Acmlm's Board - I2 Archive - Modern Art - Short Story: "I'm A Bagel"
| User | Post |
Nebetsu
Posts: 435/1574 |
Originally posted by SGT_Vegitto
You are insane man, and not in the good way we all know and love.
There's a good way of insane that we all know and love? Oh yeah... Jhonen Vasquez... |
SGT_Vegitto
Posts: 8/22 |
You are insane man, and not in the good way we all know and love. |
Nebetsu
Posts: 427/1574 |
Originally posted by Legion
Was that sarcasm? Because writing IS an art. 
It's not sarcasm at all. I just think of art as in paintings I dont care about and statues that confuse me. |
Legion
Posts: 2764/5657 |
Was that sarcasm? Because writing IS an art. |
Nebetsu
Posts: 424/1574 |
Originally posted by Legion
I'm booting this to the Modern Art. Let THEM deal with it.
Wow. Never thought stories counted as art. Oh well. |
Legion
Posts: 2756/5657 |
I'm booting this to the Modern Art. Let THEM deal with it. |
Nebetsu
Posts: 422/1574 |
So I was walking down the candy street one day and saw a man named Muffintoast. I gave him a friendly, "Hello", but he retreated into his house made entirely of Beef Jerky. I shrugged this off as a sign that he was a piece of cheese and moved on down the candy trail. Later, I came to a town made entirely of the power of Tostitos. Carrots filled the land and brocolli was extinct. A deep-fried ham muffin came and attacked me, but I shot a pea at him and he ran to his Chef. Why do people think I'm a cannabal? Is eating other bagels that bad? I have been shunned from my hometown of Pieland and have been wandering the great Kitchenland for some time. I have been looking for the emporer Pie so I can recieve the fabled Lance Of Pommegranate so I can go up against evils untold. I looked down and saw that juice was slowly dripping from my wounds. "That ham muffin scratched me up like he was a cat on crack.", were the words that echoed in the vast nothingness of void. Noone else was there, so who was I talking to? Surely not the hamburger clouds overhead. Surely not the dirt of the ground made entirely of cookie crumbs. Surely not the air that I breathe that fills me with the desire to eat cheese. In this great land, the evil Ham Sandwich Dragon has been rampaging and destroying villages and towns. Nothing can stop him. Noone but the weilder of the Lance Of Pommegranate. The only one who knows of it's whereabouts is the Emporer Pie, but finding him is a giant load of paperwork. It takes hours of waiting just to see him. Appearantly, others who try to find the Lance Of Pommegranate have come back with bite marks and empty donut holes. Something is guarding the Lance. Something terrifying. They say that the very sight of it raptures your corn organs and makes you feel like milk can only save you now. People have named this monster Orange, but I feel that, although it is a name that could have suited evils in the past, it is not a name fitting for this new foe. And as I travel here, walking down the path, with all the danger in mind, I cant help but think: I have to get that lance. Unaware of the true dangers of the frying pans filled with tacos that await me... |
|
