
"That's so neat!" said Denise, brushing back her wimple. "Sex is stupid. Like, sooo stupid. Who even does sex, am I right?"
"Haha, yeah. So what are you doing la-
"Hit me!" came the muffled voice of Ice. The old man writhed limply where he lay and squeaked out an impressive fart, which earned a scowl from Hans. He wiggled his head so he was staring at Denise, a hungry look in his yellow eyes.
"Hit you?"
"Don't pay attention to him," said Hans. "Anyways-
Like lightning, Denise struck the old man, generating a sonic boom as she sent him flying. He slammed into the back of a slot machine and bounced onto his neck with an audible snap. The old man lay splayed out against the blue velvet floor of the casino, his spine contorted at a hideous angle. Several heads turned at the commotion, but lost interest quickly. The old woman playing slots at the front of the machine stood, and with an irritated glance at Ice's twitching, mangled body, migrated to the machine one space over without missing a beat.
"S-sugoi..." whispered Hans.
"What? Sorry, I don't speak French."
"You're really cool. Like, so sexy cool. Wow.
"Thanks. I'm a karate nun. When I'm not not having sex, I like to kick butt and take names."
"That might be the worst line of dialogue I've ever heard."
"Sorry, I can't understand you. I told you I don't speak French. Anyway, it was nice to meet you Mr. Fedora Boy, but since you're already abstinent, I guess my work here is done!"
Denise flashed Hans a smile full of surprisingly crooked teeth, then took off in the other direction. Hans cried out in fruitless protest, but the karate nun was quick to disappear. She stepped by the now motionless body of Ice and away through the maze of slot machines. She was gone. Hans wanted desperately to chase after her, but couldn't leave his table until his shift was over. Knowing Ghoulman was spying on him from his ivory tower made no option of a sneaky exit.
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.
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."
i consider gay vampire suck, the first tba storytelling project, a success. check it out here if you're too young to remember:
http://www.thebackalleys.com/forum/general/gay-vampire-suck-the-interactive-novel/msg250061/#msg250061
http://www.thebackalleys.com/forum/general/you-all-wrote-this/msg263652/#msg263652
this process for this project will be different. instead of contributing writing, you will be contributing a character, who will be factored into the story.
to submit a character, make a post in this thread including this info:
name
age
sex
short bio
expect the first chapter to be released at the crack of whenever i feel like it!
the story so far (as of 1/24/16)
Characters
Bonnie Ghoulman: The owner of the Backalleys Casino Steakhouse.
Frothy Loads: A fifteen-centuries-old satanist and political radical ("trans-monarcho-capitalist") who won't shut up about Star Wars. A regular at the Backalleys.
Jack "Bubsy" Bishop: A pale, balding, insecure 42-year-old who works as a receptionist at a detective agency. Likes to jerk off to crime scene photos. A regular at the Backalleys.
Hans "The Man" Shuffle: A 33-year-old virgin and dirty croupier.
Denise: An 18-year-old (wink) karate nun, and advocate of the chaste life.
Full name: Maria Ann Leah Mary Marie Caylee Mariah Maryann Caleigh Anna Lee Jones-Smith de Guadalupe
Reginald Bobippy: A 36-year-old brown bear who acts like a college frat boy. Prone to inexplicable fits of rage. A bouncer at the casino.
Attar Till: The mischievous ghost that haunts the Backalleys.
Ice T Freeze Pop Shoujou: A decrepit, half-senile pervert who lurks around the casino and stares at women. One of Bobbipy's cronies. Catchphrase: "UAAHH! Im late for school!"
Leonardo Doujinshi: A Ryan Gosling type.
Binary Boy: Some guy who's always in the background complaining and not contributing.
Xorblax Muhammad Khan: A 43 fast-food franchise owner who believes he's the leader of an intergalactic army of mutant terrorists.
Untitled TBA Fanfiction
Chapter 1
It was ladies night at The Backalleys Casino Resort/Steakhouse. From the two-way glass mirror of the manager's office, Bonnie Ghoulman looked down upon the hapless throngs of patrons. His thin lips curved in a smug smile. Since declaring ladies night 'non-discriminatory', under the guise of political correctness, the casino's Thursday profits had outright tripled. Not only did the women continue to show up in droves, but now the men spewed exponential monies in their desperate quest to get at that hot pastrami.
Ghoulman watched as one particularly pathetic old man fumbled his way through a game of craps at a table with his least favorite croupier.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjG7-5kbevo
"Hit me," croaked Ice T Freeze Pop Shoujo. The decrepit old man, the sole gambler at the table, flung a pair of dice onto the green felt of the table where they ricocheted violently, eventually settling on a pair of snake eyes.
"That's not how craps works," Hans said flatly. The croupier's teeth squeaked as he grit them.
Ice tossed a handful of hundred-dollar bills into the air, absently stroking himself and mumbling "I'm just a little school boy."
The croupier frowned but managed to withhold a sigh.
"Uahh! I'm late for school!" said Ice, right before vomiting a dorito-scented mist of liquor directly into the croupier's face. The old pervert crumpled face-first onto the table, his forehead banging against the snake-eyed dice.
Wiping the liquid barf from his lips and chin with the collar of his shirt, the croupier collected the floating monies, depositing the bills into the secret compartment in the rim of his fedora. Ice was groaning and giggling hysterically. "I'm the winner!" he said, bile leaking from his red nostrils. "I'm turning twelve tomorrow! Tee hee!"
Hans shot a dirty look towards the mirror facing the wall of the manager's office. He could smell that rat bastard Ghoulman from here, sneering at him through the two-way glass. Any halfway decent boss would have sent someone to help him out. Not Ghoulman. Bonnie Ghoulman was a childish bully at best, but mostly a cruel, nihilistic dictator. What little self-esteem Hans ever possessed had vanished within a week of taking this croupier job, and all his insecurities had only been amplified with each passing month under the tyrannical thumb of Ghoulman. Between his boss, the endless drunken screaming idiots, the accusations of rigged games, and the toxic stench of piss and stale tobacco, it took every ounce of dignity Hans had left to maintain the facade of complacency in the Backalleys. The facade was all he had left.
Hans' thoughts were interrupted at the sight of a young woman approaching the table, clad in a nun's habit that showed way too much leg to be authentic. She seated herself directly next to Ice's twitching, semi-conscious body. Hans forced a smile onto his face.
"Cool fedora," she said. "I love fedoras."
Hans tipped his hat to her. "Milady," he said, clearing his throat with a disgusting grunt. "What, dare I, um, perchance, should I call your- a lady such as fine as... ahem, as a rose upon a..."
"My name is Maria Ann Leah Mary Marie Caylee Mariah Maryann Caleigh Anna Lee Jones-Smith de Guadalupe, but you can call me Denise."
"Oooh oh owoaah!!!! Pleased to meet you, heh. Heh. Heh heh. I'm Hans 'The Mans' Shufflerberg, but all my friends call me The. What's a beautiful nun like yourself doing in a trashzone like this?"
"I'm glad you asked! Me and the girls are on a nationwide bus tour to preach the values of abstinence. The Backalleys is our last stop before Seattle."
"Abstinence? I'm all about abstinence! Well, involuntary abstinence, anyway."
"That's so neat!" said Denise, brushing back her wimple. "Sex is stupid. Like, sooo stupid. Who even does sex, am I right?"
"Haha, yeah. So what are you doing la-
"Hit me!" came the muffled voice of Ice. The old man writhed limply where he lay and squeaked out an impressive fart, which earned a scowl from Hans. He wiggled his head so he was staring at Denise, a hungry look in his yellow eyes.
"Hit you?"
"Don't pay attention to him," said Hans. "Anyways-
Like lightning, Denise struck the old man, generating a sonic boom as she sent him flying. He slammed into the back of a slot machine and bounced onto his neck with an audible snap. The old man lay splayed out against the blue velvet floor of the casino, his spine contorted at a hideous angle. Several heads turned at the commotion, but lost interest quickly. The old woman playing slots at the front of the machine stood, and with an irritated glance at Ice's twitching, mangled body, migrated to the machine one space over without missing a beat.
"S-sugoi..." whispered Hans.
"What? Sorry, I don't speak French."
"You're really cool. Like, so sexy cool. Wow.
"Thanks. I'm a karate nun. When I'm not not having sex, I like to kick butt and take names."
"That might be the worst line of dialogue I've ever heard."
"Sorry, I can't understand you. I told you I don't speak French. Anyway, it was nice to meet you Mr. Fedora Boy, but since you're already abstinent, I guess my work here is done!"
Denise flashed Hans a smile full of surprisingly crooked teeth, then took off in the other direction. Hans cried out in fruitless protest, but the karate nun was quick to disappear. She stepped by the now motionless body of Ice and away through the maze of slot machines. She was gone. Hans wanted desperately to chase after her, but couldn't leave his table until his shift was over. Knowing Ghoulman was spying on him from his ivory tower made no option of a sneaky exit.
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.
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."
#9
The Gallery / berserk
January 11, 2016 07:01 PM
listen to the complete version of berserk, my boss battle prog rock magnum opus thing
https://soundcloud.com/armonpakdel/berserk-1
https://soundcloud.com/armonpakdel/berserk-1
#10
General / halloween thread
October 19, 2015 01:51 AM
what are you going as for halloween?
(don't gimme any of that 'im too old for dressing up' bullshit, your cynicism is boring and you suck)
(don't gimme any of that 'im too old for dressing up' bullshit, your cynicism is boring and you suck)
#12
General / sobriety thread
October 30, 2014 09:27 PM
wassup TBAtertots
sober as fuc right now and idgaf
here are some drugs im not ingesting into my bloodstream atm:
- bath salts
- regular salts
- the cocaine
- dat super saiyan kush tho
- bart simpson catchphrases
- dimethyltriptamine
sober as fuc right now and idgaf
here are some drugs im not ingesting into my bloodstream atm:
- bath salts
- regular salts
- the cocaine
- dat super saiyan kush tho
- bart simpson catchphrases
- dimethyltriptamine
#15
The Gallery / song
May 6, 2014 03:43 AM
wassup assholes listen to my new thing its good
https://soundcloud.com/armonpakdel/swampstepper
https://soundcloud.com/armonpakdel/swampstepper