THUMPED FAN FICTION (1 Viewer)

Pantone247

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KID LOVEBEACH woke late, even for him 3 in the afternoon was late, he raised his 6ft 4inch frame off the mattress-on-a-pallet in the corner of the sweet loft he rent in Dublin's trendy dockland district, "boy it's sure great not to live with my parents" he said to no one in praticular as he started to tidy away the empty bottle of cognac from around the living space/studio area, it had been rehersal night last night with his band Groom, and as usual, things had got pretty fucking crazy, but then again, things were always pretty fucking crazy. "did Micko really drive all those school girls home?" he said aloud again to no one, and shook his head laughing at the fucking crazy a time he had, once again, last night. He turned on his 72 inch wide screen TV "sweet, Diagnosis Murder!" he said as poured ice cold milk on his large bowl of cheerios.
 

Pantone247

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MDR dived into the waiting helicopter, it was 4pm in Saigon, which meant it was 7pm in Dublin, which meant he was late. The choppers might wings spun around and lift the hulking metal beast into the hot humid tropical air. "How did the meeting go Ambassador?" asked the pilot over the roaring engines "not good, I don't think they're going to sign, this could be war Terry" the pilot wince he knew how much rested on the shoulders of his precious crago but he also new he had to get same said cargo to camden street in 40 minutes or Anseo would have an upstairs room full of dissapointed folk leaning indie pop fans. MDR slipped out of his posh suit and into his more comfertable uniform of button down shirt and slacks Terry the pilot glanced in the mirror as MDR retuned his guitar into various different trick tunnings that he invoked to weave his magic song webs out of.

"going to be a good one tonight sir?"

"it's going to be a great one tonight, terry"
 

Pantone247

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ANN POST rinsed the Dove Shower Gel of her bowling pin legs, and made sure to get rid of all the suds between her rocking bazongas. Last night had been another amazing gig, yes, marred only by her heaving puppies popping out of her low cut summer dress. Yes everyone cheered but was for her insightful lyrics about being a single female professional on the commuter line of a city with no soul left or had it been her milk white orbs titillating the mostly males in their late twenties crowd that turned up to every gig she played in the boom boom room. She checked her Nokia Black Berry to see what the guys were saying on Thumped. "Amazing shit" "so fucking cool" and "amzing lyrics, v insightful 8)" greeted her big brown eyes, "tee hee hee" she giggled to herself, at this rate I'll defintely be on balcony TV by christmas time as she dried her milkshake.
 

Froog

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i've created a raunchy thumped les fest tale.

Jill Hives reclined on the leather chair, or was it the chair that was inclined to let her sit on it? at any rate, she didn't decline the offer. Jane opened the door to the room, like a cupboard door opening in to a cupboard full of sexy cups. "hello", she purred, like a cat that got some milk, "back from the states, fancy some reclining?" Just then sweetoblivion emerged from behind a couch. "hey guyz, i'm going to blog your brains out if that's okay". "the more the merrier", chimed nooly as she slinked over to them, like a snake on speed. Krystal burscht in the door all of a sudden, with a big jug of melty chocolate, it was melty alright, like melted rubber in a japanese sunset. "oh chocolate, yum" the all purred, like several cats that got several containers of milk. suddenly diddles, lala and squiggle crashed through the roof, like a sexy brick breaking a window made of love. thing were hotting up now, like a hotplate on speed. then they all had lots of filthy sex.

FIN.
 

snakybus

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Colonel Dios stubbed out his cigarette on the adobe wall and picked his teeth with his Swiss knife. "You gots three meenoots to tell me whar the stash eez, Jill Hives, and stop lewking at me from unter that freenge in that way, eet might work for your hindie nerd frenz, but hah've been in the jongle with guereelas, seester." With that, he quickly spun the knife in the air, so that it landed, blade in the table, between Jill's hands. It made a noise like paper coming out of a laserjet printer, sort of.

"You've made your last mistake, Dios"

Dios guffawed like a wildebeest.

"Wha' you mea.."

He didn't manage to finish, as the rusty bars on the window were pulled clean out with a sound like a telephone falling off a desk. In swung Lympog, aiming a kalashnikov right at the Colonol's ear, and just to the left.

"Adios, Dios
:confused:
leigh"

he gasped, through clenched teeth. It had been sore getting through the window.

"Who da freakin' crimony are you, gringo?" ejaculated Dios.

"No. The question is: Who. Are You. The answer is Dead.
:confused:
leigh"

said lympog, as he unloaded. His bullets.

"That's one less Mexican.....and one less problem for us, Jill. Now let's split.
:confused:
leigh"

"Take me. Take me now, Lee"

"It's
:confused:
leigh"
 

ann post

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ANN POST rinsed the Dove Shower Gel of her bowling pin legs, and made sure to get rid of all the suds between her rocking bazongas. Last night had been another amazing gig, yes, marred only by her heaving puppies popping out of her low cut summer dress. Yes everyone cheered but was for her insightful lyrics about being a single female professional on the commuter line of a city with no soul left or had it been her milk white orbs titillating the mostly males in their late twenties crowd that turned up to every gig she played in the boom boom room. She checked her Nokia Black Berry to see what the guys were saying on Thumped. "Amazing shit" "so fucking cool" and "amzing lyrics, v insightful 8)" greeted her big brown eyes, "tee hee hee" she giggled to herself, at this rate I'll defintely be on balcony TV by christmas time as she dried her milkshake.

its cool if i jerk off to this, right??
 

Pantone247

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"shut it you slag" THE KENOSHA KID shouted to no one in praticular, that mind sound harsh but these were the harsh streets of London and harshity was just a fact of life there just like shit tea bags and red post boxes. it was 9 month since he has arrived and this city was proving harder to crack then a kind surprise egg plastic toy encasing pod. "it's fawkin brass monkeys outside and no doubt about it" he said to Pearl the bar lady and at The Goose And Pillow "how is the movie businness dawlink?" "fawkin shit" said THE KENOSHA KID "no one wants to buy a coming of age movie about cloned killer robots from the future, innit" while slurping his half of larger "not to worry" said Pearl "maybe you could give my nephew GUY RICHIE a call" beer, no larger spewed across the bar as THE KENOSHA KID exclaimed "LOVE A DUCK!!"
 

Pantone247

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"fuck you and fuck your recording contract" said MOOSE to the head of Interpoly Record "my band MOOSE AND THE MOVE aren't fucking for sale" he swigged deeply on his vegan martini and spat at the multi million dollar executives secetary, sure that was rude, but that what punk is all about, being rude and never apologising, never. MOOSE cycled his Dublin City Bicycle back to the Squat on Dawson Street, he had 1,342 zines to staple before the big show at Keoghs tonight and the rest of the members of his anarchist collective were out collecting names for a protest. "FUCK THE SYSTEM" he shouted at one in praticular as he crossed Stephens Green, he was the rudest punk in all of Dublin and his bands cassette was the hottest thing in all of punkdom, he has the world at his feet... and was going to spit on it. "sorry" a motorist said as they pulled away from the kerb to let MOOSE through "never apologise!" waved MOOSE cheerily. "never apolgise" he mutter darkly, to himself.
 

SONYMEGADRIVE

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that is fun

It didn't take long before Pantone got back to the subject at hand: his nuts. Scutter yawned. Relunctantly, Scutter invited him over, assuring him they'd find the nuts. Pantone grabbed his canoe and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Scutter realized that she was in trouble. She had to find a place to hide the nuts and she had to do it randomly. She figured that if Pantone took the nappy, busted-out hatchback, she had take at least five minutes before Pantone would get there. But if he took the shaft? Then Scutter would be abundantly screwed.
 

das nugs

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All along the banks of your grand canal.
Pantone awoke with a start, hurtling back into life with the sound of harps still shimmering in his reconstituted brain. He strained at their dimming chimes through the fuggy mush of his new, sponge like ears. "This must be how my pet fish-man Anthony hears my lustful ravings" he thought to himself. "Anthony, you loved me well...eh glub glub". It was at that moment he remembered snorting the sea monkeys on Ernesto's motorboat. Could it be true? Were they alive inside of him even now? There were. Sensuously so. And he was amongst them.
 

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