Post by Cakey on Apr 3, 2010 23:15:23 GMT -5
I'd like to credit our dear Capn for part of the plot...
***
The fire cackles in the dark night as you sit on your loveseat,
waiting for him to come home. It had been a stressful day, and you were looking forward to rehashing it out with him. He walks in, clad in only a leather kilt, and socks in danger of sliding down his perfect ankles. He smiles at you, but you don't notice, for your eyes were focused on that small rip in his kilt, threatening to grow larger.
"How was your day?" he asks softly, his arms toned and tanned from his day of chopping wood. He was a woodchopper, and there was nothing better than watching his muscles ripple as he chopped down tree after random tree. Of course, he never missed and never chopped an animal instead. He pulled his sliding socks down, and now he was just in his kilt. The rip grew larger as he bent over to remove his socks. Your mind turns into a mush of goo as the fire roars angrily, illuminating Ryan with a soft, warm glow.
***
Previously in the day...
Damian precariously swung his axe around, nearly missing Keith's head. Keith grabbed his mane of long golden hair. "AYYYEE!! DAMO! I dun need me hair chopped off!" he yelled at the cowering teen. "Go get that tree!" "My tree!" Ryan sprinted to the tree and leapt into it, his leather kilt whipping out into the air. Paul clasped his hands over his eyes. "MY EYES!" A chicken walked up and looked into the tree. "Bawk?" Keith's mouth dropped open into a perfect square. "MY TREEEEE!" Keith in turn, ripped off his shirt and leapt onto a branch, landing in perfect surf position, his back muscles strained and tense, as he faced the shirtless Ryan, who had a malicious glint in his eye.
Damian rolled his eyes and began talking to a tree. "Hi tree. I'm Damian. And you are?"
***
Mr. Neil-mus the Goatman walked over. "Baaa?" he baa'ed, looking inquisitively at Keith and Ryan, who were still crouched in the tree. Your mouth is also dropped open, as you look at the issues playing out. Ryan was crouched in the tree, his thighs pushing against the thin material that his kilt was. Keith was in danger of slipping off the branch, George was busy chopping wood with his iPod headphones in his ears, listening to Madonna, and giving the occasional booty shake to 'Material Girls'. Meanwhile, Paul was trying to convince the chicken that standing directly under Keith was a BAD idea.
With a growl that sounded more like a purr, Ryan leapt at Keith, knocking him off the branch and directly onto the chicken. Paul took one look at the dead chicken, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, toppling into the ground with a shake. Ryan, on the other hand, landed in a perfect crouch, with another flash of his leather kilt.
Damian clapped in awe.
***
With a burst of energy, George struck his long pickaxe into the ground. The others looked at their clans leader in awe. Rarely, did George react strongly, or made spontaneous movement. Normally, he was their gentle, calm leader. George grabbed to the top of the pickaxe hand, and began to shake his butt. “And we’re living...in a material world...” he sang in a throaty voice, doing a perfect lunge that would put Zara Curtis to shame.
Damian raced next to George and began swinging his arms and legs around like a drunk man doing the Charleston. On his face was a jubilant smile, as he swung his long arms and legs around like a windmill. Oblivious to the danger next to him, George closed his eyes and shook on.
***
Upset over the death of the chicken, Paul strode towards Damian with a furious look on his face. However, always the hero, Ryan leapt in front of Damian with a protective look on a his face, and a strong breeze around his kilt. Paul, in his rage, picked Ryan up and dumped him into the well.
Stunned at what Paul did, Keith continued to sit on the chicken. When he finally stood, his butt was covered in chicken feathers. “’EY LADS!” he yelled. “GUESS WHAT!?” “What?” answered Damian in a quiet voice, staring at where their lost comrade was. “I HAVE A CHICKEN BUTT!” Forgetting about Ryan, Damian, Keith, Paul and Mr. Neilmus cracked up in hysterics as they pointed at Keith’s feathery butt.
Meanwhile, Ryan, having landed on a softer spot inside the well, quickly made his way to find an exit. However...he found instead a cave...
***
Ryan quickly removed his soaking socks and placed them on the floor of the well. He looked around the room, analyzing where he should put his pictures of Jar Jar Binks.
***
The fire cackles in the dark night as you sit on your loveseat,
waiting for him to come home. It had been a stressful day, and you were looking forward to rehashing it out with him. He walks in, clad in only a leather kilt, and socks in danger of sliding down his perfect ankles. He smiles at you, but you don't notice, for your eyes were focused on that small rip in his kilt, threatening to grow larger.
"How was your day?" he asks softly, his arms toned and tanned from his day of chopping wood. He was a woodchopper, and there was nothing better than watching his muscles ripple as he chopped down tree after random tree. Of course, he never missed and never chopped an animal instead. He pulled his sliding socks down, and now he was just in his kilt. The rip grew larger as he bent over to remove his socks. Your mind turns into a mush of goo as the fire roars angrily, illuminating Ryan with a soft, warm glow.
***
Previously in the day...
Damian precariously swung his axe around, nearly missing Keith's head. Keith grabbed his mane of long golden hair. "AYYYEE!! DAMO! I dun need me hair chopped off!" he yelled at the cowering teen. "Go get that tree!" "My tree!" Ryan sprinted to the tree and leapt into it, his leather kilt whipping out into the air. Paul clasped his hands over his eyes. "MY EYES!" A chicken walked up and looked into the tree. "Bawk?" Keith's mouth dropped open into a perfect square. "MY TREEEEE!" Keith in turn, ripped off his shirt and leapt onto a branch, landing in perfect surf position, his back muscles strained and tense, as he faced the shirtless Ryan, who had a malicious glint in his eye.
Damian rolled his eyes and began talking to a tree. "Hi tree. I'm Damian. And you are?"
***
Mr. Neil-mus the Goatman walked over. "Baaa?" he baa'ed, looking inquisitively at Keith and Ryan, who were still crouched in the tree. Your mouth is also dropped open, as you look at the issues playing out. Ryan was crouched in the tree, his thighs pushing against the thin material that his kilt was. Keith was in danger of slipping off the branch, George was busy chopping wood with his iPod headphones in his ears, listening to Madonna, and giving the occasional booty shake to 'Material Girls'. Meanwhile, Paul was trying to convince the chicken that standing directly under Keith was a BAD idea.
With a growl that sounded more like a purr, Ryan leapt at Keith, knocking him off the branch and directly onto the chicken. Paul took one look at the dead chicken, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, toppling into the ground with a shake. Ryan, on the other hand, landed in a perfect crouch, with another flash of his leather kilt.
Damian clapped in awe.
***
With a burst of energy, George struck his long pickaxe into the ground. The others looked at their clans leader in awe. Rarely, did George react strongly, or made spontaneous movement. Normally, he was their gentle, calm leader. George grabbed to the top of the pickaxe hand, and began to shake his butt. “And we’re living...in a material world...” he sang in a throaty voice, doing a perfect lunge that would put Zara Curtis to shame.
Damian raced next to George and began swinging his arms and legs around like a drunk man doing the Charleston. On his face was a jubilant smile, as he swung his long arms and legs around like a windmill. Oblivious to the danger next to him, George closed his eyes and shook on.
***
Upset over the death of the chicken, Paul strode towards Damian with a furious look on his face. However, always the hero, Ryan leapt in front of Damian with a protective look on a his face, and a strong breeze around his kilt. Paul, in his rage, picked Ryan up and dumped him into the well.
Stunned at what Paul did, Keith continued to sit on the chicken. When he finally stood, his butt was covered in chicken feathers. “’EY LADS!” he yelled. “GUESS WHAT!?” “What?” answered Damian in a quiet voice, staring at where their lost comrade was. “I HAVE A CHICKEN BUTT!” Forgetting about Ryan, Damian, Keith, Paul and Mr. Neilmus cracked up in hysterics as they pointed at Keith’s feathery butt.
Meanwhile, Ryan, having landed on a softer spot inside the well, quickly made his way to find an exit. However...he found instead a cave...
***
Ryan quickly removed his soaking socks and placed them on the floor of the well. He looked around the room, analyzing where he should put his pictures of Jar Jar Binks.