4406Pack
Ambassador of Soothsayer
For Bob's sake, I sincerely hope this abduction doesn't require any scientific probing
TTR Game of Toanz
- Thread starter TVvoodoo
- Start date
LiveeviL2000
Ambassador of Pentagonal Pentatonics
Bob is always open for new experiences
Clockworkmike
Ambassador of STACKS in WV SHACKS
Alright…I’ll go first…unless you posted while I was posting…whatever.
GOT 25 A Series of Unfortunate Events or: Who the Hell is This “IRS” Guy, and Why Does He Want My Address?
It was the greatest, on stage, experience of all of our lives. Then the wrong girl gave me the wrong test tube…
They all told me not to go. They were a bad crowd. Insanely evil events surrounded them…always. But they seemed harmless enough…they were going to play a gig at an after hours club, and it would be a lot of fun…
…and then came the strange sloshing sound….
Next thing I know I’m on another stage. Really, not on a plane of existence, but a performance stage…at an after hours club…run by the Canadian Syndicate. I re-entered the world wondering what strange flavor Cliff had concocted for the celebration after the show, when I realized that flavor wasn’t the test tube from…wherever. “Shake it off man” I thought to myself as I started to actually shake my head, pretty hard, from left to right. This was a bad idea, as it turns out, I had a bit of the club owner’s niece’s terribly sensitive flesh firmly clenched between my teeth. I couldn’t have imagined the quantity of blood that was to follow. Then there was the screaming….louder than BoBo’s drumming…the screaming that followed the blood….
The screaming and the ultra-mega-intercourseing-violence that followed….
The drums clanked to a halt, rattling with fear. From above and behind the stage came a sliver of light, as the door to an office in the balcony above began to open…
Next thing I know, “bullets flying everywhere!” As I actually hear Bruce Dickinson singing the Bon Scott lines from Jailbreak in my head, I turned to see if Bruce would give me a lift on his jet, to my ranch. This decision turned out to be one of those bad/good/actually tragic decisions.
The bad…
As I flung my head to the right, a piece of flesh and stream of blood(and some other stuff) flung out across the room. I went stumbling after it, involuntarily.
The good…
Everyone else was able to avoid being hit by the soft flesh, and other stuff. Whew! Close call!
The actually tragic…
The Argentinian ambassador to the United States took the bullet that was meant for me. Right to the forehead…a little left of center…just above his eyebrow. The back of his neck exploded as the bullet made its dramatic exit from the ambassador, showering all those that had escaped the mess I had been making. That’s when I realized I may have begun to become “unpopular” on this adventure.
The nightclub owner tried to rush me, an insane look to that one. I could tell he was willing to go through anyone, including his niece, to get to me…
It was ugly.
She didn’t make it, I’m told.
A real mess. But when you look at it, I created the smallest…most harmless portion of it all. I mean, I didn’t actually “kill” anyone. Two other people actually, sorry…”allegedly”, killed five (I’m told) people.
Then the, nearly naked, Native American man took my hand, and for some reason, I started hearing Lemmy’s gravely voice singing “The End”. That’s when I started to think that things were going to get interesting…
The man said he could get me to the ranch, but we had to stop for breakfast at his cousin’s place. I must have passed out with the relief.
I woke to a wet thumping sound….
Turns out that the second guy from the right, in the first picture, received a different kind of invitation to breakfast…
I came to in a makeshift cell, in a cave, with wooden bars, and they were butchering that drummer… just like he had butchered every song his band had ever played, live…with fervor. I think I threw up in my mouth a little, and I may have sharted myself, or something. Then came the femur to my head….
I awoke to the distinct smell of “not quite bacon”, and Celine Dion singing the theme from “Green Acres” in my head. I realized the ummmmmmmmmmm…horror in the fact that the “not quite bacon” smell was my own breath. That’s when the female officer raised her baton…..
Now I’ve been informed of my rights, and they tell me…
Canada wants to charge me with lewd and lascivious behavior with a minor, attempted murder of a Canadian national, and hunting beaver out of season.
Argentina wants to charge me with something in connection with the death of their ambassador, and not understanding the Spanish language.
The United States wants to charge with a tax violation.
…and now I’m hearing the voice of Johnny Cash, singing “Oh What a Night”…
Man………….my balls itch……..hey……..my balls itch man….hey….
✠ Don Dagger ✠
GOT 25 A Series of Unfortunate Events or: Who the Hell is This “IRS” Guy, and Why Does He Want My Address?
It was the greatest, on stage, experience of all of our lives. Then the wrong girl gave me the wrong test tube…
They all told me not to go. They were a bad crowd. Insanely evil events surrounded them…always. But they seemed harmless enough…they were going to play a gig at an after hours club, and it would be a lot of fun…
…and then came the strange sloshing sound….
Next thing I know I’m on another stage. Really, not on a plane of existence, but a performance stage…at an after hours club…run by the Canadian Syndicate. I re-entered the world wondering what strange flavor Cliff had concocted for the celebration after the show, when I realized that flavor wasn’t the test tube from…wherever. “Shake it off man” I thought to myself as I started to actually shake my head, pretty hard, from left to right. This was a bad idea, as it turns out, I had a bit of the club owner’s niece’s terribly sensitive flesh firmly clenched between my teeth. I couldn’t have imagined the quantity of blood that was to follow. Then there was the screaming….louder than BoBo’s drumming…the screaming that followed the blood….
The screaming and the ultra-mega-intercourseing-violence that followed….
The drums clanked to a halt, rattling with fear. From above and behind the stage came a sliver of light, as the door to an office in the balcony above began to open…
Next thing I know, “bullets flying everywhere!” As I actually hear Bruce Dickinson singing the Bon Scott lines from Jailbreak in my head, I turned to see if Bruce would give me a lift on his jet, to my ranch. This decision turned out to be one of those bad/good/actually tragic decisions.
The bad…
As I flung my head to the right, a piece of flesh and stream of blood(and some other stuff) flung out across the room. I went stumbling after it, involuntarily.
The good…
Everyone else was able to avoid being hit by the soft flesh, and other stuff. Whew! Close call!
The actually tragic…
The Argentinian ambassador to the United States took the bullet that was meant for me. Right to the forehead…a little left of center…just above his eyebrow. The back of his neck exploded as the bullet made its dramatic exit from the ambassador, showering all those that had escaped the mess I had been making. That’s when I realized I may have begun to become “unpopular” on this adventure.
The nightclub owner tried to rush me, an insane look to that one. I could tell he was willing to go through anyone, including his niece, to get to me…
It was ugly.
She didn’t make it, I’m told.
A real mess. But when you look at it, I created the smallest…most harmless portion of it all. I mean, I didn’t actually “kill” anyone. Two other people actually, sorry…”allegedly”, killed five (I’m told) people.
Then the, nearly naked, Native American man took my hand, and for some reason, I started hearing Lemmy’s gravely voice singing “The End”. That’s when I started to think that things were going to get interesting…
The man said he could get me to the ranch, but we had to stop for breakfast at his cousin’s place. I must have passed out with the relief.
I woke to a wet thumping sound….
Turns out that the second guy from the right, in the first picture, received a different kind of invitation to breakfast…
I came to in a makeshift cell, in a cave, with wooden bars, and they were butchering that drummer… just like he had butchered every song his band had ever played, live…with fervor. I think I threw up in my mouth a little, and I may have sharted myself, or something. Then came the femur to my head….
I awoke to the distinct smell of “not quite bacon”, and Celine Dion singing the theme from “Green Acres” in my head. I realized the ummmmmmmmmmm…horror in the fact that the “not quite bacon” smell was my own breath. That’s when the female officer raised her baton…..
Now I’ve been informed of my rights, and they tell me…
Canada wants to charge me with lewd and lascivious behavior with a minor, attempted murder of a Canadian national, and hunting beaver out of season.
Argentina wants to charge me with something in connection with the death of their ambassador, and not understanding the Spanish language.
The United States wants to charge with a tax violation.
…and now I’m hearing the voice of Johnny Cash, singing “Oh What a Night”…
Man………….my balls itch……..hey……..my balls itch man….hey….
✠ Don Dagger ✠
mcblink
Ambassador of Riffs & Spliffs
Suddenly, his eyes shot open wide. He peeked around, attempting to recall just exactly what had transpired over the course of the last several hours. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he realized that he was lying on a sidewalk somewhere. He'd clearly been there for some time as the vomit surrounding his body was mostly dry and crusty, and his shirtless torso was stuck to the surface upon which he'd been passed out. The last thing he could clearly remember, was being on stage and rocking out, just killing it, in what was quite possibly the best show that had ever been put on. Afterwards, things got fuzzy. He had a fleeting memory of riding a pony but couldn't make any sense of it. He took a couple more moments, and slowly dragged himself to his feet, and immediately vomited again.
"I'm in really bad shape" he thought to himself. "I need to find out where I am, and what happened to me"
He didn't know where he was, so he didn't know where to go. He just started walking. He noticed right away that there were no people around, anywhere to be seen. Looking through his pockets, he discovered that he had none of his usual possessions. His two front pockets had been filled with feathers, but he had no wallet, keys, loose change, or anything at all, aside from a cellphone he did not recognize. It wasn't his. It rang. He picked it up, and didn't say anything.
"Hey.......Heinousss....you do know who thisss isss, don't you?"
Oh, poop, Heinous thought to himself. He'd heard this voice before, long ago.
"It'ssss time. Your ride has come to it'sss end. Yearsss ago, you denied me the opportunity to buy your soul, but the things you are guilty of last night sealed your fate." it said.
"But w-wait!" pleaded Heinous, "I don't even remember what happened or what I did!"
Suddenly he was struck down again, and inundated with memories of the night before. He felt sickened and ashamed.
------------------------
After the show, he was approached by some hot big-tiddie goth chicks. They wanted to party. Heinous wanted to party. Heinous could have chosen anyone, but there was something particularly appealing about this group of females, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. Taken by the curiosity he had, he went.
Back at their pad, he first noticed the aroma of a room that had hosted many orgies. Figuring he was in for a good time, he relaxed, took off his shirt, and kicked back for a while. One of the vixens approached him and asked if she could "decorate" his chest with some lipstick. Kinda freaky he thought, but sure, why not. She began forming what looked like sigils all over his upper body. Soon enough, another succubus approached him from behind and flogged him with a cat'o'nine tails. Figuring that this was probably just some extreme foreplay, he allowed it to happen. After some blood was actually drawn, the other girls joined in with some weird chanting and then the room went dark. This was gonna be some party, he thought to himself.
When the darkness lifted, he was no longer in the apartment with the ladies. He was suddenly surrounded by drugs, alcohol, and youngsters and some older folks alike, all fans of the legendary FivESkiN. In some giant mansion that was becoming more and more destroyed by the hour. "Now we're talkin'" he thought to himself. THIS is a party!
The crowd of people began to spill into the streets. Soon, all the drugs and alcohol were all consumed. Swept outside and into the sea of people, Heinous had no choice but to run with them, or be trampled. Little did he know that they were about to cause the fire that killed 16 people, and left multitudes more maimed beyond recognition. The angry mob stormed the local liquor store, and when that too was empty, someone shouted "burn it down!" which seemed like a good idea at the time. When the fire got too hot, and the crowd started to thin, Heinous saw his escape: he stole a bicycle from a little girl and began to pedal as fast as he could away from there. He rounded the corner, and miraculously he found himself back at the big-tiddie goth chicks pad. They weren't there, but for some reason the place was filled with farm animals. Hungry, he grabbed one of the chickens and tossed it in the oven. The chicken didn't like that too much, popped back out of the oven and clawed the living crap out of him.
Heinous knew that he needed to chill out and relax, so he took the only remaining bottle of alcohol left in their pad, and left. Walking aimlessly, he popped open that bottle and began to drink. "This stuff tastes kinda funny..." it was a magic memory elixir. The fog lifted, and he was finally able to remember exactly what happened. And it wasn't what he thought.
Heinous finished the show drunk, and was approached by a fat sweaty gal, who apparently must have looked attractive to him at some point. Left with her.
She convinced him to have a threesome with her and her daughter, who we learn later on is underage.
After the threesome, which due to her size was technically more like a foursome, Heinous leaves in such a hurry he forgets to fully dress himself and leaves his shirt behind, with fatty chasing after him. He hides in a chicken coup around the corner until she gives up and goes home. Relieved, Heinous leaves and heads for home, but not before a paparazzo jumps from the shrubs and tells him that he has photos of all the goings-on of the previous evening. Knowing that this cannot fly, Heinous is forced to kill the sneaky photographer and steal his phone before the photos can be released. Just to add insult to this egregious infraction against him, Heinous then sleeps with the girlfriend of the paparazzo. She may or may not have agreed to this...but she seemed to like it. Heinous then goes through the photos, and deletes anything incriminating. Unbeknownst to him, the evidence has already been shared. Heinous now awaits his arraignment.
Some random shots of the evening as they actually occurred, without incriminating himself.
"I'm in really bad shape" he thought to himself. "I need to find out where I am, and what happened to me"
He didn't know where he was, so he didn't know where to go. He just started walking. He noticed right away that there were no people around, anywhere to be seen. Looking through his pockets, he discovered that he had none of his usual possessions. His two front pockets had been filled with feathers, but he had no wallet, keys, loose change, or anything at all, aside from a cellphone he did not recognize. It wasn't his. It rang. He picked it up, and didn't say anything.
"Hey.......Heinousss....you do know who thisss isss, don't you?"
Oh, poop, Heinous thought to himself. He'd heard this voice before, long ago.
"It'ssss time. Your ride has come to it'sss end. Yearsss ago, you denied me the opportunity to buy your soul, but the things you are guilty of last night sealed your fate." it said.
"But w-wait!" pleaded Heinous, "I don't even remember what happened or what I did!"
Suddenly he was struck down again, and inundated with memories of the night before. He felt sickened and ashamed.
------------------------
After the show, he was approached by some hot big-tiddie goth chicks. They wanted to party. Heinous wanted to party. Heinous could have chosen anyone, but there was something particularly appealing about this group of females, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. Taken by the curiosity he had, he went.
Back at their pad, he first noticed the aroma of a room that had hosted many orgies. Figuring he was in for a good time, he relaxed, took off his shirt, and kicked back for a while. One of the vixens approached him and asked if she could "decorate" his chest with some lipstick. Kinda freaky he thought, but sure, why not. She began forming what looked like sigils all over his upper body. Soon enough, another succubus approached him from behind and flogged him with a cat'o'nine tails. Figuring that this was probably just some extreme foreplay, he allowed it to happen. After some blood was actually drawn, the other girls joined in with some weird chanting and then the room went dark. This was gonna be some party, he thought to himself.
When the darkness lifted, he was no longer in the apartment with the ladies. He was suddenly surrounded by drugs, alcohol, and youngsters and some older folks alike, all fans of the legendary FivESkiN. In some giant mansion that was becoming more and more destroyed by the hour. "Now we're talkin'" he thought to himself. THIS is a party!
The crowd of people began to spill into the streets. Soon, all the drugs and alcohol were all consumed. Swept outside and into the sea of people, Heinous had no choice but to run with them, or be trampled. Little did he know that they were about to cause the fire that killed 16 people, and left multitudes more maimed beyond recognition. The angry mob stormed the local liquor store, and when that too was empty, someone shouted "burn it down!" which seemed like a good idea at the time. When the fire got too hot, and the crowd started to thin, Heinous saw his escape: he stole a bicycle from a little girl and began to pedal as fast as he could away from there. He rounded the corner, and miraculously he found himself back at the big-tiddie goth chicks pad. They weren't there, but for some reason the place was filled with farm animals. Hungry, he grabbed one of the chickens and tossed it in the oven. The chicken didn't like that too much, popped back out of the oven and clawed the living crap out of him.
Heinous knew that he needed to chill out and relax, so he took the only remaining bottle of alcohol left in their pad, and left. Walking aimlessly, he popped open that bottle and began to drink. "This stuff tastes kinda funny..." it was a magic memory elixir. The fog lifted, and he was finally able to remember exactly what happened. And it wasn't what he thought.
Heinous finished the show drunk, and was approached by a fat sweaty gal, who apparently must have looked attractive to him at some point. Left with her.
She convinced him to have a threesome with her and her daughter, who we learn later on is underage.
After the threesome, which due to her size was technically more like a foursome, Heinous leaves in such a hurry he forgets to fully dress himself and leaves his shirt behind, with fatty chasing after him. He hides in a chicken coup around the corner until she gives up and goes home. Relieved, Heinous leaves and heads for home, but not before a paparazzo jumps from the shrubs and tells him that he has photos of all the goings-on of the previous evening. Knowing that this cannot fly, Heinous is forced to kill the sneaky photographer and steal his phone before the photos can be released. Just to add insult to this egregious infraction against him, Heinous then sleeps with the girlfriend of the paparazzo. She may or may not have agreed to this...but she seemed to like it. Heinous then goes through the photos, and deletes anything incriminating. Unbeknownst to him, the evidence has already been shared. Heinous now awaits his arraignment.
Some random shots of the evening as they actually occurred, without incriminating himself.
LiveeviL2000
Ambassador of Pentagonal Pentatonics
Holy crap!!!
I think Barbarian Bob took the easy way out!
I think Barbarian Bob took the easy way out!
No matter how this ends, there was some EPIC yarn spun along the way! What a blast!
mcblink
Ambassador of Riffs & Spliffs
Yeah, this has been a heck of a journey, and it's definitely been fun, even if at times kinda challenging! I don't feel as if I deserve to have made it this far, I'm just a hack at best LOL
Thanks a bunch @TVvoodoo
This hasn't been easy to craft a game such as this, I'm sure. Thanks for all the time and effort you put into this! As well as all the other participants! Thanks all!
That said, VOTE FIVESKIN
Thanks a bunch @TVvoodoo
This hasn't been easy to craft a game such as this, I'm sure. Thanks for all the time and effort you put into this! As well as all the other participants! Thanks all!
That said, VOTE FIVESKIN
OP
TVvoodoo
Ambassador of The Comfortably Slung
OP
TVvoodoo
Ambassador of The Comfortably Slung
Heinous Anus you partied like a rockstar, even made a valiant last day vote rally, but the Game of Toanz Warrior Tribe decrees you are hereby
The justice system is open to a plea bargain situation with your lawyers, judging from your past history = not 100% stable individual.
You might be able to plea bargain your sentence down to house arrest, pending results of a psychiatric evaluation.
Cowboy declares on Donny Dagger of Squatcher as the Game of Toanz victor!
And rightful Ass to warm the Throne of Toan until he is challenged for it
I'd put a picture of his face on the Throne of Tone pic, but we never got to see his face,
due to that Elephantitis, or extreme handsomeness or whatever else he's suffering from.
At this point I thank all participants and dedicated watchers. Really all the brothers who jumped in not having any idea what they were in for?
Well that deserves at least some legendary TTR Game of Toanz status, so from Cowboy and Me to all y'alls. THANK YOU!
Many laughs were had. Many of you got forced out of your comfort zone, and spurred to be inspired, to create, to compete, and to flat out ROCK! And wasn't that the whole point? To spice life up a bit, share some camraderie, get to know each other better? Dream a little, and have some FUN!
Phew. It's over! See ya down the trail, my brothers.
The justice system is open to a plea bargain situation with your lawyers, judging from your past history = not 100% stable individual.
You might be able to plea bargain your sentence down to house arrest, pending results of a psychiatric evaluation.
Cowboy declares on Donny Dagger of Squatcher as the Game of Toanz victor!
And rightful Ass to warm the Throne of Toan until he is challenged for it
I'd put a picture of his face on the Throne of Tone pic, but we never got to see his face,
due to that Elephantitis, or extreme handsomeness or whatever else he's suffering from.
At this point I thank all participants and dedicated watchers. Really all the brothers who jumped in not having any idea what they were in for?
Well that deserves at least some legendary TTR Game of Toanz status, so from Cowboy and Me to all y'alls. THANK YOU!
Many laughs were had. Many of you got forced out of your comfort zone, and spurred to be inspired, to create, to compete, and to flat out ROCK! And wasn't that the whole point? To spice life up a bit, share some camraderie, get to know each other better? Dream a little, and have some FUN!
Phew. It's over! See ya down the trail, my brothers.
Last edited:
Thank you Brad! That was amazeballs! Well done sir!
Was great to be a part of this fine game..
Much thanks and a great appreciation of all the work put in to make it happen.
Congratulations Don the Dagger
Much thanks and a great appreciation of all the work put in to make it happen.
Congratulations Don the Dagger
Deleted User Account
Guest
I bailed but still thank you!
Deleted User Account
Guest
Yes Bradley,you have amazing balls!
Yeah…but you’re back now! And we’ve gained a @Mr. Potato Head on the forum!