nuri: forum

poof its gone

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If I were Ched for a day...

Wake up in the morning as the sun's rays first begin to penetrate my love nest, a dungeon-type abode I share with keoskies. Check that bitch is still breathing after the beastly lovemaking I gave her last night. It shook the very foundations of our home, causing the Torn servers in the basement to fail. She is, barely. 

Get out of bed and make fresh Brazilian coffee, throbbing morning wood firmly in hand. Eight inches of Britain's finest beef knocks over a nearby table lamp as I swing around and conduct my first meeting with the developers in the kitchen, fully nude. We discuss developer focus as I sip on orange juice. I take a couple of them aside to work on DPs. Anyone who complains "It's too big" is automatically fired.

Fire up the old Fapintosh and search up some Ms. Torn pics to perv over. Hurriedly switch tabs when keoskies walks in. It opens on some tranny porn left over from a previous developer focus meeting. She shakes her head. "Your obsession with ladyboys is ruining our marriage," she moans in that sexy bass voice, almost like a man's. She leaves for her yoga class. I'm fairly certain she's sleeping with the instructor. Damn him and his supple hip flexors. Return to scrutinising feminine penises, or as Patch List #44 puts it, uh, "Feature Design".

Day turns into night as the pictures they just don't stop coming and they don't stop coming and they don't stop coming. I remain glued to this site with my hand glued to my still-rock-hard-after-eight-hours "little Ched" as developers occassionally beg me for input. I wave them off, saying "Coming soon... coming soon... oh baby, I'm coming soon..." They soon take this as direction from the boss. 

Keoskies returns from yoga, hot and sweaty and noticeably relieved. I nod in silent acknowledgement of my cuckoldry. She stiffly discusses dinner plans. "Same place tonight, then?" Yeah, the usual. Our relationship has gotten stale but there's no use in moaning about it now. We're in a merit marriage, no doubt. 

We wait at the table for our meal in a mid-to-upscale restaurant in London. She's vegan, annoyingly, so I order the fattest, juiciest beef burger on the menu. Like Mark Zuckerberg, as a successful tech entrepreneur, I only eat what I kill. I demand to see the cattle I am going to have to murder to feed myself. I am told there is no cow, or beef on the menu, as we are at a vegan restaurant. I let out a dignified "REEEE" to express my displeasure and leave the restaurant immediately. Keoskies stays, her face in her hands, embarrassed yet defiant. She's used to this by now. After all, you don't eat cheddar if you're lactose intolerant. 

I stumble across the streets of London into a pub to drink my sorrows away. I wonder if God fears what he's created, and if I fear what I've created, Torn, and if that, in fact, by extrapolation, makes me God. I loudly declare this fact to the surrounding bar patrons, but instead of loud cheers of assent, I get averted gazes and scattered mutterings of "Christ, he's like that every night now."

I do a little bit of warehouse arson just to unwind and then head back home. Unit number 504. I jam my key in. It doesn't work. There's some sort of error.

The darkness closes in. I pass out on the porch. 

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poof its gone

First, I would purchase a DVD player and sell it to Potion_Seller for the price of an Erotic DVD.

Using this money, I would then purchase additional casino tokens and wow Hildergarde with my poker skills, maybe even allegedly reading two books on poker whilst on the island. I gain his trust and one billion dollars to help him place bets.

I make ten billion dollars from the bet, betray his trust, keep the money and use the newspaper to bounty staff for being staff, with my ten billion dollarydoos, thus attracting the attentions of Chedburn, who rescues me from the "dessert island" with the intent of throwing me into federal jail.

I circumvent this by revealing to Ched the ultimate secret that will change Torn forever: the introduction of UNO to the casino. Ungameable, unexploitable, overnight, Ched becomes a billionaire. In thanks, he pardons me and asks however he can repay me.

I tell him to bend the knee and make Duke give me one of his private islands. He agrees and offers me coitus with keoskies, as long as he gets to watch.

I tell him I can't reply to that, I've hit the two hundred word limit

If I were Ched for a day...

Wake up in the morning as the sun's rays first begin to penetrate my love nest, a dungeon-type abode I share with keoskies. Check that bitch is still breathing after the beastly lovemaking I gave her last night. It shook the very foundations of our home, causing the Torn servers in the basement to fail. She is, barely. 

Get out of bed and make fresh Brazilian coffee, throbbing morning wood firmly in hand. Eight inches of Britain's finest beef knocks over a nearby table lamp as I swing around and conduct my first meeting with the developers in the kitchen, fully nude. We discuss developer focus as I sip on orange juice. I take a couple of them aside to work on DPs. Anyone who complains "It's too big" is automatically fired.

Fire up the old Fapintosh and search up some Ms. Torn pics to perv over. Hurriedly switch tabs when keoskies walks in. It opens on some tranny porn left over from a previous developer focus meeting. She shakes her head. "Your obsession with ladyboys is ruining our marriage," she moans in that sexy bass voice, almost like a man's. She leaves for her yoga class. I'm fairly certain she's sleeping with the instructor. Damn him and his supple hip flexors. Return to scrutinising feminine penises, or as Patch List #44 puts it, uh, "Feature Design".

Day turns into night as the pictures they just don't stop coming and they don't stop coming and they don't stop coming. I remain glued to this site with my hand glued to my still-rock-hard-after-eight-hours "little Ched" as developers occassionally beg me for input. I wave them off, saying "Coming soon... coming soon... oh baby, I'm coming soon..." They soon take this as direction from the boss. 

Keoskies returns from yoga, hot and sweaty and noticeably relieved. I nod in silent acknowledgement of my cuckoldry. She stiffly discusses dinner plans. "Same place tonight, then?" Yeah, the usual. Our relationship has gotten stale but there's no use in moaning about it now. We're in a merit marriage, no doubt. 

We wait at the table for our meal in a mid-to-upscale restaurant in London. She's vegan, annoyingly, so I order the fattest, juiciest beef burger on the menu. Like Mark Zuckerberg, as a successful tech entrepreneur, I only eat what I kill. I demand to see the cattle I am going to have to murder to feed myself. I am told there is no cow, or beef on the menu, as we are at a vegan restaurant. I let out a dignified "REEEE" to express my displeasure and leave the restaurant immediately. Keoskies stays, her face in her hands, embarrassed yet defiant. She's used to this by now. After all, you don't eat cheddar if you're lactose intolerant. 

I stumble across the streets of London into a pub to drink my sorrows away. I wonder if God fears what he's created, and if I fear what I've created, Torn, and if that, in fact, by extrapolation, makes me God. I loudly declare this fact to the surrounding bar patrons, but instead of loud cheers of assent, I get averted gazes and scattered mutterings of "Christ, he's like that every night now."

I do a little bit of warehouse arson just to unwind and then head back home. Unit number 504. I jam my key in. It doesn't work. There's some sort of error.

The darkness closes in. I pass out on the porch. 

I have discovered a new fetish.

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*Staff Edit*

Just no need for the obscenities.

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