Ok, so here's how this works. Remember that one class in high school English, when you were doing that creative writing project where you would write one or two sentences continuing the story where the last person left off, then pass the paper when the timer ran out? I want to do that here, because I feel like it would be amazing.

That's the basic concept, however, I remember there would be that one guy that would say "then the world exploded and everyone died" And he would only write that because he's an asshole. Don't be that guy. You can be funny and random if you want, but at least have it make some sense.


So here are the rules:

1) I will start a story, and the next person who posts needs to continue that story. Simple enough right? Now, I'm sure there will be a point where the story is difficult to continue, so when that happens, I will end it by saying:

THE END

And then, I will make the next topic and start it off with a small paragraph for the next person to continue.

2) Make no less than 4 sentences. no more than about 4 paragraphs (Just don't write a small novel, but it can be lengthy if you want.) This will be a pretty lenient rule. I mean this isn't going to be too serious, but I want a little more than one sentence continuations of the story.

3) Follow the topic. They will be VERY lenient topics. I want to try 3 different topics over the life of this thread. Violent, comedic dialogue, and random. The random topic will be the most lenient and absolute most amount of dickery more than likely, thus why it's last. The first 2 I expect you to make it interesting to read, or at least humorous in the way you do it without it being too random.

4) Keep sexual content to a minimum. At least for the first two, when we get to the random topic, if you want to have them whip out dildos and fight to the death, by all means, go for it.

5) Proofread your posts.I just want to be able to understand it, so make sure grammar mistakes are minimum.

6) If you want to discuss the story or make a comment, make it clear it isn't a part of the story. Quote who you're talking to, or put "COMMENT:" Or something like that.

Humor is always welcome in all of them, as is violence, just have it make some sense and keep randomness to a minimum for the first two topics. You don't need to be a good writer (I mean I'm writing in them right? Clearly the bar's not too high), I kept the paragraph limit short so that we can have multiple people continue it and have some fun with it. Let's get started.



Topic 1: Violence.

The man stepped out of the cab on the dark night. The rain bounced off of his dark trench coat as he splashed through a puddle. His dark hat and briefcase blended into the darkness as he took a corner into an alley. He sighed as he noticed two figures came out and blocked the exit behind him. He kept walking, trying to ignore his two shadows, when two more stepped out in front of him, cutting him off from the street. He knew where this was going.

"Take it easy and let me have that briefcase and anything else you might have in there." Said the man behind him. "Money, a watch, your phone, all of it. Nobody needs to get hurt."

The man in the trench coat chuckled. "But if you didn't get hurt, where would be the fun in that?" He spun his arm with the briefcase before any of the men surrounding him could blink. It collided with his temple, snapping his neck to the side and flipping his body into a trash can. Trash spilled everywhere, and the blow clearly knocked the man unconscious.

"Who's next." The man in the trench coat asked menacingly.

Oh man, I've made a few threads like this before. They're always great fun. Here goes:

The other man was much less eloquent. "Ayy, shit nigga what kinda wu-tang kung-fu shit is that? Fuck this I'm outta here. Keep your damn suitcase, it's probably just fulla starbuck's coupons anyway." And then he began to run away in terror.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that." The man with the trench coat threw his hand out backwards, splaying it out behind him. He began to chant his war cry, quiet but slowly growing in volume. "wolololo," he whispered at first, walking forwards and slowly picking up speed. Every step was a bit faster than the last. The steps just a little wider than before. "Wolololololo--" He was picking up some serious speed now. Puddles splashed underfoot. The suitcase was a blur in his arms.

"SHIT NIGGA WHATS HAPPENING?" The man cried out as he realized what was going on.

"WOLOLOLOLO" There was a blast as the man in the trench coat broke the sound barrier. The roads were left dry for a moment as his sheer speed blew away all wetness behind him. It took less than a second to reach his target. "HERE COMES WAYNE WITH AN RKO OUTTA NOWHERE!" He screams, before grabbing him from behind and slamming his face down into the pavement. And then just like that it was all over.

Oh man devour I'm losing my shit this is damn hilarious.

The man in the trench coat stood up at the other side of the road, with the bloody corpse of a man that used to have a face. The wind blowing through his now rustled hair and trench coat. The two other men who attempted to mug him where overwhelmed with fear and disbelief, their jaws nearly at the floor. Lightning struck in the sky, lighting up the trench coat-clad man's face, and revealing the remains of the dead man's face that were dragged across the floor leaving a trail of blood and gore.

The two thieves dropped to their knees and begged for mercy from the mysterious man. He shifted his stern gaze towards them, and stared long and hard at their pale faces. He whispered once more. "Wololo."

Another blast of sound, an extra two corpses.

The man slung his trench coat over his shoulder as he turned away from his victims. The rain slowed down to a drizzle, and the blood from the corpses flowed into the sewers. He wasn't always this violent. He never needed to resort to such permanent ways to end his foes. But that all changed after....the academy.

He dropped his suitcase at the painful memories, spilling Starbucks coupons everywhere. His mind rushed back to those dark halls, the musty dorm rooms, his sore rear end as the old lady with the ruler bent him over the table, whipping him relentlessly until he submitted to her. He cringed and fought back a tear. They made him kill his best friend.

The year was 1992, and it was an average day at the dorm rooms. He remembered sitting there, twiddling his thumbs on his bed, waiting for the next class to start. Jake walked into the room with a box labeled "secret" written hastily in a sharpie marker on the side.

"What is that?" He remembered asking.