Choose a Song Then Make Up a Scene That It Would Be a Good Soundtrack For

Mondo Bungle · 09-18-2018, 04:13 PM

^this guy even posted in it

**Frownland** · 09-18-2018, 04:16 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Mondo Bungle

^this guy even posted in it

deafbox.bandcamp.com

The Batlord · 09-18-2018, 04:19 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Frownland

*scoffs*

I'm not a preposition fascist but sometimes ending a sentence with one is awkward as ****. Like this time.

**Frownland** · 09-18-2018, 04:21 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by 66Sexy

I'm not a preposition fascist but sometimes ending a sentence with one is awkward as ****. Like this time.

"for which" = fake legalese

Not havin it

The Batlord · 09-18-2018, 04:22 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Frownland

"for which" = fake legalese

Not havin it

It's not my favorite thing in the world but it's better than your word that feels like it's balancing precariously over a cliff.

Mondo Bungle · 09-18-2018, 04:27 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Frownland

deafbox.bandcamp.com

Oriphiel · 09-18-2018, 04:27 PM

The Tragedy of Clownland

Act I

Scene III

In the castle Frown, amidst a rousing party

Haply lost in the deep imbibing of the golden bounty of a phallic chalice filled with Sunny D, a Lady of reputed wealth and a wealth of repute is approached by a Lord of the same

Lord: Hath thou yet stomach, milady? Tis a wonder a drop yet roameth free, a thirst such as thine stalks the plains.

Lady: Why, then, might thou lend me thine? Tis easier to hang with a rope than with twine.

Lord: Wiping a handkerchief across his beer soaked beard What I've lent I'm returned with interest, and a debt of any higher a cent would be a killing sum I fear. But thou art merry.

Lady: Aye, I have my humor, though thou would bring it down, but for the more I cherish as thy features meet the light.

Lord: And be not met at all, were they features such as thine.

Lady: Ha! I'd thou judge me not so roughly, though I know how thy thoughts sway. For the lowest of the hunters oft take aim at easy prey. But, lo! My thirst stalks on. Imbibing heartily Much stalking would prevail, indeed, had we all such a stomach as thine. Forcing her chalice upon him Now chug!

Enter The Frownman

Lord: What, who comes?

Lady: Holla, friend! What, ho!

Frownman: A friend indeed, with gift in hand, as best a friend may bring. Enjoyeth thou both my celebration? I take it by thine cups it be a thing of extremes, though of which I daren't say.

Lady: Our host! Thou must join us, and know us better!

Frownman: Of that, I have no doubt.

Lord: Hail, milord! Thou spokest of a gift?

Frownman: Aye. A heat to rival the sun, and a force to beat the tides. Yet, as all such things of power, it doth need some time to rise. Come! Shall we listen to this music? Punches a robot until its screams resemble Free Jazz

Lady: Glancing towards an ominous door Milord, pray, what doth lie beyond yonder portal? Seldom come the minutes when my eye be not caught by the mystery of it.

Lord: The arrows of my thoughts strike high towards the same.

Lady, aside: Nay, beneath, methinks, aim they always for the back.

Frownman: Ask thou naught of such things as the Castle Frown be rich with. For such mysteries have no answers for those who think in lines, when the mystery itself is for what the cosmos pines. Now, if thou would for but a moment give me leave, I have a task to undertake, the conclusion of which aught to the spirit of the party give wings. Exits

Lady: Imbibing heavily, before looking back to the door I must open it.

Lord: What, thou would scorn thine host?

Lady: Aye, and hardly might thou slow me, as my nature drives me far. For as my mother gave me life, there shone a curious star. To know what I might ever know, in the pits of hell I'd roast. To know what lies beyond a door, I'll haply burn the host. Opens the ominous portal

Lord: Wait!

Enter a group of cosmic jesters

Lady: What...

Lord: Oh...

Jesters: Thou souls who seekest pleasures, who would to thine peril go, step thee further, through the portal, to our shadowed realm, and know.

Lord: Beautiful...

Lady: I...

Exeunt both players to the space betwixt the binding and the pages, wherein with the cosmic jesters they heartily intertwine in a gangbang

**Frownland** · 09-18-2018, 04:28 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by 66Sexy

It's not my favorite thing in the world but it's better than your word that feels like it's balancing precariously over a cliff.

And->Then

It's perfect now.

Oriphiel · 09-24-2018, 08:54 AM

Whilst stepping outside for a bout at the ole piss bucket, Batlord finds a package on his mother's porch

Batlord, a-mutter: The **** is this ****?

He bends over to examine it, a posture quite familiar in his timeless pursuit to sate his restless curiosity. On the brown paper laden parcel is writ but one word; his name

Batlord: Huh. Must be that Nazi rabbit porn that I totally ordered for purely intellectual reasons.

Mouth a-water and balls akimbo, he does tear through the package, revealing a gilded radiance, a splendid aura of golden brown to rival even the crispiest of fresh McNuggets (or whatever the **** version of McNuggets that Burger King serves is called)

Batlord: Jesus...

A voice then whispers in his ear

Voice: No, not he. I am beyond such conceptions.

It is a voice that he knows well

Batlord, in pained realization: Oh. Oh ****. Oh no, no, no... not again... please... I mean, come on, man, it's my day off. I just wanna take a ****ing piss and then get slaughtered in Starcraft for a few hours.

A man steps out of the light

Frownland: Your day off, you say?

Batlord: Yeah... ?

Frownland: Then get off you shall.

His pants fly off of their own accord, for they are at harmony with the intrinsic resonance of reality, and they well know what time it is

Feeling an odd sensation below, The Batlord looks down to find that his dick has detached itself from him, and is already inside of Frownland

Batlord, to his mutinous member: Oh, you little traitor! *coughs* I mean, big traitor!

The Bat Dick: Can you ever truly miss what was never truly yours?

Frownland: An interesting point. Tell me, Batlord. What did your dick look like before you came into existence from out of the void, and thus became a slave to the lie of perception?

Batlord: No. **** this. **** off with your stupid ****ing riddles, and just give me my ****ing dick back!

Frownland, with a knowing smile: Very well, Batlord. Very well...

He approaches

Batlord, eyes widened with horror: Wait. No. I didn't -

Yet before long, he knew that he did. For from even before the hallucinatory bonds of time had been forged, he always had.

Batlord: Well, what the hell. I guess I'm down for a quicky. Or up, as it were.

Frownland sweeps him up into his wide embrace, garnishes of neon honeysuckles wrapping gentle cords about their limbs, robed seraphs tumbling from their places in the heavens with the sudden weight of mortal transience, and swans shooting out of his *******

The Batlord · 09-24-2018, 01:05 PM

Dude, I did get a package today. I mean it was just Final Crisis and the first volume of Batman and Robin, but that's still a neat coincidence.

09-18-2018, 04:27 PM	#17 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,355	The Tragedy of Clownland Act I Scene III In the castle Frown, amidst a rousing party Haply lost in the deep imbibing of the golden bounty of a phallic chalice filled with Sunny D, a Lady of reputed wealth and a wealth of repute is approached by a Lord of the same Lord: Hath thou yet stomach, milady? Tis a wonder a drop yet roameth free, a thirst such as thine stalks the plains. Lady: Why, then, might thou lend me thine? Tis easier to hang with a rope than with twine. Lord: Wiping a handkerchief across his beer soaked beard What I've lent I'm returned with interest, and a debt of any higher a cent would be a killing sum I fear. But thou art merry. Lady: Aye, I have my humor, though thou would bring it down, but for the more I cherish as thy features meet the light. Lord: And be not met at all, were they features such as thine. Lady: Ha! I'd thou judge me not so roughly, though I know how thy thoughts sway. For the lowest of the hunters oft take aim at easy prey. But, lo! My thirst stalks on. Imbibing heartily Much stalking would prevail, indeed, had we all such a stomach as thine. Forcing her chalice upon him Now chug! Enter The Frownman Lord: What, who comes? Lady: Holla, friend! What, ho! Frownman: A friend indeed, with gift in hand, as best a friend may bring. Enjoyeth thou both my celebration? I take it by thine cups it be a thing of extremes, though of which I daren't say. Lady: Our host! Thou must join us, and know us better! Frownman: Of that, I have no doubt. Lord: Hail, milord! Thou spokest of a gift? Frownman: Aye. A heat to rival the sun, and a force to beat the tides. Yet, as all such things of power, it doth need some time to rise. Come! Shall we listen to this music? Punches a robot until its screams resemble Free Jazz Lady: Glancing towards an ominous door Milord, pray, what doth lie beyond yonder portal? Seldom come the minutes when my eye be not caught by the mystery of it. Lord: The arrows of my thoughts strike high towards the same. Lady, aside: Nay, beneath, methinks, aim they always for the back. Frownman: Ask thou naught of such things as the Castle Frown be rich with. For such mysteries have no answers for those who think in lines, when the mystery itself is for what the cosmos pines. Now, if thou would for but a moment give me leave, I have a task to undertake, the conclusion of which aught to the spirit of the party give wings. Exits Lady: Imbibing heavily, before looking back to the door I must open it. Lord: What, thou would scorn thine host? Lady: Aye, and hardly might thou slow me, as my nature drives me far. For as my mother gave me life, there shone a curious star. To know what I might ever know, in the pits of hell I'd roast. To know what lies beyond a door, I'll haply burn the host. Opens the ominous portal Lord: Wait! Enter a group of cosmic jesters Lady: What... Lord: Oh... Jesters: Thou souls who seekest pleasures, who would to thine peril go, step thee further, through the portal, to our shadowed realm, and know. Lord: Beautiful... Lady: I... Exeunt both players to the space betwixt the binding and the pages, wherein with the cosmic jesters they heartily intertwine in a gangbang __________________ ---------------------- \|---Mic's Albums---\| ---------------------- ----------------------------- \|---Deafbox Industries---\| -----------------------------

09-24-2018, 08:54 AM	#19 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,355	Whilst stepping outside for a bout at the ole piss bucket, Batlord finds a package on his mother's porch Batlord, a-mutter: The ** is this *? He bends over to examine it, a posture quite familiar in his timeless pursuit to sate his restless curiosity. On the brown paper laden parcel is writ but one word; his name* Batlord: Huh. Must be that Nazi rabbit porn that I totally ordered for purely intellectual reasons. Mouth a-water and balls akimbo, he does tear through the package, revealing a gilded radiance, a splendid aura of golden brown to rival even the crispiest of fresh McNuggets (or whatever the **** version of McNuggets that Burger King serves is called) Batlord: Jesus... A voice then whispers in his ear Voice: No, not he. I am beyond such conceptions. It is a voice that he knows well Batlord, in pained realization: Oh. Oh **. Oh no, no, no... not again... please... I mean, come on, man, it's my day off. I just wanna take a *ing piss and then get slaughtered in Starcraft for a few hours. A man steps out of the light* Frownland: Your day off, you say? Batlord: Yeah... ? Frownland: Then get off you shall. His pants fly off of their own accord, for they are at harmony with the intrinsic resonance of reality, and they well know what time it is Feeling an odd sensation below, The Batlord looks down to find that his dick has detached itself from him, and is already inside of Frownland Batlord, to his mutinous member: Oh, you little traitor! coughs I mean, big traitor! The Bat Dick: Can you ever truly miss what was never truly yours? Frownland: An interesting point. Tell me, Batlord. What did your dick look like before you came into existence from out of the void, and thus became a slave to the lie of perception? Batlord: No. ** this. off with your stupid ing riddles, and just give me my *ing dick back! Frownland, with a knowing smile: Very well, Batlord. Very well... He approaches* Batlord, eyes widened with horror: Wait. No. I didn't - Yet before long, he knew that he did. For from even before the hallucinatory bonds of time had been forged, he always had. Batlord: Well, what the hell. I guess I'm down for a quicky. Or up, as it were. Frownland sweeps him up into his wide embrace, garnishes of neon honeysuckles wrapping gentle cords about their limbs, robed seraphs tumbling from their places in the heavens with the sudden weight of mortal transience, and swans shooting out of his ******* __________________ ---------------------- \|---Mic's Albums---\| ---------------------- ----------------------------- \|---Deafbox Industries---\| -----------------------------