HEY! Get your acts together people!

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Morety

The Farterator
Feb 23, 2000
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Here's some ideas for you Task:

Bungie Jumping with the cord attached to particular extremities.

Spontaneous Human Combustion while filling your car in a gas station.

There could be a forest fire in california, and a fire-fighting plane could go to scoop up some water and unsuspectingly scoop you up with it as you're scuba diving, and then it drops you onto the fire.

Engaging in a sword fight with the Knights Who Say Nit.

Any one of the Darwin Award recipients' methods, they're all funny.

By having a one-ton weight being dropped (by CHRYSt) onto your head. The sound effects could be quite funny.

By hiding behind one of three haypiles, while CHRYSt selects which one to blow up by pushing one of three plungers. We could even put money on this one.

By being in an airplane which crashes in the Arctic. You begin by eating one of your fellow passengers, who then infects you with salmonella, making you die of food poisoning. (The passenger was a clown, and you thought he kind of tasted funny at the time.)

Please feel free to use any of the above, they aren't copywrited.

By the way, ever since the "Blue Angel" episode gone bad, my wife won't buy me white underwear any more. /~unreal/ubb/html/smile.gif


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Alka Seltzer, Tang, and a Fifty, it's all over...Hangover.
 

wiz4ha

New Member
Jul 7, 2000
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I know who the killer truely is? The question is, DO YOU?! BWAHAHAHAHA..er Ha.

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WiZ
Smiley Games- Newly revamped so that it's Squeaky clean, and has that fresh new smell to it!

"What is Mind? No Matter.
What is Matter? Never Mind"
 

CHRYSt

You can't help that. We're all mad here.
Jan 14, 2000
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I know the secret, and I'm not telling!!!! Neener, neener, neener!
Oh, wait, maybe thats a different secret...Well, I won't tell you that either!

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"Where's the BACTINE?! Some of this blood is MINE!!" -- JTHM
 

Taskmaster

Godlike - I like God
Nov 29, 1999
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Work has finally picked up a bit as of late, so I will not be able to post as often. I may have to actually post from - gasp! - home!

I'm posting this from home... I'll have to think of the next story. See ya soon... heheh.



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I declare myself to be the self-annointed voice of reason for PuF! Opinions expressed by Taskmaster are not necessarily those of Planet Unreal! :)
 

tykeal

New Member
Dec 28, 1999
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Sounds like a familiar problem Task. My new job is eating all my time during the day. Thing is I relish it /~unreal/ubb/html/biggrin.gif

Err... no, not that kind of relish... I hate pickels

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I belch in your general direction.
 

Taskmaster

Godlike - I like God
Nov 29, 1999
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Thanks guys, but in case you missed the significance, it is an alagory of sorts. I am the stranger, and Unreal Tournament is Black UT, (duh). Basically what I am saying is that I have put off UT in my life for now and I'm riding away from it. I'm probably not going to be writing any more stories for a while and AI'm laying off the forum.

I've been using the internet and this forum alot as of late and I'm getting concerned about getting fired over it. So I'm trying to quit cold turkey so to speak.

It has been fun and I appreciate all the kudos from you guys. I'll check back for a day or two, but lately the forum just hasn't held my interest!

I had to go to the dentist to get a temporary crown put on a tooth that broke this Sunday so I was rushed at the end of the story. I didn't get to detail it as much as I wanted.

"Adios partners!"

Taskmaster|PuF

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I declare myself to be the self-annointed voice of reason for PuF! Opinions expressed by Taskmaster are not necessarily those of Planet Unreal! :)
 

Taskmaster

Godlike - I like God
Nov 29, 1999
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The wind swept across the lone street of this one horse town. The orange sandy grit filled the air like a fog and sage brush tubbled helplessly past driven by the harsh wind.

The sheriff of this small western town had been killed a few months back, but the desperados had all left once the gold being found in the nearby river slowed to a crawl. Only a few scattered locals still panned the cold river waters for flecks of the precious metal.

The saloon, once the hot spot for nightly brawls and racy women, now only a haven for the town drunk, who is more often than not, passed out at the bar, lost in his drunken stupor. The delivery of spirits had slowed month by month as more and more of the gold crazed miners moved on to rich territory.

The sun was rising low in the morning sky as a stranger on a white horse ambled down main street. His galant mount stopped directly in front of the sheriff's office, shaking his head at the dust spray of dirt that pelted him. The rider dismounted from his steed and grabbing the reins led the animal closer to the building where it would be protected from the sudden lashes of the wind.

The stranger opened the door and walked in. The jail cells doors were all open and the cells empty. The crude wooden desk was tidy but vacant. The gun racks on the walls were empty as well. Two iron keys hung on the wall behind the desk.

"The sheriff isn't here." said a female voice. The stranger turned to see a young lady, no more than 24, standing in the door.

She smiled kindly at him, noticing his white leather outfit, the pair of six shooters strapped to his waist and the white hat sitting tightly on his head.

"Are you the new sheriff?" she inguired after noticing the dusty silver star pinned to his chest.

"I'm just passing through, ma'ma" he said tipping his hat, "and I was just making sure there isn't any trouble here."

"Well sir, the sheriff is dead." she recounted, "Shot by some outlaws as he tried to break up a fight in the saloon."

"All them men have gone now, since the gold is gone." she continued. "The sheriff's family moved back East I reckon."

"Then I guess I best be moving on after I get a bit to eat." he said, again tipping his hat as he moved to the door.

"Marshal!" plead the young lady, "There is still trouble here. I've been praying to God for help... and then, then you show up." She couldn't help but think him an angel, seeing him in all white, his face glowing with a bright smile.

He release the door handle and turned to face the woman again, the guns on his hips creaked in their leather bindings.

"There is a man here by the name of Uriah Troumont. He's corrupting all the young folks, teaching them the evil ways of an outlaw. He takes them away from their school work and fills their heads with crazy ideas. Preacher says they don't come to church no more."

"Black UT? Here? I've been tracking that scoundrel for months!" grimaced the marshal. "You find go find him and tell him to meet me at noon!"


The marshal sat at the saloon watching the sleeping town drunk at the other end of the bar. He pushed the empty plate to the side and finished the last of his sasparalla.

He drew his two pistols from their holsters and examine them one at a time. Polishing and cleaning them in case of trouble. He had honed his reflexes in countless duals and endless practice, yet he did not relish the killing. It was just his job to protect the innocent from the evils of the wild west.


Black UT stood in the middle of the road, opposite the marshal. Guns gleamed in the afternoon sun light. The wind had settled slightly in the heat of the day but dust and dirt flew by occasionally.

"So marshal," shouted UT, "you think you can resist me eh? Think you can stop me so easily?"

"Your luck has run out!" responded the stranger. "You grip is about to be broken."

Their eyes locked and formed narrow slits as muscles tighten in anticipation. Fingers flexed. Eyes focused. Breaths held. Hearts pounding.

In a blur of motion and the echoing explosion of two guns being fired, it was finished. A gust of wind blew a sheet of stinging clay across the street.


The sun burned hot overhead as the stranger on the white horse ambled slowly out of town. The orange sand clouds and the shimmering heat rising from the desert sand seemed to fade the stranger like a dream.

"I don't reckon we'll see that one again." said an old man with weathered-beaten face.

"Who was that lone stranger?" wondered the young lady as she watched him disappear on the horizon.



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I declare myself to be the self-annointed voice of reason for PuF! Opinions expressed by Taskmaster are not necessarily those of Planet Unreal! :)
 

Morety

The Farterator
Feb 23, 2000
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So, when he's riding out of town, a rattlesnake rattles it's tail, spooking the horse who then bucks...the lone stranger, who looks very familiar, but based on the time period is probably TaskMaster's great grandfather, falls off the horse.

As the horse bolts, TMGG (TaskMaster's Great Grandad) gets his spur caught in a stirrup, dragging his arse along the ground. In a wild-eyed frenzy, the bucking bronco takes a detour through a cactus patch *yip-oww-yikes-ooh-owch-zowie-sploit-ahhh-eww*, turns left across the desert, filling the legs of TMGG's pants with sand, which finds its way into the underwear and grinds his parts as he bounces along. In the middle of the desert, the horse being thoroughly exerted, has a heart attack and dies. TMGG did not have a canteen and was dying slowly of dehydration. When he was too weak and could move no more, a buzzard came down and plucked out his eyeballs, let out a "caw-caw" when the coyotes chased it away. The coyote's then started eating his guts while he was screaming out in pain. Then, suddenly, a 1 ton weight fell out of the sky and killed him.

(Good story TM. I just wanted to see the hero die too.)

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I like you better in your rags, Cinderella, 'cause that's when you like to play.
 

CHRYSt

You can't help that. We're all mad here.
Jan 14, 2000
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Alas, we must part, dear Taskmaster! I, always shall remember thee, and thy tales. Farewell, and may your travels return you one day to our company.

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"Where's the BACTINE?! Some of this blood is MINE!!" -- JTHM
 

Morety

The Farterator
Feb 23, 2000
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'tis a sad sad day. Yeah, I did totally miss the analogy of it all. I really don't want you to get cactus spurs up your arse and sand in your parts or anything like that. Thanks for the entertainment. I know what you mean about the damn forum sinking into your work time...I'm trying to cut down a bit myself, and I just started.

Best of luck, and I'm sure we'll see you around, if not as much. Thanks for the entertaining stories. /~unreal/ubb/html/smile.gif

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I like you better in your rags, Cinderella, 'cause that's when you like to play.
 

CHRYSt

You can't help that. We're all mad here.
Jan 14, 2000
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I think we can't let the memory of our god fearing jester of death die.


*bump*

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"Where's the BACTINE?! Some of this blood is MINE!!" -- JTHM
 
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