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Episode 87 — Whitmer Thomas and Clay Tatum, Our Close Friend

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If only I could think of something Irish that the English claim is theirs.

This is my favourite post of any forum ever.

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One time I threw a traffic cone at a moving train. Does this make me scary and/or tough enough for the Gargoyle Boyz? My dong isn't super long, but I have a few spam emails I've been hanging on to that will solve this issue if it needs be.

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Finger boards aren't half as cool as finger bikes. I still ride my finger BMX to work every day.

 

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As Hayes scanned the room he knew that this was no longer just his fight. He knew from the look on his amputee father’s face that war was inevitable. The anguished screams coming from his blind mama’s room reminded him of what his polio-ridden podcast colleague, Sean, implored of him. “Never give up on your dreams. Fulfill your fate and destroy the stranglehold Overlord SteveH has over this once great forum (cough)”. They were to be his last words. Brave Little Sean lost his battle against polio but Hayes wouldn’t stand aside and let his beloved Hollywood Handbook forum perish. With the games that were afoot in the morning, the family sat down for a meal to sate their hunger.

 

CUT TO:

 

Hayes ran through the urban wasteland into the arms of dreamy, smouldering Joe McGurl. Although Joe had mass appeal, non-threatening looks, he was a fearsome warrior. The only thing he loved more than his forum was a tearful goodbye to a loved one after sacrificing his life. They knew their paths could diverge after tonight so they shared one last, twilight soaked PG-13 kiss.

 

“I AM NUMBER 4!!” screamed Hayes as hand held cameras shook all around him, cleverly avoiding all traces of the bloodshed of war. “Take that. And that! And one of THESE”. Bodies dropped all around him when out of nowhere BOOOOM, the unmistakable sound of canon fire. “NOOOOOO” howled Joe as he leapt in front of his paramour, absorbing the blow of the cannonball.

 

Suddenly everyone except Hayes was out of focus and moving in slow motion. He crumpled at Joe’s side, what was left of his side anyway. “Promise me just one thing my beautiful Hayes. Promise me that you will fulfill your destiny and overthrow evil SteveH. I will always lov…..”. As he watched the life fade from his true love’s smoky blue eyes, Hayes slipped on his ridiculously overpriced Beats and pressed play on his iPhone. Only Coldplay could both comfort him and perfectly encapsulate how he was feeling right now.

 

As the gravity of the situation hit Hayes, he knew what he had to do. He had to update his Facebook status. “Crappy day guys. Joe is so dead and civilization as we know it is on the brink. #RIPJoe.” Once he clicked “Post Status” he immediately set his sights on revenge. He grabbed his treasured EMMY® and charged bravely back onto the battlefield.

 

“Destroy him!!” yelled General SteveH from his copper throne overlooking the theatre of war. For some reason he knew that this young, sexy hero was the only thing that stood in the way of his quest for complete control of the forum. He loved dystopias and couldn’t wait to run the rule over his very own. With the sun setting beautifully over the bloodshed, SteveH knew his Instagram followers would love some artful shots. Maybe he could get more “likes” than his previous best picture, a selfie with the corpse of Valerie Bryant. Out to war he strode with his Glock in one hand, his phone set to portrait mode in the other.

 

Watching all this unfold, Hayes was reminded of what his dear friend, devscoots, once told him over drinks at the now defunct Viper Room. “Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity, to seize everything you ever wanted. One moment. Would you capture it or just let it slip?” His palms were sweaty. He could feel his knees weaken and his arms were heavy. It was time to snap back to reality.

 

He raced towards his hated rival, dodging bullet after bullet from SteveH’s diamond encrusted Glock. With one ferocious swing of his EMMY®, he took SteveH’s head clean off his broad shoulders. War was finally over and peace now reigned over the land. In the corner, JMonsterface thanked every single combatant. The final installment of Hayes’ quest had been particularly difficult as it was split into two parts to maximize profitability. He thought about all he had lost. His friends, Joe, his virginity, Anastasia, Mean Detective, Chefski, honlads, Dixon, Jakal, Andrew, Tim Treese, CORPSEFUCKER SHITLORD, greggy, bozos, spunky, the rest of the Popcorn Gallery, his car keys and, of course, his precious podcast colleague, Sean Clements.

 

He was indifferent to the death of Chanson.

 

Hayes was now trending worldwide which was all he had ever hoped for. As dawn was breaking he wept one solitary tear of hope and joy and sadness and promise and intrigue and desire and ambition and expectation and hunger and pain. It was a fucking big tear. All that was left to do now was wait for that teasing post credit sequence.

THE END

 

 

 

 

 

 

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got real excited when ctrl+f-ing your long post for "corpse" got a hit but it was a false flag

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got real excited when ctrl+f-ing your long post for "corpse" got a hit but it was a false flag

 

Hmm. That's unusual.

 

Check again babes

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If this fanfic was a book, it'd be a #1 top seller, baby!

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F.R.I.E.N.D.S. flickered in the background. He’d seen it before. Usually the old voices and the stale, canned laughter brought him a nostalgic comfort, but not today. It was the bottle episode. Someone forgot to tell the writing staff that bottle episodes don’t HAVE to contain bottles. While the at the time the incorporation of molotov cocktails felt edgy and groundbreaking at the time… with the fresh hell on the streets, the surprise was lost along with any hope of humor.

 

While it was heartwarming to see the reasonable and elderly working to bring calm to the city, it was clear that this was a reckoning. Come hell or high water, this storyline was going to end up like on McNally and Crowder. Gasping for air and beaten to death.

 

He heard rumors that it was finished, but like all comic book nerds know, death is rarely final…. or is it?

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Why am I always the embodiment of pure evil in these stories? I just wanted to be a gargoyles boyz! Guess it's time to decide which rival gang to join.

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8m gonasd tyry rot wmriteb as fanficction.

 

Jeffrey, I'm concerned you may be parties too much.

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Our hero sat composed at the keys, thoroughly navigating all reaches of his mind to create the perfect story post that would probably get maybe seven or so likes and help to bump up the ol' ratio. What to write about, though? The question weighed heavy on him. He had very little comprehension of what the whole Gargoyle Boyz business was about, and he wasn't particularly skilled at coming up with any sort of original narrative. Still, the likes. He could practically taste them, nestled seductively below his hypothetical post. They tasted sweet, like sweet candy or some shit like that. Our hero knew he had to endeavor and create something.

 

His loved ones were on his mind. What would they think of him if he failed? Perhaps it would be better to just not post at all. Visions of their avatars danced in his mind's eye. He thought of Anastasia Vigo, greggy, Joe McGurl, JMonsterface, Sillylilyquee, Jakal, Houston, Andy Dick Cheney, kittens, CORPSEFUCKER SHITLORD, JeffreyParties, Mean Detective, Jacob C, RanRan, SteveH, Scooter McGnarly, DoctorFrog, Dixon, Ronnie Hog, nohorseman, Chefszki, honlads, Spunky Foonerism, marshall mellow, watchayakan, Game of Scones, Chanson, Michael Bay of Pigs, Tim Treese, Colt Barton, devscoots, Mister Smart, agata, Bozos, Valerie Bryant, mwn, Bruce Reid Robinson III, and absolutely everyone else who posts on the forum who he didn't mention by name only because it should be understood that they were included. He had to do it for them.

 

The clackety-clack of the keys click-clacked like the clack of a Christmas clicker on some kind of metaphor. His mind was empty, but that would not prevent him from posting. After he typed the final, vapid words and lifted his weary hands from the shitty Asus laptop, he gazed warmly at all the bullshit he had just typed. He wasn't nearly as funny as everyone else who posted stories, but he was kind of all right with that. You see, children, our hero realized something that day. It didn't matter if the post was good, as long as it was long.

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Why am I always the embodiment of pure evil in these stories? I just wanted to be a gargoyles boyz! Guess it's time to decide which rival gang to join.

 

In fairness I did give you "broad shoulders"

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Steve, Forumers Against Gangs has a special spot reserved for a responsible family man like yourself. Gangs are by their very nature hierarchical and exclusionary, which is comforting to the young and weak-minded but is no kind of environment for lone-wolf, free-thinkers like you and me! So join us, and after a brief probationary orientation period you'll get your F.A.G. armband, and be placed as a Junior Treasurer's Assistant, or possibly a Community Outreach Intern. We're having a candle-light vigil today at noon, I hope to see you there.

 

PS I am starting a special youth diversion program (#Gang-AvoidantYouth), and we'd love to have little Menthol Tigershark. It's not too late for him!

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In fairness I did give you "broad shoulders"

 

I noticed that, and I really do appreciate it.

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Owning a finger bike is as cool as owning a Zune.

GOD DAMMIT

 

IT WAS A QUALITY PRODUCT

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Sean Clements swiped his E-card at the floating hologram register granting him entry into the Earwolf University Dining Commons. The red wall of pure electric energy blocking his path turned to green, and took the shape of Dean Anchorman's face giving young Sean a wink and a clear alley to chow town. While sifting through the selection of flimsy salad, soggy mashed potatoes and today's special, Sam's Secret Strudel with Cod(y) smothered in 'stard, Sean used his peripheral vision to start scoping out where he would sit.

 

There was one table that seemed a tad bit underneath the cool-level of the President of Delta Wolfa Cool, the nicest frat on campus. At this table, Matt Besser, Ian Roberts and Matt Walsh sat quietly listening to some weird guy on Besser's speakerphone talk about meditation and how the government plans to take over his mind and bank account. Another table was all university staff; Assistant Dean Sachs, Brian the janitor, Professor Blastoff and School Speaker Ullrich were not the company Sean was hoping for either, and as a resident bad-ass he wouldn't be welcome anyway. Finally, Sean spotted a table full of fresh faces he had never seen before. They seemed young, dumb and full of cum just like him. Dumb in the way that they were all stupid cool it seemed. Sean grabbed some cucumber slices and fat-free Italian dressing to dip them in. Eating light would allow Sean to keep his tight figure, and these dudes he was now approaching all had pretty intimidating six packs and were also all shirtless at the time so Sean could see that.

 

Immediately as Sean sat down in the open sixth chair, he could feel all five of the mysterious men scanning his face and torso. He then watched as all ten of their collective eyes stare blankly at the same empty spot at the center of the table, as if they were communicating with each other with a complete absence of sound. Sean began to consider if he stumbled on a much bigger threat than a boring, low-quality jumbled phone call. As brave as Sean was about most things, these guys were making him being more scared than he thought he could be. He thought back to one time years ago in his father’s basement when he thought he saw five figures just like these peering at him through the ground-level window. At the time, he figured they were just rad looking gingerbread men ‘cause Shrek had just come out and gingerbread man was like pretty much viral phenomenon.

 

No. It couldn’t be.

 

“Yes, we have been watching you,” said the one with the biggest, hardest boner. It was like all of it was hard as a knight’s armor. “For a long time.” Could this be true, Sean thought. For a moment, he wished it were a dream, but then he saw a smile grow on the man’s face just as rapidly as his boner had.

 

“You are our chosen one. Well, one of the chosen two. We will continue to watch, listen and fantasize about your every moves. You will never know our true impact on your life, and if you did you would never stop thanking us. Never cross or disappoint us, because we are dangerous. If you fail us, we will cease to be your forcefield, exposing you to the dangers of this place. We are your rock, never forget that.”

 

As those final words reached Sean’s ears the five men turned into 40 or so stone men and women with wings and fangs and stuff. Mmm, only about 20 strong ones actually. Then like 20-35 more that were kinda there but probably not all the time or ones that looked like they just got to the group so the core didn’t know them as well. As Sean tried to make heads or tails of all of this, all the figures molded into one and warped into the cafeteria’s mega-computer.

 

“Heh, college,” Sean said to himself.

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Steve, Forumers Against Gangs has a special spot reserved for a responsible family man like yourself. Gangs are by their very nature hierarchical and exclusionary, which is comforting to the young and weak-minded but is no kind of environment for lone-wolf, free-thinkers like you and me! So join us, and after a brief probationary orientation period you'll get your F.A.G. armband, and be placed as a Junior Treasurer's Assistant, or possibly a Community Outreach Intern. We're having a candle-light vigil today at noon, I hope to see you there.

 

PS I am starting a special youth diversion program (#Gang-AvoidantYouth), and we'd love to have little Menthol Tigershark. It's not too late for him!

 

I will take this under consideration. Can we think about changing the name? How about..

 

Forumers

Against

Organized

 

Scary

Cool

Hellish

Winged

Architectural

Rock

Thingies

Z-boys

 

OR

 

Forumers

Really

Interested in

Ending

Nighmarish

Devil

Spawn

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His loved ones were on his mind. What would they think of him if he failed? Perhaps it would be better to just not post at all. Visions of their avatars danced in his mind's eye. He thought of Anastasia Vigo, greggy, Joe McGurl, JMonsterface, Sillylilyquee, Jakal, Houston, Andy Dick Cheney, kittens, CORPSEFUCKER SHITLORD, JeffreyParties, Mean Detective, Jacob C, RanRan, SteveH, Scooter McGnarly, DoctorFrog, Dixon, Ronnie Hog, nohorseman, Chefszki, honlads, Spunky Foonerism, marshall mellow, watchayakan, Game of Scones, Chanson, Michael Bay of Pigs, Tim Treese, Colt Barton, devscoots, Mister Smart, agata, Bozos, Valerie Bryant, mwn, Bruce Reid Robinson III, and absolutely everyone else who posts on the forum who he didn't mention by name only because it should be understood that they were included. He had to do it for them.

 

 

It's nice to be included in something. Does that ever happen IRL?

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