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Docron's Story Time II


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Yeaaaa. about that...

Willkommen, to Docron's Story Time II

Mine truly conveys the thought, 'one should continue the purveyor'nesses of the truths inside'. And he does just this.

Post things, or sit back and enjoy a read. Pretend the lead singer of REO Speedwagon is narrating (?). And do other things else that I forgot from the original thread.

Feel free to add or suggest things that I might not be open to or was just to simple to drum up on mine own'time. It's a modern formulii.

Morning'time stimulii.

Some matter of factual, some matter of fictional, Five alternate uses of the word table (I promise).

Stories are cool.

I will try to post once a Sunday when I'm very agnostic.

I'm definitely not following the moderating team on Twitter.

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Keep it CLEANER, no toilet talk , use innuendo, the double entendre, and keep you fingers crossed.

Paint vast stretched canvases with words, but cast vulgarities aside.

This thread is already toast if I'm involved...

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There is/was nothing wrong with this. Alas, we continue.

That was a quadruplentendre' I think.

If you 're thinking I'm Atlas, a poster I believe I recall from long ago, that's not me.

I'm from the land of DAS, Olathe, Kansas. I've lived in the Deep South since I was 3. (three)

Now, if you had happened to infer that I am Atlas, say, from Achilles Last Stand, that's pretty cool.

What did you mean? Oh, it doesn't really matter...

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I'm not sure I understand. Please elaborate?

If you've read many of Anjin-sans posts over the years, you will see his writing and methodogy is concise. Very few, if any wasted words. To the point! Or as Rush would say, breviy is the soul of wit. Pay attention to his posts.


Strictly my guess, but Anjin-san may believe the previous incarnation of Story Time was off the rails, with no direction. Not that a thread as this would have a destination.

I do see an interesting potential here, as long as the writing doesn't seep into the sewer.

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If you 're thinking I'm Atlas, a poster I believe I recall from long ago, that's not me.

I hesitate to interject but docron said "alas", though your sentiment is perfectly understandable since so many sharks patrol these waters.

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Message from the Editor:

I'm reposting this piece, only this time with the following modifications.

"... steamy <explitive deleted [MA]> with April O'Neil" has been replaced with "... steamy <continental breakfast [PG13]>"

Also, the part where

"... because she has gorgeous <explitive deleteds [MA]>" has been replaced with "... gorgeous <bocce balls [PG13]>"

Back in October of 1987, I discovered something that would help me as I developed from the tender age of 2 years and a half.

It was called Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

In this work of fiction, four pet turtles are dropped into the sewer system of New York City by their careless owner and left for dead. Eventually, they find themselves meandering through a puddle of a dangerous and little-known substance called "Mutagen". While wading in the Mutagen, Homato Yoshi, a ninja warrior exiled to the sewers after it is speculated that he betrayed his master, crosses paths with the turtles. Still in turtle form, Yoshi takes them to keep him company in the sewers, and names them after his favourite renaissance artists.

You see, the interesting thing about Mutagen is that it has the ability to cross-mutate whatever it touches with whatever life form its victim has come in contact with most recently. This is what causes the pet turtles to cross-mutate with their teenage owner becoming humanesque teenage turtles with varying outlooks on life, while Hamato Yoshi is cross-mutated with a sewer rat, becoming a rat-ninja that doesn't wear pants.

During the course of this show, the turtles meet a gorgeous red-head Channel 6 news reporter named April O'Neil. They never show it on screen, but every single one of the turtles have steamy <continental breakfast> with this reporter because she has gorgeous <bocce balls> and access to a video recorder.

Moral of the story: even mutant turtles can get <bing bang, walla-walla bing'd> by hot and sexy reporters.

Bigger moral of the story: its not about looks so much as it is about how good you are at fighting the robotic soldiers of the Foote Clan and mutant zoo animals with ninja weapons while wearing color-coded masks and arm bands.

If you were to come away with anything after watching seasons 1 through 4 of the TMNT, it should have been that looks don't matter as long as you have a cool name and can eat entire pizzas in one bite.., that mutants never wear pants, and that no one is at all concerned that the Technodrome, a mobile war base from dimension X, is parked at the earth's core.

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Dear Anjin-san,Can you please stop 'participating' in my thread?Love,Tommy.

Oh,Dearest Tommy,

Please understand that you posted this on the www. or, if you prefer the internet,where anyone can comment,at least for a moment, your assine post(s).YOUR thread? :rolleyes:


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where anyone can comment,at least for a moment, your assine post(s).

My what post(s)?

I understand you lack the capacity to formulate unique ideas in to a story, but your negative connotations are not appreciated and do not contribute anything relevant to this thread. That being said, maybe it would behoove you to not post anything at all.

Thank you for understanding.

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Ok, I've been away for a couple of days. What did I miss? What happened to docron's original story thread? Did things really get as vulgar and nasty as jabe implies?

Strider I don't really know why it got pulled. I speculate it was because the random brackets and characters I used in the thread title. It didn't really get vulgar.

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  • 2 weeks later...

You take my hand, I'll take your hand baby... togetherr, we may get away.

In 2001 cell phones were just starting to propogate into the hands of most regular people. I met her through my cousin, late one night a party on the Middlegrounds on the river in Bay City, MI. Out behind the shed on our 200 acre farm I paced back and forth, shoes kicking milk-weed up into the air, for a little under 40 minutes. This was the first real call I would ever make on one of those machines.

"Hello?".. "Erm, Hi" ... "is Holly home?" "Sure, just a minute"...

I set back against the cold steel side of the old shed and slid slowly to the ground. The sun along with everything else was behind me by then.

Later in life I would realize she would become the worst thing that I would experience in my breif existence in that little town, but at the time I was quite convinced she was perfect and we would spend our lives together.

Moving on to the city in 2003 for college was like closing a chapter in my life. My friends at the time threw me a going away party in the middle of one of my friends farm fields. It was early fall, most of the crops had been gone but there was one spot in particular where corn still stood tall on all sides, and for a moment a group of teenage kids remained hidden from any sort of authority.

I remember a few good laughs, and a few promises we made there as we sat about on tailgates passing around bottles of god knows what.

"It's only school, man!"... "Hey!, I've got a new name for you... DOCTOR RONNIE!" "Gimme that bottle asshole... I'm not leaving... I'll be back on the weekends..."

That night, too drunk to drive, I was loaded into the bed of my 1984 Chevy pickup and driven home. It was just a few miles but the road was gravel and had been torn up by heavy equipment over the past few weeks of hard rain. In the driveway at my house I was shoved out like a sack of soybeans. By that time I had moved into my parents' basement, and that night I was lucky to not have to fight gravity as I fell in through the old iron cellar door. I woke up with bruises I assume come along with bouncing around in the back of a truck being driven by a drunk teenager.

Early on I made good attempts at getting back. There was a different life than I expected to find in the city. Things I haden't yet seen, things my friends back home in the middle of no where couldn't easly relate to. Eventually I was caught up in what I can only explain now as some sort of time warp where the distance was getting greater than simply the miles between the two places. My girl had gone off to college that same year, but I suppose in finding the same new and exciting environment as I had, simply lost interest along the way and ended up cheating on me sometime shortly thereafter in 2004.

I haven't been back around there in some 5 years now, but I always think about these two nights and the promises I've both made and broken. Growing up on a small potato farm, thrust into one of the largest cities in the U.S.

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