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The Peng Challenge Thread....Drunken Shotgun of the Gods


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Originally posted by Seanachai:

BOO, BOO, WHY HAST THOU FORSAKEN ME?!

AH, THE PAIN, THE PAIN!

BOO!

He's busy. Down the beauty parlour, getting a "back, sack and crack" done - they're on special this month. Even a Thuggish Henchman needs to keep up appearances.

Noba.

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Originally posted by Seanachai:

Boo, my incarnation of the Thread was better. My rules were more manly, and Peng had a meltdown.

But my incarnation of the Thread isn't over yet, Sparky. You're is in the past. It's finished, moribund, concluded. It is a memory. A ghost.

You had rules? Were they magic Seanachai rules that only you could see? Did you have to whisper them through a keyhole into an empty room or they would lose their power? Did you write them on a piece of paper in lemon juice and then eat the paper, all the while giggling behind your tiny little hands?

Oh, and Peng had a meltdown...

And? I set my watch by Peng's meltdowns, Mr. Chicken Little.

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Originally posted by Boo Radley:

Guess I should get my passport in order...

You mean, "ask the department of interior to have it returned"

In other news the Hamstertruppen of your old Unca Stukey have biatch-slapped the bolski hordes of Noba to a 70-30 defeat.

Imagine loosing 13 pieces of armour to only capture 1 teeny weeny little flag? Tut, Tut, 'tis to shame Noba, 'tis to shame....

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Originally posted by Seanachai:

Truth is a jigsaw. Everyone gets a piece. For most of mankind, they don't even realize they're putting together a puzzle. And until they realize they don't hold all the pieces, the most they'll ever have is a little twisty piece of Truth, the possession of which will make them arrogant and angry, until they realize how much they need everyone else to make the Picture.

Truth is subjective. Facts are so much easier to deal with.
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Originally posted by Seanachai:

You haven't sent me an email in ages. You mentioned trouble at work. What's that about, fella? I may be scum, but you are never alone, Nidan. I am always with you.

That explains the.... somewhat soiled feeling I have been having the last few days. Some vague dread that I could not put my finger on. Something in the shadows, just out of sight, a flutter of the wind?, a menacing shadow? No, just a red faced, portly, poxy old Gnome. Now the feeling turns from fear to that awful realization that you have stepped in something mushy and smelly, and you are wearing those shoes with all the nooks and crannies. You will never get it all out, and you will wind up having to put those shoes outside for the winter in order for them to be truly clean.

Seanachai , you are out on my deck like those old smelly shoes, I casually glance your way every now and then and wonder if the smell is gone....but it never is. And just like you it lingers in my nostrils to remind me of just how awful putrification can be.

[ November 13, 2007, 08:53 AM: Message edited by: Nidan1 ]

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Sorry my good fellows. I guess my abscence has been conspicuous.

A tale I must tell.

As I sat upon the Adirondacks contemplating the meaning of life, licking my wounds, ruminating over the soul wrenching, undeserving insults visited upon the humble and lovable moi, I had a dream. Nay, a vision. I found myself a wee lad of eight splashing around what appeared to be a muddy pool. As I peered into the obscure, dark, menacing waters there appeared a bubble, a slight stir of the chocolate mess. At the same time, my eyes, wanting to avert the menacing goo, shot skywards, noticing a growing disturbance within the heavenlies. A deep, dark dread started to wrap it's putrid tentacles around me. All of a sudden, what started as a small bubble turned into a great agitation.

Then this great beast arose out of the murky, swampish waters, ascending taller and taller. It was a nasty malodorous creature with three great heads, spitting forth venom, mucous and all that is foul. These three heads were named from the very bowels of hell and smelt of all that is unholy.

The first great head was named Peng. It was mouthing forth obscenities. Obscenities that would grip your soul with disgust and loathing. Amongst this cacophony of obscenities one could hear whining. Whinings over some inconsequential detail that it's small mind, in all it's paranoia, would perceive. Oh please great sword, as like Van Gogh, cut off my ears, that I may never hear such blubbering again.

The second great head was named Shaw. In a way it was even more frightful than the first, for though it appeared to be gifted with great intelligence, it surly was a cruel joke handed down from the gods. For it appeared to show great consternation over the most insignificant and mundane detail. It also had a great tongue that incessantly licked it's own foul wretched head. I could almost hear the laughter of the gods through the raucous sounds emanating from the swirling and ever darkening clouds.

The third great head was named Emrys. This head was unlike the two great heads before it. For the most part it appeared non-threatening and tried to calm the others. But alas, it too, spit forth obnoxious little sayings that would cause instant insanity.

The great beast, sensing it was among innocence, with eyes crazed over, licking it's hungry lips, thought "shirley this small morsel will be a delightful snack." As the dread and despair grew within, I sensed my mortal life passing by. It seemed hopeless as the three heads descended, mouths wide open, the stench of hell emanating therefrom. Suddenly a small voice could be heard from the inner corners of my mind.

Upon hearing the words I lept forth and cut off the beasts protruding gonads screaming...

SOD OFF YOU DOUCHEBAGS!!!!!

[ November 14, 2007, 05:18 AM: Message edited by: rammer4250 ]

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Originally posted by Stuka:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Boo Radley:

Guess I should get my passport in order...

You mean, "ask the department of interior to have it returned"

In other news the Hamstertruppen of your old Unca Stukey have biatch-slapped the bolski hordes of Noba to a 70-30 defeat.

Imagine loosing 13 pieces of armour to only capture 1 teeny weeny little flag? Tut, Tut, 'tis to shame Noba, 'tis to shame.... </font>

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Originally posted by Noba:

HE sent the game.

HE chose the sides. Nothing to buy.

He setup his guns in the gamey un-hittable positions. Then he had the nerve to hire Rudel and all his family...

Liar.

YOU chose the scenario. Now stop whining and send your Normandy scenario. Should I assume you've played it before...from both sides?

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Originally posted by Noba:

HE chose the sides. Nothing to buy.

Idiot.

Noba.

You... giggle... you mean to say... snort... that you let Stuka... splutter... pick the sides???

AND YOU CALL ME AN IDIOT????

<big>BWWWWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!11!!11ONE!!</big>

Tell me, are you actually able to breathe without someone standing next to you, saying, "In. Out. In. Out..."?

You know, they say that someday computers will become sentient, too bad they'll never say that about you.

OMG, he ACTUALLY let Stuka pick the sides. <small> I should ask if he'd be interested in buying timeshares in a swamp... <small> But, as he's an Aussie, it might actually be a step up...<small> Gee... I hope he doesn't beat me in our game...</small></small></small>

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