Date: 7/26/2000
From: darkslider

Well, at long last, the finale of the Tournament of Pee. My attempt at keeping us hardened warriors, in the break of seemingly eternal peace. Some of you retained and strengthened the Warrior's Spirit within. Others...well...others became SpaceTime, that SISSY.

The rules are the same, the time limit is the same. The only thing different is that I want you two to ANNIHILATE the other. No holds barred. I want to see Death himself dance in this battle.

At the end of your battle, a very special poster will announce the results, along with some announcements of his own. He will truly amaze and tittilate all that come to see the show.

If you have any questions, comments, suggestions on Billy handling techniques, e-mail me. I did not see fit to post more than once on Top, in light of it's recent death throws in popularity.

==============================================
SpaceTime:
Well, Momma you made it. You are one step away from retaining the crown and acquiring the "illustrious and MAGICAL" prize. Think you can do it, you SISSY?! Pft..RIGHT.

Good Luck. You're gonna need it.

===============================================
Stoker_Chick
We've only taled VERY briefly through posts, so I will not insult you with some ludicrous and "insightful" words of wisdom for you, my longtime friend. Know this though, your style is awesome and a true catastrophe for anyone that steps into it's path. You have proven that being male is not always neccessary in KICKING ass in Pee Contests. Good Luck, and if we do not speak again, it was great to meet you.

That's it.

-Poppa

SparseTesticles chews on his own cum!

Date: 7/26/2000
From: Stoker_chick

The following is a letter written by SpareTesticle-less to his second favorite magazine to attempt to jerk off with. The only problem is, that when a hippopotamus-faced-partially-self-neutered-Shih-Tzu aspires to jerk off the quarter of a testicle that his cross-dressing-female-porpoise-envious body still possesses, the result tends to resemble that of a mixture of cottage cheese and the green slime emitted from ScarcelyTerrestrial’s wrinkled-like-Joan-Collins’-face-after-pulling-the-invisible-string’s ass.

The name of his *favorite* magazine to pull at his clitoris with you ask? Of course, that’s an effortless answer: "Popular Brain-and-Gonad-Homogenization-Techniques for the Modern Hillbilly." Of course, SexuallyattractedtohispetTarantula was on this week’s cover issue, which is another story entirely, seeing as he has already mastered the art of sexual and intellectual masochism (as though he’d ever need to even practice, seeing as there was never the significant existence of either for him to deplete upon. I guess it is possible to be in the negative ranges of both categories, if circumstances are this tragic). The following letter merely cites a recent experience as interpreted by the editors of the magazine, seeing as SpaceTongue’s hukd-on-fonix-anemic-and-desperately-seeking-nouns-and-the-letters-f-a-k-and-u style of writing (said loosely, as I doubt that it really counts as writing if it was composed of his stool and bloodied-piss as strategically aimed onto a piece of dry modly skin off of his left ass cheek) is legitimately illegible.

 

 

Dear Playgirl Magazine,

I happened to look through my 1,865 lb. twin (with whom I currently share my enema bag) sister’s copy of your magazine after a night of our habitual lesbianic fingering and, as a spayed member of the race of *special* individuals ranked by the amount of excretion we can cover ourselves with in one sitting, I’ve got to tell you that you have changed my life.

After my post incestful-palpation therapeutic bath in the septic tank under my local YMCA, I noticed a usually closed door had been left open a crack (more so than the outstretched crack in my ass, which as been employed way too much recently by RandomsEdge, who likes to play lead-pipe-friendly-gynecologist with each of his personalities, and my Grand-Canyon-on-Ecstasy-and-White-Dwarf-catalyzing-implosion ass hole). Stealthily peering inside, I was treated to the most incredible display of decrepit, naked, furrowed male flesh! I realized I was looking into the male porto-potty at the nearby construction site and after a few minutes of staring, I thought my hot, deflated loin (or what is left of it) was going to burst.

Suddenly, this sexy pre-retirement prune noticed my horny, prying eyes, sashayed to the door and- to my surprise- punched me right in the groin (destroyed all of that which was left)! Then he called the police who arrested me and took me to County Jail. Now I am awaiting trial on three counts of violation of privacy and city sanitation codes. If only I had ever used that shower in the back of my immobile home (if my 675 lb. ass could fit through the door) I would have definitely gotten ass from that fine specimen for your magazine. His names is Silver Guy (212) 555-6969.

Yours farcely,

SmackTime.

 

 

I hope you realize, ST, that I see through your endeavor to disguise your hollow attempts at flaming and lack of sexual inhibition or intellect with obvious explosions of pure distaste and idiocy claiming to be sharp and clever, but truly only proving continuously to be bouts of unsupported waste and vile perversion. You have been exposed as a fraud of the human race, and I am your judge, jury, and executioner. You might want to start praying now to your self-proclaimed almighty god, Bob the Bologna King, before you meet the fate which I assure to your putrefaction of an immortal soul.

Continue to eat your lice-ridden pubic hair as you try so determinedly to convince your follower, RE, TrapperBen, and Charmed, that it tastes just like chicken, because your stupidity will follow you to the depth of eternal torture if you even try to fuck with me.

May the farce be with you.

Stochi.

Enh.

Date: 7/27/2000
From: SpaceTime

I'm not reading Stoker Chick's post. I don't have time. I'm too busy getting ready to party. This whole contest has been retarded from the get go - I've been treated to weak ass opponent after weak-ass opponent. Well, I no longer care.

I'm saying "JUBBLIES" just for nostalgia's sake, in the hopes that Darkslider will realize that I AM A GOD. No contest will change that.

Stochi, if you win, kick ass. If not, whatever. The BBoard is as pointless as Darkslider's toupee. Winning the Tournament of Pee isn't the greatest honor in the world, and never will be.

Later.

- sT

Ah, shit.

Date: 7/27/2000
From: Stoker_chick

Now that's two in a row with no show opponents. Does this signify cheapness? I was kind of looking forward to an actual final round, despite lack of time. What the hell gives?

Anyway, thanks again, ds, for the opportunity to have this. I was well worth the time and effort.

Finally, something deconstructively productive with no disgusting after taste (except maybe for RE after the entertainment of ToPO).

See ya around. Thanks, also, for all of the comments. I wanted to wait until after the tournament to say the previous, due to a common interpretation of sucking ass, which I guess is probably no longer necessary.

Peace man.

Stochi.

Dude, fucking genious ST. . .

Date: 7/27/2000
From: Stoker_chick

it's not for the point of being a fucking honor.

I know you can't be that stupid. The ToP was just for the hell of boredom, genious. Flame for the hell of it, not for the, in the words of ds, "illustrious and MAGICAL prize."

Get a fucking sense of humor. You are not above everyone else, in fact, you are obviously to fucking low on the food chain to face up to the fact that the human race is not a 5k.

Peace out.

Stochi.

You know what, Stochi?

Date: 7/27/2000
From: SpaceTime

FUCK OFF.

Seriously, you have the audacity to get all up in arms because I was a minute late? PLEASE. You had one person flake out on you. I HAD EVERY OPPONENT WITHER AND FALL BEFORE I THREW THE FIRST SALVO. Their apathy turned my care for this contest into a bitter boil that I'd swallow every time Darkslider brought it up.

And now, having a moment to read your pathetic attempt to flame me, where you throw every flaming cliche in the BOOK at me (sexuality, calling names), I have to laugh. I mean, really, where's the innovation? There's isn't any. It's sad. So very sad.

In fact, if this post is disqualified because it's MIDNIGHT IN FUCKING NEW YORK, WHERE I CARE FOR NOT ONE PERSON - so what. At least I let my feelings be known, regardless of the consequences.

You suck. I rule. I will always be the King of Flames. I don't need this to tell me otherwise.

EAT A FAT, FAT DICK.

- ST

Original URL http://www.scifi.com/bboard/browse.cgi/1/5/545/22328
Nominated by darkslider