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Hai pals and not pals. If you read this thread: https://swoobles.com/forums/thread-10851.html you would know I intended to write a story. I think I'm average at writing while some people find it enjoyable. If you don't like it don't read it! Criticism welcome but pls no hurt me

This is going to be an intro, approximately one third the minimum length of what I intend to give in pieces. I'm thinking ahead on what I will write about, but what I write will often be chosen on the spot. I also intend to ask further questions from community members to build the story. I'm doing this because the goal is to keep the content fresh, funny, and topical. Don't expect story lines to make sense. Let fantasy wash over you and assuage all worry. This whole fucking thing is a joke.


"Nine years of this Kevin" said Wilfred, an aged regal butler, in a tone as dreary and monotone as it ever was. Wilfred looked up and locked his equally dreary eyes to a more passionate set... before him stood the President himself after all. "My name will never be Kevin, Wilfred. I remain unsure while you insist to call me tha- HEY WATCH ME THIS TIME I SWEAR!" - the high pitched voice standing out against the previously deep toned conversation. Annoying as is it was the first four times, this time it seemed to be said with more determination, they both turned and looked. Wilfred trudged through his point in another monotone statement "Supreme shoes, hoodie, and hat. Calvin Klein underwear. His socks haven't been washed in 9 weeks,  sir... Kevin." Only a sigh greeted him in response. Another whine "I was just doing it last night!" yelled the young male, as he ran from one end of the pool to the other.

Nodding slowly, the President turned his back to the Olympic size pool before him. Assuming they were done with the exercise Wilfred drew his Magnum revolver and quickly trained it on the temple of the 17 year old man running around before him. For a man of his age it wasn't just an accurate movement, it was a rapid one. Unquestionable was his lack of excitement to kill. Determination of finishing a repeated task was the only look he wore. He fires. Enough halogen light-bulbs to cover 3 football fields blink out simultaneously. It appears the President had turned off the lights. Wilfred didn't wonder for an instant if the man before him was alive or dead. He firmly knew that answer.

While every roof, wall, floor, and structure light had blinked out simultaneously two light sources were still present. "They're not Supremes, Wilfred. He's wearing Light-Up Sketchers™." The young man was alive. He wasn't only alive. What had been before a minute long jaunt from end to end of the pool was being accomplished in seconds. Not only that, he seemed to be getting faster. At one end of the pool he suddenly turned, and attempted to run out on top of the water. It wasn't only Wilfred this time that instantly knew the outcome. It didn't work at all. Well... to be truthful something worked in a way. He sank very fast.

So fast the man sank that he damaged the bottom of the pool with the top of his skull. As Wilfred claps his hands 8 more servants quickly step forward, diving into the pool. With the grace and efficiency of a synchronized swimming team all 8 contribute to lifting him from the water equally. They quite less elegantly dump him onto the edge of the pool. Wilfred, quite less dreary now, stated "He's alive, sir!" "I assumed. You of all people know we tend to be a bit less fragile than most humans" said the President in rebuttal. He continued "It's been 3 years since we've had one. I'm sending him right in for information. I'm not waiting for training." The largely respected and wholly feared man turned his back once again on the pool. Wilfred asked no questions, he had seen the next step before. He began to drag the Supreme and Sketcher dressed young man out towards the entrance to the initial hall.

5 people sat waiting stewing in varied emotions. Dread. Agitation. Excitement. Pride. They had just seen a stupidly dressed young man go into the room across from them. They had all just heard a gun shot. Two thick stone doors crashed open. They once more saw into the room across from them, a pool, and then grass as far as the eye saw, but this time it wasn't Wilfred opening the door. Before them stood the President of the United Swoobles of Africa. President for an unprecedented 9 years. He has been in the public eye less than 5 days a year. All 5 people knew that their kidnapping was about to get a whole lot more interesting than the drugged jet flight that had brought them here.

What the actual fuck
does this mean shitposting is legal
yes... its happening... HOORAH
100000000000000000000000 rpm
(12-29-2017, 06:05 PM)Agent69 Wrote: [ -> ]does this mean shitposting is legal

tbh I was hesitant between general chat and the showroom.

to me I'm putting enough time in where I think the showroom is acceptable, but I want general chat level posts. Upon rethinking it I tried to move it to general a few moments ago... I can only move threads in certain places, like admin apps. Oh well!
speech 100
Since we have light up sketchers, can we add heelies as well lol
Don’t forget about this bw! Do more!
I have a decent draft saved. I'm at a weird spot of enjoying writing it enough where I keep changing things and having new ideas that change how I want to time my actual plot devices. I should've just stayed whimsical but I saw a start and a finish and a couple middle parts. I'm putting much more thought into it than originally planned, sorry for the delay!
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