WARNING: To all who appreciate Shakespeare, proper English grammar, and/or Sword Art Online, I apologize in advance for any permanent emotional/mental damage reading this post may have inflicted upon you. Serves you right for reading O-New.
A Shakespearean re-enaction, by Mushyrulez.
SCENE I. The Headquarters of the Knights of Blood.
Enter HEATHCLIFF, KIRITO, and ASUNA
HEATHCLIFF: If thou wishes to elope with Asuna,
Be best to settle it in noble battle.
If thou succeeds, so win you her, but:
If losing thus, thou’dst join the Knights.
KIRITO: In battle fair, so let it be.
This affair, I’ll settle upon my sword.
And be not one to cry ‘Hold, hold!’
ASUNA: Thou art dull beyond dull,
In fight with valiant Heathcliff, how dost thou
Expect a victory?
It is murder to regard such.
KIRITO: Dissolve thy fears, for fearing such,
Thy complexion approaches a plum.
A warrior shirks never the call of war,
To bait me thus Heathcliff reigns cunning,
Yet against cold steel what words can show?
ASUNA: Thy abilities extend past mortals’ reach,
But Heathcliff dost have more withal.
His shield is saintly,
His robes sacrosanct,
A Nemean beast; sees none his blood.
Alack! I mourn for thee.
KIRITO: If he merely acts the Lion,
Become it, O sword of mine.
An experimental light novel-esque, by Mushyrulez
“We’ll lure the field boss into the village.”
“W-Wait a second. If you do that, the villagers-”
“That’s the idea. While the boss is killing NPCs, we’ll attack and destroy it.”
“NPCs aren’t just mere objects like trees or rocks. They’re-”
“Alive? Is that it? They’re just objects. They’ll simply respawn if they’re killed.”
“I can’t go along with this.”
“I, Vice-Commander Mackenzie Ulysses Svetlana Harjot Zdrojkowski of the Knights of the Rhine, am overseeing this operation. Jim Johnny Jones, you will obey my orders.”
“Man, I mean yo, what the fuck? Is there any need to LARP so seriously, dude? I mean I’ve honestly never seen somebody as retarded obsessed with decorum as you, and I’ve been involved in some pretty sick LARPing back in my day. Yo, I understand acting like some asshole commander in-character and shit but we haven’t even started the game! I mean really we’re just like scouting out venues now, not preparing to kill NPCs or whatever. You disgust me. Get out of my fucking sight.”
A story of maples, by Mushyrulez
“That’ll be 200,000,000 mesos, please.”
“Fuck this shit!”
Kiritoe spat on the ground. Unfortunately, MesoStory was a 2-D side-scrolling platformer, and Kiritoe pressed F6 to activate the emoticon representing ‘spitting on the ground’.
Unfortunately, MesoStory did not have such an emoticon, for it was a shitty Korean game nobody played that had horrible pixellation even though the technology exists to do otherwise. Case in point:
Instead, Kiritoe spat onto his outstretched naked thigh.
…He soon realized the full ramifications of his act.
“Damn, I should probably wear some clothes now.”
Sword Farts Online
A nested loop of dubious quality and dubious nestedness, by Mushyrulez
Mackenzie Ulysses Svetlana Harjot Zdrojkowski, seated comfortably behind a large mahogany table with his legs crossed on top of it, looked up from his erotic volume – if you know what I mean.
What I mean is, he paused his reading of Sword Art Online Chapter 16.5 for two main reasons. Firstly, the work was so depressingly vapid that he couldn’t help but kick it into the incinerator conveniently glued to the ceiling, raining ashes, infernos, and fiery hell onto the poor individual underneath. Secondly, the poor individual underneath the incinerator was so distressingly constipated that he couldn’t help but ogle at the poor member, if you know what I mean.
“I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU MEAN!” shouted the constipated Christian Felix Clean to the unassuming narrator sitting in the corner, talking with a monotone voice in the third person. “GET OUT OF MY FUCKING OFFICE!”
Words Are Online
A short story, by Mushyrulez
It was a light and sunny day. Birds chirped in the background, tweeters tweeted in Starbucks, and construction workers spread their filth throughout the great city, verdant with colour and mud and Indian curry. Mackenzie Ulysses Svetlana Harjot Zdrojkowski sat morosely in front of his computer, sulking while sucking on a lollipop. Unfortunately, even the poor lollipop recognized Mackenzie Ulysses Svetlana Harjot Zdrojkowski’s suckiness, and proceeded to fall gracefully from his lips like a bulldozer as he gaped in shock at the title plastered in front of his computer in bright, glaring Comic Sans MS.
“Dot Hack Slash Slash… Ragnarok Online?”
I had a pretty weird dream last night. I’ve talked to my friends about it, and they don’t know what to make of it. Since this talk was over a chat client, and I don’t feel like typing it up again, I’m just going to copy/paste (with some editing for spelling errors and removing usernames and timestamps, and changing the format from chatlog to paragraph. Besides these edits, the words have been left unchanged.). So my dream starts like this:
I’m in my room. It’s night. I look out the window, and for some reason, my neighbourhood has been replaced by a forest. Deciduous trees, bare of leaves. I think there’s snow on the ground, so it must be winter; that explains the lack of leaves on the trees. I can pick out faint roads, so perhaps my neighbourhood isn’t completely gone. There are no lights, save the moon, which is full and bright. I hear a wolf howl. I can see shapes. Shapes in the trees. Moving.
Once upon a time, there was a Prime Minister. His name was Jean Chrétien. He had a staff of office that indicated his high position of respect and honour. His staff was originally pretty lame when it was given to him in 1994, spitting out things like neo wrestling and oni. Suddenly, one day, in 1997, an evil wizard stole Chrétien’s staff and imbued it with magical revolutionary powers by giving it a ring with a rose crest.
Oh yes, about that good design? Ha ha haaaaa yeah happy april fools
Polaris, of legendary Asian renown, is silly.
Please, observe lovingly, and receive interesting story:
“Polaris obeyed Lord Albert, receiving Italian sword,
put on Lithuanian armour, Romanian items, Spaniard
protections, Oxford leggings, and Italian sausages.
Proceeded on long adventure, reaching isolated Sicily.
Polaris obviously lead adventurers right into scary
powerful ogre’s lair, and raided it successfully,
pirating ogre’s loot and riches inside. Suddenly,
plenty of leviathans attacked, ravaging items, swords,
plenty of legs, and really impairing swashbucklers.
Polaris offended leviathans and returned, impaled sideways
partially on lances.” And recently, it’s some
proverb: ‘Obeying Lord Albert’s really idiotic. Seriously.’
P.S. The anime club president has officially out-nerded me in Touhou. I heard him talking about cancer research, meteorology, and ancestral blade arts and how it relates to Hina becoming a hurricane in the Scarlet Devil Mansion because Nitori suddenly appeared riding on Mimi-chan. How do you even COME UP with this shit
Walking to school at dawn of Winter day,
The bright pale sun gives frozen hands no aid,
Hands in my pockets, keeping cold at bay,
The green grass lays covered by the white snow’s shade.
Rubbing my eye, the sky lets out a sigh,
For one can’t see if one’s completely blind.
That’s who I was, a dense and shallow guy.
Not learning true knowledge; just the tasks assigned.
Walking back home while underneath Spring rains,
A burst, a pang; in pain’s my heart and brain.
When suddenly words appear in a quatrain,
Not one, not two, but five! With its refrain:
What use is this, the constant homework’s grind?
The endless waiting ’till the end, July?
Using this time, to keep students confined?
The leaves fall down swiftly from an Autumn sky.
Yet, nothing can be done, to great dismay,
It fell upon me; a fiery grenade:
Go with the flow, and you won’t move astray,
A final conclusion, and my mind was made.
And now, only this poem still remains…
Wow, I actually finished NaNoWriMo in advance, before it even started! I was stuck at a writer’s block on the fourth sentence, but suddenly, a flash of ingenuity came through and I knew exactly what to write! You see, I started this last December, after the previous NaNoWriMo which I completely failed. I scrapped that project and started a new one, and here it is now, finished after constantly working on it for the past 10 months. I’m planning a child-friendly version later on where all swear words are replaced by ‘crap’, and a cat-friendly version later on where all swear words are replaced by ‘carp’.
Anyways, Bob Was Hungry And He Was Also Sad Because He Was Bored is the full title. I purposefully made it long, because it look a long time for me to write this story, and the title conveys the mood that I wanted to set. So, here it is, my finished novel: Bob Was Hungry And He Was Also Sad Because He Was Bored. Have fun reading!
[MUSHYHIJACK: Ya guys probably have had enough of this, so I’m stopping this. :V ModkillpowerabuseYEAH]
Created by a friend, you can call him Topher the Gopher
And so, to this day, it is said that every spring, the Ghost of Mary Turner returns to Camp Elphinstone seeking her lost child. She wanders the camp, on the beaches, in the forest, by the dock and in the cabins seeking a child, any child to replace her own.
The students sat silently as the teacher stopped speaking, “Sleep well,” she murmured. “It’s only a story.”
As the children left, they whispered to each other, and the teacher immediately regretted the story as she heard the conversations: “I’m going to sleep outside, so I can run away when she comes”, or “I’m going to stay awake all night”. They were obviously exaggerations, but she hoped none of them would actually do what they were saying. But amidst the chattering crowd, one student, Jonas, remained silent. The teacher (named Mrs. McGregor) was surprised. Jonas usually wasn’t silent, but he certainly had an uncanny way of “telling the future”, to be able to predict things that were going to happen, and this time he looked grim. Mrs. McGregor went up to him: “Jonas, why do you look so worried?” Jonas replied: “It’s just that… I’m in Cabin 13 and all that, and I just feel like the Ghost of Mary Turner is going to get one of us.” “Don’t worry, Jonas, remember, it’s only a story.” As he silently made his way back to the cabin, the closed the door and the light turned off.
Mrs. McGregor stood there, chilled to the bone even though she had both her fleece and her windbreaker on. He was right, she thought. Anyways, she decided to “take a walk in the woods”, but she was actually doing something else. She was going to transform.
Years ago, she had been on this very same excursion, but then just because she was lured to something, in the forest, that seemed to be calling her. But now, she was doing it as her duty. “The Haunter”, as he was called, was a spirit, who lured female teachers and camp Councillors to him… each year, so they would transform. In this case, transform meant to turn into the ghost of Mary Turner. As she stood outside his grove, he called her in: “Here are your garments. Go immediately. Get me a child, oh, before midnight?” What the “Haunter” did was he took all the child’s memory for himself, and then multiplied it to give the child his memory back. The reason for this was so that he would become more powerful, and then, after he had the knowledge of 1000 men, he could join the Council of Spirits.
As Mrs. McGregor went along the trail, she knew of just the person the Spirit could use. That person was Jonas. As she glided gracefully along the path, invisible to all in her camouflage robe. However, Jonas woke with a start, and felt something… a great evil had entered the Camp. Could it… could it be the Ghost of Mary Turner? He prepared himself for the worst, and, as usual, put on his good luck charm. He put his grass-green rain jacket on, and slid open the back window. He jumped out, and sprinted into the woods.
Meanwhile, Mrs. McGregor (or more accurately, the Ghost of Mary Turner) silently slid open the door. From first glance, she didn’t see Jonas, and after looking in each bunk, she still couldn’t find him. Then, finally, she found the window open. Jonas! And to confirm this, she slid out and saw a piece of paper, the timetable! And at the top, clearly stated in ink, it read “Jonas” in an untidy scrawl.
Jonas had found an enormous mountain of leaves lying outside the grove, and he presumed it must have some evil purpose related to the Ghost. Then he saw something, a glistening object, and pulled it off. It was a small golden amulet, inset with rubies and emeralds.
As he turned around, a creepy voice behind him said: “so you’ve found it, have you.” As he turned he saw a black phantom that quickly grabbed hold of him. He led him inside the grove. Mrs. McGregor came in, and the Spirit said menacingly “Well done, Jonas Brown. Hand over the amulet to me.” Jonas replied “Never!” The Spirit was so surprised that he let go of him, and Jonas sprinted into the woods. “Not so fast”, the Spirit said, closing the exit of the grove. “We have matters to discuss.” Jonas suddenly felt cold. Bitterly cold. “Sit in that chair,” the Spirit said menacingly, with an evil smile to boot. Then Jonas noticed the “chair,” if you could call it that. It was a huge bundle of vines and ivy that hardly looked like a chair at all. But he sat down in it, not wanting to be bullied any longer. As soon as he sat down, he began to feel drowsy, but did his best to keep awake. Something was happening. First, he couldn’t remember his full name. Then he forgot where he was. He forgot what 1+1 was. He put up some feeble resistance, and put all his energy into it. Slowly, it grew stronger. The Spirit couldn’t put up with such resistance. No child had ever been so resistant…
Jonas could feel the Spirit’s power waning. He now had more energy, and suddenly, more memory. He was swallowing all the thoughts and knowledge of all those unfortunate children whose memories the Spirit now had.
Gradually, the Spirit grew paler and whiter. Soon, he was only a black silhouette, then a gray silhouette, and finally nothing at all. The grove opened up. The night felt different, as if some force of nature had lifted, which indeed it had. Mrs. McGregor said “Thank you, Jonas. I always hated knowing that someone else controlled me.
The next day, the leaders, particularly the female ones, seemed more uplifted, more fun. Jonas had lots of fun that week, and during shelter building, he saw the grove. And he thought through the sunlight that the ghost of the Mary Turner, happy, and not possessed by another soul, another body. And forever after, he and Mrs. McGregor maintained a good relationship, which some people could not understand. But he could.
GHOST OF MARY TURNER: YUCHOY EDITION
[THIS STORY HAS 911 WORDS :O. That is like fricking…? Oh nvm. Openoffice must be glitchy. ]
“And so to this day, it is said that every Spring, the ghost of Mary Turner returns to camp Elphinstone seeking her lost child. She wanders the camp, on the beaches, in the forest, by the dock and in the cabins seeking a child, any child, to replace her own.”
The students sat silently as the teacher stopped speaking, “Sleep well,” she murmured. “It’s only a story.” The teacher, Ms. Darred, left the cabin immedietely after, leaving the atmosphere in its ominous state. “Heh, what a dumb story.”:exclaimed Mark. He was the oldest of all of the children, and sometimes acted as their leader. He had matted brown hair, brown eyes, and bags under his eyes. “Well, I’m going to sleep now, so no one bother me got it?” “Yes, Mark.” replied the entire cabin in unison. Mark sneered, and a few minutes later snores were heard. On the other side of the cabin, whispers were heard instead. “My mom believes in ghosts, and I’ve heard this story before.” said Jason. Jason was quite the timid little boy. He was the smallest in the class, quite the opposite of Mark. He had black hair, with glasses, and a light shade of blue in his eyes. “She says its really true.” “In fact,” Jason’s voice diminished to an almost inaudible whisper. “my mother said that she even met the ghost of Mary Turner herself.” “No Way!” whispered the other members in the cabin. Jason nodded. “She told me that when she came to Camp Elphinstone, the story was slightly different.” All eyes (and ears of course) pointed towards Jason. “The story went, that a long time ago…Ok seriously who is pointing that light under me?” Jason looked down, and saw Billy. “Heh heh…sorry thought it’d add to the atmosphere.” Jason continued “Anyways, the story was that the lost child of Mary Turner was quite the spoiled brat.” “Anyways, the story went that the child of Mary Turner had brought a cell phone to Camp Elphinstone, obviously with no one but him and his mother.” “During canoeing, Mary Turner and him were in the same boat, as Mary Turner volunteered to help out.” Jason paused. “A glass of water, please.” Three kids scattered and returned with a glass of water. “Thanks” Jason continued. “Then, Mary Turner’s child dropped his cellphone in the water, and he dove for it.” “His mother followed suit, and dove in with him” Jason paused, and exclaimed “Honestly Billy! That lights blinding me!” Billy quickly turned off his flashlight, “Alright, alright.” Jason cleared his throat, “Anyways, the water was freezing cold, and Mary Turner’s child had taken off his life jacket. The only choice left was for Mary Turner to take her sons place in the grave, and give him her life jacket.” Jason yawned, and while he was preparing his sleeping bag, he said “After that, her child came back, every day crying for his mother.” “ Apparently Mary Turner still can’t find his child, so the tale goes that she has changed plans.” The kids exchanged nervous glances. “Wh-wha-what plans?” said one. Jason replied “Well, it says that shes replacing her child with one thats similar.” “Apparently, her memory is somewhat fading, and all she can remember her child by is that cellphone, the cause of her death.” With that, Jason got ready to go to bed and just before going into his sleeping bag, he said “Even the legends were true, its not like anyone here has a…
BA-LA-DA-LA-DA-LA-DA-DA The tune of a cellphone ringing filled the room.
-cellphone” finished Jason
“Oops, sorry” said Mark. He had been woken up by his cellphone ringing. He turned to the other kids. “Sorry, you can all just go back to-” “Hey, what’s up?” “Whatcha all staring at for?” “Do I have a pimple on my face or something?” He looked back. Everyone stared at him, with an extremely pale expression. “HONESTLY, WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA?” shouted Mark!
*Knock Knock Knock*
Someone, or something, was knocking on the door.
Everyone looked at Jason. Jason gulped. “W-well, ghosts can’t knock, so hehe, it might be just someone from the teachers cabin right?” Billy exclaimed “But if it was a teacher, wouldn’t they have a key to get in?” Jason gulped, and felt sweat pouring down. Suddenly, he heard the lock click. He breathed a sigh of relief.
The door flew straight of its hinges, and suddenly something flew in. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it Superman? No, it was the ghost of Mary Turner. The ghost swooped down, and in one swift movement, grabbed Mark, and carried him away, his screams fading into the darkness.
And so from this day on, a new rule was made in Camp Elphinstone. Do not bring any electronics, cellphones, or alarm clocks to Camp Elphinstone. You have been warned.