WW XXXIV - Wolf Island - ISLANDERS WIN

There are worse ways to spend the time, but not many.

Postby Pashmina » Thu Mar 23, 2017 7:45 pm

Anyway, too late now.

Mr. Pootis looks sadly at the untouched bowl of piss outside the Anchor Inn.
emotional fascism wrote:that was a bad post. i'd like to apologize to all board millennials.
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Postby fuckles » Thu Mar 23, 2017 7:47 pm

Ah shit I forgot about the piss! Dumbles runs back to the Inn and laps at the bowl of piss enthusiastically
Cyril Sneer wrote:INSANE post. I could literally read it for hours.
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Postby fuckles » Thu Mar 23, 2017 7:53 pm

Dumbles the Dogg runs back to the dock and yells WHERE'S MY FREAKIN BOAT!
Cyril Sneer wrote:INSANE post. I could literally read it for hours.
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Postby Casimir » Thu Mar 23, 2017 8:00 pm

The day is over.

Dumbles was voted off the island.

He was an islander.
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Postby Pashmina » Thu Mar 23, 2017 8:01 pm

nice job guys
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Postby VHB » Thu Mar 23, 2017 8:02 pm

Von Ho Balanced EATS THE DAMN TACOS ONCE AND FOR ALL, EVERY SCRAP OF LETTUCE AND EVERY DELICIOUS SCALE OF FISH. Then on the advice of his legal and spiritual council, Wilson the Volleyball, he rips about 20 nangs in a row. Loopy and fired up, he grabs a shovel and a stepladder and throws them in the back of the dune buggy. He goes out onto a secluded part of the island's beach and digs a big-ass hole. Von Ho Balanced pops a couple ex-lax and takes a considerable shit in the middle of the hole, expelling the delicious fish tacos at long last. He takes a big long piss on his own shit just to make sure. He climbs out of the hole with the stepladder and fills it back in with angry determination. May that be the last he sees of them, and woe betide whoever gets the fish tacos next.
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Postby Pashmina » Thu Mar 23, 2017 8:02 pm

Mr. Poots storms off to his room.
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Postby kit fox » Thu Mar 23, 2017 8:05 pm

VHB wrote:Von Ho Balanced EATS THE DAMN TACOS ONCE AND FOR ALL, EVERY SCRAP OF LETTUCE AND EVERY DELICIOUS SCALE OF FISH. Then on the advice of his legal and spiritual council, Wilson the Volleyball, he rips about 20 nangs in a row. Loopy and fired up, he grabs a shovel and a stepladder and throws them in the back of the dune buggy. He goes out onto a secluded part of the island's beach and digs a big-ass hole. Von Ho Balanced pops a couple ex-lax and takes a considerable shit in the middle of the hole, expelling the delicious fish tacos at long last. He takes a big long piss on his own shit just to make sure. He climbs out of the hole with the stepladder and fills it back in with angry determination. May that be the last he sees of them, and woe betide whoever gets the fish tacos next.


you had the tacos, huh?

then where the hell was big cat today?
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Postby fuckles » Thu Mar 23, 2017 8:08 pm

oOoOoOoOoOo you dumbys oOoOoOoOoOo
Cyril Sneer wrote:INSANE post. I could literally read it for hours.
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Postby kit fox » Thu Mar 23, 2017 8:49 pm

I have people claiming grom and bartender if you are one of these and they are not please let me know
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Postby grouchypants » Thu Mar 23, 2017 8:58 pm

Petal is very, very sad today. One of her own has been sent away from the island. She wishes it wasn't so. But she isn't able to take it back now.

She heads down to the beach to try to take her mind off of today's events. She brings with her the metal detector that Santa baby left behind. She thinks maybe if she can find some buried treasure, some pirate booty, as it were, her mood might improve. She searches high and low until the metal detector pings! It's loud! It's constant! Petal has struck gold! Or a pop can. She's not sure.

Petal grabs her trusty bucket and starts to dig in the sand. She should have brought her shovel. Seems like a better tool for the job. She digs and digs and digs! Finally she hits what she's looking for! It's a metal box! A treasure chest! It's a miracle! It's amazing! It's....full of pop cans :S

Petal is disappointed. She takes her bucket, and her metal detector. She throws them both into the ocean. She then dives in to go for a long swim. Front crawl, back crawl, side stroke. She knows it all. As Petal is floating back to shore she seems someone waiting on the sand. It's not Jeff Probst. It's...Spicoli???

Aloha Spicoli! says Petal, as she hands him a flowered lei for his neck. Aloha, Mr. Hand! says Spicoli as he accepts the lei. He is clearly confused.
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Postby Pashmina » Thu Mar 23, 2017 9:20 pm

After an evening game of gilded chair croquet, Mr. Poots summons Tabitha and Clarissa.

"Dears, we have a lot of thinking to do. Why don't we stroll down the boardwalk and see if we can't fetch up one of our local favs for dinner?"

As the three move down the boardwalk, Mr. Poots spots a dinghy headed out to the ocean. He has his suspicions, and knows he should resist the urge, but he pulls out his binocs anyway.

"Jizzads! It's that Dumbles. Oh, how I'll miss him. But at least he got his boat. As if a Dogg could wield a club. Fools. I told them."

But Mr. Poots has a sudden realization: "JIZZADS! That means that shady bartender will surely be getting me shitfaced, and probably on the house! Huzzah!"

Mr. Poots gives a stern salute and Tabitha and Clarissa march on, Mr. Poots, high upon his chair, casting a misshapen silhouette against the waning sun.

"Jizzads! My flask!"
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Postby Pashmina » Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:19 pm

A thunderous fart echoes across the island.
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Postby can't » Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:21 pm

Gilded chair croquet is sick
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Postby Pashmina » Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:29 pm

* Explanatory Note: Gilded chair croquet is identical to regular croquet; however, when one has gout of the sort of Mr. Poots, mobility can be an issue. Thus, in "gilded chair croquet" one's beach bunnies carry the gilded chair to the ball, after which the gentleman may make his play while seated. There is also "normal chair croquet" for poor folk, but they generally are missing limbs and such, and drag their chairs behind on a rope as they pathetically claw their way from one place to another.**



** Editor's Note: It is quite a disgusting sight.
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Postby Casimir » Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:35 pm

The journalists don't even bother writing a check tonight. They've been burned so many times before and are frankly running out of cash.

They're at the bar. He sees the local legend, the grom, the bartender serves a beer, a potter, a glass blower, and a few islanders. He sees a creepy guy playing with the wires in the back.

The lights go off and the journalist immediately curses not brining a bag of cash. He acts quickly, runs to the ATM to approach one of the young people at the bar. But he's stopped by an old surf pro.

"My sponsorships are all dried up. I smoked that joint two nights ago with your money but I could use some myself."

The journalists eyes light up. They make an agreement that the magazine will cover the local legend's expenses for the rest of his life.

Can't was bribed. He was the Local Legend.

He continues to surf until this day.

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Postby Pashmina » Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:36 pm

As Mr. Poots fades into sleep, he sees hazy visions of a Dogg telepathically steering a dinghy.

"The lone and level sands stretch far away."

Mr. Poots heavy lids gently fall, and he does a small tinkle in his pants.
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Postby Geoff » Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:44 pm

pootis
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Postby VHB » Fri Mar 24, 2017 12:12 am

Von Ho Balanced thinks every vote is going to count today. Therefore:

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Postby Geoff » Fri Mar 24, 2017 3:28 am

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Postby bigcat » Fri Mar 24, 2017 8:23 am

Not as a whale: I'm sorry yall. I probably shouldn't have played this game, this week is insane for me workwise.

As a whale: kitfox
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Postby Casimir » Fri Mar 24, 2017 10:07 am

The day is going to be a short one today. Please submit all votes by 4 PM.
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Postby kit fox » Fri Mar 24, 2017 10:11 am

sorry pootis :(
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Postby VHB » Fri Mar 24, 2017 11:43 am

Pootis
galactagogue wrote:i usually just assume no one is into me, it makes it easier to be myself.

Suspension Bridge wrote:Werewolf was the best thing to happen to me in 2015 and that includes my wedding

bill wrote:every hooker deserves an Oscar for faking orgasms i swear to god
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Postby grouchypants » Fri Mar 24, 2017 11:57 am

pootis
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Postby rap and country » Fri Mar 24, 2017 12:49 pm

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Postby bigcat » Fri Mar 24, 2017 1:48 pm

Whiskey shot for the road, pootis? said the friendly whale sadly, blowing bubbles as she sank back under the dock.
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Postby Pashmina » Fri Mar 24, 2017 1:55 pm

Mr. Poots farts loudly at VHB.

Why, I work my ass off to keep this island moving for a fucking week, and you silence me when a decision has already been made? you deny me my final words?

Mr. Poots finishes the very last fish taco left at the Anchor Inn, marches into the ballroom with an eerily regular stride, and mounts the stage in the ballroom.

Time to listen up, fuckos.
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Postby VHB » Fri Mar 24, 2017 2:02 pm

It's more that I didn't want to silence Geoff, because I wanted to see what he did and how quickly he did it.

And now we all have
galactagogue wrote:i usually just assume no one is into me, it makes it easier to be myself.

Suspension Bridge wrote:Werewolf was the best thing to happen to me in 2015 and that includes my wedding

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Postby Pashmina » Fri Mar 24, 2017 2:30 pm

Mr. Poots removes his monocle, wig, make-up, and fat suit. He is obviously not 69 years old.

Motherfuckers, I killed the Captain, but I did not kill the deputy. But I did kill the first mate, you groveling shits. I could give fuck all for your island life. I thought it would be a nice respite from my fintech job in New York, but my first night here - MY VERY FIRST FUCKING NIGHT - Ankh and Jimmy Firecracker, the latter probably hopped up on goofballs ("I'm Jimmy Firecracker and I'm driving a boat - fucked up!"), were speeding through the night in their trawler, their unruly wake snapping the real Mr. Poots' - my great, great-grandfather - longboard, which was bequeathed to me upon reaching puberty.

And then - to treat the Dogg like much less than even an animal when he was clearly innocent. To not even give him a boat, to expect him to doggy paddle across the ocean (where do you think the dinghy came from? My pockets, you poor hippies). You people disgust me, and I am glad that I will return to New York a free man - for not even your deputy cares enough about this shitrock to not run off at the slightest hint of money and fear. Nor your "Local Legend", a man that, if put on the waves with me, would be left choking on brine.

Pootis removes a plastic clown flower from his pants.

I never pissed myself, it was all a ruse. But let it be known that every last fart was genuine, that my shit, the shit of the man that killed your leaders, will forever be wafting through your respiratory systems. Even if it's just a molecule, a single molecule, you will breathe my shit until the last of your days - and may they be many, and may you remember that you carry the ass of the man that killed your pathetic "leaders" in a matter of days, that would still be among you enacting his revenge were it not for a stroke of bad luck in his refusal to accept inferior lodgings, unlike you Woolf Campground and Seafoam trash, inside of you to your very last.

Pootis kicks his gilded chair off the stage

Tabitha, Clarissa, you served me well, and I bear you no ill-will. Keep the chair (it's real) along with your satchels of money. You've earned them, and I am sorry for betraying your trust.

As for the rest of you - rest assured that I'll be fine in my penthouse summoning prostitutes and Whistlepig like a sordid magician, the white face powder replaced by something far more stimulating. And rest assured that you will never step foot on these beaches again without remembering the blood that has fed them.

Pootis farts and scampers off the stage and out to the docks.

So long, fuckos! And remember!

pootis wrote:
VHB wrote:Things sure got easier for the Psycho Killer, ya?


Qu'est-ce que c'est?


Run run run run, run run, run away.

Pootis drops a small origami crane at the end of the dock and hops in his boat

Image


As the befuddled crowd by the docks tries to process this strange scene, a small boy picks up the meticulously crafted crane, and, brimming with curiosity, unfolds it. There is only a single word upon it, in an impeccable script, drafted with an obviously fine pen.

"Jizzads!"
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