Picture Stories
- Thread starter QUALTHWAR
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Once upon a time, there was a fellow named Twrecks who had a tilted bike. Oh, this was an evil bike that always tilted and constantly made right turns. Twrecks had to spiral to every destination. See first pic.
One day, while Twrecks was riding his circling bike to the local Circle K convenience store for more chocolates and nylons, he slipped in a mud puddle and spiraled right into the back of a Nazi Tupperware salesman and got stuck on the empty trailer that was normally used to transport square Tupperware bowls large enough to fit in the middle track of the trailer. See second pic.
Outraged, and a little gassy, the Tupperware Nazi started ranting about Twrecks’ driving. But Twrecks calmly explained, while holding a large crowbar, that he had a tilted bike and couldn’t help it. The Nazi, belched, farted, burped his Tupperware, then farted again; he said, “My chocolate-faced, nylon-wearing friend, I’ve heard of such bikes. My father was a motorcycle repairman and he told me WWII stories where the Nazis would remove the sidecars from their motorcycles and this created tilted motorcycles. Leave your bike on my Tupperware trailer and I’ll take you to see my father. He’ll know what to do.”
Sure enough, the old WWII Nazi repairman knew just what to do. He took part of an old swastika and straightened it out. Then he welded it to the bottom of the bike as a leveler. The bike was never more level and road straight as an arrow. It also ripped up the pavement everywhere it went and left turns were a bitch, still, the bike road straight. See third pic.
The moral of the story is: if you want to fix a Japanese problem, use German engineering.
One day, while Twrecks was riding his circling bike to the local Circle K convenience store for more chocolates and nylons, he slipped in a mud puddle and spiraled right into the back of a Nazi Tupperware salesman and got stuck on the empty trailer that was normally used to transport square Tupperware bowls large enough to fit in the middle track of the trailer. See second pic.
Outraged, and a little gassy, the Tupperware Nazi started ranting about Twrecks’ driving. But Twrecks calmly explained, while holding a large crowbar, that he had a tilted bike and couldn’t help it. The Nazi, belched, farted, burped his Tupperware, then farted again; he said, “My chocolate-faced, nylon-wearing friend, I’ve heard of such bikes. My father was a motorcycle repairman and he told me WWII stories where the Nazis would remove the sidecars from their motorcycles and this created tilted motorcycles. Leave your bike on my Tupperware trailer and I’ll take you to see my father. He’ll know what to do.”
Sure enough, the old WWII Nazi repairman knew just what to do. He took part of an old swastika and straightened it out. Then he welded it to the bottom of the bike as a leveler. The bike was never more level and road straight as an arrow. It also ripped up the pavement everywhere it went and left turns were a bitch, still, the bike road straight. See third pic.
The moral of the story is: if you want to fix a Japanese problem, use German engineering.
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A day, and many more ago, there lived a virgin boy who lived in a deep forest. His name was Kurton Scrooge. One day, while playing with his friends, he was embarrassed beyond believe when his friends made fun of him for being so gassy. “You stink, loser!” shouted his friends.
Oh, it wasn’t Kurton’s fault, for you see, he was adopted by tree-dwelling squirrels and when you’re a squirrel, you pretty much have to eat nuts all day. Too many nuts would make anyone gassy. He promised himself that he/she/it would make fools out of all his friends by accumulating enough gold, in chunky nugget form, to buy magnificent food, including much shrimp cocktail, and perhaps some breath freshener, and becoming gas-free.
For years he looked under every rock and spied the running brook for sparkles of gold. Time was good to Kurton Scrooge for he amassed quite a sizable pile of gold. His mother and father, now very old, well, four actually, but that’s really old in squirrel years, … pleaded with him to stop chasing sheep and make up with his friends. They said, “Use that money to treat your friends to ice cream with nuts on top and breath fresheners, and they will feel sorrowful that they laughed at you many dreams ago.”
“Have you people gone bonkers from all the nuts you’ve consumed over the years?” Kurton Scrooge cried out. “I don’t need friends as long as I have my gold!” That night was Christmas Eve and as Kurton Scrooge fell fast asleep inside a hollowed out stump, a spirit chucked a Frisbee upside his head and he awoke. See first pic. “What the?” Kurton Scrooge muttered. “I am the ghost of Christmas past and I am here to change your mind.” shouted the spirit. “Change my mind?” Kurton asked? “What do you know about changing underwear because that’s what I really need help with? I’ve had this pair on for like 3 years now.” Kurton confessed.
“Silence, Kurton Scrooge!” barked the metal-headed ghost. Kurton crapped his pants then asked, “How did you know my name?“ “It’s right there on the nametag pinned to your shirt.” the penis-challenged ghost said, and then he chuckled. “Thanks a lot, Mom!” Kurton remarked. “Kurton Scrooge, your friends didn’t mean you any harm. They were mere boys, as you were, back then. Let me take you back to the day they laughed at you.” “Can it wait until Teletubbies is over?” asked Kurton. “Teletubbies? Uhhhh, hmmm. Look, I need to get going,” said the spirit, “but you shall be visited by 2 more spirits tonight; the ghost of Christmas present, and Christmas future. They’ll be arriving on different buses an hour apart.”
As Kurton Scrooge fell back to sleep, he dreamt of various ways to pose sheep; especially ways which involved Teletubbies. Suddenly, Kurton was awakened by a strange feeling “down there.” No, not his naughty bits, but his mouth. Sliming along Kurton’s mouth was a Hagfish; the ghost of Christmas present. See second pic. “Dude, that’s gross!” shouted Kurton Scrooge. “Did you have to slime all over my mouth like that?”
“Kurton Scrooge,” uttered the slimy ghost, “I want to show you just how kind and thoughtful your friends have become. Come with me.” “But you can’t even walk. Look at you, you’re a fish or something.” said Kurton. “Oh, right. I forgot that this was a low-budget story.” stated the Christmas ghost. “And I see that you’re busy watching Teletubbies anyway. Maybe I’ll just lie over here and rot next to where you sleep at night. Don’t mind me; I’ll be over here rotting away. Don’t give me a second thought; I’ll just be, here, rotting…stinking up the place…”
Kurton fell back asleep for he’d seen that same Teletubbies episode like 18 times already. As the slimy ghost of Christmas present rotted, the wind began to pick up. The trees began to rustle and dark clouds moved across the sky. Suddenly there was a crack of thunder and a single light beamed down from the sky to highlight, Timmy, the ghost of Christmas future. See third pic. Kurton Scrooge jumped up and said, “You must be the ghost of Christmas future whose presence was foretold to me. Oh, sinister-looking spirit, I fear your presence most of all for, …well, just look at you. I mean, crap!! What’s with the teeth, the wrist blades, and that Captain Morgan pose?”
“You know what? Screw this. I’m going to take my friends out tomorrow and we’ll party like it’s 1999. Wait, that was like 10 years ago. Anyway, I’m just trying to get a good night’s sleep and you guys keep waking me up and it’s getting really old. So, you know what? You win, okay?! I’ll take my friends out to a nice, fancy restaurant tomorrow; like McDonalds or something.”
The ghost of Christmas future nodded in agreement. Or maybe he was just trying to catch flies with his mouth. What the hell do I know? The next day, Kurton Scrooge was as good as his word. He took all of his friends out to McDonalds and they all got Happy Meals with lame toys inside. Afterwards, they went back to Kurton’s stump and watched a 13-hour marathon of the Teletubbies. It was a great day; a great, gassy day, indeed.
The End
Oh, it wasn’t Kurton’s fault, for you see, he was adopted by tree-dwelling squirrels and when you’re a squirrel, you pretty much have to eat nuts all day. Too many nuts would make anyone gassy. He promised himself that he/she/it would make fools out of all his friends by accumulating enough gold, in chunky nugget form, to buy magnificent food, including much shrimp cocktail, and perhaps some breath freshener, and becoming gas-free.
For years he looked under every rock and spied the running brook for sparkles of gold. Time was good to Kurton Scrooge for he amassed quite a sizable pile of gold. His mother and father, now very old, well, four actually, but that’s really old in squirrel years, … pleaded with him to stop chasing sheep and make up with his friends. They said, “Use that money to treat your friends to ice cream with nuts on top and breath fresheners, and they will feel sorrowful that they laughed at you many dreams ago.”
“Have you people gone bonkers from all the nuts you’ve consumed over the years?” Kurton Scrooge cried out. “I don’t need friends as long as I have my gold!” That night was Christmas Eve and as Kurton Scrooge fell fast asleep inside a hollowed out stump, a spirit chucked a Frisbee upside his head and he awoke. See first pic. “What the?” Kurton Scrooge muttered. “I am the ghost of Christmas past and I am here to change your mind.” shouted the spirit. “Change my mind?” Kurton asked? “What do you know about changing underwear because that’s what I really need help with? I’ve had this pair on for like 3 years now.” Kurton confessed.
“Silence, Kurton Scrooge!” barked the metal-headed ghost. Kurton crapped his pants then asked, “How did you know my name?“ “It’s right there on the nametag pinned to your shirt.” the penis-challenged ghost said, and then he chuckled. “Thanks a lot, Mom!” Kurton remarked. “Kurton Scrooge, your friends didn’t mean you any harm. They were mere boys, as you were, back then. Let me take you back to the day they laughed at you.” “Can it wait until Teletubbies is over?” asked Kurton. “Teletubbies? Uhhhh, hmmm. Look, I need to get going,” said the spirit, “but you shall be visited by 2 more spirits tonight; the ghost of Christmas present, and Christmas future. They’ll be arriving on different buses an hour apart.”
As Kurton Scrooge fell back to sleep, he dreamt of various ways to pose sheep; especially ways which involved Teletubbies. Suddenly, Kurton was awakened by a strange feeling “down there.” No, not his naughty bits, but his mouth. Sliming along Kurton’s mouth was a Hagfish; the ghost of Christmas present. See second pic. “Dude, that’s gross!” shouted Kurton Scrooge. “Did you have to slime all over my mouth like that?”
“Kurton Scrooge,” uttered the slimy ghost, “I want to show you just how kind and thoughtful your friends have become. Come with me.” “But you can’t even walk. Look at you, you’re a fish or something.” said Kurton. “Oh, right. I forgot that this was a low-budget story.” stated the Christmas ghost. “And I see that you’re busy watching Teletubbies anyway. Maybe I’ll just lie over here and rot next to where you sleep at night. Don’t mind me; I’ll be over here rotting away. Don’t give me a second thought; I’ll just be, here, rotting…stinking up the place…”
Kurton fell back asleep for he’d seen that same Teletubbies episode like 18 times already. As the slimy ghost of Christmas present rotted, the wind began to pick up. The trees began to rustle and dark clouds moved across the sky. Suddenly there was a crack of thunder and a single light beamed down from the sky to highlight, Timmy, the ghost of Christmas future. See third pic. Kurton Scrooge jumped up and said, “You must be the ghost of Christmas future whose presence was foretold to me. Oh, sinister-looking spirit, I fear your presence most of all for, …well, just look at you. I mean, crap!! What’s with the teeth, the wrist blades, and that Captain Morgan pose?”
“You know what? Screw this. I’m going to take my friends out tomorrow and we’ll party like it’s 1999. Wait, that was like 10 years ago. Anyway, I’m just trying to get a good night’s sleep and you guys keep waking me up and it’s getting really old. So, you know what? You win, okay?! I’ll take my friends out to a nice, fancy restaurant tomorrow; like McDonalds or something.”
The ghost of Christmas future nodded in agreement. Or maybe he was just trying to catch flies with his mouth. What the hell do I know? The next day, Kurton Scrooge was as good as his word. He took all of his friends out to McDonalds and they all got Happy Meals with lame toys inside. Afterwards, they went back to Kurton’s stump and watched a 13-hour marathon of the Teletubbies. It was a great day; a great, gassy day, indeed.
The End
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You didn't ****ing give me a ****ing moral you ****ing chicken****!
EDIT: Never mind, I found Jesus anyway.
EDIT: Never mind, I found Jesus anyway.
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A long, long time ago, in Dorking, Surrey, there lived a young fellow named Balton who loved a sweet, young lassie named Ima Stinker. Balton and Ima made a promise to each other to live together forever and chuck poo at frolicking dolphins. Oh, the fun those two used to have; digging up graves at pet cemeteries, pissing on the pets then reburying them upside-down. Good times!
But Ima’s father, being the smart Stinker that he was, invented a way to remove the horrible body stench from the Mickey Mouse costumes that people sweat in at Disney Land. Mr. Stinker became very rich and moved his family, including Ima, to a castle on a far-away hill. See first pic.
Balton and Ima grew up and didn’t see one another for almost 20 years. Balton eventually became a Chicken Sexer. A Chicken Sexer sorts baby chicks according to sex. It’s an easy job because girl chicks wear training bras and boy chicks wear jock straps. But Balton missed Ima and vowed to earn enough money for bus fare to get to the castle and rescue her from a life of splendor and riches. He probably wasn’t thinking straight. Balton needed a better-paying job.
While getting his hair permed, he read an article in Popular Teen Magazine about the thrilling life of banana dildo salesmen. But the thought of tarantulas crawling out of the boxes and biting his nose (See second pic.) gave him crappy-britches syndrome. Instead, he opted to be a banana dildo tester where everything is preformed in a clean-room under the watchful eye of webcams. Balton made enough money for bus fare to rescue Ima, but he spent that on cool-looking anklets … and anal cream for his sore sphincter.
Eventually, Balton managed to get a seat on the bus where he had lots of time to think about Ima Stinker. He imagined her as a beautiful, grown Stinker. But what Balton didn’t know was Ima had grown a huge, shiny nose over the years. Although this nose was extremely large, the big castle with its large rooms and large doorways accommodated it perfectly.
When Balton arrived at the castle, he climbed the many steps to the huge, wooden doors, despite his sore ass. The doors creaked open and a midget in a bright red vest and no pants, named George, told Balton to state his business. George waddled his pantsless butt up the spiral staircase, arousing Balton, and informed Ima that a gentleman named Balton was here to see her.
Ima wanted desperately to see Balton, but first she wanted to braid her armpit hair and powder that big, honkin’ nose of her’s. Balton waited such a long time, but could wait no longer. He rushed up the stairs and threw open the door to Ima’s bedroom just as she was powdering her enormous nose. Balton collapsed on the floor dead, struggling to breathe his last breath as his lungs choked from the huge mushroom cloud created by Ima’s talcum power. See third pic.
But Ima’s father, being the smart Stinker that he was, invented a way to remove the horrible body stench from the Mickey Mouse costumes that people sweat in at Disney Land. Mr. Stinker became very rich and moved his family, including Ima, to a castle on a far-away hill. See first pic.
Balton and Ima grew up and didn’t see one another for almost 20 years. Balton eventually became a Chicken Sexer. A Chicken Sexer sorts baby chicks according to sex. It’s an easy job because girl chicks wear training bras and boy chicks wear jock straps. But Balton missed Ima and vowed to earn enough money for bus fare to get to the castle and rescue her from a life of splendor and riches. He probably wasn’t thinking straight. Balton needed a better-paying job.
While getting his hair permed, he read an article in Popular Teen Magazine about the thrilling life of banana dildo salesmen. But the thought of tarantulas crawling out of the boxes and biting his nose (See second pic.) gave him crappy-britches syndrome. Instead, he opted to be a banana dildo tester where everything is preformed in a clean-room under the watchful eye of webcams. Balton made enough money for bus fare to rescue Ima, but he spent that on cool-looking anklets … and anal cream for his sore sphincter.
Eventually, Balton managed to get a seat on the bus where he had lots of time to think about Ima Stinker. He imagined her as a beautiful, grown Stinker. But what Balton didn’t know was Ima had grown a huge, shiny nose over the years. Although this nose was extremely large, the big castle with its large rooms and large doorways accommodated it perfectly.
When Balton arrived at the castle, he climbed the many steps to the huge, wooden doors, despite his sore ass. The doors creaked open and a midget in a bright red vest and no pants, named George, told Balton to state his business. George waddled his pantsless butt up the spiral staircase, arousing Balton, and informed Ima that a gentleman named Balton was here to see her.
Ima wanted desperately to see Balton, but first she wanted to braid her armpit hair and powder that big, honkin’ nose of her’s. Balton waited such a long time, but could wait no longer. He rushed up the stairs and threw open the door to Ima’s bedroom just as she was powdering her enormous nose. Balton collapsed on the floor dead, struggling to breathe his last breath as his lungs choked from the huge mushroom cloud created by Ima’s talcum power. See third pic.