Originally Posted by Badweather (Post 479084)

Don't know shit about you. All I know is that EVERYONE besides me thinks you're a faggot.

Unfortunately for you, that's my way in.

Wouldn't be hard to feign one sort of common ground with you and earn your trust. Trust is a fool's wish. Starts off with PM's when someone trolls you hard enough to prompt another epic public response from you. But we relate mostly on being mid tier in our crafts, and once you learn how jovial I am, the rest of the walls come down.


And even though I don't want to be there...I'm in.


And the only reason I don't want to be "in" is because all I've seen from EVERYONE else is that you're a faggot.


But it's cool. My uncle's a Faggot too.


Anyway, I slide thru with my nieces and nephews during spring break. You're immediately disarmed.


But me? I'm definitely armed.

In your town, faggotville...I tell you we're at chuck e cheese's and I Snapchat you a bunch of 10 second videos of children playing and me drinking delicious fountain beer for the low low.


You're like "fuck it, I don't have friends and netcees.gov is pretty slow," so you cab it.


Know what rhymes with cab it? Faggot.


Anyway you show up. I'm not drunk but I'm buzzed enough to have glazed puppy dog eyes. You trust everything I say.

I immediately stand up give you a five and tell you how I went the netcees archives and pinpoint battles that you were robbed in. Shit you've bitched about, so your guard is practically nonexistent.

I go on to ask toy really personal shit, in between your stories I tell you how everybody got my personal life wrong too, as I tell you the stories of me and Geno slamming shots and hollerin at bitches on the pier.

The whole time, I'm pointing a gun at your stomach under the table.

I'm laughing, making eye contact, leaning back away from you...you're super comfortable.

A white kid runs past the table with three tickets in his hand. You stop smiling and sit upright in the booth.


I can't blast yet, even though you're wide open. Your eyes filling with moisture. I'm like "what's going on Al?" And put the safety on


Click


You're like "no...no...take it off"

I'm like "take what off? Mt shirt and pants you faggot?"


You're like "no...the safety... And you're right! I AM a faggot"


My shoulders relax and I mutter "so I'm not responsible for this...right?"


You shake your head no and motion for the gun.


I hand it to you under the table, you wipe a tear and say out loud so the family in The next booth hears "man, I gotta piss this beer's running right thru me" then you cover your mouth cause you said "piss" at a chuck e cheese's.

Quietly, you saunter into the bathroom



POP!


I finish my beer, cash in the 24 tickets my little Ines made and buy a plastic spider ring.


Walk to the bathroom throw it on top of your dead body and say
"Better luck on the web next time, faggot."

Pull the gun from your dead hands, walk out, look down at my nephew and say

"Wow...this time...I was the one that didn't expect it."

Originally Posted by Badweather (Post 479084)

Don't know shit about you. All I know is that EVERYONE besides me thinks you're a faggot.

Unfortunately for you, that's my way in.

Wouldn't be hard to feign one sort of common ground with you and earn your trust. Trust is a fool's wish. Starts off with PM's when someone trolls you hard enough to prompt another epic public response from you. But we relate mostly on being mid tier in our crafts, and once you learn how jovial I am, the rest of the walls come down.


And even though I don't want to be there...I'm in.


And the only reason I don't want to be "in" is because all I've seen from EVERYONE else is that you're a faggot.


But it's cool. My uncle's a Faggot too.


Anyway, I slide thru with my nieces and nephews during spring break. You're immediately disarmed.


But me? I'm definitely armed.

In your town, faggotville...I tell you we're at chuck e cheese's and I Snapchat you a bunch of 10 second videos of children playing and me drinking delicious fountain beer for the low low.


You're like "fuck it, I don't have friends and netcees.gov is pretty slow," so you cab it.


Know what rhymes with cab it? Faggot.


Anyway you show up. I'm not drunk but I'm buzzed enough to have glazed puppy dog eyes. You trust everything I say.

I immediately stand up give you a five and tell you how I went the netcees archives and pinpoint battles that you were robbed in. Shit you've bitched about, so your guard is practically nonexistent.

I go on to ask toy really personal shit, in between your stories I tell you how everybody got my personal life wrong too, as I tell you the stories of me and Geno slamming shots and hollerin at bitches on the pier.

The whole time, I'm pointing a gun at your stomach under the table.

I'm laughing, making eye contact, leaning back away from you...you're super comfortable.

A white kid runs past the table with three tickets in his hand. You stop smiling and sit upright in the booth.


I can't blast yet, even though you're wide open. Your eyes filling with moisture. I'm like "what's going on Al?" And put the safety on


Click


You're like "no...no...take it off"

I'm like "take what off? Mt shirt and pants you faggot?"


You're like "no...the safety... And you're right! I AM a faggot"


My shoulders relax and I mutter "so I'm not responsible for this...right?"


You shake your head no and motion for the gun.


I hand it to you under the table, you wipe a tear and say out loud so the family in The next booth hears "man, I gotta piss this beer's running right thru me" then you cover your mouth cause you said "piss" at a chuck e cheese's.

Quietly, you saunter into the bathroom



POP!


I finish my beer, cash in the 24 tickets my little Ines made and buy a plastic spider ring.


Walk to the bathroom throw it on top of your dead body and say
"Better luck on the web next time, faggot."

Pull the gun from your dead hands, walk out, look down at my nephew and say

"Wow...this time...I was the one that didn't expect it."

Originally Posted by Badweather (Post 479084)

Don't know shit about you. All I know is that EVERYONE besides me thinks you're a faggot.

Unfortunately for you, that's my way in.

Wouldn't be hard to feign one sort of common ground with you and earn your trust. Trust is a fool's wish. Starts off with PM's when someone trolls you hard enough to prompt another epic public response from you. But we relate mostly on being mid tier in our crafts, and once you learn how jovial I am, the rest of the walls come down.


And even though I don't want to be there...I'm in.


And the only reason I don't want to be "in" is because all I've seen from EVERYONE else is that you're a faggot.


But it's cool. My uncle's a Faggot too.


Anyway, I slide thru with my nieces and nephews during spring break. You're immediately disarmed.


But me? I'm definitely armed.

In your town, faggotville...I tell you we're at chuck e cheese's and I Snapchat you a bunch of 10 second videos of children playing and me drinking delicious fountain beer for the low low.


You're like "fuck it, I don't have friends and netcees.gov is pretty slow," so you cab it.


Know what rhymes with cab it? Faggot.


Anyway you show up. I'm not drunk but I'm buzzed enough to have glazed puppy dog eyes. You trust everything I say.

I immediately stand up give you a five and tell you how I went the netcees archives and pinpoint battles that you were robbed in. Shit you've bitched about, so your guard is practically nonexistent.

I go on to ask toy really personal shit, in between your stories I tell you how everybody got my personal life wrong too, as I tell you the stories of me and Geno slamming shots and hollerin at bitches on the pier.

The whole time, I'm pointing a gun at your stomach under the table.

I'm laughing, making eye contact, leaning back away from you...you're super comfortable.

A white kid runs past the table with three tickets in his hand. You stop smiling and sit upright in the booth.


I can't blast yet, even though you're wide open. Your eyes filling with moisture. I'm like "what's going on Al?" And put the safety on


Click


You're like "no...no...take it off"

I'm like "take what off? Mt shirt and pants you faggot?"


You're like "no...the safety... And you're right! I AM a faggot"


My shoulders relax and I mutter "so I'm not responsible for this...right?"


You shake your head no and motion for the gun.


I hand it to you under the table, you wipe a tear and say out loud so the family in The next booth hears "man, I gotta piss this beer's running right thru me" then you cover your mouth cause you said "piss" at a chuck e cheese's.

Quietly, you saunter into the bathroom



POP!


I finish my beer, cash in the 24 tickets my little Ines made and buy a plastic spider ring.


Walk to the bathroom throw it on top of your dead body and say
"Better luck on the web next time, faggot."

Pull the gun from your dead hands, walk out, look down at my nephew and say

"Wow...this time...I was the one that didn't expect it."

Originally Posted by Bagsworth Bentley (Post 479073)

These are quality

Me next

Originally Posted by Badweather (Post 479151)

I was waiting for you, you're the 5th Teletubby "Hairy"


I'd get your attention posing as chubby low self-esteem having house wife with mediocre dental standing.


Miranda, half black half Venezuelan. I'd hit you up on one of the popular dating sites...cause I know you're a member, after tracing your overbearing dominance back to the complex and deeply imbedded feelings of inferiority you have.


With this known, I'd hit you up under the impression that my husband is always at work and has very boring sex practices.

I'd be slow about it though...I'd give you three months before I tell you that I've always wanted to be pissed on. Of course this would come after luring you into a false sense of dominance. After random emailing suggesting that I'm weak and afraid of my husband finding out that I'm talking to a younger stronger man. I tell you we can't talk on phone because I'm afraid he'll take his aggression out on me because you're too big and strong for him.

....but I can meet you somewhere because you're a real man.



You agree to meet up 'cause you're fucking sick. And need to be shot.


I tell you to meet me at a park, and to dress up like a pirate with a cardboard gun. cause I've always had the desire to be humiliated by a fat pirate before he made me walk down his plank. ;)


You're soooo down.

You arrive before I do.

At least you think you did.


I text you to wait for me, cause I'm finishing up putting on my water proof eyeliner. I'm waiting in the bushes though.

As I'm waiting, I'm keeping my eye on netcees, waiting for you to post about being on the cusp of a new horrible exploit.

While waiting for that I notice you're gonna wanna take some stress off your knees, so as you take a load off on a bench.

I crawl around behind you, put the gun up to your tail bone

Pop pop pop pop!

You fall off the bench, rolling around like

"Àrrrrgh! Arrrgh!"

I'm just laying there, watching you bleeding out of your ass with no emotion or empathy.

With your last dying seconds your eyes scramble around your orbitals looking for some sort of visual relief, that's when you see me, lying on my side.

Your eyes widen

POP!

"You should've buried the booty...faggot"

Originally Posted by Badweather (Post 479042)

...It'd take about two decades to pull this off, as I'd need a daughter to enroll in some program at school that does international travel...