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FPRT Creepypasta 1
> There are certain rules in this world that we must abide by.
MAX:  Don't talk about Fight Club!  No pooftahs!  Expand or die!  And whatever you do, don't cross the streams!
> We don't always agree with them, and they rarely agree with us, but if we are to survive to see tomorrow,
> we need to place our personal feelings aside and just accept things for what they are.
MAX:  Look, Sam!  I'm in a constant state of NOT doing that!
> Take rule #86, for instance.
SAM:  I'm sorry, but bribing an officer is against the law, Mr. Story.
> Rule #86 states that every time someone speaks your name, it creates a duplicate of you.
> Consider that.
SAM:  Hey, Max!  How's it going, Max?  Wanna solve a case, Max?
MAX:  Sam!  Sam!  Hey Sam!  Sam!  Sam!  Sam!
MAX:  Sam!
SAM:  Hey, Max!  . . . So, was it good for you?
:icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 2 0
Manhattan, 1938
By the time Officer Faulk was able to break open the door, Ed Dowd was dead, slumped against the back room's far wall of his Manhattan tenement, directly under a stained white curtain that billowed in the wind from the open window.  His head was hanging limp, and every few seconds a drop of blood fell from his mouth to the floor, forming a small red puddle on the grimy hardwood paneling.
Faulk ran his hand through his black hair and turned back to the doorway to the woman who reported the gunshots.  She was standing by the main door in a state of shock, as pale as alabaster.  Officer Faulk walked back into the hallway to comfort her and call the body into Homicide, shutting Dowd's door behind him.
It was 1938.
Elsa Rogers had made her name known throughout the competitive world of New York City newspapers by being one of the fastest journalists ever on the scene of a homicide.  She quickly rose to be one of the top reporters, and earned her own l
:icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 0 0
The Scarab Strikes
It was midnight when Gilbert Fairfax finally found his Manhattan tenement, drunk.  With a clumsy traipse, he placed his car keys on the kitchen counter and tumbled into the back room, where he collapsed.  He was asleep -- or, rather, unconscious -- before he hit the ground.
The first thing Gilbert saw when he awoke was how the morning sunlight flooded the apartment's sole window.
"Oh, good," said a huge black mass, standing beside that very window, out of the way of that very light.  It was one with the shadows, and didn't seem so much as a physical body as a disembodied voice rising from the darkness.  The voice was as loud as it was clear.  It engulfed the entire room, and had Gilbert not seen a twitch in the darkness, he would have assumed the sound came from everywhere.  "You're awake."  Gilbert was able to catch a glimpse of the mass as it turned torward the window and closed the curtain, stepping partially into
:icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 0 0
Arland Strange's Legacy
Renowned nation-wide for his brilliant mind, Doctor Arland Strange was a career student for most of his life.  In the span of just under seventy years, he graduated from twelve major universities in the United States and Britain, he became a doctor of medicine and a prodigy in several major branches of engineering and he lectured in several different subjects in all of the Ivy League and the Universities of Cambridge, Oxford and London.  He was described in his heyday as the greatest renaissance man since Leonardo da Vinci, and by the end of his life, he had acquired so many titles, honorables and credentials that he likely surpassed even the great Leonardo in the realm of major sciences.
Within the span of just under seventy years, he squandered his family fortune on schooling and buried five generations of relatives; his parents, his children, his children's children, their children and their children's children.  He had outlasted all but his second grea
:icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 2 2
Kescher Family Act
            Spring, 1914.
          The curtain flew open and Thaddäus Kescher, dressed in a black-tie tuxedo, bowed to the audience.  The crowd responded with a roar of applause.  A small table of tricks and what-have-you stood next to him and he searched frantically through the mess for a moment before furrowing his brow and stomping his foot.  The sound echoed throughout the entire theater.
          "Oh, Minerve, darling!  Come here," cried Kescher to the right wing.  Minerve, a beautiful woman from the French border and Thaddäus' second wife, sauntered onstage.  She was wearing a form-fitting white dress that didn't have any detail on it or really many places to put any detail.
          "Yes, honey?" she said.
          "Where'd you put my hat?"  Thaddäus pointe
:icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 2 2
CuteHappy Sketch by TehWritingGenie CuteHappy Sketch :icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 7 0 Cute When He Is Happy, Too by TehWritingGenie Cute When He Is Happy, Too :icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 16 0 CuteAngry Sketch by TehWritingGenie CuteAngry Sketch :icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 6 0 Cute When He Is Angry by TehWritingGenie Cute When He Is Angry :icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 12 3
Mature content
MST3k: My Immortal :icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 3 6
Return to Oz
Oswald stepped out of the house and off the set of the Cartune.  Herman the Hare was dressed as a woman, a walrus was going crazy over a dress filled with meat and poultry, and three bald men were singing verse about a silly and honestly very malicious bird.
The year was 1951.  It was eight years since his last cartoon at Walter Lantz's studio.  Eight years had passed since 1943, when Oswald was fired, and nothing had changed a great deal.  Nothing had ever made sense under Lantz.  Twenty years ago, he fired cannonballs out of a camel's mouth.  He pulled a tugboat by rowing a living porpoise though the open ocean and he chewed gum while a monkey danced in synchronization with a melody being played by a little mouse, on a little piano, in a little box.
That was still back when he looked like himself.
As surrealism fell out of style in the 1930s, Oswald's typically black and white form was hidden under make-up and costumes.
:icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 4 4
Paralysis, a Limerick
As I slept in bed, along came a spider
It crawled upon me and opened its jaws a-wider
With a great nip
It poisoned my hip
And now my legs feel a great deal lighter!
:icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 1 1
Episode 2:  Sam & Max Ruin Childhoods
Part 3
Mewtwo and Mewthree faxed each other.
Max:  Why have an epic confrontation between two super-powered freaks of nature when they can simply fax vaguely insulting criticisms of each others' work ethic to one another?
Mewtwo shoot shadow balls at mewthree and mewthree dogded balls and laffed
Sam:  It's incredible how well the author translates the less-than-thrilling battles and poor dubbing of the television series straight to literary prose!
"you are infearier clone mewtwo now I kill you for trying to stop me from wiping out human race ha ha"
Sam:  Max, doesn't this bring you back to your youth, when you came home from school to bang silly but durable pieces of children's merchandise together to create the illusion of thrilling battle and bold adventure?
Max:  My parents stopped buying me toys after I ate Action Jackson to assume his
:icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 5 1
Sam, Max and the Brief Idea
At approximately two-thirty in the afternoon, the sky was a murky orangish yellow color.  Sam, sitting at his desk looking out the parts of the window that weren't boarded up, wasn't quite sure why this was.  It could've been any number of reasons; pollution, heat, an angry sun threatening an impending collision, or maybe a popped blood vessel.  On the streets below, he noticed a homeless man looking up and possibly wondering the same thing.  Or wanting to become blind by staring at the intense light coming from above.  In fact, he may simply have been wondering what it was in the first place.  Either way, his eyes seemed to be melting out of their sockets.
Sam closed his eyes and leaned back in his leather seat, readying up to take a nap.  Max had been done for a good hour to get edible objects (and food, too) from Bosco's store.  Either he lost himself on the way back or he was driving away from the pursu
:icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 8 3
Episode 2:  Sam & Max Ruin Childhoods
Part 2
"Sarah was tired and angry and sad and train hard to defeat mewtwo."
Sam:  I'm pretty sure "train hard" hasn't been an adjective since the days of Richard the Lionheart.
Max:  Ah, good ole Ricky.
"Eve was get ing stronger b/c she was fighting wild pokemon and doing good.  Then a trainer"
Max:  Sam, I thought this thing was rated T!
Sam:  They'll let you post anything on the net these days.
"'Hey do you want to battle?' 'sure' the other trainer was hot and look like 13 year old Zac Efron."
Sam:  Zac Efron, sure, but "hot" is pushing it.
Max:  Unless he's on fire.  Is he on fire?
Sam:  We can only hope.
"Other trainer said 'go ralts' and then there was ralts."
Max:  And he made Ralts in his image.
Sam:  A spongy thirteen-yea
:icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 6 3
Two Thousand -- Ash sample
Not until four-o'-clock in the afternoon did the sun break through the clouds and begin to bake the water leftover from the recent rain.  Zeke and I were playing a card game as we always did on the dismal rainy days that were all too common in Michigan.  It wasn't great entertainment, but it was better than just waiting for work.  We tried poker that day with three of our neighbors.  He wasn't good at poker.  He kept asking me about his own hand ("Are these good cards?  What should I do now?  Should I fold?"), so we stuck to Blackjack.
Zeke was hit with a Queen of Hearts when the phone rang for the first time in a month.  I kept the phone next to me at all times.  I didn't trust Zeke with it.  He seemed to break every piece of machinery he touched, and we didn't make enough to buy something that hadn't existed before the Reagan Administration.
Anyway, I brushed the cobwebs off of the han
:icontehwritinggenie:TehWritingGenie 1 2


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Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!  =D

Now where's the drinks?


United States
Current Residence: Florida
Favourite genre of music: Rock, jazz, classical
Favourite style of art: Art deco
Shell of choice: Conch!



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CyberLogic Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2012
Hey there! :icontnxmanfav::icontnxmanfav2::icontnxmanfav3: on [Fellabot LIVES!] :w00t:

Perhaps you can check out and vote on my :iconnew-plz: design: [Chillin With My Beats T-Shirt Design]

Thanks again! :D
radoxist Featured By Owner May 28, 2012  Professional General Artist
Hi there !
It is nice to see that you like my artworks and thanks for the +fav !
Do not hesitate to add some comments in the future. I would love to read them.

Greetings from Slovakia !
N8MA Featured By Owner May 22, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
thnx for the fave!
TehWritingGenie Featured By Owner May 22, 2012
No prob, man. =D
sketcheth Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2012  Professional Digital Artist
Hey thanks a lot for watching!
staino Featured By Owner Mar 6, 2012   Traditional Artist
Thanks for the :+fav: :thanks:
The-11th-Doctor Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2012
Thanks for the fave and watch!
AbaKon Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2012  Professional Writer
Thanks for checking out my work!
mexdragoon Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2012
Happy birthday.
dodiee Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2012
Thank you for the fav :)
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