Date: 6/28/2000
From: darkslider

Stoker:
Good luck. I look forward to this bout, as I am curious to witness your flame style. Let's see if you can show some the others here which end is up!

I know you have limited time to flame, and I'll take that into consideration.

Klly:
Good Luck! I also look forward to this fight in order to see whatcha got! Embrace the darkside, and ATTACK!!!

Time's on your side! Use it wisely!

One day, contestants. As many hits as you want in 24 hours. At the end, I'll judge and determine the winner!

Dearly beloved.

Date: 6/28/2000
From: Stoker_chick

Here’s how I see things. I’ll be blunt with you Klly, anyone who does not know how to employ vowels in the initial spelling of their name loses my respect at first glance, seeing as first impression is relatively everything. I won’t get too technical with you, as I assume that your pre-Barney, paramecium envy level of intelligence (as some might interpret as an understatement) would classify you as a anecdotal, mundane member of the silver-platter fed, backstreet boy loving, pink bubble gum, pastel prom dress order of RandomJudgement concubines. Oh, and I really do hope that all of the vowels don't throw your 1950's (micro)technobrain off too much.

P.S. For those whose cat-scans eerily resemble that of Executive (give you a hint: solid BLACK), the ()'s indicate comments most easily interpreted as externalized from the rest of the text.

You woke up this morning, Klly, and all I can imagine that you wondered (one of the few relatively clear thoughts of the millennium for your testicle-of-a-steroid-pumped-heroin-addicted-after-being-run-over-by-a-two-ton-pickup-truck-carrying-the-entire-Nagasaki-sumo-wrestling-team sized brain), "have I lost is yet?"

Seeing as you no longer are capable of the rational comprehension of even your own pseudo-conscious thoughts, there is no chance that you were even able to debate with yourself what it is that you have lost. The fact that you are not able to find it is no surprise, and how you lost it is another story all together. All you can do is sit there trying to conceive of the possibilities. Sadly, your brain could not endure such stress, and you underwent a fatal aneurysm in your relatively already decayed brain cavity.

Of course, seeing as all of your family members (even in the farthest traceable genetic connection possible in modern science) do not collectively possess an adequate concentration of brain cells to asseverate a single phrase, I am the only human being of any connection to you competent to formulate a commensurate eulogy. It reads as follows:

"What is it, as her last, unsettling words implied, which Klly has seemingly lost? We all know that it is not her mind, as ingenuity was never a strong suit of her persona. Perhaps her will to live? I must repute that concept, seeing that in the question's rhetorical nature, it is well known that she lost that long ago, along with her empty soul, and her stone cold, lead-lined heart. Perhaps, in lack of any other possibilities, her loss was that due to lack of motivation?

"Nay. . . it is far more complex than that. A girl brought up in an all but Fairy Tale world, with a lifefull served on a silver platter daily (but of course, that platter is dropped more often than not due to unavoidable family clumsiness) also grows up without a personality, as it has been learned. After years subject to brainrotting boy bands, rancid obsessions with giggling, infinite exposure to hairspray and flourescent nailpollish, and countless concussions from tragic cheerleading injuries, there was nothing left to this poor slut except for an empty shell. She thought she had an imagination, but it truly ended up to only be a cover up for her inability to fight manipulation, and to allow her to face her vulnerability to Silverguy’s, um, well, pimpish (??) and corpse-like charm.

"You see, there was a price for the silver platters that she thought were so freely handed to her day after day. Her freedom. Her ability to think. Sure, she was a great fuck, but she was not sure why she worked so hard every night for these strangers. Oh, wait, I forgot, she had no standards, scratch that, the idea of sleeping with the skum of the earth never phased her. Forget I ever said that.

"Well, since Silverguy and RandomJudgement have by this point taken from Klly those vital fragments which she cherished (namely her pickle and gafilta fish flavored condoms and her vibrating economy sized dildo), she had no passion left in life anyway. She wanted to be apathetic to these bottom-of-the-food-chain pimps whom had handled her materialistic shit, and of course this would have cum naturally in her dull witted state of mind. But her awkwardness combined with an ass-like stubbornness caused her to continue to suck their pinky-finger-of-a-midget’s-fetus sized dicks (as, she found dicks comparable to the size of her brain the easiest for her to relate to. She used to refer to those as the best conversations of her life).

"So this poor little Klly went through her young life like this- always watching not to ever be manipulated to give head to a worthy recipient (namely darkslider), there would be a day in which she would have to depart from their ownership and go out into the real world to find her true calling (more than likely begging on a piss filled street corner in Singapore).

"But on the exact day when Klly would have met this intended fate, she found out that she was an O’Connell by birth (as she had known this all of her life, but only on that day did she finally learn the letters O and E, sort of). She was overcome with joy that she had finally found her rightful fate: the crappiest acting capable on the face of the planet, so as to live up to her beloved long-lost brother Charlie’s name."

[And of course at this time in the eulogy, I look out in the audience and see Charlie, as well as seeing his pants start to display a dark, wet area around the crotch and drool dripping down his open lower lip (it can be revealed that he is, indeed, fantasizing about incest with Klly, as she would have been the only female in human history, and pre-history for that matter who would ever give him a blow job, or something resembling one at least).]

"Now, I recall that all Klly had to do to allow her to escape her life as the most hideous dominatrix in East Bumblefuck (the town in which she grew up. And of course, her definition of dominatrix can be debated. Klly's interpretation was to dress in teletubby t-shirts and talk in Executive-esc gibberish: torchure as it may be) was to prove that she was indeed wise enough to be an O’Connell (a test which obviously would not take the intelligence of a dilapidated piece of petrified mosquito shit). The power of pulling acting out of her ass would be hers to use to aid in destroying the world’s image of pop culture (as though it could actually decrease any further with only her prescense alone, in conjunction with her idyllic fantasy: NSYNC dressed in drag and doing a performance of the Rocky Horror Picture Show in German).

"With her attempt to accomplish that which resembled emotion, Klly was ‘determined’ to pass. And so, the whore (which at this point is a compliment on my part, seeing as she is deceased, in realizing that a whore would actually need at least some street smarts and business skills, those which Klly would never possess) was asked the simplest question imaginable. It had been repeated countless, painstaking times on the dominion, and was almost impossible to get incorrect. ‘What was your favorite episode of Sliders?’ Her response? Well, as she opened her mouth to answer, all that came out was, ‘H brthr, whr rt th?’ It seemed as though she had not yet even mastered those pesky O’s and E’s. Jerry hit the buzzer...time was out.

"Klly had lost her chance. The most pathetic sight since god fucking farted out of his omnipotent ass to create the diarrhea that is this whole damned universe (Oh yes, that's Klly's lifelong defended interpretation of the origin of our universe). And so, Klly was handcuffed and whipped, and thrown back into her rhelm with nothing except for a bunch of RJ clones, more horny than an immortal celibate priest after watching his 6,097,656,575,353th lesbian porn flick.

 

And so, what is the moral of the story you fucking pathetic freak of sci-fi obsession (I mean, you do'nt even resemble the brain farts of the human race enough to have control over your own bowel, something EVERY fucking higher order animal has accomplished, even your closely resembling twin sister the half-ton sea cow, you little piece of dehydrated shit)? If someone is too fucking insipid to even be an honorary member of the parched suckfish O’Connell clan, then they are undoubtedly and absolutely. . .

. . .a schmuck.

Look it up, oh, and Klly, if it’s too hard for you to interpret, that funny looking letter in the middle that kind of looks like your hymen after your first date with Silverguy. . . it’s a U, you know, as in FAQ"U"!

I know you're cheap, as easily seen through the demeanor in which you present yourself (you know, the polyester skirts with your pubes showing and the selefane tube tops that show every stretch mark and roll of fat?). . . but buy a fucking vowel already!

Peace out.

Stoker

Ready Fuckmonkey??

Date: 6/28/2000
From: KllyWlls

<Starting now because I will be in rehearsal all day tomorrow...I'll post again afterward>

Listen to me Buttcheese, your sorry fat ass has resided here too long. You have left in us an ASS PRINT that is your stupidity, and we will never fully recover from it. Truthfully I don't even think you are a girl. You are a 98 pound pubecent TRANSVESTITE, drooling on your RAINBOW BRITE bed sheets as you watch endless reruns of "Leave it To Beaver". AND ANOTHER THING, please DO NOT stick that bamboo back scratcher down your pants in public anymore!! I don't care how much your rash itches!!!

Before I go, I do want to leave you with this slight tidbit: You ARE A FUCKING STUPID-ASS FUCK MOUTH FUCKITY FUCK WITH NO FUCKING LIFE FUCK FUCKY FUCK FUCK!!!!

And lastly, a song:

Fuck fuckity fuck fuck, fuck you!

<And more tomorrow night...after my long ass rehearsal! TATA!>

And in her puddle of piss. . .

Date: 6/28/2000
From: Stoker_chick

. . . and mold grown from the eleven months since Klly has left what was once a stool at her computer (but is now literally composed of stool, and some small dead animals), she cries herself, as she is too swollen in her nine hundred and fifty seven pound mass of mutant fruit flies feeding off of the ripened guano and decayed llama intestine that she is now composed of.

Klly realizes that the only justification for her pointless tantrum of swear words with no depth or true meaning is her own depression. She realized the truth of her relentless misery that can only be ceased by her unreachable demise (as she is now to fat to even reach the letter open on the far side of the computer desk with which she longed to comit swinr-icide).

She gurbles out with the last ounce of muscular strength her over used mouth could extract, "Charlie, you only love me for my penis."

The sad truth. But as I am the Hell's Spawn who has been sent to keep you out of the Devil's grasp. You are too fucking disgusting even for him. It is my duty to expose the truth.

Bow down to your superior! (Then again, that would mean you would be kneeling to the excrement of the pinworm recently removed from Mandy Moore's ass. But I correct myself, you were the one who sucked it out, so I guess I can allow that one to pass).

Stoker

P.S. This was my last post until I go to work, I promise, I just couldn't bear to leave things like that. And thus, the brutality shall resume tomorrow evening, I presume. Bonsoir.

Let's kick it up a notch!!

Date: 6/28/2000
From: KllyWlls

<ok ok.. one for the road.. and Stochi.. may I say...OUCH! hehe>

You know Stocheese I was thinking today, (Which is more than I can say for you. Actually I feel sorry for that nose tweezing "accident". I mean really, accidently pulling your tiny brain out your nose while trying to rid yourself from the trollish hair that seems to never go away, that could happen to almost anyone. But I digress...) what is it that makes you so special? (Aside from the "special" underwear and the "special" way you eat and your "special" school and...) You are indeed a unique individual. (Well..OK you aren't an individual. I will try to remember to respect your "friends" who talk to you) When you look to someone advice (Usually to Freddy the evil devil-fetus that sits on your shoulder..) do you go to your parents? (You know, Rob Schneider and that German Sheppard) Are they the ones resposible for your "specialness"? Or maybe it's your siblings? (Barry the Bubble Boy and your sister who has a strange resemblence to a cat named Frankenstein) They all seem to share a part in you. (Them and the midget who has been stuck halfway in your asshole for 7 months) Well I want to just tell you that and also I want to celebrate your uniqueness by giving you your favorite thing: a banana wrapped in CELLOPHANE (GET IT RIGHT IDIOT!). ENJOY!

Darling Kllytoris.

Date: 6/28/2000
From: Stoker_chick

I understand that you may still be slightly distraught over that occurrence in which I tore your testicles out by way of your Rosanne Arnold/Mimi Bobeck throat, but you have to learn that for a human being (and please understand that I’m employing the term "human being" incredibly loosely in your case) as Leonardo-Dicaprio-after-six-bowls-and-a-promiscuous-night-with-the-entire-cast-of-the-Facts-of-Life slow as yourself, that certain aspects in life are sadly inevitable.

You can hardly find justification in enduring to pretend to take these adorably fictitious "shots" (again said loosely) at me forever in your dismal attempts at depth and rage (only exposing themselves as the antithetical of each: namely incredulous shallowness and insufferable perkiness). I must logically imagine that after so many total misses, your post-shrinkage-Richard-Simmons-right-only-half-way-masturbated-ball sized imagination (I’m sensing that you can see the whole sense of blue in that image as a parallel to the pity you receive from others due to your unbearably depressing aura, which is often mistaken for Down’s Syndrome) is undoubtedly running out of "creativity" (yet again utilized loosely, implying that you ever did possess something even resembling such a trait, which there is no evidence of in your lifetime as of yet).

I impress upon you again, my anemic pre-Australopithecus little friend, that these things will happen to you throughout the short remainder of your meaningless life. That is why the only advice with which I can provide you while there still lingers something resembling a shred of dignity among you (of course, I must point out to you that this is not to be mistaken with the roll of toilet paper stuffed inside your pants, residual from your playing around with RE and DariaTeen last night) is to stop chasing your tale like the festering, moldy, junkyard dog that you envy. It was almost cute (for lack of a word more closely related to disturbing) the first three hundred ninety six times, but at this point, it’s frankly just abhorrent.

 

And another thing, Kllytdishcharge. I have a secret for you. You know that blue stuff that your pseudo-pimp stores under the sink and uses to clean out the drains? It tastes even better than Kool-aid. I bet that if you downed a whole bottle, you would be happier than the first time you swallowed that off-white thick sour stuff you found in Exec’s baseball glove.

 

Stoker.

[Homicide is such a glorious privilege of the human condition.]

To my favorite assmonger!

Date: 6/28/2000
From: KllyWlls

<PS...ok not post but pre...LOL at the stool remark Stochi!! hehehehehehehe...still laughing...hehehe...>

I think I have heard ENOUGH OF YOUR GODDAMN FILTH!! The more I hear the less I comprehend. The only thing I hear coming from you that is ANYWHERE NEAR AN INSULT is descriptions of YOUR SEX LIFE! Can't you think of AT LEAST ONE thing to say that doesn't involve white pasty crap or things you do when not too many people are watching? (Excluding your father and that MONKEY) You uncreative whore!

You are obviously one of those writers who like to draw from personal experience. I have a tip for you. Since you are in somewhat of a rut, try talking more about your job at the circus. You know it's not every day that someone gets to hear about the life and times of someone who is known as "Ernest the Hairy Elephant-Man". This would at least be CHANGE.

Another thing that might draw more interest in your “flames” is your daily routine. Maybe you could give a “day in the life” kinda thing. It could go something like this:

12:00 p.m. Wake up. It’s time to go home and change out of Exec’s favorite porn clothes. First though, must pull Exec out of my ass. Quite a challenge.
12:45 p.m. After that lovely ordeal, I finally roll off his bunk bed. Ouch…I forgot I was on the top one. Next, tell the midgets to go home.
1:20 p.m. Home sweet home. Fed Stinky and Lafayette my rat friends. Then for lunch ATE Stinky my rat friend. Time to get ready for work!!!
11:07 p.m.Arrive at my pimp’s house a bit late…he was forgiving though…only made me …..oh nevermind.
3:00 a.m. Another day well spent. Home again home again jiggity jig! I am very tired after that day in the rat race. But I am excited, Exec said he was coming over again tonight…better get out the yak suit!!

Well, those are just my suggestions. Have fun!

-Klly

Thou art confused, KlleWlless.

Date: 6/28/2000
From: Stoker_chick

Did you truly expect me to be surprised by your lack of reluctance to declare the fact that you indeed are too dull-witted to be capable of interpreting that by which I have been acutely describing your out of the closet inferior-to-a-three-hundred-pound-prostitute-with-a-raging-case-of-herpes-care-of-your-sex-slave-CharmedClass2005 quadrasexual lifestyle. But I will try to explain to you that although your multiple personalities, each more nauseating than the previous (i.e. WldKlly), may have mislead your confused nipple sized brain to believe that these chronicles of undeniable truth were not about yourself, that you were *surprisingly* incorrect for a change. They couldn’t have been more accurate (as opposed to your preceding, quite amusing work of toddler’s fairy tales).

As I have already proposed to you, you must understand that you are undoubtedly surrendering any dignity you might have once had (which I doubt was ever fucking true) at a staggering rate. You see, human life is defined by dignity and truth, and it deserves only the utmost respect. Apparently, you have not been bowing down even to the dung beetles that just crawled out of the ten inch diameter plastic tube that RJ stuck up your ass last night, and so you are trying to relinquish your undeserving place in the human race, which just cannot be allowed to surpass. You are a deteriorating maggot that is lacking of even enough intelligence to feed off of something more in your league, nonetheless myself.

Please, no more cries for acceptance. You are an arrogant psycho hose beast who tries to find yourself to be that much deeper than the Taco Bell Chihuahua, which is subsequently found to be by far your superior in every aspect of life. But to you, of course, the definition of intelligence and depth are found in toilet bowls in old camping sights which have been broken for years, and continue to rot and relieve a stench worse than that of an eternity of smelling your own putrid breath, as you admiringly stand over them. If you had even a shred of wisdom, you would in fact see that realization is the only way you can relieve yourself from your unrelenting agony. You think you know that much more than me about shooting fire up your ass with the largest home-made flame thrower you’ve ever seen, but you obviously do not.

You agitate me like the primordial soup of intestinal juices and algae combined with the vomit of a wild boar that you are. Step down before your burn is too severe that you can no longer even kill yourself to escape from your inevitable fate: eternal failure.

Good luck in your recovery.

Stoker

Klly <shake hands>

Date: 6/29/2000
From: Stoker_chick

I was thoroughly impressed by the fact that your flames were relatively effective, especially through the obvious reasons that you are notorious for remaining on the peaceful side of reality.

May the hottest torch win! Good game. I think we showed the board that girls can be just as harsh as guys, and cat fights are not necessary to prove that. I must admit, however, that I was hoping that you would have placed one last post.

C'est la vie.

Stoker

Stochi <also shakes hand..>

Date: 6/29/2000
From: KllyWlls

Thanks!! I must say that I definetly think you ..well you JUST ROCK GIRL! And I agree, we have proved that just cause we are of the fairer sex doesn't mean we don't pack punch!

This has been quite a challenge! May the best femme flamer win!

Cheers to you!

-Klly

P.S. I also wish I had gotten to do one more, but alas, I was a tad on the busy side! OH well...I hope my work represents itself just as well.

You both ROCK. :-P~~~~~

Date: 6/29/2000
From: SL4ever

Jesus God Almighty you two are hellions. Your titles alone were ROTFLMMFAAOTWO!!!!!!!!!! And that was before I even got inside the replies!!!

I know it's wrong of me to sit on the sidelines and safely giggle while of the rest of your shed blood like this, but I like a lot of things that are wrong of me. :-D

Original URL http://www.scifi.com/bboard/browse.cgi/1/5/545/21726
Nominated by darkslider