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Sobend

Finish a story

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As seen here.

 

Meet Thaddeus Daniels, a young and aspiring author. Thaddeus has many problems, such as being four foot six. More recently, Thaddeus has come across a new problem. He has been struggling to pay his bills and desperately needs to finish a manuscript so he can get his finances together again. Unfortunately, Thaddeus has run into severe writer's block... he's only written two paragraphs. Below are the two paragraphs. Can we finish it so he can feed himself, or will Thaddeus have to rummage around other people's garbage in search of edible banana peels to survive?

 

As the morning shifted to the afternoon on the day of May nineteenth, the denizens of Pat’s old yet not quite antiquated establishment in New Drysdale began their usual jibe and livid discussion about the news of the world, the prospect about the Drysdale Blue Lions football season, and of the memories that had not yet been lost to time. The sunshine beamed through the front window and onto the counter, where the patrons always preferred to sit. With Pat’s limited budget, nothing more than a J&D fan could keep the hot spirits from turning into boiling ones. The walls, though burning under their thick coat of paint, were used to display local high school and college insignia to promote ambience.

 

Among all of this ... stood Emperor Schnizborgin, tyrannical ruler of Kepler-62f, who had just embarked upon his intergalactic colonialism. "Greetings, relative mortals," he spoke, phaser in hand. The extraterrestrial stood an imposing two meters, his body of a viscous yet muscular structure, cloaked in seemingly indestructible synthetic material. The shape and characteristics of his head roughly resembled that of a human, save for the spiked tentacles emerging from his eye sockets, both of which were surveying the immediate surroundings ghoulishly. His green, porous skin appeared to be absorbing and emitting oxygen at a fantastic rate, presumably due to the considerable rate of respiration necessary for a body of such physical strength. "We of the Fgfasdf;lkml come in peace. That is, if you primitive homo sapiens have enough intelligence to submit to my autocracy.

 

Finish this story! Add a sentence or two every post. You can't double post.

Edited by Sobend

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Seeing the disbelief on the eyes of all the humans, Emperor Schnizborgin added, "Since the dawn of the new millennia, we have been monitoring your backwater planet, disabling your planetary defence measures... AND we have killed your heroes, from Heath Ledger to Michael Jackson!"

 

It was then that one man shouted from amidst the crowd of humans watching the spectacle.

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But Dinsdale didn't hear it. Dinsdale never heard it. The rubbish show on his telly was drowned out by a gunshot, followed by the notorious gangster's corpulent form falling out of his leather chair onto the floor, his now-dead eyes staring at the wainscoting.

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"Good riddance to bad rubbish," came a voice from the doorway. A figure stepped out, and knelt over the bloody corpse of the notorious mob leader. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small detonator.

 

"He was the last obstacle. Now my work here is done. Time to dispose of the murdered... and the murderer. Glory to the Emperor!"

The mysterious figure pressed a button, teleporting the entire building into the Anti-Matter universe.

 

A dog lifted its head, wondering where its owner had gone. His damp-leather scent had vanished altogether.

It was as if he had never existed.

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Stephen Hawking, having anticipated this occurrence the whole time, used his top-secret quantum machine generator doohickey to teleport to the antimatter universe. Naturally, he also brought along his 100m death robot, which was shaped like a Transformer but with a ridiculously larger quantity of attached firearms. His co-pilots, Marty McFly and Jean-Luc Picard, helped him from his wheelchair into the control seat. Emperor Schnizborgin stood across from him in the dramatic vacuum of the antimatter universe, the scientific logic of which is too boring to go into at the moment. Schnizborgin had already been piloting a mecha of his own, which reached an even more terrifying 200m. "Stephen Hawking, the only threat to my galactic domination," he accosted. "I will eradicate you now, and then nobody will be able to stop my tyrannical spree of imperialism!"

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Billions of years before in that antimatter universe, lightyears away, there had been an unremarkable antimatter planet orbiting an unremarkable antimatter sun. But a quite remarkable thing happened to that antimatter planet—an antimatter comet (the size of either a very small antimatter moon or a very large antimatter space station) slammed smack-dab into that antimatter planet and caused it to shatter into trillions of tiny antimatter shards, hurtling in every direction. Eventually, a majority of the antimatter rocks would coalesce again, but a few antimatter fragments shot out into antimatter space.

 

It was one of these antimatter rocks that just so happened to be in the same antimatter octant (quadrants are sooo two-dimensional) of antimatter space as the anti-antimatter Hawking mech. Even more anti-anti-antimatter improbably, that same anti-anti-antimatter rock antimatter collided with the anti-anti-anti-antimatter mech.

 

It caused a pretty cool explosion.

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But this did not daunt the intrepid admiral Stephen Hawking, who had skillfully ameliorated the damage of the collision and subsequent combustion. Although his mech had lost its left arm, this did not matter, for it was not the mech's fapping arm. The elite galactic crew carefully planned out their attack strategy in accordance with this new development. Then, Stephen Hawking valiantly charged against Emperor Schnizborgin, menacingly shouting, "

Edited by Guitarguy

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... menacingly shouting, "You know what's the similarity between you and a black hole? You both suck!"

But before the mech could reach him, the Emperor fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

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In his hurry to control the universe, the Emperor had forgotten to treat his fatal disease.

 

"My only regret is... I have... boneitis." Emperor Schnizborgin said with his dying breath.

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Having said this, the Hawking mecha slowly phased out of the parallel universe, making a jerking-off motion with its remaining hand.

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The robot reappeared in London.

Hawking frowned, and said, "The scanners indicate we're in London, but in ANOTHER parallel universe. How did this happen?"

 

"Elementary, my dear Hawking," came the voice of Sherlock Holmes.

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Knowing that Sherlock never actually used the phrase "Elementary, my dear Watson," Hawking quickly crushed the ersatz erudite with the mecha's fapping hand. It was, in fact, Moriarty in disguise!

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But this Moriarty was already quite dead from the crush, so this was a rather anticlimactic revelation. However, there was some guy walking around the streets of London who had one of those curly mustaches, so maybe he could be a villain.

Edited by Guitarguy

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This man was movie star Jack Williams. Williams put on his hat and began to move towards the center of town, popping his collar to further hide his identity. A few blocks down, he began to get hungry, craving anything from fine bison to alligator stew. He walked by the establishments: The pig tail tavern? No, he wasn't in the mood for bar food. The rusty oyster? Not sea food today, no thanks. Hmmm... the Sicilian... Italian food? Seems interesting enough. Williams went in, only to discover the

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whole place was some kind of a devils den, full of the most foul looking creatures you could imagine.

Taken aback somewhat he pondered on what his next move should be.

Alas he had pondered too long

Edited by Supersal69

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