Orange You Glad

From gremionaked.
Alex and Andria were the best of friends and the most bitter of enemies. It was fate that they would find themselves at-nose-end at the Semi-Annual Citrustraviganza. Juicefacing is the oldest and most honored of traditions in their village which dated back to the founding fathers. As tradition has it, the winter of 1473 was unGodly cold and windy. Shelters fell apart, and food dwindled. At last, all but two villagers died, and all but one orange was consumed. Life-loves, the two affectionately remembered as Mamah and Papah, decided to share the fruit by mashing it between their faces, thereby ingesting its life-giving juice simultaneously. They lived, saw the horrid winter through, and the village was not extinquished. Today, Juicefacing is a spectator sport which is often wagered upon, and the winner shares the purse with local farmers. Andria emerged victorious, but the entire village won.

Scootimus Prime

From lepista.
Sometimes, "talking it out" just never settles the disagreement. Sometimes, you don't have to back down or apologize or take the last busted-down danish from the snackbar at work. And sometimes, a simple scooter just won't do. Sometimes. Your junk is effing cool. Sometimes. You win. And no one, not nobody, can say jackshit about it.

Beeing the Lizard

From satoyuka_windsor.
And the Rainbow Lizard that lived beneath the Red Tree of Creativity said to the Big Green Bee, "Big Green Bee, bring me THREE of the brightest red cherryapples that ever grew, and I won't eat you, and you can pollinate the Pink Shrub of Atonement. And the Big Green Bee buzzed away and DID find the three brightest red cherryapples that ever grew, and brought them all back, one by one. And the Rainbow Lizard that lived beneath the Red Tree of Creativity went "LAWD!!" and was pleased at the fruit. The Big Green Bee pollinated the Pink Shrub of Atonement, and buzzed back to the Big Green Hive and made gallons and gallons of the bestest tasting honey that ever was.

Emperical

From Lil Munki.
"Sir." *nod*
"We haven't thine droids! Begone ye scoundrels!"
"So you are aware of the rogue droids."
"Good sir knight, we knowest not of these droids which you lament."
"TK421, we need backup."
"Your words are strange, and we are but merry eaters of onions."
"You are wasting our time. Tell us what you know about the droids."
"Ye knave! Methinkest thou mayhap be taking yon Fantasy Fest a bit more than seriously?"
"Lord Vader will hear of your transgressions!!"
"Jesus buddy, knock it off... have a little less blue milk and a couple onion rings. Frig."
"Prepare yourselves for detention!"
"Seriously dude, dang, you're really screwing up our whole medieval gig here. Scram or something."
...
"The Emperor calls. You are lucky, lucky thieves."
...
"This place is covered up with loonies. Anyone seen my lochbar axe?"

Push It Real Good

From ::annie.
All of us are champions on the inside. A few of us are champions on the outside. Billy Strontinson is one of those of us whose championship shows. Billy is travels our world, from one monument of human achievement to another, leaving in his wake two things; awareness and record-setting consecutive pushups. From the Great Wall to Chichen Itza, Billy has pushed himself up dozens and dozens of times, honing his health, and reminding everyone that these great treasures are more than lovely scenery. I, for one, follow Billy Strontinson's example of achievement and devotion. Cheers, Billy, this cold one's for you.

Stars and Bars

From nycz'u.
The original Homeland Security Advisory System's threat level chart was not quite as descriptive as the one we have now. Today, we can all feel safe in the five color-coded levels, each clear and distinct: Green - Low. Blue - Guarded. Yellow - Elevated. Orange - High. Red - Severe. This was not always the case. In the late 1800's, all we had to warn us was the 4-bands of the old system: Shitty Green - No Problemo. BustedUp White - Mule Thieves. Sky Blue - Injuns. Plain White - God's Wrath. Now, we have radio, TV, the internet, and threat levels that light a clear path.

Am I Blue

From Todor Kamenov.
Well as it turns out, there was a period of about a fortnight when Imhotep fell ill to a mold-related intestinal bug. And for that two weeks, the whole of the empire of Ancient Egypt was under the thumb of Muah'hah'nep The Blue. Very little is known about his very brief reign, but as we can see from the hieroglyphic record placed upon this minute statue, we know that Muah'hah'nep was a ruthless and cruel follower of the anal-retentive pet monkey of Anubus. In the blink of the eye of history, Muah'hah'nep tidied up the royal chambers so deftly, that upon his return to the throne, Imhotep was vexed beyond madness at not being able to find ANYTHING that was RIGHT where he left it. Muah'hah'nep was, rightly, blamed, and soon thereafter, murdered. His body was not preserved by mummification, a process reserved for royalty, but was instead used to mulch the royal pampass grass fields, never to be seen again, and until now, almost wiped from the face of humanity's memory. We are indeed blessed by this tiny bit of the puzzle that is now in place.

Girls On Film

From tualatin.
I always knew we were not alone.
I always knew that someone was out there, somewhere.
I always knew that when they did come, everything we knew would change, forever.
It was going to happen, just a matter of when.

And then it happened.
And they were busty and clear.
They had no arms and no heads.
All the questions were answered, and all at once...
...all new questions were asked.

Three Strikes

From yellowtailshark.
"AGAIN, BOY."
"Hawks baseball is the best baseball and the tent of arms is the pyramid of skill, may it focus my talents on the field."
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU."
"I saaaiiid... hawks baseball is the best baseball and the tent of arms is the pyramid of skill, may it focus my talents on the field."
"GODDAMNIT BOY SAY IT AGAIN. LIKE YOU MEAN IT."
"Hawks baseball. Is the best baseball. The tent of arms. Is the pyramid of skill. May it focus my talents. On the field."
"IF YOU DON'T WAKE UP AND GET YOUR HEAD IN THIS THING YOU WILL NEVER GO PRO. MY GRANDMA WILL GO PRO BEFORE YOU GO PRO. AGAIN."
"My arms are tired."
"AGAIN!@#$"
"HAWKS BASEBALL IS THE BEST BASEBALL AND THE TENT OF ARMS IS THE PYRAMID OF SKILL, MAY IT FOCUS MY TALENTS ON THE FIELD."
"Attaboy, Chad. That is it. Hit the showers, I need a tissue."
"K, Coach.

Brats

From NormalJean.
Fear not, Earthling. I will not harm you... much. I am only here for your action figures. We have traveled long years through space, triangulating your signals broadcast from your television satellites, and at last we are here. Now. Tell me where we can find Scarlett, Jane West, and most importantly, where is that tasty morsel Midge? TELL ME! *beep, whirr, click*

Disturbing

From Missionary Midwife.
Yeah, I thought that whole "you're a Jedi because you have Midichlorians in your blood" was a cheapass plot cop-out too... until I tried to take a picture of CarrieMae Miller. Faster than I could yell "say cheese", she went all Darth Maul on me and stankeyed my camera. This was the only shot out of the lot that was even partially in focus; she pumped out that Jedi crap all over me and broke my clavicle, spilled my drink, ruined a whole roll of really good film. Remind me to never take photos for friends' weddings or those freaky Star Wars bake sales.

CRAYZE EDDIE

From MacAllenBrothers.
IS YOUR MEAT OLD, BUSTED, NOGOOD? IS YOUR MEAT DULL, DRAB, LIFELESS? IF YOUR MEAT SKANKED, PLANKED, OR OTHERWISE GANKED? THEN DRAG IT, PULL IT, PUSH IT, SMOOSH IT, AND GET ON DOWN TO CRAYYYYZE EDDIES MEAT MART! CRAZY EDDIE LIKES BAD CREDIT, POOR CREDIT, NO CREDIT. BECAUSE CRAYZE EDDIE LIKES CASH. CASH FOR MEAT. CASH FOR MEAT. CASH FOR MEAT. CRAYZE EDDIE SELLS MEAT. CRAYZE EDDIE BUYS MEAT. CRAYZE EDDIE BARTERS MEAT. CRAYZE EDDIE'S CRAYZE. CRAYZE EDDIE RENTS MEAT. CRAYZE EDDIE LEASES MEAT. CRAYZE EDDIE TIMESHARES MEAT. CRAYZE EDDIE IS MEAT CRAYZE, BROTHER! IF IT'S MONEY, AND IF IT'S MEAT, CRAYZE EDDIE IS ALL ABOUT IT. YOU STAB IT, CRAYZE EDDIE SLABS IT.
LET'S MEAT.
AT CRAYZE EDDIES.

Contraction

From radtky.
I cannot overestimate the importantness of measuring. If I don't focus and measure every square foot of this place correctly, that means what? Right. Problems for you and yers from now on in. Then I leave, and you're all "that damn Chuck caint do shit", and then you tell yer friends and they tell theyers, and then the problems MINE again 'cause I caint get work anywheres in the whole county, and I'm back on paintin Walmarts again and I swore to my Holy Lord that'd never be the case. Han' me that chalkline and that there plumbbob, it's the blue thing and the sharp thing on a string. IT'S DAMN HUMID IN HERE. Hotdamn, was that eight foot two and a quarter or seven foot three and threequarter... ...sonofabitch I better do this again.

OOT-E-POC

From thox.
"Fellow members of the honorable Order of the Endless Pits of Challemby, I welcome you to the periodic meeting of souls. If you recall last time, our first gathering, we chartered the OOT-E-POC, and achieved full agreement on the holy color of our representation of honor, Blue, or anything sorta blue enough. New business; we have Honored Brother Steve, who's got a microphone hooked up to his Shuffle and wired that into his mom's boombox so we can preserve proceedings digitally. Whoot Whoot Brother Steve."
"Whoot Whoot Brother Steve."
"Order. More new business, I made staffs for us all, we have an extra for whoever we can get to be keeper of the sacred stones, so all five staves, staffs, um sticks are here. Whoot Whoot Brother Me."
"Whoot Whoot Brother Terry."
"Order. On to furture business. We need to think up or find some sacred stones. Once we hire a keeper of the sacred stones, he'll need a job. Also, if anyone can think of a better meeting place than Honored Brother Steve's Respectable Mom's basement, we need submissions and logistical ideas by next time, since Steve's mom is getting a little creeped out. That'll wrap it up. MAHCHENNAH OOT-E-POC!"
"MAHCHENNAH OOT-E-POC!!"

Grindstone

From proto001.
It's the curve, man. THAT's where God is. Satan's in the straights. See, it's the freakin yin and yang like the Chinese always said. It's the endless balance that can't be named. You work the curve and the curve talks to you and then you learn to listen. But you gotta see you gotta hear you gotta TASTE the damn difference because on an angle a curve and a straight all look the shittin SAME! see! If you don't pay it that kind of attention, you're gonna be making eggs and bacon one day and sonofashit, you'll wake up to find you've been feeding the devil and now he's stronger than he was when you had your chance, but NOW what can ya do! That's why I'm workin the curve, gotta sand it smooth and keep it clean. ...hey where you going? I got news for ya, you need to hear it... FINE WELL DONT SLAM THE TENT FLAP ON YER WAY OUT. I'M FEEDING YOU GEMS IN HERE BUT ALL YOU WANNA EAT IS DIRT OFF THE STREET... SO ENJOY DINNER YOU WASTE OF TIME, I HOPE YOU WAKE UP SOME DAY SOON AND FINE YOUR CIGARETTE LIGHTER FULL OF MUSTARD!!@#!$#@!!

Clamdigger

From Cynthia Sapna.
In the old days, we had to keep the tides by hand. The hardest part was pushing the water back out for low tide, we almost NEVER got low tide on time. Have you ever tried pushing water... by hand? Hmm. We did, however, finally work out, sonofabitch, hang on... HORACE! HORACE!! TELL MURRY TO PULL WHEN WE PULL. PULL WHEN WE PULL. YES. YES. NO, I SAID MURRY. PULL WHEN WE PULL. Sorry, sorry, I thought we had all the LOGISTICS *eyeroll* worked out over coffee this morning, but you know how short peoples' attenions get when they bust out the Mahjong.

Big Deal

From madtrap.
I suppose life was as normal for us as anyone else. We watched alot of cartoons, ate alot of Hamburger Helper, mixed gallons and gallons of Kool-Aid, caught fireflies in jars with holes jabbed into the lid. Summers were odd after Tommy McMahon won that SWEET eBay auction for the cheap chemistry set... made us all small and everything.

Assembly

From WhiteNoiseMaker.
Now focus. HOW many TIMES do I have to tell you... the magnifug hypodrive on our spaceship won't start until we re-assemble the antigriggon chamber. How do you not get this? If we get just one single piece out of allignment, the antigriggon chamber WON'T contain the griggon particles, they well richochet all over our near vicinity, pierce the hull and LEAK OUR AIR INTO THE VACUUM OF SPACE. But hey. Priorities. Go eat more cake. See if I care. SEE IF I BREATHE WHEN WE'RE HALF WAY THROUGH GRAVSLING MANEUVER AROUND GODDAMN SATURN!!@#$#@%!!