That Guy
The part where you poop yourself.
Load Full Story"The meaning you infused into a story is a pointless exercise; just write what you feel is right for the story and let the crowd try to give meaning to the fact there was a crow in the scene, despite the fact you simply liked the bird." ~Anonymous
Dizzy. Am I dizzy? What type of feeling might attune one-self to-
*crack*
Oh…I found the floor, so much for that monologue. I think I’ll just lay here for a bit.
“Who are you?”
Oh goodie. Looks like I have to be coherent now. So much for that nap I’d penciled in.
“For what reason do you appear before me?”
Oh god they’re rushing me! Why is everyone always in such a hurry? 'I want my fast-food now! I don't care about the pedestrians! No, don't stop for the blind man crossing the street! He clearly should of looked both ways!'
“And wh…are…are you alright?”
Oh! This is new! Better…“Huff”…get up…”cough”…for the nice voice.
You manage to roll onto your back and open your eyes. A large, dimly lit room greets your senses. The shadowy space is illuminated by torches, allowing you to see the lovely marble floor you’re apparently so fond of, along with a few intricate murals, drapes and stained glass windows. Looking between your feet, you notice a dark figure sitting atop an elaborate throne.
“Are you unable to reply?” The being questions worriedly.
The figure moves forward enough to catch some light. A shimmering black coat and glistening mane that flowed in some non-existent wind smacks your eyes with its gleaming shine. A stupid grin climbs it way upon your face.
With a, 'this is awkward' smile, it advances. “Are you…umm. I mean not to be harsh, but you appear a bit foolish.”
*giggle* "Better to remain silent and be thought a fool rather than to speak and remove all doubt.” You counter.
The creature cracks a wry grin and appears to study you further.
"Like what you see?" You ask sexily, flexing your waxed, ripped, hotter-than-the-sun man body.
The creature shies away with glowing crimson cheeks. “I do apologize sir. I meant not but to study your figure.”
“Rawr, and a fine one it is!” You growl.
“If...if you say so?” The clearly feminine creature questions.
Before she has time to reassess what she's talking to, you inquire, "how doooo you get your hair like that?”
A confused expression flashed over the creature’s face.
“Uhh-hem. The ah…stars…” You clarify.
The being tilts its head slightly, as perplexed as before.
You keep prying, “Why does your hair do the whole ‘twilight sparkle’ thing?”
“What does thine sister’s student have to do with shampoo?”
“Wha? I don’t even-Why does your hair sparkle?” You query dejectedly.
The creature breaks down laughing. “Hahaha! What art thou going to ask next? Why doth thine mane flow without a breeze!? Ha!”
“Well actual-“
*CRASH!*
You swivel your head in time to catch a shadow jump behind some nearby curtains.
“Again!? Why does everypony feel the need to break my vases?!” She cries.
You throw an ‘are you serious?’ face at the creature before refocusing on the drapes.
Switching into a loud and clearly over emphasize tone, “I’m not wondering what might be behind that fabric, over there! Nope! Not at all!” You reassure whilst moving towards the curtains.
The glistening creature behind you quakes in suspense. You must look like a total badass.
Your arm reaches out, grasping the silvery, embellished strip of hanging silk between your fingers. A bead of sweat streaks across your brow. Your muscles tense and knees begin to buckle.
“For Narnia!” You screech!
And with a mighty pull, you’re suddenly audience to a most unimaginable sight.
“Well hello beautiful, I’ll take one of you and a side order of ‘Damn!’” It chirped.
”Ex-excuse me!?” You reels back in shock and begins frantically looking around the room. A clone of yourself laid sprawled upon the floor.
“I know you want to play with my disco stick baby!” The doppelganger cooed with bedroom moans.
”Wa-what!? You begin to back away, eyes wide in horror.
“You know you want me!” It’d somehow become shirtless and was now eagerly lathering itself in warm butter.
You wake up quietly, covered in sweat. You stare beady eyed at your ceiling, which was covered in those glow-in-the-dark stars every child wants.
You feel as if your heart just got K.O.’d by an angry midget riding a motorcycle. Throwing off the retro Scooby-Doo covers, you look into your Powerpuff Girls combination dresser-mirror with disgust. Swiveling your legs over the side of the bed, your feet make contact with the mahogany wood floor. You take one final, hard glare at the reflection before hissing, in the most accusatory of tones, “You sexy beast! OH YES!”
You hop out of bed and run down the hall with vigor. Seeing the bathroom door shut, you decide to break it down like the winner you know you are.
Slamming your shoulder into the lue, wood splinters in all directions as the feeble lock bursts open.
“Damnit John! Again!?”
Unphased by Mother’s harsh words, you grab hold of your SpongeBob electric toothbrush and begin to lovingly clean your teeth. Seconds later, you take your right leg and post it on the counter, look straight up in the air, and grab hold of your ass while violently screaming for your Olmec god.
That taken care of, you saunter back into the hallway feeling renewed.
“Luna?!” Celestia billowed as she galloped into the under lit throne room. “What the hell happened?”
”We’re…not entirely sure.” The night princess wearily answered.
Celestia cocked her head sideways in befuddlement. “What do you mean?”
“Well, let’s see. Some mostly-hairless ape-thing showed up, talked to me all Pedobear style, found its clone rubbing itself with melted butter and then they both promptly disappeared in a puff of yelling smoke.” She stated thoughtfully.
Raising an eyebrow, Celestia spurted the question only natural to ask in this situation, “Was it hot?”
”Kind of, yeah.”
“Well then I’m okay with this.”
”Me too.”
(Reading this somewhere in the United States)
“They would never talk like that! Luna didn’t even hold her accent!” The gruff voice clamored.
”It not an accent! It’s her speechology!” A second man hastily replied.
“The hell is speechology!? That’s not even real! The fact is she didn’t hold the accen-“
”Speechology!”
“Fuck the speecholo-damnit! Now you’re saying that shit, now I’m fuc-fuck you! You’re like brain cancer! Mind cancer! You’re not like a brain tumor, you’re hurting my ideas!” The creature raged.
”Hey! That's not even your own quote!”
“Oh fuck yo-“
END