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About Literature / Hobbyist 49% Evil Is Not Half Bad55/Male/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
An Excellent Deal
“…first and last month’s rent, the deposit, and I’ll even waive the credit check.”
“Why’s the rent so cheap? $500 a month? That’s… kind of insane.”
The landlord nodded towards the bedroom. “Go look in the master bath.”
Marcie wondered what the hell that meant but okay… she made her way through the amazingly spacious, freshly painted and carpeted, one-bedroom apartment.
The master bath held an ugly surprise.
Within the bathtub was a bloated corpse floating in green-tinged water lapping at the edge of the tub. Clearly, it had been there for days.
It was hard to say for certain but it appeared to be an old man with long, thin, grey hair splayed in a halo around ancient features. The eyes were closed, the mouth slack, a glimpse of tobacco yellowed teeth, greyish swollen tongue, razor stubble. Old man tits, bloated beer-gut stretched tight by internal gases, and yep… below that a penis floating there, just b
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Literature
Deathmatch
Schmidt held the gaussgun to her chest, eyes closed, practicing her breathing. Calm, she repeated to herself, calm calm calm…
When the Akari warrior saw her she froze and her breathing went to hell. Jesus Lord it was huge.
The Akari locked onto Schmidt and lumbered towards her, 2.5 meters of articulated chrome battle armor, servos whining and thumping as it approached. The beast stopped a meter away, gazed down at the human in her relatively simple combat armor, free of mechanical or cybernetic boosts. It cocked its head thoughtfully.
“Hyooooman, you are greeted by Akari,” its vocoder grated.
Calm, calm, calm. She did not want the thing to read her fear.
“Akari, you are greeted by Human,” Schmidt returned, gasping for air. It couldn’t kill her yet. Not yet. Not outside the Arena.
“Hyooooman, your armor is simple. Your firearm primitive. Cede this combat and Akari will be merciful/swift in your defeat! Akari will even grant
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Literature
Kodachrome
“Hey. That’s not the picture I wanted to take!”
Sally held the glossy, still warm from the printer, like something delivered by a deep-space probe, squinting at it critically.
“For one thing, it’s… off. The frame is wrong. Stuff got cut off.” She looked at me as if it was my fault.
“View finder, dear. It’s not going to show you exactly what the lens sees.” I held up the Leica and turned it, tapped near the small square view finder then pointed near the giant glass lens below. “See? They’re different. One you see through, the other the camera sees through.”
“Well, that’s stupid!”
I chuckled. “Limitations of the tech, sweetheart.”
“Cameras need to show you exactly what you want to see before taking the picture. Everyone knows that.”
Nodding, I turned to the shelf behind us, reaching for a different camera. Rummaging, my old hands found what I sought. The Olympus
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Spoopy by RalfMaximus Spoopy :iconralfmaximus:RalfMaximus 9 6
Literature
32 Seconds
“Navigator. Is there a problem?”
Evans tore his eyes away from the glowing red timer. “Sir. Is that…?”
The Commander on duty – Simes! Yes, he remembered her name was Simes – calmly awaited his response, gauging his reaction. Was this a test? A hazing of the new Navigator, just reported for duty?
“Um, begging your pardon sir… that’s… is it supposed to be doing that?”
Simes did not break eye contact. “Is what supposed to be doing what?”
Evans gestured limply at the glowing, pulsing :32. The Commander made a deliberate show of turning to look where he indicated, muttering a brief Hmm a beat later, as if noticing their imminent doom for the first time.
“Oh yes, that.”  She turned back to regard him, not a trace of mirth in her eyes. “It’s stuck. Been that way for…” she paused, remembering, finally shook her head and addressed the air above them.
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Literature
How It Began
"God, your two o'clock is here."
"I have a two o'clock?"
"He's been here since 7:45. I figured it's only polite to... sir."
God sighed. "Fine, send him in."
While He waited God cleared His desk of papers and blueprints; no need for outsiders to see His plans. Soon enough the door to His office opened and God stood, smiled, held out a hand towards one of the two visitor's chairs.
"God! Great stuff you're doing in sector 2-7-0! Great stuff!"
The man's hands were clammy, his handshake limp. Rumpled suit, porkpie hat, briefcase... oh Jes-- oh dear, a salesman. God's smile slipped a little but He soldiered on gamely. With luck He could shoo the poor guy away in a few minutes.
"So, what can I do for you?"
The man sat, briefcase across his knees. "Sector 2-7-0! Everyone's talking about it! What do you call it? Man and merman?"
"Man and woman, actually. And thanks. But we're pretty busy around here, and..."
"Oh! Right! No time for the wicked, eh?" The salesman winked and popped his briefcase,
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Literature
When Jake Met Darla
Jake met Darla when the pinball machine ate his quarter.
He stood there, staring at the game. Not angry -- not exactly -- simply perplexed. The deal was: one quarter, one game. Something was wrong with the universe that such a simple pact be broken.
"Here, stand back."
Darla shoved past him, a whiff of jasmine and lavender. Too startled to do anything else Jake did as he was told, watched the slight girl stand back from the machine, haul one booted foot back, and deliver a solid kick to the machine's black coin box.
Ching ching ching ding!
"One credit, there ya go," she smiled at Jake.
He shook his head. "You... just kicked it," he said helplessly.
"Oh, it's alright. I work here." She flashed him a brilliant smile before hustling back behind the bowling alley's counter to ring up a customer.
Jake watched her walk away, a grin blossoming. What an interesting girl!
He played pinball the rest of the night, racking up free games and paying for new ones when he didn't. Secretly, the
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Literature
Goodbye
He started roaming farther and farther afield, failed to come when called.
Stopped chasing rabbits, wasn't really interested in playing fetch or chase. When he did return home, sometimes after days of being absent, Randall just lay lethargically at my feet. I got the impression he was forgetting who I was.
Then one day he trotted off into the morning sunlight, and didn't return at all.
My dad tried to console me. "Sometimes, old robots do that."
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Literature
Things Are Just Super
Kal-El made certain the door to his innermost chamber was locked before seating himself before the broad crystalline desk. It was an absurd gesture -- who would even be at the Fortress of Solitude aside from himself? But still... the ritual must be observed.
An antique rosewood cigar box lay before him. This, too, was part of the ritual: a pause, brief anticipation. But eventually he leaned forward, lifted the lid to peer inside.
One leaded crystal vial remained, embedded in red velvet, half-full of a viscous green fluid. He already felt faint. Kal-El's heart beating faster.
Out came the syringe, specially made, its green needle glowing faintly. A wave of weakness washed over him just from exposure to that tiny sliver of Kryptonite.
Hands working quickly but with precision, he inserted the needle into the crystal vial and withdrew a few cc's of glowing green liquid. Pulled it out, held the syringe up and tapped the bubbles out. Without further delay he spun the hypo and plunged the nee
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Literature
Living With a Smart Gun
Marta decided she needed a gun after the boost had gone wrong. Oh, technically, it’d gone flawlessly – 1.2B New Yen siphoned away from Bank Shanghai and into six different offshore accounts, undetected – but when she’d gone to get paid things went sour.
She wasn’t a people person. Normally the human relations aspect of her work were handled by Konroy, but he’d fled the country temporarily and hadn’t returned her calls in weeks. She needed to eat. So she’d dug through his list of contacts, found a likely client, and reached out. The job specs they’d sent her seemed easy enough, and it was.
But upon meeting with the lovely folks behind the mail address she realized her mistake: upon delivery she had no leverage over them. The money was boosted, and they had the account numbers and passwords. To her dismay they even had the keys to her secret, 7th account, the one she’d nabbed for herself. Apparently they’d had a tech of th
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Literature
Walking Dead
I’d been staring right at the horizon where the nuke went off. My suit’s visor went black, instantly protecting my sight but I knew – even before the shock wave hit – I was dead.
Diagnostics screeched and blared at me, as if I didn't know. The cooling system kicked into overdrive but sweat still sprang from every pore; I was instantly running a fever of 107. Radiation sleeted through the armor, literally cooking me. I panted and gasped, waited for the chillers to bring things back to a semblance of normal if they could.
A few minutes later internal temps were stabilized, but I was still dead. Nobody took that much gamma radiation and just walked away.
Unless they wore Mk.VII Ravager combat armor. Excellent radiation shielding in these things; the EMP barely touched the electronics. A few cores down but main RAM was still good and all systems nominal. Ignoring the damage done to the fragile human pilot, that is.
My visor came back online, and despite it being pas
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Literature
Press Conference
“Okay, everyone please? We have a lot of ground to cover today. Let’s get started…”
The CNN reporter in the first row raised her hand, asked a question without waiting to be recognized. “Will the President be speaking today?”
“No, Anna,” the White House Press Secretary answered absently, shuffling through note cards. “He is currently in the West Wing, spending his remaining time with loved ones.”
This quiet announcement caused a stir in the press corps. An awkward silence punctuated by frantic typing on keyboards and rustling notepads. After a moment, hands shot up in the air with shouts to be recognized.
CNN: “What do you mean, ‘remaining time’?”
AP: “Is the President all right?”
FOX: “Does Michelle Obama know about the President’s secret West Wing lover?”
“Please! Let’s have order!” The WHPS adjusted his glasses to peer at the crowd. “We don
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Literature
TOP 10: Public Restroom
TOP 10 Things Not To Do In a Public Restroom
10. Perform the opening number from The Book of Mormon.
9. Set up a desk and conduct visitor morale surveys.
8. Re-enact pivotal T-Rex scene from Jurassic Park.
7. Pretend you're blind and bring along Bill, the "seeing eye pervert".
6. Build an "x-ray scanner" from stacks of paper products, demand visitors remove their shoes and submit to searches for contraband.
5. Shout "GIVE MY CREATION LIIIIIFE!"
4. Offer positive reinforcement.
3. Deploy smoke machine, lasers, and strobe lights.
2. Offer free samples.
1. Cross the streams.
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Literature
Top 10 Dog Breeds
Top 10 Dog Breeds that Don't Exist but Should
10. Alaskan Moose Hound
9. Ruby Throated Warbler
8. Kryptonian Superdog
7. Hollywood Crack Pinscher
6. Australian Nerf Herder
5. Spring-loaded Cocker Spaniard
4. Apologetic German Shepherd
3. Husky Rocket-Sled Dog
2. Cerberusian Tri-Head
1. Hemmingway Six-Toed Booze Hound
BONUS:
0. Cuervo-Chorizo Cannabis Chamunda Chihuahua (via KissTheSunrise)
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Literature
Foresight
Debra Mae was an astonishingly good programmer.  
Her code always worked correctly the first time, and she never missed a deadline.  Her workspace was immaculate, but curiously devoid of personal effects.  No framed pictures, no toys, just her small collection of pens lined up according to color and an inbox for the occasional old-school paper input.
Her computer was equally immaculate.  Nothing extra on her desktop, no stray icons.  If one peeked at her browser history there’d be nothing there but work-related google searches and company stuff.
She dressed neatly but very plainly.  I suspected she had four dresses in her wardrobe and rotated them daily.  On casual Fridays she wore jeans and a plain white top, unlike her shaggy coworkers who went in for clever t-shirts or flannel.
Her space was so depersonalized that visiting salespeople often mistook her desk as vacant, setting up shop for the day.  The first time that happened Debra Mae simply drifted to an absent co-worker
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Literature
Probabilities
We eased up to the checkpoint, the only car we’d seen in either direction for many kilometers.  The guard saw us coming from a distance, stepped from his booth and raised a hand for us to stop.
He circled the vehicle, a quick inspection, gun pointed nowhere in particular before approaching my window.  I thumbed it down obediently, blackout glass humming into its recess with a thunk.
“What year is it?” he asked.
“2013,” I replied.
“Who is the President of the United States?”
“Barack Obama.”
“Not Mitt Romney?”  He glanced around randomly, clearly bored.
“No.  Should he be?”
The guard shrugged.  “Not for me to say. Don’t give a shit about politics, it’s just part of the drill, y’know?”
I nodded.  “Anything ahead we should be concerned about?”
“Probability gets denser a klick or so down the road. When you see the Fog keep your windows rolled up, you should be fine.&
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RalfMaximus
49% Evil Is Not Half Bad
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Current Residence: Atlanta, GA
Email: ralfmaximus@yahoo.com
Skype: maximusralf

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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2018   Writer
still dropping by for the pageviews
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Jun 28, 2018   Writer
Only 860 pageviews to go to reach 100,000. lol - neat!
I'll do what I can. (:
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(1 Reply)
:iconteague-drydan:
Teague-Drydan Featured By Owner May 24, 2018  Student Writer
Thank you for the watch :D
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner May 20, 2018   Writer
omg the twin video! i'm a twin who, with my identical sister, didn't talk [except to each other] until we were three. we talked 'twinspeak.' i'd never heard it before, and always wondered. wow. thanks!
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(1 Reply)
:iconpapagolf54:
PapaGolf54 Featured By Owner May 14, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy-Birthday by PapaGolf54  
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner May 13, 2018   Writer
I'm gonna be busy tomorrow, so I'm gonna leave a birthday greeting now, for tomorrow.

Happy Birthday, old love... :iconcakeplz: :iconredsparklesplz:...still think of you. (:
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(1 Reply)
:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Edited Apr 5, 2018   Writer
I come here to hit the link to your tumblr, just because.
One day you'll get 100,000 page views. That's my goal, just because it's silly.
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(2 Replies)
:iconchii-channie:
chii-channie Featured By Owner Dec 23, 2014  Student Digital Artist
Thanks for the fave :)
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:iconmemnalar:
Memnalar Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Long ago, we discussed horrors of this nature. Feast your eyes.
crappytaxidermy.com/
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:iconeremitik:
Eremitik Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2014
Fantastic gallery and I have only touched the surface.
I really love the humor, something that is rare here on dA. Im looking forward to visiting your page often. Thanks for the laughs.
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