The result of overpopulation in the NES was not a good one. Thre unsanity was stretched thin, and lost on most. Only Alt, Chill, Pierce and Mary, Pickle and Shack, and DB still carried it with them, keeping it close to their minds. They left progressively as they tired of the boredom. . . . P: We're finally out. . . . Alt: Yeah. . .being the god of the NES was too much. I'll let that place kick it's own ass as it's dying. M; Heh, yeah. *slaps P* P: What was that for? M: . . . . P: . . . . Chill: Another ellipsis battle. M: . . . . P: . . . . Alt: They never end. M: . . . . P: . . . . They left quietly from the NES, determined to never return to it. He let the people with randomness in their heads to change the paradigm- he would only check up rarely. Alt: We're out now. . .should we start something new? Chill: Maybe. . . . Alt: For those deemed unsane, they can continue here. When the Chronicle of the NES hits 100 pages, we shall let it die. They left, to return only rarely as long as the NES lived.
This is a restructure of the Neverending Story. Posts should be NES-style dialogue intermixed with relevant bits of prose. Unsanity and humor is appreciated, and is in fact the entire core and purpose of the thread. All are welcome, unless they spend all of their time trying and epically failing to be funny and unsane through obstreperous randomness.
*conjures up MMouse concert, but with Brock's lungs not being stressed so he can sing as well as he does in te studio*
Brock: WE'll be takin' some requests. F*ck yeah!
Alt: Doin' the C.ockroach, Teeth Like God's Shoeshine, Dramamine, Beach Side Property, the entire Interstate-8 EP, all of Moon and Antarctica, All of the new EP, Spitting Venom, Bukowski, and the View, please.
Kr: *thinks up giant boulder - drops boulder onto Alt's concert* Hah...take that...now, the source of our impertinent youth is destroyed! I BLAME THE ROCK MUSIC!!!! C: Wait...I thought you were young... Kr: Errr....I....errr....LOOK OVER THERE!! A UNICORN!!! *a unicorn appears* C: ITS A UNICORN! UNIICORRRNN! I SHALL NAME YOU...CHAARRLIEEEEEE!!!!
A: Dude! I think Brock of MMouse is seriously hurt! Ma: UNICOOOOOORN! A:... Ma: *Squee of delight* His name is Charlie! Charlie! Charlie! Charlie! Unicorn: *Heavy Bronx accent* Whaddaya want!? Ma: Eep! *Hidhidhehide* A: Gah...
Robert: Ahh..Jolene.. Frankleton: Still using these stupid names, I see? Robert: ...What do you mean... Frankleton: *slaps Robert* Robert: That stings, stings like...rejection... Frankleton: Oh my god... Jolene: I'm gonna shoot this kid.. Frankleton: Hey now, he's just in love. Robert: Hey now, you're a rockstar get the show o- Frankleton: No! Stop it! Me saying "hey now" should not make you star singing! Jolene: ...Hey now, you're an all star, get your game on- Frankleton: Not you too...
Ma: -Get paid, And all that glitters is gold- A: Only shootin' stars break the mold! Ma: I love that song. :3 Poison: *Harpoon gun* Ma: Oh, yeah, Poison hates Smash Mouth... *Scuttlescuttlescuttle*
"Tahts right. Fear the harpoon gun!!!" F: *shakes head* "I don't hate Smash Mouth, I just dislike their songs. I save the word hate for things less trivial than music preference." F: Oh, and I think you got the lyrics messed up, Manta. The last time I heard that song on the radio, it was get your 'game on, go play'. 'Get paid' is after 'you're a rock star' :P
Robert: Hachachacha! Frankleton: What the [loud, unnecessary beep] was that for? Robert: Why'd you have to go and use profanity on me! Frankleton: I said heck...>_> Robert: Mhmm, sure. Jolene: -only shootin' staaars break the mo-oold! Frankleton: I have a harpoon gun, too, you know. Jolene: I have an ak-47. Frankleton: :-l Robert: -Nothin' to do, nothin' to see- Frankleton: *shoots harpoon gun at Robert* What the heck? It shot bubbles out... Jolene: She was lookin' kinda dumb with her fiinger and her thumb in the shape of an L on her fooorehead. Frankleton: My god...why is still this same song?!
"MAH harpoon gun! Oh, wait... It shoots... Bubbles... Bwahahahaha! Bubbles." F: *shakes head* "What? My obsession with weapons designed to hunt marine life too much for you?" F: Possibly. Or, it's the fact that, even though Alt called in a Modest Mouse carpet bomb, Smash Mouth is still somehow playing. "Here, have a fishing spear. You can go terrorize primitive tribes with it." F: Uh, thanks? Why would I want to do that? "You don't. I'm just using you as a pawn in the eminent destruction of civilization on the Golden Isles." F: Oh, okay then. I'll go find some primitive tribes, then. Jolene: Hey now, you're a rock- *gets harpooned* "Finally... Now I can get some peace and quiet." Ma: Nooooooooooooo!
C: Ok...so I lied...I don't love Carlie. I love Manta.
J: *gasp* I didn't say that, Charlie did, you can't hate meeee Spenssahhhhhh~~ S: I love everyone hereeee *dances* J: F-for real...? S: ... J: Have we not just switched characters? S: No, I lovee everrryyoneee *is in love* J: Well this is a turn up for the books... S: I luurvveee you Jess...~ J: Erm... *inches away*
Fabian: *sigh*, I can't stand random madness, rather I enjoy the subtle ambience and feeling derived from intellectual insanity, the kind frequently inflicted on scientists, philosophers, and outright genii. Take for example, Postmodernism. Postmodernism is utter bull, nonsense to a Modernist like me. It is poshly known as the 'intellectual equivalent of crack.' My kind of fun, for an intellectual dealing with arguments on free will, science and ethics, I much prefer such fun, compared to ah, misguided madness. And if my immense and powerful vocabulary bulldozes and bamboozles you, take no offence, for it is the case with 99.9% of people I meet through the course of my existence. Or do we exist at all? According to Kuhn..paradigm shifts....*drones*
