Jay2645
Unfunny
- Joined
- Nov 14, 2009
- Messages
- 11
First, I'd like to say "Hi!" to everyone here. I'm brand-new to this site, this being my first post and all (going to make a post on the welcome section of the board in a moment).
Second, I have a little snippet from a story I've been laboring over for quite some time. At one point, this thing was massive, 200+ pages... Then I lost everything but snippets from the first 2 chapters in a hard drive crash. A couple months ago, I decided to bring it back from the dead, in a sense, armed only with little bits and pieces of the first two chapters and a vague knowledge of what the plot was once upon a time. I'm hoping to get it published once I'm done with it, and in accordance with the tips in the stickies up there, I'm only posting the first half of the first chapter. I'm not sure if it's too long or not, but...
Do your worst, but please be gentle. I know there's a bit of a contradiction there, just try to bear with it.
This piece has been posted on another (much smaller) board, where it had gotten the "Douglas Adams Award for Sheer Madness". Just a heads-up.
Without further ado:
Chapter I:
The Beginning
The attack had begun.
Two detachments of marines swiftly stepped from the dropships they had just flown in on and quickly scurried about on the beach, getting into their attack formations. Several armored jeeps, nicknamed “Warthogs” and driven by the best drivers in the unit, exited the dropships and drove to the head of the pack. They waited for orders from their commander.
The enemy knew they were coming; no one for miles around could have missed all the racket that they had been making. Right about now, soldiers were running about, grabbing weapons or possibly just climbing out of their bunks.
The base they were launching an assault on was just an entry point into enemy territory. It was an abandoned, decades-old power plant on the coast of California, humanity’s first major attempt at a viable wind-powered power generator. The idea was, instead of having many small-output miniature wind power generators, you could build just one, giant fan, powered mostly by the wind, but utilizing some nuclear reactors for additional power. In reality, the fan didn’t actually do much, and the plant almost completely relied on the nuclear reactors.
The public bought the fact that it was an eco-friendly power plant at first, but quickly turned against it once they realized it was really just a massive cover-up scheme for more nuclear power plants. After years of protest, the reactors were shut down and the facility fell into neglect. Now the plant is just a pile of ruins on a shark-infested beach, but, if taken, it could be the biggest stronghold they had as they marched off to victory.
No one really knew WHY either side was fighting. It was probably something along the lines of the world military government not giving up their wartime governing powers or something like that. I really don’t think anyone actually KNEW, should you ask them. They just liked to fight over stupid things for stupid reasons.
It seems all humans were that way.
On the beach, the air was tense with the anticipation of battle. They had many of their best soldiers standing on the beach, waiting. There was no way the enemy, codenamed "blue", could withstand their attack.
Unless... Unless the enemy had their best soldier, the one who never lost a single battle.
Little did they know that soldier was stationed at this outpost.
He had killed millions, and once won a battle single-handedly, outnumbered 300 to one. They said that he ate bullets for breakfast, nails for lunch, and bad Chuck Norris jokes for dinner. There was no stopping him once he started fighting. It was almost as if he had some sort of "health bar" they didn't, because it seemed that he could take dozens of bullets without dying, then simply duck behind a piece of scenery for a few seconds and come back out as if he had just stopped to tie his shoes. His movements were so fluid, it's almost as if he had some sort of device that could control his movements from afar, a "controller" of sorts, and the operator was somewhere far, far away, watching from a TV screen in his living room. Some said he had hacks and cheat codes, granting him superhuman abilities. The rest looked at those some funny and slowly backed away, because there were no hacks nor cheat codes to real life, those were only found in videogames. And even if there were hacks in real life, you'd have to hack your life console to get them, and that voided the warranty. And no one wanted to void their warranty, because what if your life console broke? You'd have to send it back to God, and then he'd tell you that he can't fix it because you voided the warranty. The only one he ever fixed a life console for was for his best buddy, some guy named "Jesus" or something. That was screwed up, man. Fix it for the rest of us too; don't play favorites because he's your BFF or boyfriend or something. But I digress.
Unfortunately, Blue team's one awesome soldier of awesomeness was currently on vacation.
His replacement, named Bob Guy, was a noteworthy one. He had skills that were unbelievable. He was so good that... Pfft- That... AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Who are we kidding? He was the worst shot in history.
As the other team got ready for their assault, Bob was already ready for action. He looked around, as if searching for something, like a voice in the room that didn't have a person to match it. And it was talking about him, describing his every movement, condemning him, making fun of him in a very narrator-ish tone.
"COMMANDER! THE VOICES IN THE SKY ARE TALKING TO ME AGAIN!" Bob said.
His commander, supervising troops in the dark grey command center of the power facility as they prepared for combat, replied, "Just ignore them, Bob, and they'll go away."
"Ok.” Bob said. “Mr. Voice, can you go bother someone else?"
There was silence, as the narrator voice didn't have a reply. He simply narrated what was going on around him; it was his job, he must do it, and as such there was no going away for him.
"Commander! The voice says he doesn't have a reply, then said that he wasn‘t going to go away!"
The commander yelled from the other room, "Bob. Ignore it. It'll go away soon."
After saying this, Bob’s commander whispered something into the ear of one of the soldiers, and then walked over to speak to Bob.
"We're losing men, fast. I would send you out there, but you have... Special needs."
"That's what my mommy told me!" Bob said with a bright and vibrant smile on his face.
The commander paused. "We need you, though."
"Need me for what?"
"We need you to stay the hell out of everyone's wa-” The commander started, then rethought what he was about to say.
“I mean, we need you to watch the base,” the commander said. “I'm going to have to go out there. I have to leave you in charge of the base, but whatever you do, do NOT hit that button right next to you."
Bob looked around for the button, and then found it next to a large display, which was, in turn, next to him. The display, formerly used to monitor the power the generator put out, now had been reprogrammed to operate everything in the base. Like most blue tech, it ran Windows 2500, an operating system which still thoroughly sucked, but was better than anything else out there. Little had changed in 500 years; it still got the blue screen of death on a regular basis.
Below the monitor, there was a red button with an extra-large sticky note on it. Above the button, it read: “CAUTION: SELF-DESTRUCT”.
"The red one with the BIG sticky note which reads 'DO NOT PRESS THIS, BOB' written on it?" Bob inquired.
"Yes, that one. Do you understand?"
"Yep!"
"I need you to repeat what I said, Bob. What did I say?"
"I need you to repeat what I said, Bob, what did I-"
"NO, NO, NOT that!"
"NO, NO, NOT that!"
"Repeat what I said the first time."
"What I said the first time."
"Repeat this: NEVER hit that button next to you."
"NEVER hit French toast before bed."
The commander paused and sighed. He had no clue where Bob got that from, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere with him this way.
"Umm... Yeah. Let's go with that. I'm going to back away slowly, and you're NOT going to hit that button."
"OK!"
And, with that, the commander slowly backed off and left Bob alone.
Bob's tiny mind struggled with the difficult order his commander had given him.
"Never hit French toast before bed?" He said to himself, "I can do that. Ooooh... What's this shiny red button thingy? Do... Nut... Press... This... Bob... Donut press this Bob? IF I HIT THIS, I GET A DONUT? Sweet."
And, with that, Bob pressed the button. Suddenly, he remembered the first lesson his mom taught him: Pressing shiny red buttons in the hope of getting a donut was bad. VERY bad.
"I didn't hit the button," he said, trying to reassure himself. "My finger did."
Just then, a sultry female voice echoed through the halls, coming over the loudspeakers. It had just a slight metallic tinge to it, enough to remind you that there was not actually any girls present in the facility and that this was just a computer talking. The entire fiasco was actually rather depressing.
"This base will self-destruct in 60 seconds. Free coffee is available in the command center if needed. Have a spectacular day."
"That lady is very nice," Bob said, "she wants me to have a spectacular day! HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY, TOO, NICE LADY!"
Windows 2500 suddenly got the blue screen of death.
Bob then calmly left through the main entrance and casually strolled past the intense firefight that was occurring between his team and the enemy. Both teams were pinned down in a side generator structure, in ruins now, which used to be used as a place to temporarily store the windmill’s power before funneling it to the main structure, the place where Bob had just hit a shiny red button.
"See ya later, Commander!" Bob said, casually strolling past the battle.
The commander turned, saw Bob, and waved. "Bye, Bob! Wait... Bob! I need you! Come back!"
Bob stopped and paused.
"I think it's very sweet that you feel that way towards me, but I prefer my relations with women."
"Bob! Come back! This is insubordination!"
"I really don't care about the 'in' status of whatever the hell subordination is, but I do agree, that 'subordination' outfit looks very good on you."
And, with that, Bob hopped in one of the now-empty enemy Warthog jeeps and drove off.
Surprisingly, no one shot at Bob, possibly because half of the other team had died of laughter, and the other half couldn't stop laughing long enough to hold their guns steady. Blue team was about to make short work of them when C4, buried in strategic locations around the building (if by strategic you mean that people decided to stuff it everywhere it could fit), went off on a timed explosion set off by a red button sixty seconds beforehand.
The only survivor was Bob, driving casually out of the explosion, going off to visit his old friend Ian in the next camp. He was stopped by military police, who wondered why the first thing he asked is where were the donuts he was promised. After they learned what he had done, they decided to take him off to the general of the area, but almost decided to shoot him anyway because he wouldn't stop asking if they were there yet.
Second, I have a little snippet from a story I've been laboring over for quite some time. At one point, this thing was massive, 200+ pages... Then I lost everything but snippets from the first 2 chapters in a hard drive crash. A couple months ago, I decided to bring it back from the dead, in a sense, armed only with little bits and pieces of the first two chapters and a vague knowledge of what the plot was once upon a time. I'm hoping to get it published once I'm done with it, and in accordance with the tips in the stickies up there, I'm only posting the first half of the first chapter. I'm not sure if it's too long or not, but...
Do your worst, but please be gentle. I know there's a bit of a contradiction there, just try to bear with it.
This piece has been posted on another (much smaller) board, where it had gotten the "Douglas Adams Award for Sheer Madness". Just a heads-up.
Without further ado:
Chapter I:
The Beginning
The attack had begun.
Two detachments of marines swiftly stepped from the dropships they had just flown in on and quickly scurried about on the beach, getting into their attack formations. Several armored jeeps, nicknamed “Warthogs” and driven by the best drivers in the unit, exited the dropships and drove to the head of the pack. They waited for orders from their commander.
The enemy knew they were coming; no one for miles around could have missed all the racket that they had been making. Right about now, soldiers were running about, grabbing weapons or possibly just climbing out of their bunks.
The base they were launching an assault on was just an entry point into enemy territory. It was an abandoned, decades-old power plant on the coast of California, humanity’s first major attempt at a viable wind-powered power generator. The idea was, instead of having many small-output miniature wind power generators, you could build just one, giant fan, powered mostly by the wind, but utilizing some nuclear reactors for additional power. In reality, the fan didn’t actually do much, and the plant almost completely relied on the nuclear reactors.
The public bought the fact that it was an eco-friendly power plant at first, but quickly turned against it once they realized it was really just a massive cover-up scheme for more nuclear power plants. After years of protest, the reactors were shut down and the facility fell into neglect. Now the plant is just a pile of ruins on a shark-infested beach, but, if taken, it could be the biggest stronghold they had as they marched off to victory.
No one really knew WHY either side was fighting. It was probably something along the lines of the world military government not giving up their wartime governing powers or something like that. I really don’t think anyone actually KNEW, should you ask them. They just liked to fight over stupid things for stupid reasons.
It seems all humans were that way.
On the beach, the air was tense with the anticipation of battle. They had many of their best soldiers standing on the beach, waiting. There was no way the enemy, codenamed "blue", could withstand their attack.
Unless... Unless the enemy had their best soldier, the one who never lost a single battle.
Little did they know that soldier was stationed at this outpost.
He had killed millions, and once won a battle single-handedly, outnumbered 300 to one. They said that he ate bullets for breakfast, nails for lunch, and bad Chuck Norris jokes for dinner. There was no stopping him once he started fighting. It was almost as if he had some sort of "health bar" they didn't, because it seemed that he could take dozens of bullets without dying, then simply duck behind a piece of scenery for a few seconds and come back out as if he had just stopped to tie his shoes. His movements were so fluid, it's almost as if he had some sort of device that could control his movements from afar, a "controller" of sorts, and the operator was somewhere far, far away, watching from a TV screen in his living room. Some said he had hacks and cheat codes, granting him superhuman abilities. The rest looked at those some funny and slowly backed away, because there were no hacks nor cheat codes to real life, those were only found in videogames. And even if there were hacks in real life, you'd have to hack your life console to get them, and that voided the warranty. And no one wanted to void their warranty, because what if your life console broke? You'd have to send it back to God, and then he'd tell you that he can't fix it because you voided the warranty. The only one he ever fixed a life console for was for his best buddy, some guy named "Jesus" or something. That was screwed up, man. Fix it for the rest of us too; don't play favorites because he's your BFF or boyfriend or something. But I digress.
Unfortunately, Blue team's one awesome soldier of awesomeness was currently on vacation.
His replacement, named Bob Guy, was a noteworthy one. He had skills that were unbelievable. He was so good that... Pfft- That... AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Who are we kidding? He was the worst shot in history.
As the other team got ready for their assault, Bob was already ready for action. He looked around, as if searching for something, like a voice in the room that didn't have a person to match it. And it was talking about him, describing his every movement, condemning him, making fun of him in a very narrator-ish tone.
"COMMANDER! THE VOICES IN THE SKY ARE TALKING TO ME AGAIN!" Bob said.
His commander, supervising troops in the dark grey command center of the power facility as they prepared for combat, replied, "Just ignore them, Bob, and they'll go away."
"Ok.” Bob said. “Mr. Voice, can you go bother someone else?"
There was silence, as the narrator voice didn't have a reply. He simply narrated what was going on around him; it was his job, he must do it, and as such there was no going away for him.
"Commander! The voice says he doesn't have a reply, then said that he wasn‘t going to go away!"
The commander yelled from the other room, "Bob. Ignore it. It'll go away soon."
After saying this, Bob’s commander whispered something into the ear of one of the soldiers, and then walked over to speak to Bob.
"We're losing men, fast. I would send you out there, but you have... Special needs."
"That's what my mommy told me!" Bob said with a bright and vibrant smile on his face.
The commander paused. "We need you, though."
"Need me for what?"
"We need you to stay the hell out of everyone's wa-” The commander started, then rethought what he was about to say.
“I mean, we need you to watch the base,” the commander said. “I'm going to have to go out there. I have to leave you in charge of the base, but whatever you do, do NOT hit that button right next to you."
Bob looked around for the button, and then found it next to a large display, which was, in turn, next to him. The display, formerly used to monitor the power the generator put out, now had been reprogrammed to operate everything in the base. Like most blue tech, it ran Windows 2500, an operating system which still thoroughly sucked, but was better than anything else out there. Little had changed in 500 years; it still got the blue screen of death on a regular basis.
Below the monitor, there was a red button with an extra-large sticky note on it. Above the button, it read: “CAUTION: SELF-DESTRUCT”.
"The red one with the BIG sticky note which reads 'DO NOT PRESS THIS, BOB' written on it?" Bob inquired.
"Yes, that one. Do you understand?"
"Yep!"
"I need you to repeat what I said, Bob. What did I say?"
"I need you to repeat what I said, Bob, what did I-"
"NO, NO, NOT that!"
"NO, NO, NOT that!"
"Repeat what I said the first time."
"What I said the first time."
"Repeat this: NEVER hit that button next to you."
"NEVER hit French toast before bed."
The commander paused and sighed. He had no clue where Bob got that from, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere with him this way.
"Umm... Yeah. Let's go with that. I'm going to back away slowly, and you're NOT going to hit that button."
"OK!"
And, with that, the commander slowly backed off and left Bob alone.
Bob's tiny mind struggled with the difficult order his commander had given him.
"Never hit French toast before bed?" He said to himself, "I can do that. Ooooh... What's this shiny red button thingy? Do... Nut... Press... This... Bob... Donut press this Bob? IF I HIT THIS, I GET A DONUT? Sweet."
And, with that, Bob pressed the button. Suddenly, he remembered the first lesson his mom taught him: Pressing shiny red buttons in the hope of getting a donut was bad. VERY bad.
"I didn't hit the button," he said, trying to reassure himself. "My finger did."
Just then, a sultry female voice echoed through the halls, coming over the loudspeakers. It had just a slight metallic tinge to it, enough to remind you that there was not actually any girls present in the facility and that this was just a computer talking. The entire fiasco was actually rather depressing.
"This base will self-destruct in 60 seconds. Free coffee is available in the command center if needed. Have a spectacular day."
"That lady is very nice," Bob said, "she wants me to have a spectacular day! HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY, TOO, NICE LADY!"
Windows 2500 suddenly got the blue screen of death.
Bob then calmly left through the main entrance and casually strolled past the intense firefight that was occurring between his team and the enemy. Both teams were pinned down in a side generator structure, in ruins now, which used to be used as a place to temporarily store the windmill’s power before funneling it to the main structure, the place where Bob had just hit a shiny red button.
"See ya later, Commander!" Bob said, casually strolling past the battle.
The commander turned, saw Bob, and waved. "Bye, Bob! Wait... Bob! I need you! Come back!"
Bob stopped and paused.
"I think it's very sweet that you feel that way towards me, but I prefer my relations with women."
"Bob! Come back! This is insubordination!"
"I really don't care about the 'in' status of whatever the hell subordination is, but I do agree, that 'subordination' outfit looks very good on you."
And, with that, Bob hopped in one of the now-empty enemy Warthog jeeps and drove off.
Surprisingly, no one shot at Bob, possibly because half of the other team had died of laughter, and the other half couldn't stop laughing long enough to hold their guns steady. Blue team was about to make short work of them when C4, buried in strategic locations around the building (if by strategic you mean that people decided to stuff it everywhere it could fit), went off on a timed explosion set off by a red button sixty seconds beforehand.
The only survivor was Bob, driving casually out of the explosion, going off to visit his old friend Ian in the next camp. He was stopped by military police, who wondered why the first thing he asked is where were the donuts he was promised. After they learned what he had done, they decided to take him off to the general of the area, but almost decided to shoot him anyway because he wouldn't stop asking if they were there yet.