Date: 6/28/2000
From: darkslider

Space:
You're flame prowess is only second to your ability to guzzle VAST amounts of the sweet nectar. You're also the ONLY ONE to best me at my own game-ONCE. AND ONLY ONCE DAMMIT! Good Luck, and have a little mercy. Time is NEW to this.

Time:
Space is KING at this. But, don't be intimidated. You have the element of surprise, AND you're funny as hell, if your post in at the BBoard Pool Party is any indication! Good Luck!!

One day. At the end of the day, I stop it, and declare the winner.

Parting shots.

Date: 6/28/2000
From: SpaceTime

Time sat in the corner of his "room." He was completely naked, greasy from sweat and eyes bugged. He was masturbating faster than he'd ever done before... the Big Bird picture he'd won from eBay was doing its job quite well.

Time thought back to a time when he wasn't sexually attracted to oversized Muppets and cringed. He shoved his free hand up his ass and worked the back and forth motion he'd perfected one stormy night when the plunger broke and the Vasoline jar regrettably empty.

Across the "room," the television blared an uncensored fuck video between Tom Arnold and Roseanne that the couple had made in a fit of SWEET SAUSAGE LOVIN'.

After he'd spent himself, Time stood and walked around the "room." In reality, it was little more than a 9' x 9' cage made of Lincoln Logs and REBAR, but Time's higher functions weren't equipped to cope with the fact that ENERGY AND INERTIA against a thinly veiled wall EQUALS FREEDOM. Slack-jawed yokels took pictures between the "bars," laughing and flinging rotten food on him. Time responded by scooping up some "chocolate goodness" and flinging it at his adversaries.

The door swung open.

Ronald McDonald stepped in, clad in nothing but ass-tight leather chaps and a Mayor McCheese pin through his left nipple. He had the "time machine" Time had been using lately. It was a clock lubed with "Colonel Kwik-E-Mart's Kentucky Bourbon" and the Prince of Clowns was looking to do a little "time travel."

Then the horse came in. Time's eyes widened. It was going to be a fun night.

=====

What's the point of this story? There is none. I'm not even going to continue writing it because I GROW WEARY OF IT.

I can write this crap about TimeFluxMC2 because I'm SO CONFIDENT THAT HE CAN'T EVEN STRIKE A MATCH LET ALONE START A FLAME I can waste the audience's time with charmingly disgusting stories about TimeFlux in a variety of twisted sexual scenarios.

TimeFluxMC2, EAT A FAT, FAT DICK.

Darkslider is right... for once. You see, he likened you to being "funny as hell." That's absolutely true. Because, you see, hell isn't funny. IT'S ETERNAL DAMNATION FOR THE LOST SOULS WHO FOUND DISFAVOR WITH GOD. What's funny about that? Nothing.

Mendicant.

I hope you realize that life isn't about writing pathetic fan fiction where you can't figure out what time it is because you're STUCK IN SPACETIME. Pull that CLOCK outta your ass, note the time and then walk away from the computer, my son.

Dipshit.

I don't even know why I waste valuable text talking to you. I'M TOO FUCKING GOOD TO REDUCE MYSELF TO YOUR LEVEL. You make Executive look fuckable.

I'm gonna leave you with one last thought. Let it sink in, because while you may know they term, chances are you won't be seeing them live for quite some time:

JUBBLIES.

Fuck off,
SpaceTime

Original URL http://www.scifi.com/bboard/browse.cgi/1/5/545/21725
Nominated by darkslider