Intense Boredom- I Think I Have A Cure

Discussion in 'General' started by eome, Mar 17, 2002.

  1. Right this works on other forums- maybie it's a stupid idea BUT BOREDOM DRIVES US TO STUPID THINGS!!!

    The three word story game reminded me of another forum i visited where all the members contributed to a story that grows and grows. I thaught it might be good for those of us who just get soooooo booooored all the time like me and find that we are either flooding the place with new threads or we are replying six times to a message and then asking people over and over agian for some kind of IRC activity- sorry 'bout that but i have no life today!!!

    Right so here we go- if it's a stoopid idea then don't flame me- just let this dissapear underneath a load of other threads!!!

    He sat up in his chair, lemmy singing loud and fast;
    "THE ACE OF SPADES, THE ACE OF SPADES!"
    He toked again sucking in the hot smoke, inhaling and then holding. The contents of the bowl glowing red and the smoke curling up into the air. He exhaled as a thick smog built up above his head. Out of the corner of his eye John saw the green flash of his mobile phone. He walked towards it, eying it suspiciously. The music stopped and he pressed the shimmering keypad.
    "Hello? One hour. Yeah I know."
    With that he finnished his bowl and walked out of the door.
     
  2. i just want you to know i tried...lol
     
  3. an i do mean that in the nicest possible way :D
     
  4. im really mad at my husband right now and am just smmmmokin all his good stuff, maybe we could work that in or somthing?.....
     
  5. he stepped quickly and confidently to his car, using keyless entry, and slides inside. he turns the key in the ignition and the (someone help me pick a good car) jumped to life, roaring to be released from "PARK".
    he flipped the dial back & forth in a weak attempt to find a radio station playing something other than N'Stink or Limp Bizkit, sighed half-heartedly & popped in a little CCR. A half-smile playing his lips, he slid a joint between his lips, flicked his zippo open and let ablaze.

    backing out of his spot with ease, he hums along, pulls out, stops for a second.. inhales.. a huge cloud of smoke billows out of his window.. and he takes off, towards the bar.


    [edit - my spelling sucks so i tried to fix that, forget using capitals consistently! lol & i'm supastoned so forgive me!! someone add on soon i want to see what happens!!]
     
  6. When I started to post this, g-phish's reply wasn't on there yet....guess that's what I get for bein' so slow!!!!!!!

    Ok, Ok, Ok................

    Earlier that day he was really givin' his ol' lady hell and getting way too much enjoyment out of it. He should know better by now but sometimes he gets carried away in the moment. So, when he finally tires of it and goes to check out the City on his 'puter, he doesn't notice her snatchin' his sack. She feels a little guilty and not wanting to be a total bitch, she pulls out the smallest bud and leaves it on the tray and then she proceeds to her favorite smoke spot-the back porch. Since they live 15 miles from town, they don't worry much about beein' seen. She starts tokin' up in her little bong and takin' in the scenery....lovin' life....gettin' totally blazed. Then she suddenly realized, as her fingers 'bout went through the bottom of the baggie, "Oh shit!!! I smoked it ALL!!!" Oh well, she thought to herself, serves the asshole right-he can just go get some more. She goes back into the house to share the good news and finds him asleep on the couch, which was good-it meant he hasn't seen the tray yet. She had an idea. She grabbed a pen and paper and jotted down a little note that she had to go into town for a few things, that she would probably be a while, Love Steph and then a P.S. at the bottom of the page....."Oh yeah, you need to see about scorin' another sack. You got me so uptight earlier, I needed to mello out. I guess I smoked it all. Sorry." NOT, she thought in her head and a wicked little smile spread across her face. She grabbed her purse and the keys and left as quietly as she could. He'll be a real prick when he realizes I toked up all his herb, she thought to herself as she was gettin in her jeep......think I'll take my time.
    He was havin' that wierd dream again....he knows cause the light switch he keeps flickin' isn't workin....the light stays on. Not really a scary dream but unsettling nonetheless and once again he has to do something extreme in the dream to wake himself up. He starts to bang his head on the wall, repeatedly..................."DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!!!" he shouts as he sits up abruptly on the couch. His voice seemed to still be echoing in the house, which made it seem huge and empty. "STEPH" he calls out. "Hey Steph, you here?" He looks down and notices the note on the coffee table, reads it and starts to throw it away when he noticed the P.S. at the bottom. NO WAY, he thinks to himself, as he reaches uneder the couch for the tray. Sure enough, nothin' but one little bud. Just enough for a decent bowl on his pipe. DAMN!!! He gets up puts on some tunes and makes a quick call. SHIT!!! Looks like he'll be waitin' for a while......the ol' boy is out scorin' himself. So, he put the little bud in his pipe-saluted it, for it was the last in an honorable sack-and torched it.
     
  7. BOREDOM STRIKES AND STRIKES AND STRIKES AGAIN- I'M ON MY LUNCH BREAK AND I'M FEELING CREATIVE...

    The car pulled up. Looking at the massive neon sign he walked in as he smiled to himself:
    "Punk'o'bar-a... what a name"
    He walked calmly over to the table where three others sat, all calmly sipping on their beers. One a large, overweight guy a huge t-shirt bearing the the rather clever slogan (or so he thought) 'Fat People Are Harder To Kidnap.' To his right were two other both skinny with greasy black hair one waring a 'Clash' t shirt the other in a plain shirt and tie. The two on the right wore jeans and shirt and tie wore trousers. He sat down.
    "Good trip?" He inquired.
    "Not bad," the fat guy replied "but airplane food is SHIT"
    "Got it with ya?"
    "Yeah," said Shirt man putting the baggie on the table "there ya go mate."
    "This had better not be fake like last time cos if it i..." he was cut short by the fat guy
    "C'mon, last time was a joke- we payed you back didn't we. And you know me, for christ's sake we're old friends!"

    The music changed "YES THAT'S RIGHT- PUNK IS DEAD..."
    "So do you wanna come by on Friday? It's the missus' birthday and we're havin a party."
    "Nah," fat guy replied "mine's goin anal on me. 'You go to too many parties. I NEVER SEE YOU. IT'S YOUR FRIENDS OR ME AT THIS RATE.'How is she anyways?"
    "Huh, she has pissed me off major time" still remembering that morning "what 'bout you Dan?"
    "Yeah I'll go," Clash man said "Bring a bottle?"
    "Yeah. Nate you've gotta come!"
    "Nah... too much work to do. My boss is goin' shit house- I'm not even supposed to be here now!" replied Shirt.

    After a few hours of mild drinking the four got up to leave. A large dude with a bald head walked over.
    "You laughin at me?" he remarked, clearly drunk.
    "No," Dan said "we were just leaving."
    "You were. Watch yourself- i could kill ya in t-t-t-two minuites!"
    The four turned and walked out, the fat guy screaming behind them. He turned to his next victim, a young guy who was also quite drunk. The four hurried out of the bar.
    "So I'll see you Friday then." John said calmly as screams and shouts could be heard from the bar and he unlocked his car.
    "I'm there!!" Dan shouted back as a large chair went through the window. With that they drove off...
     
  8. Driving home all he could think about was the stash he just scored. He could smell it smelled strong. But shit if he got pulled over right now he’d be in shit. Fuck it, its all just in his head just drive. He glanced to the right and saw what looked to be a lone hitchhiker. Shivering with a thumb, that is all he could make out with the big jacket they were wearing.
    “Hell, Why not” tossing his stash in the glove box
    As he clicks the right blinker on his Bavarian auto
    “Maybe they’ll be Cool, shit its good karma”
     
  9. He pulled over to the side of the road, and the stranger with the large coat walked up... he opened the door and plopped himself down in the passenger seat. He was in his mid-twenties, longish hair and a beard. His smile dominated his face.
    "Hey, thanks man, looks like it's gonna rain any minute now!"

    "Hey no problem, where you headin?" he asked.

    "Eh anywhere, everywhere, I don't really have a spot in mind. Actually lookin for a place to settle down for the night, know anywhere cheap around here?" The passenger unzipped his backpack as he spoke... "I don't really want to stay in a shelter, I don't have much money, but I have THIS."
    He reached in his bag, and pulled out a little dark wooden box. He opened it carefully, and inside was a small sticky ball of hash in a plastic bag, neatly tucked beside a bag of the greenest, stoniest looking buds you could ever see.

    "Man you got some balls busting that out on a stranger that picks you up," John says, easing back into his seat, smiling slyly.

    "Yeah, I know, but it's all I have and I don't have anything to lose, yanno?" The passenger replied.

    "Ah hell, you can crash at my place, I trust ya. What's your name, and where you from?"

    "I'm Dean, I hail from Maine, I've been travelling the states the past few years just enjoying life, man. You'd be surprised at what I have seen in my life. Hey, you mind if I spark up in here?" he asks, pulling a joint from behind is ear.

    "Hell yeah, I don't mind. You gotta be more careful about bustin that stash out though man, you're likely to get robbed, or busted."

    Off they went, blazing a potent phat joint, and once again John starts feeling a little fuzzy. He grins, turns up the music, and presses down on the gas... Feeling free-spirited, he goes a little faster than he should, but what the hey. It's the weekend, got an assload of good buds, some good company, and nothing to do.
     

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