What the are you doing here? It's not a prison guard thread.
I am not afraid to poke the bear. In fact, bend over, I'll poke you right in your asshole.
...his growing love pump throbbing inside her moist tunnel of love...![]()
What the are you doing here? It's not a prison guard thread.
I am not afraid to poke the bear. In fact, bend over, I'll poke you right in your asshole.
I'll write circles around your uncreative ass.
Get back down to your league, son.
Had good intentions but time to write this thread off.
What are you talking about- there is nothing but "experts" in this place.
We do have a few.
I've seen your handy work in a thread you created. I wasn't impressed.
If you want to go head to head against me, start a thread and show me what you have, then I will respond.
Go see and hear my music and study the lyrics. Then you can challenge someone else.
How do you know I haven't already?
Your lyrics are pedestrian at best. Your music is predictable and uninspiring. On any given Monday night I can find 5 dozen local Applebees musicians who would destroy you.
Great music review. Thanks!
This is probably why you attack me, because deep inside you know you are outmatched.
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You're that stalker from Two and a Half Men.
You start multi thread and then call responders "attackers".
So we have writers here......hmmm?
It was cold outside, which is nornal for a Montana December, Billy Bob was just finishing up his chores when he heard a gun shot......................
Seperating the boys of the men.
DAY HAD BROKEN cold and gray, exceedingly cold and gray, when the man turned aside from the main Yukon trail and climbed the high earth-bank, where a dim and little-travelled trail led eastward through the fat spruce timberland. It was a steep bank, and he paused for breath at the top, excusing the act to himself by looking at his watch. It was nine o'clock. There was no sun nor hint of sun, though there was not a cloud in the sky. It was a clear day, and yet there seemed an intangible pall over the face of things, a subtle gloom that made the day dark, and that was due to the absence of sun. This fact did not worry the man. He was used to the lack of sun. It had been days since he had seen the sun, and he knew that a few more days must pass before that cheerful orb, due south, would just peep above the sky-line and dip immediately from view.
That's from "To Build a Fire" by Jack London
Start your story like that, not the pedestrian way you always do.
Oh , DMC...for a second I thought that was yours...
Post yours.
What do you write, I will give encouragement if deserving.
Why just criticize others?
What? You claimed to be well versed in literature, and you thought a classic Jack London opening was mine?
ing fraud.
How about adding on to the story? Show off a little, can you do it? I can do it and will work off what you post, show us what you got.
Dude, I could a post a ton of stuff from great books and authors you'd..DUH?..about. Do I need to prove it?
Where are you getting this info? I write songs.
Why are you making up and why don't you post something?
I thought this was a writers thread?
I wasn't even responding to you.
Paranoid![]()
No. Unlike you I don't make false claims. I've never claimed to be an expert in literature.
You could list the name, probably the story, but couldn't quote it.
You're a worthless thumb drive with just folders and no content.
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I would never add to a finished work of art like that. What, are you going to draw with crayons over Starry Night?
Well I am a literature buff, smart move simpleton.
Just as I thought you ain't got nothing but a big mouth.
Ok simpleton add on to this..
When I was a little lad I lived more than other lads my age, you see I dwelled in two neatheworlds of my own making, in one world I was a king in the other.....
Which is why you didn't recognize the opening verse to a classic.![]()
I would add proper punctuation and spelling first, then can it all and start over with something that doesn't look like a 4th grade report.
I know you're a troll, but you're not doing very well. If your schtick is to look like an idiot, you're succeeding.
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