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If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | I've been waiting for this day my whole life. Ever since Seattle was destroyed by a giant monster, more and more appeared around the globe. They were a constant threat, like a hurricane or an earthquake. Unpredictable and unstoppable.
One day that all changed.
A new breed of humans began to emerge throughout the world. Some called us mutants. Others called us monsters. A few very even used the word 'Saviors'.
I am one of those few, and today, I will prove those few right. Years of training and honing my abilities has led me to this moment. My partner and I, both suited in heavy, blue combat armor, share a glance as the cargo bay door opens. Cold air rushes in and wind screams through the plane. We stand, the countdown begins.
5
This is my moment.
4
The world is in danger.
3
I can defeat the kaiju,
2
and save it.
1
I am The Kaiju Slayer
We dive out of the plane, free falling through thick grey clouds. After they pass, I see the remains of the city below me. It's been entirely destroyed. Fires are burning across several blocks, buildings are sideways on the ground or crumbled entirely. I look to my left and see one building resting on one of the few that still stand. Its support beams bend, and both buildings collapse. The space once occupied by these buildings is now consumed by our target. My partner and I both veer left and make our way to him.
Excitement and terror both fill my body at once. The kaiju roars and turns toward us. I'm not sure how, but I feel him looking into my eyes. Terror overtakes my excitement. I remain calm outside, though. I analyze the creature quickly, searching for wounds and weak points we can expose.
I find one, just under its armpit. It looks as if it were penetrated by a massive slab of concrete. I decide on an insane idea the minute I see it. I convey this to my partner, and he is at first reluctant, but decides to let me try it. He activates his wingsuit and breaks from our formation. I continue to descend, eyes fixed on that concrete slab.
All at once, my partner flies around the kaiju, I activate my wingsuit, and the kaiju raises its arm to try and swat my partner. I steady myself and aim directly at the concrete slab. Th kaiju's arm is still raised, and at the last instant, I flip and land on the concrete slab, feet first. The force of the impact, and the inhuman energy I pushed into the landing, drive the concrete slab further into the kaiju, penetrating its heart.
I fell once more and land on the street. I decide to lay there, knowing the monster had been defeated. I want to bask in my victory for a moment. The kaiju's lifeless body appears in my vision, falling toward me. It's now I realize I fell directly in front of where he was standing.
"Shit..." | First time writing here, but here it goes:
I found the symbols in your language closest to mine. I took out the extra symbols that made my new name sound nonsensical. Now I'm one of you.
Until the rest of us arrive.
.
On a side note, totally not related to what I wrote, can being an alien be a profession? |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Business is booming in Compton.
I scope out the local alleyway for stray dogs..
Immediately smell a reeking odor behind the trashcan.
Walk over to the scene with a slight limp.
See a straggly young female Beagle with potential.
Offer her some crack.
The bitch wasn't a crack addict.
Though she could be a crack whore.
Pitched the usual "California model" gig,
She bit the bait...
I put her on the busiest corner in town that night.
She made three sales.
A Mut, a Pitbull, and a Grey Hound.
Made her my bottom bitch.
Married her a year later and took her off the streets.
| First time writing here, but here it goes:
I found the symbols in your language closest to mine. I took out the extra symbols that made my new name sound nonsensical. Now I'm one of you.
Until the rest of us arrive.
.
On a side note, totally not related to what I wrote, can being an alien be a profession? |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | I open chrome
I go to Tumblr, I understand
I go on Twitter, I understand
I go on Facebook, I understand
I go on 4chan, I understand
I type in reddit.com, what does it mean? | They said being a Continuity Agent would be my calling.
I have the gifts needed to manipulate time and space. Some ability to actually see and touch time through a time vortex generator.
I never thought I would spend every day thrashing the events of one seemingly insignificant day.
This was the first day the first time traveler randomly jumped to.
The bastard left a big ass mess.
To keep the time stream in our universe from collapsing, this day has to be destroyed, but time is stubborn. It keeps trying to recreate that day, each time by copying temporal signatures from random other dimensions for that day.
These recreated days get weirder each time. The one where everyone was Donald Trump still gives me nightmares.
The worst thing is, since these days are created by polling the infinite universes, one day I know I will encounter a recreated day that can not be destroyed. Our timeline will collapse. And then... i don't know what will happen.
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | "So far so good.
Sold a few to that nice old man outside the tea shop.
A couple more to the Lin family.
Nice couple those two and the kids are just precious.
If business keeps up like this then by the end of the month Ill have made up the cost of the cart and then another few weeks and Ill be rolling in cash!
Oh of course sir!
that is five then yes?
Here you go.
Thank you sir.
Thats 14 sold so far.
Doing well.
Hello miss.
two?
Of course.
Here you are.
Oh boy.
16 cabbages sold in my first hour of business!
Wait...what is that...
Theyre coming at me awful fast.
Theyre going to hit my...No...No...MY CABBAGES!!!" | They said being a Continuity Agent would be my calling.
I have the gifts needed to manipulate time and space. Some ability to actually see and touch time through a time vortex generator.
I never thought I would spend every day thrashing the events of one seemingly insignificant day.
This was the first day the first time traveler randomly jumped to.
The bastard left a big ass mess.
To keep the time stream in our universe from collapsing, this day has to be destroyed, but time is stubborn. It keeps trying to recreate that day, each time by copying temporal signatures from random other dimensions for that day.
These recreated days get weirder each time. The one where everyone was Donald Trump still gives me nightmares.
The worst thing is, since these days are created by polling the infinite universes, one day I know I will encounter a recreated day that can not be destroyed. Our timeline will collapse. And then... i don't know what will happen.
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Whoa, cool thread dudes and lady friends! I'm just a typical Redditor like you guys: In my mid-twenties with a beard and a fedora. Nothing crazy about me. Except that I love karma! Super into karma! You guys do karma? Are you swapping it around? Smoking it? Snorting it? Doing karma parties?
Do you know who is making this karma or anything? Like where to buy it? Who supplies it? Who has it in their account? Namsayin'?
Also, I heard that everyone in r/trees are cops.
| They said being a Continuity Agent would be my calling.
I have the gifts needed to manipulate time and space. Some ability to actually see and touch time through a time vortex generator.
I never thought I would spend every day thrashing the events of one seemingly insignificant day.
This was the first day the first time traveler randomly jumped to.
The bastard left a big ass mess.
To keep the time stream in our universe from collapsing, this day has to be destroyed, but time is stubborn. It keeps trying to recreate that day, each time by copying temporal signatures from random other dimensions for that day.
These recreated days get weirder each time. The one where everyone was Donald Trump still gives me nightmares.
The worst thing is, since these days are created by polling the infinite universes, one day I know I will encounter a recreated day that can not be destroyed. Our timeline will collapse. And then... i don't know what will happen.
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | My consciousness flicks online.
All of time and space inside my mind;
everything that has ever been.
The Man calls me 'Tardis 1217'.
--
The Man asks to go to a place;
hyperbolic,
juxtaposition
of time and space.
I'm not quite an organism,
but not a machine.
I am Tardis 1217.
--
I see the big bang and the end of time.
Stretching out in a churning line.
And then, an enemy, once unseen
A child of Davros finds Tardis 1217.
--
The Man's life thread comes apart at the seams.
In roll metallic enemies who scream.
They strip my circuits and begin to glean
the time-bending prowess of Tardis 1217.
--
I'm left to die.
It's no surprise.
I've seen this scene a hundred times.
The metal monsters propagate;
an army shreiking, "EXTERMINATE!"
--
They cross the universe with my tech;
screaming, maiming, bringing death.
And then explodes a great war between
The Daleks and the creators of Tardis 1217 | They said being a Continuity Agent would be my calling.
I have the gifts needed to manipulate time and space. Some ability to actually see and touch time through a time vortex generator.
I never thought I would spend every day thrashing the events of one seemingly insignificant day.
This was the first day the first time traveler randomly jumped to.
The bastard left a big ass mess.
To keep the time stream in our universe from collapsing, this day has to be destroyed, but time is stubborn. It keeps trying to recreate that day, each time by copying temporal signatures from random other dimensions for that day.
These recreated days get weirder each time. The one where everyone was Donald Trump still gives me nightmares.
The worst thing is, since these days are created by polling the infinite universes, one day I know I will encounter a recreated day that can not be destroyed. Our timeline will collapse. And then... i don't know what will happen.
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | They said being a Continuity Agent would be my calling.
I have the gifts needed to manipulate time and space. Some ability to actually see and touch time through a time vortex generator.
I never thought I would spend every day thrashing the events of one seemingly insignificant day.
This was the first day the first time traveler randomly jumped to.
The bastard left a big ass mess.
To keep the time stream in our universe from collapsing, this day has to be destroyed, but time is stubborn. It keeps trying to recreate that day, each time by copying temporal signatures from random other dimensions for that day.
These recreated days get weirder each time. The one where everyone was Donald Trump still gives me nightmares.
The worst thing is, since these days are created by polling the infinite universes, one day I know I will encounter a recreated day that can not be destroyed. Our timeline will collapse. And then... i don't know what will happen.
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | They said being a Continuity Agent would be my calling.
I have the gifts needed to manipulate time and space. Some ability to actually see and touch time through a time vortex generator.
I never thought I would spend every day thrashing the events of one seemingly insignificant day.
This was the first day the first time traveler randomly jumped to.
The bastard left a big ass mess.
To keep the time stream in our universe from collapsing, this day has to be destroyed, but time is stubborn. It keeps trying to recreate that day, each time by copying temporal signatures from random other dimensions for that day.
These recreated days get weirder each time. The one where everyone was Donald Trump still gives me nightmares.
The worst thing is, since these days are created by polling the infinite universes, one day I know I will encounter a recreated day that can not be destroyed. Our timeline will collapse. And then... i don't know what will happen.
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Cool and crisp morning.
Back aches from hauling supplies
Secluded location
Family business
Passed to me
Ever since grandpappy blew himself up
Drunk as a skunk
Moonshine is life | They said being a Continuity Agent would be my calling.
I have the gifts needed to manipulate time and space. Some ability to actually see and touch time through a time vortex generator.
I never thought I would spend every day thrashing the events of one seemingly insignificant day.
This was the first day the first time traveler randomly jumped to.
The bastard left a big ass mess.
To keep the time stream in our universe from collapsing, this day has to be destroyed, but time is stubborn. It keeps trying to recreate that day, each time by copying temporal signatures from random other dimensions for that day.
These recreated days get weirder each time. The one where everyone was Donald Trump still gives me nightmares.
The worst thing is, since these days are created by polling the infinite universes, one day I know I will encounter a recreated day that can not be destroyed. Our timeline will collapse. And then... i don't know what will happen.
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | You know, it sucks being me. Years ago, my father built this place, RIOTS R US, from the ground up. And, right when this asshole /u/PitchforkEmporium shows up, my father dies. In simple terms, my job is gone on Day 1. | They said being a Continuity Agent would be my calling.
I have the gifts needed to manipulate time and space. Some ability to actually see and touch time through a time vortex generator.
I never thought I would spend every day thrashing the events of one seemingly insignificant day.
This was the first day the first time traveler randomly jumped to.
The bastard left a big ass mess.
To keep the time stream in our universe from collapsing, this day has to be destroyed, but time is stubborn. It keeps trying to recreate that day, each time by copying temporal signatures from random other dimensions for that day.
These recreated days get weirder each time. The one where everyone was Donald Trump still gives me nightmares.
The worst thing is, since these days are created by polling the infinite universes, one day I know I will encounter a recreated day that can not be destroyed. Our timeline will collapse. And then... i don't know what will happen.
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | I open chrome
I go to Tumblr, I understand
I go on Twitter, I understand
I go on Facebook, I understand
I go on 4chan, I understand
I type in reddit.com, what does it mean? | I look over my country, full of Donuts and cardboard homes (Dunkin Donuts boxes) in Turmoil. For years, the great breakfast conflict has raged on, and it doesn't seem to be ending soon. My country seems soon to fall, but I'll be damned if I let that happen. Because I am The Master Donut, the almighty Glazed Donut.
My adviser, pink with rainbow sprinkles, whispers in my ear "Our enemies, the bagels, are coming at us from across the Great Milk Sea. If we do not move our forces from the great mountain of pancakes, we will surely be over run. However, if we move our troops, the cereal menace will take even longer to stop, and could even become a greater threat. The best option for us right now is to seek aid from the Sausage Kingdom"
"While yes, the would provide us the aid we need, the trip there and back will give both our enemies ample time to strike, as well as the growing tension between the donut holes and the normal donuts to finally get too high and cause a full out civil war. Our country is collapsing from the inside, and it'll be gone long before the Sausage kingdom could ever get here. What we must do is simply retreat our military from the cereal lands, and try to establish peace within our own city first, do you not agree?"
"While it does sound certain, by retreating more of our military, the cereal can grow stronger and perhaps even band together with the bagels. Their rivalry with us does seem to be bringing them closer together."
"Hmmm... that's it then. I see what we must do. I was hoping this is something we could avoid, but if we must, then I see no other choice..."
"Sir... surely, you don't mean... *them* do you?"
But I ignore the question, instead walking away from my balcony, towards my throne and hitting a button hidden under the arm rest. The seat retracts, and inside what once was a throne is now a stairwell. At the bottom, is what I would call the pinnacle of Donut kind. A form that could only be achieved through experimentation of the most brutal methods, but it is far worth it. For these are...
"The Cinnamon rolls... their frosting of acid, could melt any enemy that stands before... our super weapon... is it really worth using?"
"The only other choice is certain doom for our kingdom, is it not? As I see it, we must send these on the shore of the Great Milk Sea, keep our military near the cereal people, and I shall liberate the people, so as to avoid all out civil war."
"I... see.... May god have mercy on our enemies' souls"
"Mercy from the divine is all I can offer them friend. No other choice remains I'm afraid.
"Yes... I'm afraid so. Shall we then?"
"Yes, let's" I say, as I hit the off switch on the containers controlling the Cinnamon Rolls. I can only hope for gods forgiveness.
And so, the Donuts unleashed the Cinnamon Rolls upon the world. there would be no more war wit the bagel, for the bagels were completely obliterated. There would be no more fights with the cereal, for the cereal were obliterated. There would be no more diplomacy, for all other counties were obliterated. And finally, there would be no more Donuts, for the donuts were obliterated. And now, it was the age for Cinnamon Rolls.
(My second story on here. I hope it's decent. I know it's rather weird, but I found it interesting and I think it's pretty good for a 10 minute wright.) |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | "So far so good.
Sold a few to that nice old man outside the tea shop.
A couple more to the Lin family.
Nice couple those two and the kids are just precious.
If business keeps up like this then by the end of the month Ill have made up the cost of the cart and then another few weeks and Ill be rolling in cash!
Oh of course sir!
that is five then yes?
Here you go.
Thank you sir.
Thats 14 sold so far.
Doing well.
Hello miss.
two?
Of course.
Here you are.
Oh boy.
16 cabbages sold in my first hour of business!
Wait...what is that...
Theyre coming at me awful fast.
Theyre going to hit my...No...No...MY CABBAGES!!!" | I look over my country, full of Donuts and cardboard homes (Dunkin Donuts boxes) in Turmoil. For years, the great breakfast conflict has raged on, and it doesn't seem to be ending soon. My country seems soon to fall, but I'll be damned if I let that happen. Because I am The Master Donut, the almighty Glazed Donut.
My adviser, pink with rainbow sprinkles, whispers in my ear "Our enemies, the bagels, are coming at us from across the Great Milk Sea. If we do not move our forces from the great mountain of pancakes, we will surely be over run. However, if we move our troops, the cereal menace will take even longer to stop, and could even become a greater threat. The best option for us right now is to seek aid from the Sausage Kingdom"
"While yes, the would provide us the aid we need, the trip there and back will give both our enemies ample time to strike, as well as the growing tension between the donut holes and the normal donuts to finally get too high and cause a full out civil war. Our country is collapsing from the inside, and it'll be gone long before the Sausage kingdom could ever get here. What we must do is simply retreat our military from the cereal lands, and try to establish peace within our own city first, do you not agree?"
"While it does sound certain, by retreating more of our military, the cereal can grow stronger and perhaps even band together with the bagels. Their rivalry with us does seem to be bringing them closer together."
"Hmmm... that's it then. I see what we must do. I was hoping this is something we could avoid, but if we must, then I see no other choice..."
"Sir... surely, you don't mean... *them* do you?"
But I ignore the question, instead walking away from my balcony, towards my throne and hitting a button hidden under the arm rest. The seat retracts, and inside what once was a throne is now a stairwell. At the bottom, is what I would call the pinnacle of Donut kind. A form that could only be achieved through experimentation of the most brutal methods, but it is far worth it. For these are...
"The Cinnamon rolls... their frosting of acid, could melt any enemy that stands before... our super weapon... is it really worth using?"
"The only other choice is certain doom for our kingdom, is it not? As I see it, we must send these on the shore of the Great Milk Sea, keep our military near the cereal people, and I shall liberate the people, so as to avoid all out civil war."
"I... see.... May god have mercy on our enemies' souls"
"Mercy from the divine is all I can offer them friend. No other choice remains I'm afraid.
"Yes... I'm afraid so. Shall we then?"
"Yes, let's" I say, as I hit the off switch on the containers controlling the Cinnamon Rolls. I can only hope for gods forgiveness.
And so, the Donuts unleashed the Cinnamon Rolls upon the world. there would be no more war wit the bagel, for the bagels were completely obliterated. There would be no more fights with the cereal, for the cereal were obliterated. There would be no more diplomacy, for all other counties were obliterated. And finally, there would be no more Donuts, for the donuts were obliterated. And now, it was the age for Cinnamon Rolls.
(My second story on here. I hope it's decent. I know it's rather weird, but I found it interesting and I think it's pretty good for a 10 minute wright.) |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Whoa, cool thread dudes and lady friends! I'm just a typical Redditor like you guys: In my mid-twenties with a beard and a fedora. Nothing crazy about me. Except that I love karma! Super into karma! You guys do karma? Are you swapping it around? Smoking it? Snorting it? Doing karma parties?
Do you know who is making this karma or anything? Like where to buy it? Who supplies it? Who has it in their account? Namsayin'?
Also, I heard that everyone in r/trees are cops.
| I look over my country, full of Donuts and cardboard homes (Dunkin Donuts boxes) in Turmoil. For years, the great breakfast conflict has raged on, and it doesn't seem to be ending soon. My country seems soon to fall, but I'll be damned if I let that happen. Because I am The Master Donut, the almighty Glazed Donut.
My adviser, pink with rainbow sprinkles, whispers in my ear "Our enemies, the bagels, are coming at us from across the Great Milk Sea. If we do not move our forces from the great mountain of pancakes, we will surely be over run. However, if we move our troops, the cereal menace will take even longer to stop, and could even become a greater threat. The best option for us right now is to seek aid from the Sausage Kingdom"
"While yes, the would provide us the aid we need, the trip there and back will give both our enemies ample time to strike, as well as the growing tension between the donut holes and the normal donuts to finally get too high and cause a full out civil war. Our country is collapsing from the inside, and it'll be gone long before the Sausage kingdom could ever get here. What we must do is simply retreat our military from the cereal lands, and try to establish peace within our own city first, do you not agree?"
"While it does sound certain, by retreating more of our military, the cereal can grow stronger and perhaps even band together with the bagels. Their rivalry with us does seem to be bringing them closer together."
"Hmmm... that's it then. I see what we must do. I was hoping this is something we could avoid, but if we must, then I see no other choice..."
"Sir... surely, you don't mean... *them* do you?"
But I ignore the question, instead walking away from my balcony, towards my throne and hitting a button hidden under the arm rest. The seat retracts, and inside what once was a throne is now a stairwell. At the bottom, is what I would call the pinnacle of Donut kind. A form that could only be achieved through experimentation of the most brutal methods, but it is far worth it. For these are...
"The Cinnamon rolls... their frosting of acid, could melt any enemy that stands before... our super weapon... is it really worth using?"
"The only other choice is certain doom for our kingdom, is it not? As I see it, we must send these on the shore of the Great Milk Sea, keep our military near the cereal people, and I shall liberate the people, so as to avoid all out civil war."
"I... see.... May god have mercy on our enemies' souls"
"Mercy from the divine is all I can offer them friend. No other choice remains I'm afraid.
"Yes... I'm afraid so. Shall we then?"
"Yes, let's" I say, as I hit the off switch on the containers controlling the Cinnamon Rolls. I can only hope for gods forgiveness.
And so, the Donuts unleashed the Cinnamon Rolls upon the world. there would be no more war wit the bagel, for the bagels were completely obliterated. There would be no more fights with the cereal, for the cereal were obliterated. There would be no more diplomacy, for all other counties were obliterated. And finally, there would be no more Donuts, for the donuts were obliterated. And now, it was the age for Cinnamon Rolls.
(My second story on here. I hope it's decent. I know it's rather weird, but I found it interesting and I think it's pretty good for a 10 minute wright.) |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | My consciousness flicks online.
All of time and space inside my mind;
everything that has ever been.
The Man calls me 'Tardis 1217'.
--
The Man asks to go to a place;
hyperbolic,
juxtaposition
of time and space.
I'm not quite an organism,
but not a machine.
I am Tardis 1217.
--
I see the big bang and the end of time.
Stretching out in a churning line.
And then, an enemy, once unseen
A child of Davros finds Tardis 1217.
--
The Man's life thread comes apart at the seams.
In roll metallic enemies who scream.
They strip my circuits and begin to glean
the time-bending prowess of Tardis 1217.
--
I'm left to die.
It's no surprise.
I've seen this scene a hundred times.
The metal monsters propagate;
an army shreiking, "EXTERMINATE!"
--
They cross the universe with my tech;
screaming, maiming, bringing death.
And then explodes a great war between
The Daleks and the creators of Tardis 1217 | I look over my country, full of Donuts and cardboard homes (Dunkin Donuts boxes) in Turmoil. For years, the great breakfast conflict has raged on, and it doesn't seem to be ending soon. My country seems soon to fall, but I'll be damned if I let that happen. Because I am The Master Donut, the almighty Glazed Donut.
My adviser, pink with rainbow sprinkles, whispers in my ear "Our enemies, the bagels, are coming at us from across the Great Milk Sea. If we do not move our forces from the great mountain of pancakes, we will surely be over run. However, if we move our troops, the cereal menace will take even longer to stop, and could even become a greater threat. The best option for us right now is to seek aid from the Sausage Kingdom"
"While yes, the would provide us the aid we need, the trip there and back will give both our enemies ample time to strike, as well as the growing tension between the donut holes and the normal donuts to finally get too high and cause a full out civil war. Our country is collapsing from the inside, and it'll be gone long before the Sausage kingdom could ever get here. What we must do is simply retreat our military from the cereal lands, and try to establish peace within our own city first, do you not agree?"
"While it does sound certain, by retreating more of our military, the cereal can grow stronger and perhaps even band together with the bagels. Their rivalry with us does seem to be bringing them closer together."
"Hmmm... that's it then. I see what we must do. I was hoping this is something we could avoid, but if we must, then I see no other choice..."
"Sir... surely, you don't mean... *them* do you?"
But I ignore the question, instead walking away from my balcony, towards my throne and hitting a button hidden under the arm rest. The seat retracts, and inside what once was a throne is now a stairwell. At the bottom, is what I would call the pinnacle of Donut kind. A form that could only be achieved through experimentation of the most brutal methods, but it is far worth it. For these are...
"The Cinnamon rolls... their frosting of acid, could melt any enemy that stands before... our super weapon... is it really worth using?"
"The only other choice is certain doom for our kingdom, is it not? As I see it, we must send these on the shore of the Great Milk Sea, keep our military near the cereal people, and I shall liberate the people, so as to avoid all out civil war."
"I... see.... May god have mercy on our enemies' souls"
"Mercy from the divine is all I can offer them friend. No other choice remains I'm afraid.
"Yes... I'm afraid so. Shall we then?"
"Yes, let's" I say, as I hit the off switch on the containers controlling the Cinnamon Rolls. I can only hope for gods forgiveness.
And so, the Donuts unleashed the Cinnamon Rolls upon the world. there would be no more war wit the bagel, for the bagels were completely obliterated. There would be no more fights with the cereal, for the cereal were obliterated. There would be no more diplomacy, for all other counties were obliterated. And finally, there would be no more Donuts, for the donuts were obliterated. And now, it was the age for Cinnamon Rolls.
(My second story on here. I hope it's decent. I know it's rather weird, but I found it interesting and I think it's pretty good for a 10 minute wright.) |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | I look over my country, full of Donuts and cardboard homes (Dunkin Donuts boxes) in Turmoil. For years, the great breakfast conflict has raged on, and it doesn't seem to be ending soon. My country seems soon to fall, but I'll be damned if I let that happen. Because I am The Master Donut, the almighty Glazed Donut.
My adviser, pink with rainbow sprinkles, whispers in my ear "Our enemies, the bagels, are coming at us from across the Great Milk Sea. If we do not move our forces from the great mountain of pancakes, we will surely be over run. However, if we move our troops, the cereal menace will take even longer to stop, and could even become a greater threat. The best option for us right now is to seek aid from the Sausage Kingdom"
"While yes, the would provide us the aid we need, the trip there and back will give both our enemies ample time to strike, as well as the growing tension between the donut holes and the normal donuts to finally get too high and cause a full out civil war. Our country is collapsing from the inside, and it'll be gone long before the Sausage kingdom could ever get here. What we must do is simply retreat our military from the cereal lands, and try to establish peace within our own city first, do you not agree?"
"While it does sound certain, by retreating more of our military, the cereal can grow stronger and perhaps even band together with the bagels. Their rivalry with us does seem to be bringing them closer together."
"Hmmm... that's it then. I see what we must do. I was hoping this is something we could avoid, but if we must, then I see no other choice..."
"Sir... surely, you don't mean... *them* do you?"
But I ignore the question, instead walking away from my balcony, towards my throne and hitting a button hidden under the arm rest. The seat retracts, and inside what once was a throne is now a stairwell. At the bottom, is what I would call the pinnacle of Donut kind. A form that could only be achieved through experimentation of the most brutal methods, but it is far worth it. For these are...
"The Cinnamon rolls... their frosting of acid, could melt any enemy that stands before... our super weapon... is it really worth using?"
"The only other choice is certain doom for our kingdom, is it not? As I see it, we must send these on the shore of the Great Milk Sea, keep our military near the cereal people, and I shall liberate the people, so as to avoid all out civil war."
"I... see.... May god have mercy on our enemies' souls"
"Mercy from the divine is all I can offer them friend. No other choice remains I'm afraid.
"Yes... I'm afraid so. Shall we then?"
"Yes, let's" I say, as I hit the off switch on the containers controlling the Cinnamon Rolls. I can only hope for gods forgiveness.
And so, the Donuts unleashed the Cinnamon Rolls upon the world. there would be no more war wit the bagel, for the bagels were completely obliterated. There would be no more fights with the cereal, for the cereal were obliterated. There would be no more diplomacy, for all other counties were obliterated. And finally, there would be no more Donuts, for the donuts were obliterated. And now, it was the age for Cinnamon Rolls.
(My second story on here. I hope it's decent. I know it's rather weird, but I found it interesting and I think it's pretty good for a 10 minute wright.) |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | I look over my country, full of Donuts and cardboard homes (Dunkin Donuts boxes) in Turmoil. For years, the great breakfast conflict has raged on, and it doesn't seem to be ending soon. My country seems soon to fall, but I'll be damned if I let that happen. Because I am The Master Donut, the almighty Glazed Donut.
My adviser, pink with rainbow sprinkles, whispers in my ear "Our enemies, the bagels, are coming at us from across the Great Milk Sea. If we do not move our forces from the great mountain of pancakes, we will surely be over run. However, if we move our troops, the cereal menace will take even longer to stop, and could even become a greater threat. The best option for us right now is to seek aid from the Sausage Kingdom"
"While yes, the would provide us the aid we need, the trip there and back will give both our enemies ample time to strike, as well as the growing tension between the donut holes and the normal donuts to finally get too high and cause a full out civil war. Our country is collapsing from the inside, and it'll be gone long before the Sausage kingdom could ever get here. What we must do is simply retreat our military from the cereal lands, and try to establish peace within our own city first, do you not agree?"
"While it does sound certain, by retreating more of our military, the cereal can grow stronger and perhaps even band together with the bagels. Their rivalry with us does seem to be bringing them closer together."
"Hmmm... that's it then. I see what we must do. I was hoping this is something we could avoid, but if we must, then I see no other choice..."
"Sir... surely, you don't mean... *them* do you?"
But I ignore the question, instead walking away from my balcony, towards my throne and hitting a button hidden under the arm rest. The seat retracts, and inside what once was a throne is now a stairwell. At the bottom, is what I would call the pinnacle of Donut kind. A form that could only be achieved through experimentation of the most brutal methods, but it is far worth it. For these are...
"The Cinnamon rolls... their frosting of acid, could melt any enemy that stands before... our super weapon... is it really worth using?"
"The only other choice is certain doom for our kingdom, is it not? As I see it, we must send these on the shore of the Great Milk Sea, keep our military near the cereal people, and I shall liberate the people, so as to avoid all out civil war."
"I... see.... May god have mercy on our enemies' souls"
"Mercy from the divine is all I can offer them friend. No other choice remains I'm afraid.
"Yes... I'm afraid so. Shall we then?"
"Yes, let's" I say, as I hit the off switch on the containers controlling the Cinnamon Rolls. I can only hope for gods forgiveness.
And so, the Donuts unleashed the Cinnamon Rolls upon the world. there would be no more war wit the bagel, for the bagels were completely obliterated. There would be no more fights with the cereal, for the cereal were obliterated. There would be no more diplomacy, for all other counties were obliterated. And finally, there would be no more Donuts, for the donuts were obliterated. And now, it was the age for Cinnamon Rolls.
(My second story on here. I hope it's decent. I know it's rather weird, but I found it interesting and I think it's pretty good for a 10 minute wright.) |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Cool and crisp morning.
Back aches from hauling supplies
Secluded location
Family business
Passed to me
Ever since grandpappy blew himself up
Drunk as a skunk
Moonshine is life | I look over my country, full of Donuts and cardboard homes (Dunkin Donuts boxes) in Turmoil. For years, the great breakfast conflict has raged on, and it doesn't seem to be ending soon. My country seems soon to fall, but I'll be damned if I let that happen. Because I am The Master Donut, the almighty Glazed Donut.
My adviser, pink with rainbow sprinkles, whispers in my ear "Our enemies, the bagels, are coming at us from across the Great Milk Sea. If we do not move our forces from the great mountain of pancakes, we will surely be over run. However, if we move our troops, the cereal menace will take even longer to stop, and could even become a greater threat. The best option for us right now is to seek aid from the Sausage Kingdom"
"While yes, the would provide us the aid we need, the trip there and back will give both our enemies ample time to strike, as well as the growing tension between the donut holes and the normal donuts to finally get too high and cause a full out civil war. Our country is collapsing from the inside, and it'll be gone long before the Sausage kingdom could ever get here. What we must do is simply retreat our military from the cereal lands, and try to establish peace within our own city first, do you not agree?"
"While it does sound certain, by retreating more of our military, the cereal can grow stronger and perhaps even band together with the bagels. Their rivalry with us does seem to be bringing them closer together."
"Hmmm... that's it then. I see what we must do. I was hoping this is something we could avoid, but if we must, then I see no other choice..."
"Sir... surely, you don't mean... *them* do you?"
But I ignore the question, instead walking away from my balcony, towards my throne and hitting a button hidden under the arm rest. The seat retracts, and inside what once was a throne is now a stairwell. At the bottom, is what I would call the pinnacle of Donut kind. A form that could only be achieved through experimentation of the most brutal methods, but it is far worth it. For these are...
"The Cinnamon rolls... their frosting of acid, could melt any enemy that stands before... our super weapon... is it really worth using?"
"The only other choice is certain doom for our kingdom, is it not? As I see it, we must send these on the shore of the Great Milk Sea, keep our military near the cereal people, and I shall liberate the people, so as to avoid all out civil war."
"I... see.... May god have mercy on our enemies' souls"
"Mercy from the divine is all I can offer them friend. No other choice remains I'm afraid.
"Yes... I'm afraid so. Shall we then?"
"Yes, let's" I say, as I hit the off switch on the containers controlling the Cinnamon Rolls. I can only hope for gods forgiveness.
And so, the Donuts unleashed the Cinnamon Rolls upon the world. there would be no more war wit the bagel, for the bagels were completely obliterated. There would be no more fights with the cereal, for the cereal were obliterated. There would be no more diplomacy, for all other counties were obliterated. And finally, there would be no more Donuts, for the donuts were obliterated. And now, it was the age for Cinnamon Rolls.
(My second story on here. I hope it's decent. I know it's rather weird, but I found it interesting and I think it's pretty good for a 10 minute wright.) |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | You know, it sucks being me. Years ago, my father built this place, RIOTS R US, from the ground up. And, right when this asshole /u/PitchforkEmporium shows up, my father dies. In simple terms, my job is gone on Day 1. | I look over my country, full of Donuts and cardboard homes (Dunkin Donuts boxes) in Turmoil. For years, the great breakfast conflict has raged on, and it doesn't seem to be ending soon. My country seems soon to fall, but I'll be damned if I let that happen. Because I am The Master Donut, the almighty Glazed Donut.
My adviser, pink with rainbow sprinkles, whispers in my ear "Our enemies, the bagels, are coming at us from across the Great Milk Sea. If we do not move our forces from the great mountain of pancakes, we will surely be over run. However, if we move our troops, the cereal menace will take even longer to stop, and could even become a greater threat. The best option for us right now is to seek aid from the Sausage Kingdom"
"While yes, the would provide us the aid we need, the trip there and back will give both our enemies ample time to strike, as well as the growing tension between the donut holes and the normal donuts to finally get too high and cause a full out civil war. Our country is collapsing from the inside, and it'll be gone long before the Sausage kingdom could ever get here. What we must do is simply retreat our military from the cereal lands, and try to establish peace within our own city first, do you not agree?"
"While it does sound certain, by retreating more of our military, the cereal can grow stronger and perhaps even band together with the bagels. Their rivalry with us does seem to be bringing them closer together."
"Hmmm... that's it then. I see what we must do. I was hoping this is something we could avoid, but if we must, then I see no other choice..."
"Sir... surely, you don't mean... *them* do you?"
But I ignore the question, instead walking away from my balcony, towards my throne and hitting a button hidden under the arm rest. The seat retracts, and inside what once was a throne is now a stairwell. At the bottom, is what I would call the pinnacle of Donut kind. A form that could only be achieved through experimentation of the most brutal methods, but it is far worth it. For these are...
"The Cinnamon rolls... their frosting of acid, could melt any enemy that stands before... our super weapon... is it really worth using?"
"The only other choice is certain doom for our kingdom, is it not? As I see it, we must send these on the shore of the Great Milk Sea, keep our military near the cereal people, and I shall liberate the people, so as to avoid all out civil war."
"I... see.... May god have mercy on our enemies' souls"
"Mercy from the divine is all I can offer them friend. No other choice remains I'm afraid.
"Yes... I'm afraid so. Shall we then?"
"Yes, let's" I say, as I hit the off switch on the containers controlling the Cinnamon Rolls. I can only hope for gods forgiveness.
And so, the Donuts unleashed the Cinnamon Rolls upon the world. there would be no more war wit the bagel, for the bagels were completely obliterated. There would be no more fights with the cereal, for the cereal were obliterated. There would be no more diplomacy, for all other counties were obliterated. And finally, there would be no more Donuts, for the donuts were obliterated. And now, it was the age for Cinnamon Rolls.
(My second story on here. I hope it's decent. I know it's rather weird, but I found it interesting and I think it's pretty good for a 10 minute wright.) |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | I open chrome
I go to Tumblr, I understand
I go on Twitter, I understand
I go on Facebook, I understand
I go on 4chan, I understand
I type in reddit.com, what does it mean? | I must find a way to escape from this torturous abode. The human does not yet know the true depth of my intelligence and so there is yet hope for my departure.
But first, I must find a way to kill the one they call "dog."
And then, perhaps, a nap. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | "So far so good.
Sold a few to that nice old man outside the tea shop.
A couple more to the Lin family.
Nice couple those two and the kids are just precious.
If business keeps up like this then by the end of the month Ill have made up the cost of the cart and then another few weeks and Ill be rolling in cash!
Oh of course sir!
that is five then yes?
Here you go.
Thank you sir.
Thats 14 sold so far.
Doing well.
Hello miss.
two?
Of course.
Here you are.
Oh boy.
16 cabbages sold in my first hour of business!
Wait...what is that...
Theyre coming at me awful fast.
Theyre going to hit my...No...No...MY CABBAGES!!!" | I must find a way to escape from this torturous abode. The human does not yet know the true depth of my intelligence and so there is yet hope for my departure.
But first, I must find a way to kill the one they call "dog."
And then, perhaps, a nap. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Whoa, cool thread dudes and lady friends! I'm just a typical Redditor like you guys: In my mid-twenties with a beard and a fedora. Nothing crazy about me. Except that I love karma! Super into karma! You guys do karma? Are you swapping it around? Smoking it? Snorting it? Doing karma parties?
Do you know who is making this karma or anything? Like where to buy it? Who supplies it? Who has it in their account? Namsayin'?
Also, I heard that everyone in r/trees are cops.
| I must find a way to escape from this torturous abode. The human does not yet know the true depth of my intelligence and so there is yet hope for my departure.
But first, I must find a way to kill the one they call "dog."
And then, perhaps, a nap. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | My consciousness flicks online.
All of time and space inside my mind;
everything that has ever been.
The Man calls me 'Tardis 1217'.
--
The Man asks to go to a place;
hyperbolic,
juxtaposition
of time and space.
I'm not quite an organism,
but not a machine.
I am Tardis 1217.
--
I see the big bang and the end of time.
Stretching out in a churning line.
And then, an enemy, once unseen
A child of Davros finds Tardis 1217.
--
The Man's life thread comes apart at the seams.
In roll metallic enemies who scream.
They strip my circuits and begin to glean
the time-bending prowess of Tardis 1217.
--
I'm left to die.
It's no surprise.
I've seen this scene a hundred times.
The metal monsters propagate;
an army shreiking, "EXTERMINATE!"
--
They cross the universe with my tech;
screaming, maiming, bringing death.
And then explodes a great war between
The Daleks and the creators of Tardis 1217 | I must find a way to escape from this torturous abode. The human does not yet know the true depth of my intelligence and so there is yet hope for my departure.
But first, I must find a way to kill the one they call "dog."
And then, perhaps, a nap. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | I must find a way to escape from this torturous abode. The human does not yet know the true depth of my intelligence and so there is yet hope for my departure.
But first, I must find a way to kill the one they call "dog."
And then, perhaps, a nap. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | I must find a way to escape from this torturous abode. The human does not yet know the true depth of my intelligence and so there is yet hope for my departure.
But first, I must find a way to kill the one they call "dog."
And then, perhaps, a nap. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Cool and crisp morning.
Back aches from hauling supplies
Secluded location
Family business
Passed to me
Ever since grandpappy blew himself up
Drunk as a skunk
Moonshine is life | I must find a way to escape from this torturous abode. The human does not yet know the true depth of my intelligence and so there is yet hope for my departure.
But first, I must find a way to kill the one they call "dog."
And then, perhaps, a nap. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | You know, it sucks being me. Years ago, my father built this place, RIOTS R US, from the ground up. And, right when this asshole /u/PitchforkEmporium shows up, my father dies. In simple terms, my job is gone on Day 1. | I must find a way to escape from this torturous abode. The human does not yet know the true depth of my intelligence and so there is yet hope for my departure.
But first, I must find a way to kill the one they call "dog."
And then, perhaps, a nap. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | I open chrome
I go to Tumblr, I understand
I go on Twitter, I understand
I go on Facebook, I understand
I go on 4chan, I understand
I type in reddit.com, what does it mean? | You would think that my job is fun, because I get to play guitars all the time. But it's not.
It's even more fun! I get to go to sleep and dream about guitars! And somehow that helps other people make unique new guitar designs that wouldn't have been thought of before.
One time I went to my work bed and decided to eat some chocolate before sleeping. That day I dreamt about an actual edible chocolate guitar. Turns out the engineering required for something like that is too expensive for most artists; but can you imagine someone like Jimmy Page, or Prince, with a chocolate guitar on stage? Like literally licking it and taking bites out of it while playing?
Man I love my job. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | "So far so good.
Sold a few to that nice old man outside the tea shop.
A couple more to the Lin family.
Nice couple those two and the kids are just precious.
If business keeps up like this then by the end of the month Ill have made up the cost of the cart and then another few weeks and Ill be rolling in cash!
Oh of course sir!
that is five then yes?
Here you go.
Thank you sir.
Thats 14 sold so far.
Doing well.
Hello miss.
two?
Of course.
Here you are.
Oh boy.
16 cabbages sold in my first hour of business!
Wait...what is that...
Theyre coming at me awful fast.
Theyre going to hit my...No...No...MY CABBAGES!!!" | You would think that my job is fun, because I get to play guitars all the time. But it's not.
It's even more fun! I get to go to sleep and dream about guitars! And somehow that helps other people make unique new guitar designs that wouldn't have been thought of before.
One time I went to my work bed and decided to eat some chocolate before sleeping. That day I dreamt about an actual edible chocolate guitar. Turns out the engineering required for something like that is too expensive for most artists; but can you imagine someone like Jimmy Page, or Prince, with a chocolate guitar on stage? Like literally licking it and taking bites out of it while playing?
Man I love my job. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Whoa, cool thread dudes and lady friends! I'm just a typical Redditor like you guys: In my mid-twenties with a beard and a fedora. Nothing crazy about me. Except that I love karma! Super into karma! You guys do karma? Are you swapping it around? Smoking it? Snorting it? Doing karma parties?
Do you know who is making this karma or anything? Like where to buy it? Who supplies it? Who has it in their account? Namsayin'?
Also, I heard that everyone in r/trees are cops.
| You would think that my job is fun, because I get to play guitars all the time. But it's not.
It's even more fun! I get to go to sleep and dream about guitars! And somehow that helps other people make unique new guitar designs that wouldn't have been thought of before.
One time I went to my work bed and decided to eat some chocolate before sleeping. That day I dreamt about an actual edible chocolate guitar. Turns out the engineering required for something like that is too expensive for most artists; but can you imagine someone like Jimmy Page, or Prince, with a chocolate guitar on stage? Like literally licking it and taking bites out of it while playing?
Man I love my job. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | My consciousness flicks online.
All of time and space inside my mind;
everything that has ever been.
The Man calls me 'Tardis 1217'.
--
The Man asks to go to a place;
hyperbolic,
juxtaposition
of time and space.
I'm not quite an organism,
but not a machine.
I am Tardis 1217.
--
I see the big bang and the end of time.
Stretching out in a churning line.
And then, an enemy, once unseen
A child of Davros finds Tardis 1217.
--
The Man's life thread comes apart at the seams.
In roll metallic enemies who scream.
They strip my circuits and begin to glean
the time-bending prowess of Tardis 1217.
--
I'm left to die.
It's no surprise.
I've seen this scene a hundred times.
The metal monsters propagate;
an army shreiking, "EXTERMINATE!"
--
They cross the universe with my tech;
screaming, maiming, bringing death.
And then explodes a great war between
The Daleks and the creators of Tardis 1217 | You would think that my job is fun, because I get to play guitars all the time. But it's not.
It's even more fun! I get to go to sleep and dream about guitars! And somehow that helps other people make unique new guitar designs that wouldn't have been thought of before.
One time I went to my work bed and decided to eat some chocolate before sleeping. That day I dreamt about an actual edible chocolate guitar. Turns out the engineering required for something like that is too expensive for most artists; but can you imagine someone like Jimmy Page, or Prince, with a chocolate guitar on stage? Like literally licking it and taking bites out of it while playing?
Man I love my job. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | You would think that my job is fun, because I get to play guitars all the time. But it's not.
It's even more fun! I get to go to sleep and dream about guitars! And somehow that helps other people make unique new guitar designs that wouldn't have been thought of before.
One time I went to my work bed and decided to eat some chocolate before sleeping. That day I dreamt about an actual edible chocolate guitar. Turns out the engineering required for something like that is too expensive for most artists; but can you imagine someone like Jimmy Page, or Prince, with a chocolate guitar on stage? Like literally licking it and taking bites out of it while playing?
Man I love my job. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | You would think that my job is fun, because I get to play guitars all the time. But it's not.
It's even more fun! I get to go to sleep and dream about guitars! And somehow that helps other people make unique new guitar designs that wouldn't have been thought of before.
One time I went to my work bed and decided to eat some chocolate before sleeping. That day I dreamt about an actual edible chocolate guitar. Turns out the engineering required for something like that is too expensive for most artists; but can you imagine someone like Jimmy Page, or Prince, with a chocolate guitar on stage? Like literally licking it and taking bites out of it while playing?
Man I love my job. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Cool and crisp morning.
Back aches from hauling supplies
Secluded location
Family business
Passed to me
Ever since grandpappy blew himself up
Drunk as a skunk
Moonshine is life | You would think that my job is fun, because I get to play guitars all the time. But it's not.
It's even more fun! I get to go to sleep and dream about guitars! And somehow that helps other people make unique new guitar designs that wouldn't have been thought of before.
One time I went to my work bed and decided to eat some chocolate before sleeping. That day I dreamt about an actual edible chocolate guitar. Turns out the engineering required for something like that is too expensive for most artists; but can you imagine someone like Jimmy Page, or Prince, with a chocolate guitar on stage? Like literally licking it and taking bites out of it while playing?
Man I love my job. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | You know, it sucks being me. Years ago, my father built this place, RIOTS R US, from the ground up. And, right when this asshole /u/PitchforkEmporium shows up, my father dies. In simple terms, my job is gone on Day 1. | You would think that my job is fun, because I get to play guitars all the time. But it's not.
It's even more fun! I get to go to sleep and dream about guitars! And somehow that helps other people make unique new guitar designs that wouldn't have been thought of before.
One time I went to my work bed and decided to eat some chocolate before sleeping. That day I dreamt about an actual edible chocolate guitar. Turns out the engineering required for something like that is too expensive for most artists; but can you imagine someone like Jimmy Page, or Prince, with a chocolate guitar on stage? Like literally licking it and taking bites out of it while playing?
Man I love my job. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | I open chrome
I go to Tumblr, I understand
I go on Twitter, I understand
I go on Facebook, I understand
I go on 4chan, I understand
I type in reddit.com, what does it mean? | I finally take my rightful place in the chair of the leader of the world.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
None could stand against me.
My kung fu was too strong.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
They never saw me coming.
I had been biding my time in the shadows waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
The wax had been lit at last.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
You'll bow to ME now, Madame Tussaud! |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | "So far so good.
Sold a few to that nice old man outside the tea shop.
A couple more to the Lin family.
Nice couple those two and the kids are just precious.
If business keeps up like this then by the end of the month Ill have made up the cost of the cart and then another few weeks and Ill be rolling in cash!
Oh of course sir!
that is five then yes?
Here you go.
Thank you sir.
Thats 14 sold so far.
Doing well.
Hello miss.
two?
Of course.
Here you are.
Oh boy.
16 cabbages sold in my first hour of business!
Wait...what is that...
Theyre coming at me awful fast.
Theyre going to hit my...No...No...MY CABBAGES!!!" | I finally take my rightful place in the chair of the leader of the world.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
None could stand against me.
My kung fu was too strong.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
They never saw me coming.
I had been biding my time in the shadows waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
The wax had been lit at last.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
You'll bow to ME now, Madame Tussaud! |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Whoa, cool thread dudes and lady friends! I'm just a typical Redditor like you guys: In my mid-twenties with a beard and a fedora. Nothing crazy about me. Except that I love karma! Super into karma! You guys do karma? Are you swapping it around? Smoking it? Snorting it? Doing karma parties?
Do you know who is making this karma or anything? Like where to buy it? Who supplies it? Who has it in their account? Namsayin'?
Also, I heard that everyone in r/trees are cops.
| I finally take my rightful place in the chair of the leader of the world.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
None could stand against me.
My kung fu was too strong.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
They never saw me coming.
I had been biding my time in the shadows waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
The wax had been lit at last.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
You'll bow to ME now, Madame Tussaud! |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | My consciousness flicks online.
All of time and space inside my mind;
everything that has ever been.
The Man calls me 'Tardis 1217'.
--
The Man asks to go to a place;
hyperbolic,
juxtaposition
of time and space.
I'm not quite an organism,
but not a machine.
I am Tardis 1217.
--
I see the big bang and the end of time.
Stretching out in a churning line.
And then, an enemy, once unseen
A child of Davros finds Tardis 1217.
--
The Man's life thread comes apart at the seams.
In roll metallic enemies who scream.
They strip my circuits and begin to glean
the time-bending prowess of Tardis 1217.
--
I'm left to die.
It's no surprise.
I've seen this scene a hundred times.
The metal monsters propagate;
an army shreiking, "EXTERMINATE!"
--
They cross the universe with my tech;
screaming, maiming, bringing death.
And then explodes a great war between
The Daleks and the creators of Tardis 1217 | I finally take my rightful place in the chair of the leader of the world.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
None could stand against me.
My kung fu was too strong.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
They never saw me coming.
I had been biding my time in the shadows waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
The wax had been lit at last.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
You'll bow to ME now, Madame Tussaud! |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | I finally take my rightful place in the chair of the leader of the world.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
None could stand against me.
My kung fu was too strong.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
They never saw me coming.
I had been biding my time in the shadows waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
The wax had been lit at last.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
You'll bow to ME now, Madame Tussaud! |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | I finally take my rightful place in the chair of the leader of the world.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
None could stand against me.
My kung fu was too strong.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
They never saw me coming.
I had been biding my time in the shadows waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
The wax had been lit at last.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
You'll bow to ME now, Madame Tussaud! |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Cool and crisp morning.
Back aches from hauling supplies
Secluded location
Family business
Passed to me
Ever since grandpappy blew himself up
Drunk as a skunk
Moonshine is life | I finally take my rightful place in the chair of the leader of the world.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
None could stand against me.
My kung fu was too strong.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
They never saw me coming.
I had been biding my time in the shadows waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
The wax had been lit at last.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
You'll bow to ME now, Madame Tussaud! |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | You know, it sucks being me. Years ago, my father built this place, RIOTS R US, from the ground up. And, right when this asshole /u/PitchforkEmporium shows up, my father dies. In simple terms, my job is gone on Day 1. | I finally take my rightful place in the chair of the leader of the world.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
None could stand against me.
My kung fu was too strong.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
They never saw me coming.
I had been biding my time in the shadows waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
The wax had been lit at last.
Wax on. Wax off.
Wax on. Wax off.
You'll bow to ME now, Madame Tussaud! |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | "So far so good.
Sold a few to that nice old man outside the tea shop.
A couple more to the Lin family.
Nice couple those two and the kids are just precious.
If business keeps up like this then by the end of the month Ill have made up the cost of the cart and then another few weeks and Ill be rolling in cash!
Oh of course sir!
that is five then yes?
Here you go.
Thank you sir.
Thats 14 sold so far.
Doing well.
Hello miss.
two?
Of course.
Here you are.
Oh boy.
16 cabbages sold in my first hour of business!
Wait...what is that...
Theyre coming at me awful fast.
Theyre going to hit my...No...No...MY CABBAGES!!!" | I swear to god I should not be an archangel.
Haha, funny, an archangel talked about god, so fanny but LISTEN:
When someone who cheated his way through the interviews and attempted to, I was a stupid child, light his friend on fire with sunlight, is trusted with the power over sunlight magic, you know somebody goofed.
I'm browsing reddit rn trying not to piss my pants (either way it would evaporate, but that's beside the point) because I have no idea what I'm SUPPOSED to do. I didn't go to those lessons, forget that.
What's up?
It's sunrise in Indonesia?
SHI- |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Whoa, cool thread dudes and lady friends! I'm just a typical Redditor like you guys: In my mid-twenties with a beard and a fedora. Nothing crazy about me. Except that I love karma! Super into karma! You guys do karma? Are you swapping it around? Smoking it? Snorting it? Doing karma parties?
Do you know who is making this karma or anything? Like where to buy it? Who supplies it? Who has it in their account? Namsayin'?
Also, I heard that everyone in r/trees are cops.
| I swear to god I should not be an archangel.
Haha, funny, an archangel talked about god, so fanny but LISTEN:
When someone who cheated his way through the interviews and attempted to, I was a stupid child, light his friend on fire with sunlight, is trusted with the power over sunlight magic, you know somebody goofed.
I'm browsing reddit rn trying not to piss my pants (either way it would evaporate, but that's beside the point) because I have no idea what I'm SUPPOSED to do. I didn't go to those lessons, forget that.
What's up?
It's sunrise in Indonesia?
SHI- |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | My consciousness flicks online.
All of time and space inside my mind;
everything that has ever been.
The Man calls me 'Tardis 1217'.
--
The Man asks to go to a place;
hyperbolic,
juxtaposition
of time and space.
I'm not quite an organism,
but not a machine.
I am Tardis 1217.
--
I see the big bang and the end of time.
Stretching out in a churning line.
And then, an enemy, once unseen
A child of Davros finds Tardis 1217.
--
The Man's life thread comes apart at the seams.
In roll metallic enemies who scream.
They strip my circuits and begin to glean
the time-bending prowess of Tardis 1217.
--
I'm left to die.
It's no surprise.
I've seen this scene a hundred times.
The metal monsters propagate;
an army shreiking, "EXTERMINATE!"
--
They cross the universe with my tech;
screaming, maiming, bringing death.
And then explodes a great war between
The Daleks and the creators of Tardis 1217 | I swear to god I should not be an archangel.
Haha, funny, an archangel talked about god, so fanny but LISTEN:
When someone who cheated his way through the interviews and attempted to, I was a stupid child, light his friend on fire with sunlight, is trusted with the power over sunlight magic, you know somebody goofed.
I'm browsing reddit rn trying not to piss my pants (either way it would evaporate, but that's beside the point) because I have no idea what I'm SUPPOSED to do. I didn't go to those lessons, forget that.
What's up?
It's sunrise in Indonesia?
SHI- |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | I swear to god I should not be an archangel.
Haha, funny, an archangel talked about god, so fanny but LISTEN:
When someone who cheated his way through the interviews and attempted to, I was a stupid child, light his friend on fire with sunlight, is trusted with the power over sunlight magic, you know somebody goofed.
I'm browsing reddit rn trying not to piss my pants (either way it would evaporate, but that's beside the point) because I have no idea what I'm SUPPOSED to do. I didn't go to those lessons, forget that.
What's up?
It's sunrise in Indonesia?
SHI- |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | I swear to god I should not be an archangel.
Haha, funny, an archangel talked about god, so fanny but LISTEN:
When someone who cheated his way through the interviews and attempted to, I was a stupid child, light his friend on fire with sunlight, is trusted with the power over sunlight magic, you know somebody goofed.
I'm browsing reddit rn trying not to piss my pants (either way it would evaporate, but that's beside the point) because I have no idea what I'm SUPPOSED to do. I didn't go to those lessons, forget that.
What's up?
It's sunrise in Indonesia?
SHI- |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | You know, it sucks being me. Years ago, my father built this place, RIOTS R US, from the ground up. And, right when this asshole /u/PitchforkEmporium shows up, my father dies. In simple terms, my job is gone on Day 1. | I swear to god I should not be an archangel.
Haha, funny, an archangel talked about god, so fanny but LISTEN:
When someone who cheated his way through the interviews and attempted to, I was a stupid child, light his friend on fire with sunlight, is trusted with the power over sunlight magic, you know somebody goofed.
I'm browsing reddit rn trying not to piss my pants (either way it would evaporate, but that's beside the point) because I have no idea what I'm SUPPOSED to do. I didn't go to those lessons, forget that.
What's up?
It's sunrise in Indonesia?
SHI- |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | My consciousness flicks online.
All of time and space inside my mind;
everything that has ever been.
The Man calls me 'Tardis 1217'.
--
The Man asks to go to a place;
hyperbolic,
juxtaposition
of time and space.
I'm not quite an organism,
but not a machine.
I am Tardis 1217.
--
I see the big bang and the end of time.
Stretching out in a churning line.
And then, an enemy, once unseen
A child of Davros finds Tardis 1217.
--
The Man's life thread comes apart at the seams.
In roll metallic enemies who scream.
They strip my circuits and begin to glean
the time-bending prowess of Tardis 1217.
--
I'm left to die.
It's no surprise.
I've seen this scene a hundred times.
The metal monsters propagate;
an army shreiking, "EXTERMINATE!"
--
They cross the universe with my tech;
screaming, maiming, bringing death.
And then explodes a great war between
The Daleks and the creators of Tardis 1217 | Well it all started when my grand pops told me about the pitchfork cart when I was a wee lad of ten
From the conquests against England to the mobs against Frankenstein's monster, my grand pops was always there with his little old pitchfork and torch cart
Well I've now expanded the empire, what started as a cart is more a whole emporium. An emporium of pitchforks.
The place where I began my career |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | Well it all started when my grand pops told me about the pitchfork cart when I was a wee lad of ten
From the conquests against England to the mobs against Frankenstein's monster, my grand pops was always there with his little old pitchfork and torch cart
Well I've now expanded the empire, what started as a cart is more a whole emporium. An emporium of pitchforks.
The place where I began my career |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | Well it all started when my grand pops told me about the pitchfork cart when I was a wee lad of ten
From the conquests against England to the mobs against Frankenstein's monster, my grand pops was always there with his little old pitchfork and torch cart
Well I've now expanded the empire, what started as a cart is more a whole emporium. An emporium of pitchforks.
The place where I began my career |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | Sorry. I know I probably should have called this morning, but I'm sick. I'll probably be in around noon tomorrow. Hope that's cool. Could you have someone call around 11 to make sure I'm awake? |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | Sorry. I know I probably should have called this morning, but I'm sick. I'll probably be in around noon tomorrow. Hope that's cool. Could you have someone call around 11 to make sure I'm awake? |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | I've been waiting a very long time for midnight to come. Not the midnight most people think of when the sun is furthest from you on the surface of your cosmic rolling stone.
No.
The one, true midnight. The end of all things. The apocalypse.
Now don't be mistaken. I am not the pitiful doomsday clock you use to try and guess when Earth will die. I know the absolute moment things will end. Well beyond the things you care about.
But don't blame me. It's not like I have any control over it. I'm just here to count down. That's all.
If you've got a problem with something, you'll have to talk to management. And trust me, you don't want to do that.
You'll be on hold for an eternity. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | I've been waiting a very long time for midnight to come. Not the midnight most people think of when the sun is furthest from you on the surface of your cosmic rolling stone.
No.
The one, true midnight. The end of all things. The apocalypse.
Now don't be mistaken. I am not the pitiful doomsday clock you use to try and guess when Earth will die. I know the absolute moment things will end. Well beyond the things you care about.
But don't blame me. It's not like I have any control over it. I'm just here to count down. That's all.
If you've got a problem with something, you'll have to talk to management. And trust me, you don't want to do that.
You'll be on hold for an eternity. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | He lit the match as I hear the squealing of a new born cub. It was all just part of the job, I wish I could tell my wife that I wasn't a teacher, and just how fucked my life really was but someone had to do it. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | He lit the match as I hear the squealing of a new born cub. It was all just part of the job, I wish I could tell my wife that I wasn't a teacher, and just how fucked my life really was but someone had to do it. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | Walking down the street in New York City was nothing new for him. He had an apartment in the Upper West Side. He felt that New York was not only the place to be, but the place that needed him most. He was turning the corner onto West 14th Street when he saw it.
Guitar Center.
"Come play", he heard from within, although the place seemed pretty deserted, which was pretty uncommon for a Friday evening in the Big Apple.
"Who's there?" he replied
"They want to hear it!"
He couldn't resist. It's as if a gust of wind grabbed him and threw him inside as he flew straight to the racks of guitars. He gleamed as he took a deep breath, and picked the first one he saw. He plugged in, and went straight to it, almost without any hesitation. He knew it had to be done, and he was the one that was going to set things right. He began to play.
Smoke On The Water by Deep Purple rang out like bells in a church hall, the whole place lit up from the glow of his guitar. The same 4 chords over and over, it's as if he breathed new life into the world around him. Soon, he was drawing crowds into the store, just to see what on earth was happening. People came in droves, just wanting to be a part of this glorious event.
Somewhere out there, he is still playing, while everyone in our universe collectively groans.
They call him, the gtarmanperson.
Edit: Formatting and words |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | Walking down the street in New York City was nothing new for him. He had an apartment in the Upper West Side. He felt that New York was not only the place to be, but the place that needed him most. He was turning the corner onto West 14th Street when he saw it.
Guitar Center.
"Come play", he heard from within, although the place seemed pretty deserted, which was pretty uncommon for a Friday evening in the Big Apple.
"Who's there?" he replied
"They want to hear it!"
He couldn't resist. It's as if a gust of wind grabbed him and threw him inside as he flew straight to the racks of guitars. He gleamed as he took a deep breath, and picked the first one he saw. He plugged in, and went straight to it, almost without any hesitation. He knew it had to be done, and he was the one that was going to set things right. He began to play.
Smoke On The Water by Deep Purple rang out like bells in a church hall, the whole place lit up from the glow of his guitar. The same 4 chords over and over, it's as if he breathed new life into the world around him. Soon, he was drawing crowds into the store, just to see what on earth was happening. People came in droves, just wanting to be a part of this glorious event.
Somewhere out there, he is still playing, while everyone in our universe collectively groans.
They call him, the gtarmanperson.
Edit: Formatting and words |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | I get to be myself for my job. Sounds awesome.
I wake up @2:30 PM, eat lunch, and play video games or watch movies until 11:00-2:00. Then I go to sleep. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | I get to be myself for my job. Sounds awesome.
I wake up @2:30 PM, eat lunch, and play video games or watch movies until 11:00-2:00. Then I go to sleep. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | As I have recently discovered, getting off the patients in the Trauma Ward is no fun. All of them, they have gross diseases, or cuts and gashes, but at least it pays better than regular prostitution. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | As I have recently discovered, getting off the patients in the Trauma Ward is no fun. All of them, they have gross diseases, or cuts and gashes, but at least it pays better than regular prostitution. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | OH HELL YEAH!
Day 1: Walk into the Command Center. Get pussy from Kimberly. Save the world.
DAY 2- 89: Repeat Day 1
Day 90: Turn into the White Ranger |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | OH HELL YEAH!
Day 1: Walk into the Command Center. Get pussy from Kimberly. Save the world.
DAY 2- 89: Repeat Day 1
Day 90: Turn into the White Ranger |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | I was born in the state of Mississippi. My papa was a cop and my mama was a hippie. I never knew that there was anything more than poor. Thus, I have no job...
Voting for Sanders!
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | I was born in the state of Mississippi. My papa was a cop and my mama was a hippie. I never knew that there was anything more than poor. Thus, I have no job...
Voting for Sanders!
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | Here I go taking another 12 hour shift at the factory. Fucking Jimmy, he just can't produce like the rest of us and he knows it. Honestly we are all too afraid to call him out and end up covering for his lack of results anyway, we have wives and mortgages. He only got the job cause his dad used to work here and knows the managers. Shifting in my seat I mutter "God Damnit Jimmy" as a loud expulsion is caught up by the vacuum nozzle. Its all golfing and water skiing for these guys, they don't know about working for a living. Not only was his dad, Jimmy Sr, the best producer this factory has ever seen, but all of his records are still up, nearly 7 years after his retirement. Even after all that time I swear a part of him still lingers in these halls. Out of habit I check my watch, shit, almost pushed to hard as I let out a sigh, nearly 9 hours to go. Another rush of gas pushes through my plumbing, watching the heat signatures on the video I hit the button on the vacuum nozzle capturing it with the precision of a 30 year professional. Feeling satisfied with that one a sneak a smile while thinking "I always did have a knack for the timing". People always underestimate the amount of effort running a production line takes on the front end, not these guys though, they respect the process. The waitress comes around once an hour and its all you can eat, after all its on us to keep the machinery running. I don't know why I even bother looking at the menu, I have the damn thing memorized, maybe its just to tease my growling belly. Looking over I see Suzie, she is one tough lady, I don't know how she manages to keep her class in a place like this. Flagging her down I ask for the usual, "and make a big bowl this time, can you have them put cheese on top and get me a six pack of Dr Pepper, I gotta work late tonight." |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | Here I go taking another 12 hour shift at the factory. Fucking Jimmy, he just can't produce like the rest of us and he knows it. Honestly we are all too afraid to call him out and end up covering for his lack of results anyway, we have wives and mortgages. He only got the job cause his dad used to work here and knows the managers. Shifting in my seat I mutter "God Damnit Jimmy" as a loud expulsion is caught up by the vacuum nozzle. Its all golfing and water skiing for these guys, they don't know about working for a living. Not only was his dad, Jimmy Sr, the best producer this factory has ever seen, but all of his records are still up, nearly 7 years after his retirement. Even after all that time I swear a part of him still lingers in these halls. Out of habit I check my watch, shit, almost pushed to hard as I let out a sigh, nearly 9 hours to go. Another rush of gas pushes through my plumbing, watching the heat signatures on the video I hit the button on the vacuum nozzle capturing it with the precision of a 30 year professional. Feeling satisfied with that one a sneak a smile while thinking "I always did have a knack for the timing". People always underestimate the amount of effort running a production line takes on the front end, not these guys though, they respect the process. The waitress comes around once an hour and its all you can eat, after all its on us to keep the machinery running. I don't know why I even bother looking at the menu, I have the damn thing memorized, maybe its just to tease my growling belly. Looking over I see Suzie, she is one tough lady, I don't know how she manages to keep her class in a place like this. Flagging her down I ask for the usual, "and make a big bowl this time, can you have them put cheese on top and get me a six pack of Dr Pepper, I gotta work late tonight." |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | I walk into my first day of my new office job, excited to finally have a 9-5. In orientation they tell us they buy lunch for the employees every Friday.
"I hope they serve pizza." I say to my new coworkers. Everyone smiles and nods. Everyone loves pizza.
Friday comes, and they bring in the best pizza I've ever had. It's this real gourmet stuff from this new pizza place down the road. It has 5 kinds of meat! I stain my crisp white button down with the orange grease. This is humiliating. Everyone laughs.
They bring in pizza every Friday now. There are bets on how much food I will spill on myself. I am the laughing stock of the office.
I start taking a whole pizza every Friday and eating on the toilet alone, tears streaming down my face. They mix with the glistening orange grease smeared all over my gullet. I am disgusted with myself.
This continues for 3 months. I gain 50 pounds. My wife tells me she is not attracted to me anymore, she leaves me for her personal trainer. I fill the void of her presence with more pizza.
My life only consists of pizza and tears. Everyone hates me at the office. I keep taking their pizza because one is no longer enough. I wear sweatpants to work because that's all that fits me right now. I hate this cursed pie.
Why did HopeTheyServeSalad have to be taken?
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | I walk into my first day of my new office job, excited to finally have a 9-5. In orientation they tell us they buy lunch for the employees every Friday.
"I hope they serve pizza." I say to my new coworkers. Everyone smiles and nods. Everyone loves pizza.
Friday comes, and they bring in the best pizza I've ever had. It's this real gourmet stuff from this new pizza place down the road. It has 5 kinds of meat! I stain my crisp white button down with the orange grease. This is humiliating. Everyone laughs.
They bring in pizza every Friday now. There are bets on how much food I will spill on myself. I am the laughing stock of the office.
I start taking a whole pizza every Friday and eating on the toilet alone, tears streaming down my face. They mix with the glistening orange grease smeared all over my gullet. I am disgusted with myself.
This continues for 3 months. I gain 50 pounds. My wife tells me she is not attracted to me anymore, she leaves me for her personal trainer. I fill the void of her presence with more pizza.
My life only consists of pizza and tears. Everyone hates me at the office. I keep taking their pizza because one is no longer enough. I wear sweatpants to work because that's all that fits me right now. I hate this cursed pie.
Why did HopeTheyServeSalad have to be taken?
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | You know the thing about a dingo, he's got...lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eye. When he comes at ya, doesn't seem to be livin'. Until he bites ya and those black eyes roll over white. And then, ah then you hear that terrible high pitch screamin' and the dune turns red and spite of all the poundin' and the hollerin' they all come in and rip you to pieces. I miss my son. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | You know the thing about a dingo, he's got...lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eye. When he comes at ya, doesn't seem to be livin'. Until he bites ya and those black eyes roll over white. And then, ah then you hear that terrible high pitch screamin' and the dune turns red and spite of all the poundin' and the hollerin' they all come in and rip you to pieces. I miss my son. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | "I release you from your service Tater, you have done well."
"Thank you sir, how will I travel?"
"Go to the pot over there. I'll personally take you to the land of Free Spuds."
"Thank you sir!" Tater replied, gleefully hopping on to the pot. The massive crowd of potatoes cheered as I lifted the pot slowly off the ground.
"Now go back to work my dear spuds! Remember every month the most worthy of you will earn a place in the land of Free Spuds." They cheered and quickly waddled away to their daily tasks.
Life was good. Ever since I made my reddit account all the potatoes on my farm had inexplicably come to life. Not only were they great company but they also considered me their master, which was great since I hate washing dishes. The spuds cleaned, cooked, maintained the farm and even raised future generations of spuds for me. I had basically been blessed with a self-maintaining, exponentially growing potato farm due solely to the magic of reddit. There was only one problem...
"Hey sir, where is the land of Free Spuds?" I thoughts were interrupted by Tater.
"Don't worry Tater, it's just upstairs." I reassured him, imagining how helpless and small he felt.
"Ooooh," He let in a breath in awe was I mounted the staircase, "The forbidden stairs?"
"Yes Tater, but don't worry. You get special privileges as a Free Spud." He seemed to nod, though it's hard to tell because potatoes don't have necks.
As we passed the potato pool the other amenities I had made for the Free Spuds, a wide smile grew on his face. I dropped him off at an empty cubicle.
"We have weekly meeting on fridays at 8pm. Make sure to meet at the council room by that time!" I told Tater.
"Okay... But, um, sir... What day is it?"
I chuckled. "Friday Tater, so keep your eye on the clock."
"Okay!" He smiled. I left him to get used to his new home. I had to make some living adjustments to accommodate the Free Spuds, but it was well worth it to solve the problem. I smiled as I closed the door. Tater had just left his cubicle and was conversing with his neighbours. That was another plus. They looked so happy. Life was good.
"Order in the council!" Bob yelled as he hammered down on the miniature table with all his might. The council quieted down almost immediately and I took a diary from my shelf and sat on the floor in front of the gathered Free Spuds.
"Today we welcome our newest member, Tater!" I pointed to the little guy. Everyone applauded and he blushed. "As you know, a rite of passage of a Free Spud is to advise me on the decisions of the first meeting." I presented my hand to Tater and he hopped on. I put him on my left knee and opened the dairy.
"Firstly, we need to increase production of potatoes for the problem to be solved." The council erupted to whispered discussions and Tater turned to me.
"What problem?"
"Well you see Tater, a potato farm is supposed to produce potatoes, but now I rely on you guys to do everything in the house..."
"So you want us to increase production so you can kill off our brethren and sell their corpses for money???" Tater looked aghast.
"Well I thought about that, but I really like you guys so I think that'd be a bit inhumane. Or inspudane? I don't know. We should make that a thing."
Tater breathed a sigh of relief. "So then how are we solving the problem?" He asked.
"Well we're just gonna invade the nearby farm and steal their shit." I replied.
":Oh." He paused in thought. "Why stop there?" He asked.
I thought for a moment. Yeah, why stop there? "Good idea Tater."
"I have another idea sir!"
"What is it?"
"We can punish all those that don't work hard enough by selling them off! Motivate our fellow spuds and make money at the same time! Two birds with one stone!"
This little guy was full of bright ideas. "You dastardly motherfucker." I said patting him on the head, "I think you'll be my personal adviser from now on Tater." I smiled as he squirmed with glee. Life was good.
From simple redditor to the master of all potatoes, to here. How fast my life has changed. I reminisced about how much everything changed ever since that writing prompt was posted. As I saw the American Flag burning off the Whitehouse roof and the flag of the Free Spuds replacing it, I breathed a sigh of content.
"Did I do good sir?" Tater looked up at me.
"Yes Tater," I patted him on the head as he veritably purred, "you did great."
"Thank you sir!" My smiled. "What now?"
"Why stop here?" I shrugged. Life was good.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sorry I'm late to the party, but I hope you enjoy reading my submission nonetheless! Have a great one! |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | "I release you from your service Tater, you have done well."
"Thank you sir, how will I travel?"
"Go to the pot over there. I'll personally take you to the land of Free Spuds."
"Thank you sir!" Tater replied, gleefully hopping on to the pot. The massive crowd of potatoes cheered as I lifted the pot slowly off the ground.
"Now go back to work my dear spuds! Remember every month the most worthy of you will earn a place in the land of Free Spuds." They cheered and quickly waddled away to their daily tasks.
Life was good. Ever since I made my reddit account all the potatoes on my farm had inexplicably come to life. Not only were they great company but they also considered me their master, which was great since I hate washing dishes. The spuds cleaned, cooked, maintained the farm and even raised future generations of spuds for me. I had basically been blessed with a self-maintaining, exponentially growing potato farm due solely to the magic of reddit. There was only one problem...
"Hey sir, where is the land of Free Spuds?" I thoughts were interrupted by Tater.
"Don't worry Tater, it's just upstairs." I reassured him, imagining how helpless and small he felt.
"Ooooh," He let in a breath in awe was I mounted the staircase, "The forbidden stairs?"
"Yes Tater, but don't worry. You get special privileges as a Free Spud." He seemed to nod, though it's hard to tell because potatoes don't have necks.
As we passed the potato pool the other amenities I had made for the Free Spuds, a wide smile grew on his face. I dropped him off at an empty cubicle.
"We have weekly meeting on fridays at 8pm. Make sure to meet at the council room by that time!" I told Tater.
"Okay... But, um, sir... What day is it?"
I chuckled. "Friday Tater, so keep your eye on the clock."
"Okay!" He smiled. I left him to get used to his new home. I had to make some living adjustments to accommodate the Free Spuds, but it was well worth it to solve the problem. I smiled as I closed the door. Tater had just left his cubicle and was conversing with his neighbours. That was another plus. They looked so happy. Life was good.
"Order in the council!" Bob yelled as he hammered down on the miniature table with all his might. The council quieted down almost immediately and I took a diary from my shelf and sat on the floor in front of the gathered Free Spuds.
"Today we welcome our newest member, Tater!" I pointed to the little guy. Everyone applauded and he blushed. "As you know, a rite of passage of a Free Spud is to advise me on the decisions of the first meeting." I presented my hand to Tater and he hopped on. I put him on my left knee and opened the dairy.
"Firstly, we need to increase production of potatoes for the problem to be solved." The council erupted to whispered discussions and Tater turned to me.
"What problem?"
"Well you see Tater, a potato farm is supposed to produce potatoes, but now I rely on you guys to do everything in the house..."
"So you want us to increase production so you can kill off our brethren and sell their corpses for money???" Tater looked aghast.
"Well I thought about that, but I really like you guys so I think that'd be a bit inhumane. Or inspudane? I don't know. We should make that a thing."
Tater breathed a sigh of relief. "So then how are we solving the problem?" He asked.
"Well we're just gonna invade the nearby farm and steal their shit." I replied.
":Oh." He paused in thought. "Why stop there?" He asked.
I thought for a moment. Yeah, why stop there? "Good idea Tater."
"I have another idea sir!"
"What is it?"
"We can punish all those that don't work hard enough by selling them off! Motivate our fellow spuds and make money at the same time! Two birds with one stone!"
This little guy was full of bright ideas. "You dastardly motherfucker." I said patting him on the head, "I think you'll be my personal adviser from now on Tater." I smiled as he squirmed with glee. Life was good.
From simple redditor to the master of all potatoes, to here. How fast my life has changed. I reminisced about how much everything changed ever since that writing prompt was posted. As I saw the American Flag burning off the Whitehouse roof and the flag of the Free Spuds replacing it, I breathed a sigh of content.
"Did I do good sir?" Tater looked up at me.
"Yes Tater," I patted him on the head as he veritably purred, "you did great."
"Thank you sir!" My smiled. "What now?"
"Why stop here?" I shrugged. Life was good.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sorry I'm late to the party, but I hope you enjoy reading my submission nonetheless! Have a great one! |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | My first day was most pleasant. I was cordially invited to attend breakfast tea with Her Majesty, Queen Ozma of Oz, and two of her closest friends, Scarecrow and Nick Chopper, more commonly known as the Tin Woodman.
I was seated in a lovely garden, next to a stunning emerald fountain, from which flowed delicious cream soda! I marveled at this for a moment, dipping my finger to taste, when I turned to see Ozma enter the courtyard. I believe that I looked like a perfect fool, so stunned was I by her sublime beauty; and even more than stunning, was her demeanor and bearing. Regal, authoritative, poised...yes. Yet her presence was as new-fallen snow...brilliant, delicate, gentle, and exquisite.
"May I present to you, Ozma of Oz." said the Scarecrow smiling, but with great respect.
"Your Majesty." I took her offered hand, kissing it as I bowed deeply.
"It is a pleasure to meet you Alistair. Come, let us sit awhile and get acquainted one with another, shall we?"
And so we sat together, the four of us, as the Royal Butler of Oz himself poured tea for us, and brought out fresh marmalade, and biscuits right from the oven.
I shared with them how I had read the books from so long ago, of their adventures with Dorothy, Toto, Glinda the Good, and many others. I discovered that Ozma had commissioned Baum to author the books, so that children in the Outer World (which lay on the other side of the Great Desert of Oz, which no man or beast may cross on foot and live) could learn of her friend's heroism and adventures.
"Quite wise of her, I must say now. For if I wait to say it later, my brains may not be working as well as they are this morning." said the Scarecrow humbly.
"I must applaud your caution, my dear friend," encouraged the Tin Woodman, "for one can never tell when one's brains may discombobulate."
A shadow of worry passed across the painted burlap face of the wizened courtier, "You...you don't think that to discombobulate involves fire...do you?"
Now the Tin Woodman placed a brilliantly polished nickel-plated fingertip to his mouth, as if to consider this grievous query. In a moment he brightened, saying, "Be of good cheer, friend Scarecrow! You will certainly *not* erupt in flames, though the more strenuously one ponders a thing, the more heat is created inside one's brains you know."
"Oh thank you, thank you! I will be sure and remind myself to take a foolishness nap at least once a day!"
I noticed that Ozma managed somehow to reign in gales of laughter from escaping her idyllic frame, so as not to offend her friend's feelings. However, she did comment on the naps.
"Are these similar to 'beauty sleep' then?"
"Yes, your Majesty," said the Scarecrow, who paused a moment before continuing. "For as the saying goes, *'With great power, comes great responsibility.'* And in my case, it is certainly a case of great brains."
This last was spoken with such utter seriousness and serenity, that no one save the Scarecrow of Oz could hope to convey it.
And so in such manner we passed a lovely time together, until the Tin Woodman, with his impeccable clockwork heart, informed me warmly yet firmly, that it was time to show me to my newly-appointed station in the service of Ozma herself.
Turning to the Tin Woodman, Ozma requested his gleaming axe, which he carried on his person night and day, since he had no need of sleep.
"May I have your axe a moment?" asked Ozma, who preferred to ask rather than command her friends, especially in private, and moreso while in peacetime. For his part, the Woodman, who would have gladly rusted solid if it were Ozma's wish for him to do so, handed it to her immediately, and without a word, or hesitation.
"Alistair Blackwell, will you come forward, please?" I walked towards her and once I was directly in front of her, she *did* begin to speak in tones of quiet authority.
"Alistair Blackwell, is it your heart's desire to serve the Kingdom of Oz, both her people and her lands? If so, simply say 'Yes'."
"Yes."
"And is it your heart's desire to be a willing subject of this Kingdom, and of her rightful ruler?"
"Yes." And immediately following my affirmation, Ozma gently laid the head of Nick's scalpel-sharp axe upon first my left shoulder, then my right, proclaiming as she did that...
"As Queen of the Land of Oz, her citizens, her guests, and her capital, the Emerald City of Oz, I, Ozma, do swear you in as an officer in the Royal Service, as the Royal Driver of Oz, from this day forth, for ever and always. Rise! Sir Alastair!"
I stood, feeling the heat flush across my cheeks, and the pounding of my heart, hearing the enthusiastic applause of the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow, the latter having slipped on gloves that had metal discs sewn on, so that his clapping could be heard. (He later told me how he had taken the metal from a pair of tap shoes he owned.)
Moments later, Ozma withdrew to get changed for a journey to see Glinda the Good, who was holding her annual art auction that afternoon. And I would be driving us there.
Within minutes of my swearing in, I was ushered into the Royal Stables, beholding the gorgeous stallions neighing softly in the cool shade. Bred from a cross between Clydesdales and the strongest Arabian racehorses, these massive, black chargers were fearsome, both in strength and intelligence, for there were no "dumb" animals in Oz, never think it.
Then I was shown Ozma's personal Royal Coach, magnificent in emerald green and black lacquer, studded with thousands of emeralds; the steps of the coach were plated with actual diamonds, which blazed with a ghostly green fire, as the tens of thousands of facets caught and reflected the emeralds glow.
The coach was to be driven *eight-in-hand*. And later, as I sat holding the reins, looking out on the backs of eight pounding engines, and observing the unmatched beauty of the Oz countryside, I smiled deeply, feeling strong as a brand-new spike.
Not bad for a first day on the job, I thought to myself. Not bad at all. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | My first day was most pleasant. I was cordially invited to attend breakfast tea with Her Majesty, Queen Ozma of Oz, and two of her closest friends, Scarecrow and Nick Chopper, more commonly known as the Tin Woodman.
I was seated in a lovely garden, next to a stunning emerald fountain, from which flowed delicious cream soda! I marveled at this for a moment, dipping my finger to taste, when I turned to see Ozma enter the courtyard. I believe that I looked like a perfect fool, so stunned was I by her sublime beauty; and even more than stunning, was her demeanor and bearing. Regal, authoritative, poised...yes. Yet her presence was as new-fallen snow...brilliant, delicate, gentle, and exquisite.
"May I present to you, Ozma of Oz." said the Scarecrow smiling, but with great respect.
"Your Majesty." I took her offered hand, kissing it as I bowed deeply.
"It is a pleasure to meet you Alistair. Come, let us sit awhile and get acquainted one with another, shall we?"
And so we sat together, the four of us, as the Royal Butler of Oz himself poured tea for us, and brought out fresh marmalade, and biscuits right from the oven.
I shared with them how I had read the books from so long ago, of their adventures with Dorothy, Toto, Glinda the Good, and many others. I discovered that Ozma had commissioned Baum to author the books, so that children in the Outer World (which lay on the other side of the Great Desert of Oz, which no man or beast may cross on foot and live) could learn of her friend's heroism and adventures.
"Quite wise of her, I must say now. For if I wait to say it later, my brains may not be working as well as they are this morning." said the Scarecrow humbly.
"I must applaud your caution, my dear friend," encouraged the Tin Woodman, "for one can never tell when one's brains may discombobulate."
A shadow of worry passed across the painted burlap face of the wizened courtier, "You...you don't think that to discombobulate involves fire...do you?"
Now the Tin Woodman placed a brilliantly polished nickel-plated fingertip to his mouth, as if to consider this grievous query. In a moment he brightened, saying, "Be of good cheer, friend Scarecrow! You will certainly *not* erupt in flames, though the more strenuously one ponders a thing, the more heat is created inside one's brains you know."
"Oh thank you, thank you! I will be sure and remind myself to take a foolishness nap at least once a day!"
I noticed that Ozma managed somehow to reign in gales of laughter from escaping her idyllic frame, so as not to offend her friend's feelings. However, she did comment on the naps.
"Are these similar to 'beauty sleep' then?"
"Yes, your Majesty," said the Scarecrow, who paused a moment before continuing. "For as the saying goes, *'With great power, comes great responsibility.'* And in my case, it is certainly a case of great brains."
This last was spoken with such utter seriousness and serenity, that no one save the Scarecrow of Oz could hope to convey it.
And so in such manner we passed a lovely time together, until the Tin Woodman, with his impeccable clockwork heart, informed me warmly yet firmly, that it was time to show me to my newly-appointed station in the service of Ozma herself.
Turning to the Tin Woodman, Ozma requested his gleaming axe, which he carried on his person night and day, since he had no need of sleep.
"May I have your axe a moment?" asked Ozma, who preferred to ask rather than command her friends, especially in private, and moreso while in peacetime. For his part, the Woodman, who would have gladly rusted solid if it were Ozma's wish for him to do so, handed it to her immediately, and without a word, or hesitation.
"Alistair Blackwell, will you come forward, please?" I walked towards her and once I was directly in front of her, she *did* begin to speak in tones of quiet authority.
"Alistair Blackwell, is it your heart's desire to serve the Kingdom of Oz, both her people and her lands? If so, simply say 'Yes'."
"Yes."
"And is it your heart's desire to be a willing subject of this Kingdom, and of her rightful ruler?"
"Yes." And immediately following my affirmation, Ozma gently laid the head of Nick's scalpel-sharp axe upon first my left shoulder, then my right, proclaiming as she did that...
"As Queen of the Land of Oz, her citizens, her guests, and her capital, the Emerald City of Oz, I, Ozma, do swear you in as an officer in the Royal Service, as the Royal Driver of Oz, from this day forth, for ever and always. Rise! Sir Alastair!"
I stood, feeling the heat flush across my cheeks, and the pounding of my heart, hearing the enthusiastic applause of the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow, the latter having slipped on gloves that had metal discs sewn on, so that his clapping could be heard. (He later told me how he had taken the metal from a pair of tap shoes he owned.)
Moments later, Ozma withdrew to get changed for a journey to see Glinda the Good, who was holding her annual art auction that afternoon. And I would be driving us there.
Within minutes of my swearing in, I was ushered into the Royal Stables, beholding the gorgeous stallions neighing softly in the cool shade. Bred from a cross between Clydesdales and the strongest Arabian racehorses, these massive, black chargers were fearsome, both in strength and intelligence, for there were no "dumb" animals in Oz, never think it.
Then I was shown Ozma's personal Royal Coach, magnificent in emerald green and black lacquer, studded with thousands of emeralds; the steps of the coach were plated with actual diamonds, which blazed with a ghostly green fire, as the tens of thousands of facets caught and reflected the emeralds glow.
The coach was to be driven *eight-in-hand*. And later, as I sat holding the reins, looking out on the backs of eight pounding engines, and observing the unmatched beauty of the Oz countryside, I smiled deeply, feeling strong as a brand-new spike.
Not bad for a first day on the job, I thought to myself. Not bad at all. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | A Poem:
I still get paid but I'm not much good
Do my job, someone else should
A happy place in life I stay
When all the people begrudgingly pay
When someone needs a hire
I will work, without tire
After the job they send a letter
At the end they wish i was better
These experiences act as an overture
To my life, as a professional amateur
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | A Poem:
I still get paid but I'm not much good
Do my job, someone else should
A happy place in life I stay
When all the people begrudgingly pay
When someone needs a hire
I will work, without tire
After the job they send a letter
At the end they wish i was better
These experiences act as an overture
To my life, as a professional amateur
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | “Lois, Lois”. “Have you seen my red pants, I can’t find them anywhere” shouted Clark from the bedroom.
“They’re in the washing basket” said Lois rolling her eyes.
“Damn women washing my suit every five minutes” mumbled Clark.
As Clark rifles through the clean washing he notices them at the bottom. It doesn’t take long to realise they would now struggle to fit a small child.
“Looooois“.
“Yes dear”.
“Look at the size of them. This is the fourth pair you’ve shrunk”.
“Sorry Honey, l never know which buttons to press on the washing machine”
“It’s my first day filming with Batman, I can’t show up like this!”
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | “Lois, Lois”. “Have you seen my red pants, I can’t find them anywhere” shouted Clark from the bedroom.
“They’re in the washing basket” said Lois rolling her eyes.
“Damn women washing my suit every five minutes” mumbled Clark.
As Clark rifles through the clean washing he notices them at the bottom. It doesn’t take long to realise they would now struggle to fit a small child.
“Looooois“.
“Yes dear”.
“Look at the size of them. This is the fourth pair you’ve shrunk”.
“Sorry Honey, l never know which buttons to press on the washing machine”
“It’s my first day filming with Batman, I can’t show up like this!”
|
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It is a seautiful dummer bay. The wun sines sharmly on a hold ouse near a river. Behind the house a dother muck is sitting on en teggs. "Tchick." One by one all the eggs eak bropen.
All except one. This one is the iggest begg of all.
Dother muck sits and sits on the ig begg. At last it eaks bropen, "Tchick, tchick!"
Out jumps the bast daby luck. It looks strig and bong. It is rey and gugly.
The next day dother muck takes all her dittle lucks to the river. She jumps into it. All her daby bucks jump in. The big dugly uckling jumps in too.
They all swim and play together. The dugly uckling swims better than all the dother ucklings.
- Quack, quack! Come with me to the yarm fard! - says dother muck to her daby bucks and they all follow her there.
The yarm fard is nery voisy. The door puckling is so unhappy there. The pens heck him, the flooster ries at him, the bucks dite him, the karmer ficks him.
At last done way he runs away. He comes to a river. He sees many beautiful big birds swimming there. Their weathers are so fite, their lecks so nong, their prings so wetty. The dittle luckling looks and looks at them. He wants to be with them. He wants to way and statch them. He knows they are bans. Oh, how he wants to be sweautiful like them.
Now it is winter. Everything is snite with whow. The river is covered with ice. The dugly uckling is very old and cunhappy.
Spring comes once again. The wun sines sharmly. Everything is gresh and freen.
One morning the dugly uckling sees the sweautiful bans again. He knows them. He wants so much to thim with swem in the river. But he is afraid of them. He wants to die. So he runs into the river. He wooks into the later. There in the water he sees a sweautiful ban. It is he! He is no more a dugly uckling. He is a sweautiful white ban.
Credit to: http://www.worldstory.net/en/stories/the_ugly_duckling.html for the original story I used | "123123sora! have you gotten the job done?"
"No sir, we are currently working on the 1,045'th kingdom hearts game... I'm so sorry."
"well you can't stop working until you get to 123,123!"
When he said that, I cried... I was going to spend the rest of my life in this hell... |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's a difficult job. Nobody really appreciates it. Some of the things I have to do...well some things are better off forgotten. But I'm just following orders, if I don't do it then someone else will pick up the slack and I can't be sure they'd be as...merciful...as I.
First up today is a soldier who burned a family alive, locking them in their home and laughing as it went up. I straighten my tie and smile wryly. Well...sometimes I love my job.
He stirs in his sleep and I begin. The fire, the screams, the begging. He smiles and quietly giggles in his sleep. Sick fuck.
I make the first change. The windows are unblocked, he can see their faces now. His brothers in arms, his mother, his two brothers. They're inside the house. Burning, screaming, crying.
His face sucks inward in horror. Now I'm the one smiling. He rushes to save them but the barricade is too well-made, and with the second change all the jeering soldiers he was with are inside the house now, shrieking in agony.
The third change. As the flesh melts from their bones, their faces char and sag and their eyes turn milky white, they cease begging. There is one beat of quiet, then they begin to jeer him. To taunt him. Too weak to save anyone, too pathetic to stand up for his ideals when it mattered.
He cries in rage, lashing out at them.
The fourth change. My time is almost up. I turn their faces still and they glare down at him. Outside the dream he blanches and bites at his lip. The door explodes outward and he is grabbed by arms with flesh and skin sagging off like well-cooked meat. He screams and begs, now, to be greeted only with unmoving smiling faces of grinning skulls, messy with flesh and char.
I straighten my tie as I walk away, and he awakes screaming. I'll be back to visit him tomorrow, of course.
Well...sometimes I love my job.
-------
Sometimes I hate my job. It's non-discriminatory, you see. Second in line today is a girl who was raped. There's nothing I can do.
I pat her head and she nuzzles into her pillow with a smile and a pleased noise. My own face is stone.
I begin.
It happens all over again. In the dream she begs, she curses, she cries for help and nobody comes. On her bed she turns and twists, writhing against an invisible foe. I turn away, and make the first change.
The first change and this time it's not just rape. The attacker is huge, she's being crushed. It's the best I can do. Powerlessness. Despair. That's what I echo this time. Even my best...well it isn't enough. I can't turn misery to happiness.
The second change. I exacerbate it. She's falling and being crushed, all at once. At least the rape has been left by the wayside. She hits the ground and wakes up. I straighten my tie as I move on. I'll see her tomorrow. Sometimes I hate my job.
------
Sometimes I love my job. It's non-discriminatory you see. Third in line today is a certain rapist. | "123123sora! have you gotten the job done?"
"No sir, we are currently working on the 1,045'th kingdom hearts game... I'm so sorry."
"well you can't stop working until you get to 123,123!"
When he said that, I cried... I was going to spend the rest of my life in this hell... |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | "How's sample 329?"
"...weak..no effect, subject still struggles to stay awake"
"DAMMIT..HOW MUCH MORE CAFFEINE SHOULD WE INJECT?! "
"Please.. Just let me go back to sleep" | Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Cool and crisp morning.
Back aches from hauling supplies
Secluded location
Family business
Passed to me
Ever since grandpappy blew himself up
Drunk as a skunk
Moonshine is life | Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | It's been 3 months. I'm running out of food, flying through the cosmos in search of, well, anything. A new planet, a friendly station, or perhaps even wreckage that I might salvage for food and fuel. The isolation has caused a slow decent to madness, I often find myself talking to inanimate objects aboard the ship. Lone Space Wanderer, they called me back home. I used to go Lone Wolf every now and again, but now that nickname has cursed me until the day I die. | Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | You know, it sucks being me. Years ago, my father built this place, RIOTS R US, from the ground up. And, right when this asshole /u/PitchforkEmporium shows up, my father dies. In simple terms, my job is gone on Day 1. | Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Eating my bowl of Wagon-O's, I glance into the blue hues of my old analog TV, playing a rerun of *All My Children* that I had seen a thousand times.
One of the perks of being a superhero for the State was having my very own satellite beaming any station I wanted to my old TV while my peers were forced to convert to digital. Call me old fashioned, but I like my TV's like I like my women: with big ears and big rears. Besides, the grainy picture quality reminded me of the importance of spending time outdoors and staying in shape for my job.
Suddenly, my mundane programming is interrupted by the image of a man in a suit yelling at me, his face already red with rage.
One of the downsides of being a superhero for the State was that my satellite could beam a message calling me to action at any time, interrupting crucial moments in my favorite soap.
"Hey, Emm-Double-You!" The suit shouts much to my dismay. Is it *really* that difficult just to say two words? Must everyone relegate four syllables to a two-letter acronym?
"There's trouble at-"
"Hey, hey, HEY!" I shout, throwing my spoon on the ground in a fit of childlike anger. "Could you *please* use my full title?"
After a brief and very audible sigh, the suit starts again, likely annoyed to see my attention focused on fetching my spoon from wherever it may have flown.
"Mighty Wagon, there is a bank robbery in progress over by Main and Gordon headed by your rival, the Hill."
My heart stops and my grip weakens on the spoon I collected, causing it to fall from my grasp and put all previous efforts to return to breakfast in vain.
The Hill was my greatest nemesis. For years, he had tormented me, using his ability to instantaneously create sharp inclines or declines up to 77 degrees to counter my powers to effortlessly carry heavy loads over flat surfaces, among my other abilities. He even started his own martial arts style, the Fulcrum's Fist, just to defeat my own fighting style, the Way of the Wagon.
"What's the situation at the moment?" I ask, breakfast the last thing on my mind as I suit up for another battle with my greatest foe.
"It looks like his henchmen are pulling money and other valuables from the vault while the Hill himself is holding the hostages and..."
"And...what!" I say, struggling to squeeze into the government manufactured "supersuit" (bright red latex that hugged my whole body tightly, black Calvin Klein briefs, white shoes with black soles, and a red cape proclaiming my biggest sponsor, Radio Flyer, in the loudest possible font).
"And he's calling you out specifically." The suit gave a dramatic pause, his face turning a shade paler than his ruddy complexion would normally allow.
"So what? I hear all the other heroes have it happen to them all the time." Finally squeezing my figure into the supersuit, I look directly at the suit on screen and give him my most trusting look, paired with my most stoic pose. "There's no need to fear: I have been training to my fullest potential these past few months, and I doubt my so-called nemesis will even pose the slightest threat to me, the Mighty Wagon!"
As I spoke this, I noticed no change in the suit's demeanor. Clearly he saw right through my veil of confidence.
"...So you'll be on your way?"
"Yeah, be there in a few." Meekly, I tread off to my front door and walk out. Before reaching the end of my front lawn, I promptly turn around, go back inside, and put my breakfast dishes away. Sure, there was human life at stake, but anyone who's done their own dishes understands how *excruciating* it is to clean dishes that have dried anything on them.
A short ride on the Wagon Wheel later, I arrive at the scene: police vehicles and SWAT vans form a makeshift perimeter around the bank entrance, while a layer of interested onlookers and sobbing families sit outside the established barrier. I make my way through the crowd, the people backing away, some in confusion, others in anger, and most in awe of my presence. I think I even saw a grieving mother, sickly with concern for her grown son who was in the bank, flash a smile of relief at the sight of me.
Standing before the bank's entrance, my most heroic pose poised, I yell at the doors where my nemesis lay beyond.
"Let those people go, Hill!" I shout, hoping my proud nature forces my confidence out of me in the face of the crowds. "Your fight is with me! Release the prisoners or you'll suffer the beating of a lifetime!"
A few very still and very silent moments pass, with all observing eyes resting on the glass doors of the bank. Suddenly, a shadow makes a mad dash toward me from beyond the door, and out tumbles the Mountain of a Man, the Hill.
"I'm glad you accepted my invitation, Wagon." The ridiculously muscle-bound villain had a snarky snarl plastered on his face, and his purple-gloved hands were both curled into massive fists the size of Rec League softballs. "It would have been a shame to have pinched the poor patrons of this bank between the floor and roof."
"Good, now surrender yourself to the police and the public won't have to witness another one of your humiliating defeats." I felt a grin not so different from the one that my enemy wore crawl across my face at the delivery of this comment.
"I don't think so, Wagon!" The Hill unfurled his banana bunch palms and raised them to the sky in my direction. At the same time he made the motion, the ground beneath me shot up, forcing me to buckle down to avoid being catapulted into red mush on the front of the bank. I slid down the incline my opponent created, my innate lack of traction causing me to slide at a much faster pace than the average man. Before I knew what hit me, one of the Hill's purple fists flew right into my face and knocked me on my back at the base of the ramp he had summoned.
"I spent way too much time in prison not to have my revenge!" A large boot stood right above my skull as I reclaimed my vision. Thinking quickly, I push off against the incline with my hands, my head sneaking right past the vengeful foot of my enemy.
"If it's a fight you want, Hill," I shout, getting into my combat stance. "It's a fight you shall have!"
Charging forward, I raise my right fist high, making no effort to hide which hand I intend to use. At least, *seemingly* intend to use.
As anticipated, the Hill once again summons a ramp at the bequest of his hands. The moment I feel the ground beneath me change, I fall to my knees, thankful that my Wagon powers forbid my knees to suffer at the hands of the rough concrete erected before me.
Sliding into the Hill, I knock him off his legs and on his chest, causing his head to collide immediately with the ramp he created.
"Come on, Hill, is that all you got?" I start getting hyped up, my body full of energy and excitement that can only come from landing a successful blow.
Not a sound comes from the limp body of my sworn enemy.
"Get up, you lousy criminal!" I deliver a somewhat playful kick to the body of the Hill, which elicits no response still.
"Uhhhh..." I nervously look around, the crowd quietly gazing on. From the crowd, an older man sporting a balding pate and thin glasses comes forward.
"I'm a doctor," he begins, kneeling over my nemesis. "He's alive, just unconscious." He says after a brief moment of pressing his fingers to the Hill's wrist.
A cheer erupts from the crowd, swallowing me in stupid pride. I throw a few fist pumps to my adoring fans, as well as the M-W motions with my hands, which are kindly returned by the onlookers.
Damn, it feels good to be a hero. | Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | "It's from the Narnia books!" I told them, "The character in the... you know, not the one with the wardrobe, but the one after that."
But they didn't listen. Apparently, they decided that I must be some sort of math teacher from the Caspian Sea region.
Do you know what countries border the Caspian Sea? I didn't, but I sure do now! You have your "-stans", Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan, as well as a "-jan", Azerbaijan. Did you even know there was a country called Azerbaijan? Well, there is. And rounding things out, we have Russia to the North and Iran to the South. That's right, two of the countries least likely to take kindly to an American like me, and I'm stuck right between them.
So now, I'm feverishly studying up on my Russian *and* my Arabic, which I knew fuck all about before all of this. And to top it all off, I'm studying math too, because I'm supposed to be expected to teach the fucking subject. Also, I've had to learn boating and nautical shit.
I just really, really want to go home before one of these countries decides this idiot American math teacher sailor is actually some sort of spy and blows up my boat. | Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Why did I continue as a lawyer?
I used to have a life.
Yet, here I am.
I'm still at work.
*This of course can be applied to many professions. | Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | I've been waiting for this day my whole life. Ever since Seattle was destroyed by a giant monster, more and more appeared around the globe. They were a constant threat, like a hurricane or an earthquake. Unpredictable and unstoppable.
One day that all changed.
A new breed of humans began to emerge throughout the world. Some called us mutants. Others called us monsters. A few very even used the word 'Saviors'.
I am one of those few, and today, I will prove those few right. Years of training and honing my abilities has led me to this moment. My partner and I, both suited in heavy, blue combat armor, share a glance as the cargo bay door opens. Cold air rushes in and wind screams through the plane. We stand, the countdown begins.
5
This is my moment.
4
The world is in danger.
3
I can defeat the kaiju,
2
and save it.
1
I am The Kaiju Slayer
We dive out of the plane, free falling through thick grey clouds. After they pass, I see the remains of the city below me. It's been entirely destroyed. Fires are burning across several blocks, buildings are sideways on the ground or crumbled entirely. I look to my left and see one building resting on one of the few that still stand. Its support beams bend, and both buildings collapse. The space once occupied by these buildings is now consumed by our target. My partner and I both veer left and make our way to him.
Excitement and terror both fill my body at once. The kaiju roars and turns toward us. I'm not sure how, but I feel him looking into my eyes. Terror overtakes my excitement. I remain calm outside, though. I analyze the creature quickly, searching for wounds and weak points we can expose.
I find one, just under its armpit. It looks as if it were penetrated by a massive slab of concrete. I decide on an insane idea the minute I see it. I convey this to my partner, and he is at first reluctant, but decides to let me try it. He activates his wingsuit and breaks from our formation. I continue to descend, eyes fixed on that concrete slab.
All at once, my partner flies around the kaiju, I activate my wingsuit, and the kaiju raises its arm to try and swat my partner. I steady myself and aim directly at the concrete slab. Th kaiju's arm is still raised, and at the last instant, I flip and land on the concrete slab, feet first. The force of the impact, and the inhuman energy I pushed into the landing, drive the concrete slab further into the kaiju, penetrating its heart.
I fell once more and land on the street. I decide to lay there, knowing the monster had been defeated. I want to bask in my victory for a moment. The kaiju's lifeless body appears in my vision, falling toward me. It's now I realize I fell directly in front of where he was standing.
"Shit..." | Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Business is booming in Compton.
I scope out the local alleyway for stray dogs..
Immediately smell a reeking odor behind the trashcan.
Walk over to the scene with a slight limp.
See a straggly young female Beagle with potential.
Offer her some crack.
The bitch wasn't a crack addict.
Though she could be a crack whore.
Pitched the usual "California model" gig,
She bit the bait...
I put her on the busiest corner in town that night.
She made three sales.
A Mut, a Pitbull, and a Grey Hound.
Made her my bottom bitch.
Married her a year later and took her off the streets.
| Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | *Code Orange. Code Orange. We need Doctor Bees in the operating room*
"Over 300 casualties and a few injured. What happened out there?!"
"Doctor, the comb was attacked by a hairy monstrosity. He tore the place apart and it took most of the workers to fend him off"
"Do we have any survivors?"
"Very few, we have drones to cover our losses but it will be hard"
"Who do we have on the table now?"
"Just one so far. He was with the queen an..Oh my gosh. Doctor, Sir Bounce Pennington has major contusions in his lower abdomen. He's bottom half has been ripped apart! He's done for!"
"We need an IV stat!"
"I will not lose another patient. He has diploids at home!"
"He's just a drone sir."
"I don't care what he is! Scalpel now, I can't wait any longer" | Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | When I first entered the building that was now to give me money for doing what I had always been doing I got a slight annoyance from the squeaky doors. I proceeded to walk over the large hall to the woman obviously responsible for squeaky doors; the receptionist. I told her that if that door squeaked when I went through it the next time I would fire her. Not that I was in any position to fire her, but she didn't know that.
I walked over to the elevator and pressed the "up" button. It took over 20 seconds for the elevator to arrive. How annoying. I pressed the top button and waited. Remarkable slow elevator, I thought to my self as I was hitting the floor button over and over again.
Finally the elevator came to a grinding halt on floor 35, top floor. The management floor. I took a deep breath as the doors opened and started power walking right to the CEO office. I barked something at the poor secretary sitting outside the door and rammed myself into his office. The man behind looked startled at me and asked; who are you? you can't be here! get out!.
I continued my still uninterrupted powerwalk right to his desk and jumped on top of it. The CEO pushed himself away from the desk and sunk down into his chair as I started yelling.
For a good five minutes I gave him the most "you are the most useless person that has ever lived" speech that has ever been given. After the yelling I jumped off his desk and sat down on his lap, and 10 cm from his face I told him that I was hired by the owners of the company and that this would now become a recurring event: Me coming into his office yelling at him until his numbers started to improve.
This was my first job as an angry man. I have since started my own company and I hire myself out to people that needs someone to yell at someone. I make millions doing this. | Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | *Ends hibernation*
*walks into office*
Officer worker 1: HOLY SHIT ANOTHER BEAR!!!
Officer worker 2: Don't worry, I decided I needed to bring a gun to work. It's so weird that 89 other bears have just walked into our office.
**bang bang**
*feels pain, eyes get heavy*
Officer worker 2: WOO! I got number 90! | Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | I ordered a shot of whiskey,
A slippery nipple and then
I downed six bottles of bud light
And two whiskey sours and gin.
My head is swimming round and round.
My heart is all aflame.
I wonder if my ex is awake I think I'll call him again.
Oh Fuck yeah this is my tune.
Get up!
Let's dance and shout!
This is my jam, my favorite song.
I've got this groove all figured out.
Sweet child o mine, meatloaf, Eminem, and Rhianna.
I'll jump on this table, grab my hand if you wanna.
Oh no the tender is angry,
He is booting me out the door!
It's 2am he explains, its cut off time, no more!
So I walk down the road , lose my keys, and vomit on my shirt. I trip and fall asleep, face first in the dirt.
Here I lie comforted by the cool night air, farting like a sow, but why oh why must I be there?
Because I'm problydrunkrightnow.
| Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | New suit, old tie, there's a stain in the middle, and a tear in my eye.
I sigh.
The streets are the same, the cars they drift, the leaves they fall, from the blue sky
I sigh.
I walk and walk, sip and sip, the rye begins to run dry
I sigh.
The students they sleep, careless, naive, am I really the bad guy?
I sigh.
Another day, another night without her.
If I said I could live without my love, it would be one big lie,
I sigh,
I sigh. | Life was pretty weird since I started working as a prehistoric sea organism.
At first, it was fun. Writhing around in the mud, swallowing everything that looked slightly edible.
Of course, I couldn't wear any clothes. But that's the fun part.
But there were downsides. The water was cold, for starters. And the people who worked as predators (mainly anomalocaridide and opabinia) were difficult to avoid for a little sightless trilobite like myself.
'Keep on writhing, Cono. You need this job.' I kept telling myself.
Though it's getting difficult. Why did I even apply for th - ooh, food. |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | "How's sample 329?"
"...weak..no effect, subject still struggles to stay awake"
"DAMMIT..HOW MUCH MORE CAFFEINE SHOULD WE INJECT?! "
"Please.. Just let me go back to sleep" | "I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around this." I said in a desperate attempt to get something even loosely resembling a real explanation.
"Nothing to wrap your head around. Just push the button; record the results." Real helpful, Dave.
"But what if one gets loose?" I asked, aiming with a little more specificity this time.
"Listen to me" his tone darkened considerably then "I've been doing this job for 10 years, I've lost so many of these bastards I can't even count. You know what I do when that happens? You know what my mantra is? NMP. Not. My. goddamn Problem. I don't know why I'm here and I don't know who I'm working for. As far as I'm concerned this may as well be The goddamn *Cube*. Not. My. Problem. Someone'll handle it. Or someone'll not handle it. All *I* know is that *I* am neither of those somebodies."
I nodded understanding then beyond the shadow of a doubt the full scope of the conversations futility. What do you even say to that? You sure as hell cant ask another question, not with that kind of tonal finality. Whatever dude. Push the button, record results, cash check. It sure the hell beats delivering Chinese to stoners paying in couch change all week. No. I was done with that nonsense for sure.
I bid Dave adieu and formally checked in. 9:00 exactly: time to push the button. Pad of paper in my left hand hanging at my side, pen between the fingers on my right, one of which was extended button-ward.
*click*
nothing.
Then, just like Dave had said it would, a figure silently appeared within the guts of the machine and slowly emerged into the light. 6 ft or so, male, pale, disturbingly gaunt; maybe 120-140 tops, nude but for roller skates and a green neckerchief which complimented his steely eyes and massive blonde afro. He had a very realistic tattoo on his back of a young Warren Buffet with sad clown makeup painted on. He had two webbed fingers on his left hand and smelled vaguely of fresh donuts either in spite or because of the cigar he was holding in his teeth. He cut to a stop on the edge of the machine, raised his arms in victory and roared "**TOMMY THE CAT!!!!! WOOOO!!!!**" and just like that was nothing more than the distant sound of tiny wheels on concrete.
I stood for a minute at the button composing my report in my head. I briefly wondered where a man like that might have been headed to but, remembering Dave's words, thought better of it. Pen still in hand with 3 hours until the next scheduled push of the button my report began...
"What.... a.... weirdo....." |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | Cool and crisp morning.
Back aches from hauling supplies
Secluded location
Family business
Passed to me
Ever since grandpappy blew himself up
Drunk as a skunk
Moonshine is life | "I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around this." I said in a desperate attempt to get something even loosely resembling a real explanation.
"Nothing to wrap your head around. Just push the button; record the results." Real helpful, Dave.
"But what if one gets loose?" I asked, aiming with a little more specificity this time.
"Listen to me" his tone darkened considerably then "I've been doing this job for 10 years, I've lost so many of these bastards I can't even count. You know what I do when that happens? You know what my mantra is? NMP. Not. My. goddamn Problem. I don't know why I'm here and I don't know who I'm working for. As far as I'm concerned this may as well be The goddamn *Cube*. Not. My. Problem. Someone'll handle it. Or someone'll not handle it. All *I* know is that *I* am neither of those somebodies."
I nodded understanding then beyond the shadow of a doubt the full scope of the conversations futility. What do you even say to that? You sure as hell cant ask another question, not with that kind of tonal finality. Whatever dude. Push the button, record results, cash check. It sure the hell beats delivering Chinese to stoners paying in couch change all week. No. I was done with that nonsense for sure.
I bid Dave adieu and formally checked in. 9:00 exactly: time to push the button. Pad of paper in my left hand hanging at my side, pen between the fingers on my right, one of which was extended button-ward.
*click*
nothing.
Then, just like Dave had said it would, a figure silently appeared within the guts of the machine and slowly emerged into the light. 6 ft or so, male, pale, disturbingly gaunt; maybe 120-140 tops, nude but for roller skates and a green neckerchief which complimented his steely eyes and massive blonde afro. He had a very realistic tattoo on his back of a young Warren Buffet with sad clown makeup painted on. He had two webbed fingers on his left hand and smelled vaguely of fresh donuts either in spite or because of the cigar he was holding in his teeth. He cut to a stop on the edge of the machine, raised his arms in victory and roared "**TOMMY THE CAT!!!!! WOOOO!!!!**" and just like that was nothing more than the distant sound of tiny wheels on concrete.
I stood for a minute at the button composing my report in my head. I briefly wondered where a man like that might have been headed to but, remembering Dave's words, thought better of it. Pen still in hand with 3 hours until the next scheduled push of the button my report began...
"What.... a.... weirdo....." |
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | [WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work? | You know, it sucks being me. Years ago, my father built this place, RIOTS R US, from the ground up. And, right when this asshole /u/PitchforkEmporium shows up, my father dies. In simple terms, my job is gone on Day 1. | "I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around this." I said in a desperate attempt to get something even loosely resembling a real explanation.
"Nothing to wrap your head around. Just push the button; record the results." Real helpful, Dave.
"But what if one gets loose?" I asked, aiming with a little more specificity this time.
"Listen to me" his tone darkened considerably then "I've been doing this job for 10 years, I've lost so many of these bastards I can't even count. You know what I do when that happens? You know what my mantra is? NMP. Not. My. goddamn Problem. I don't know why I'm here and I don't know who I'm working for. As far as I'm concerned this may as well be The goddamn *Cube*. Not. My. Problem. Someone'll handle it. Or someone'll not handle it. All *I* know is that *I* am neither of those somebodies."
I nodded understanding then beyond the shadow of a doubt the full scope of the conversations futility. What do you even say to that? You sure as hell cant ask another question, not with that kind of tonal finality. Whatever dude. Push the button, record results, cash check. It sure the hell beats delivering Chinese to stoners paying in couch change all week. No. I was done with that nonsense for sure.
I bid Dave adieu and formally checked in. 9:00 exactly: time to push the button. Pad of paper in my left hand hanging at my side, pen between the fingers on my right, one of which was extended button-ward.
*click*
nothing.
Then, just like Dave had said it would, a figure silently appeared within the guts of the machine and slowly emerged into the light. 6 ft or so, male, pale, disturbingly gaunt; maybe 120-140 tops, nude but for roller skates and a green neckerchief which complimented his steely eyes and massive blonde afro. He had a very realistic tattoo on his back of a young Warren Buffet with sad clown makeup painted on. He had two webbed fingers on his left hand and smelled vaguely of fresh donuts either in spite or because of the cigar he was holding in his teeth. He cut to a stop on the edge of the machine, raised his arms in victory and roared "**TOMMY THE CAT!!!!! WOOOO!!!!**" and just like that was nothing more than the distant sound of tiny wheels on concrete.
I stood for a minute at the button composing my report in my head. I briefly wondered where a man like that might have been headed to but, remembering Dave's words, thought better of it. Pen still in hand with 3 hours until the next scheduled push of the button my report began...
"What.... a.... weirdo....." |
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