Music Banter - View Single Post - Choose a Song Then Make Up a Scene That It Would Be a Good Soundtrack For

Oriphiel · 09-24-2018, 08:54 AM

Whilst stepping outside for a bout at the ole piss bucket, Batlord finds a package on his mother's porch

Batlord, a-mutter: The **** is this ****?

He bends over to examine it, a posture quite familiar in his timeless pursuit to sate his restless curiosity. On the brown paper laden parcel is writ but one word; his name

Batlord: Huh. Must be that Nazi rabbit porn that I totally ordered for purely intellectual reasons.

Mouth a-water and balls akimbo, he does tear through the package, revealing a gilded radiance, a splendid aura of golden brown to rival even the crispiest of fresh McNuggets (or whatever the **** version of McNuggets that Burger King serves is called)

Batlord: Jesus...

A voice then whispers in his ear

Voice: No, not he. I am beyond such conceptions.

It is a voice that he knows well

Batlord, in pained realization: Oh. Oh ****. Oh no, no, no... not again... please... I mean, come on, man, it's my day off. I just wanna take a ****ing piss and then get slaughtered in Starcraft for a few hours.

A man steps out of the light

Frownland: Your day off, you say?

Batlord: Yeah... ?

Frownland: Then get off you shall.

His pants fly off of their own accord, for they are at harmony with the intrinsic resonance of reality, and they well know what time it is

Feeling an odd sensation below, The Batlord looks down to find that his dick has detached itself from him, and is already inside of Frownland

Batlord, to his mutinous member: Oh, you little traitor! *coughs* I mean, big traitor!

The Bat Dick: Can you ever truly miss what was never truly yours?

Frownland: An interesting point. Tell me, Batlord. What did your dick look like before you came into existence from out of the void, and thus became a slave to the lie of perception?

Batlord: No. **** this. **** off with your stupid ****ing riddles, and just give me my ****ing dick back!

Frownland, with a knowing smile: Very well, Batlord. Very well...

He approaches

Batlord, eyes widened with horror: Wait. No. I didn't -

Yet before long, he knew that he did. For from even before the hallucinatory bonds of time had been forged, he always had.

Batlord: Well, what the hell. I guess I'm down for a quicky. Or up, as it were.

Frownland sweeps him up into his wide embrace, garnishes of neon honeysuckles wrapping gentle cords about their limbs, robed seraphs tumbling from their places in the heavens with the sudden weight of mortal transience, and swans shooting out of his *******

09-24-2018, 08:54 AM	#19 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,354	Whilst stepping outside for a bout at the ole piss bucket, Batlord finds a package on his mother's porch Batlord, a-mutter: The ** is this *? He bends over to examine it, a posture quite familiar in his timeless pursuit to sate his restless curiosity. On the brown paper laden parcel is writ but one word; his name* Batlord: Huh. Must be that Nazi rabbit porn that I totally ordered for purely intellectual reasons. Mouth a-water and balls akimbo, he does tear through the package, revealing a gilded radiance, a splendid aura of golden brown to rival even the crispiest of fresh McNuggets (or whatever the **** version of McNuggets that Burger King serves is called) Batlord: Jesus... A voice then whispers in his ear Voice: No, not he. I am beyond such conceptions. It is a voice that he knows well Batlord, in pained realization: Oh. Oh **. Oh no, no, no... not again... please... I mean, come on, man, it's my day off. I just wanna take a *ing piss and then get slaughtered in Starcraft for a few hours. A man steps out of the light* Frownland: Your day off, you say? Batlord: Yeah... ? Frownland: Then get off you shall. His pants fly off of their own accord, for they are at harmony with the intrinsic resonance of reality, and they well know what time it is Feeling an odd sensation below, The Batlord looks down to find that his dick has detached itself from him, and is already inside of Frownland Batlord, to his mutinous member: Oh, you little traitor! coughs I mean, big traitor! The Bat Dick: Can you ever truly miss what was never truly yours? Frownland: An interesting point. Tell me, Batlord. What did your dick look like before you came into existence from out of the void, and thus became a slave to the lie of perception? Batlord: No. ** this. off with your stupid ing riddles, and just give me my *ing dick back! Frownland, with a knowing smile: Very well, Batlord. Very well... He approaches* Batlord, eyes widened with horror: Wait. No. I didn't - Yet before long, he knew that he did. For from even before the hallucinatory bonds of time had been forged, he always had. Batlord: Well, what the hell. I guess I'm down for a quicky. Or up, as it were. Frownland sweeps him up into his wide embrace, garnishes of neon honeysuckles wrapping gentle cords about their limbs, robed seraphs tumbling from their places in the heavens with the sudden weight of mortal transience, and swans shooting out of his ******* __________________ ---------------------- \|---Mic's Albums---\| ---------------------- ----------------------------- \|---Deafbox Industries---\| -----------------------------