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Short Stories

 
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1:00 derailment
So every year I go up to my uncles house in north bay ontario and there is a little hill called laurentain ski hill and they have a terrain park with a little J bar lift
(I actually life J bay lifts in the taerrian park because u can get on and off whenever u want to to hit the feature u wanna hit over and over again) and every day at 1:00 o"clocke the lift gets derailed and it can't be fixed fer like an hour so I was there on march break with my friend and we where there every day during march break and everyday at 1:00 o"clock we would look at the lift and it would stop
(so never ride the lift at 1:00 o'clock)
By: Kanadianboarder5

10/26/2008 | 291 views
ouch
so im shreddin down this narly ass slope and approaching a jump so i decided to try and do a backflip and i almost got it but some douchebag comes and goes and hits the jump at the same time and does a 540 and knocks me outta my flip in mid trick and i wrecked and broke my ankle and now i cant board until after my surgery and at least 6 months of physical therapy
By: DREADY70

8/31/2008 | 326 views
1a_From One to Zero
by artist Shawn Snow
Doomed.

Doomed, Albert thought to himself, eyeing the morning e_rags, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Sipping it too quickly burning his mouth, hissing his breath back in, trying to cool the burn.

'Banks Collapse' said the headlines on nearly all of the reputable e's. The mutable history of the paperless society, Albert thought. Paper was extremely expensive now, and much coveted by the Class 1's. I might not be a Class 1, Albert thought to himself as he got up and shuffled over to the metal cabinet, catching a blurry glimpse of himself in its brushed metal surface. Atleast a 3-Class though, he thought. His parents had been 3's, 4', and 5's, all decent working nondisruptives who had been data miners, colonizers, and, trashmen. If only my fathers had been mechanics or shield techs. Or even a meteorologist. Think of how wealthy I would be. Donors almost always created care funds for the futures of their donations. And better yet, he would have the genes, he thought to himself.

Yet, for all of his solid 3-Class upbringing Albert was prone to daydreaming. He had traced this gene back through the bank records to atleast half of his parental donors. During his search, Albert had also come across atleast 13 parentals who had a substance problem. Well, Albert thought , that is a relatively low number and shouldn't affect my class ranking. Solid, 3-Class, dependable, a patriot.

Then why, a small grating voice emanated from the deepest part of his mind, have you been selected for Reassignment? When did you get that notice? Friday it must have been. They always Reassign on Fridays so there will be no negative after effects. It was common to read about mishandled firings, ones that happened on Thursdays, or the worst, on Mondays, that resulted in...Albert shuddered. People get Reassigned all the time, Albert thought, sometimes for the better. Some times. Albert's stomach began to hurt from the coffee or maybe from his growing feeling of anxiety.

I guess I just wait for my new assignment. The Placement Office would most likely vid-contact him for retina scan, drug test, real age exam, etc. And then, a new assignment. No problem. Albert was in perfect health no need to worry. Except if I missed something in my search...Albert shut off that line of thought. Still, a bad time to be fired given all this economic instability.

Albert drew back the shade just enough to look out over the gigantic housing towers. The sun already seared them in a bright orange glow. This is my favorite time Albert thought. Early in the morning and late at night. The times when the world slept or dreamt. Times before other people clog up the world with all their noise and needs.

Getting a headache, Albert thought to himself. Better take something. He got up and went into the lavatory, sliding the clunky metal door open. Albert stood at the sink and peered into the mirror.

"I've got a headache," Albert said matter of factly to the mirror, "And I'm a bit anxious about my Reassignment." Suddenly the mirror blinked to life and displayed a a field of flowers in a high mountain meadow. Albert had chosen this as one of his favorite images for mood control. A calm voice modeled from a dozen of the finest movie stars answered.

"I'm sorry to hear that Al." Muzak began to play over the field. "Let's see, as a 3-Class you are approved for most mood stabilizers and some light synth-narcs." Albert already was feeling more relaxed. "As your doctor I prescribe you a custom blend, called e23." A receipt printed from a small slit under the mirror console.

"Never heard of it."

"It'll help during this time of transition. As they say, one must do what one must do. Have a great day Al." The monitor image of the field slowly faded.

Albert looked down at the receipt with it's barcoded prescription and walked over to the dressing area and put on his same uniform from Friday. "Clothes make the man." Albert said absently to no one and began to walk out the hatch to head to the Pharma unit in Plaza 1.
By: markusfarkus

8/30/2008 | 316 views
Orgasatron
Orgasatron – a tale of life and lust in the digital wild west
By: Fred Cipriano    

 

“Were in deep shi*t dude” said the clown as the universe contracted into a single point, “deepest shi*t I’ve seen since the shi*t mines of alpha continuo”. It was the day of reckoning, the world was there to see it and observe its wonderful shine. The clown picked up the universal ululation array (or UUA for short) and placed it in a worn brown plastic briefcase. “I’m sort of glad you’re around and not glad at the same time for what it cost me.” exclaimed the clown as he turned to his unimaginable friend. “INDEED” replied the computer voice of the clown’s only friend in the universe, “FYI I have aids”.

                Jeb Turncoatmcbaggins woke up this morning like every morning, soaked in the dampness of his wife’s pleasure slime. “Christ Maggie! Stop MASTERBATEING” he shorted, even though he would be able to steal all her money cards if she ever stopped that constant sacrament. He drove to work in the usual manner of the future, in the sky on autopilot for free. There he transforms from Jeb local man on the street to Doc Turncoatmcbaggins private eye and robot finding expert. Jeb’s job is to find missing robots whose programming goes haywire. It’s an easy enough job and the pay is shi*te. Suddenly a call shot warmly out of the telephone machine “HELP—STOLENROBOT: NAME:  Orgasatron BRAND:N/A SEX: always”. “OMFG” shouted the doctor though the shoutish future machine, “sex bots like Orgasatron are hard to come by if you know what I mean, I can program it to bite off dudes cocks and bring them to me to complete my master plan to be the cockmaster of this fair city!”.

                Suddenly a naked old lady appeared on the tv, “Hi im president Lohan and I just stuck a banna up my a**hole, you can do it to and post it on youtube if not for yourself for America” she said. Jeb masturbated furiously and was unable to bring himself to climax.

                Then there was a knock at the door! Jeb zipped up his space pants and nearly slipped on his seed to reach the door open button in time. “Hello jeb, I am Bounty Huntatron and I’m here to suck on your space popsicles” beeped-out Bounty Huntatron as he walked to the tiny door in the wall. Bounty opened the door and saw an even larger door on the inside of the tiny door and opened that and was in a magical realm of popsicles. Large green popsicles inhabited most of this carnival of frozen delight, and young German men and women come here annually to have sex and have space orgies. The robot was wide eyed as he approached the tower of ice angels. “thus I have been sent to the heavens!” gaily said Bounty. Instant robot death lasers were the ice angels only reply.

                Jeb called an ancient googlemaster he knew to look up the robots location. “234 parkway east, about a block from that shop that has the 10 dollar ‘dildoe till you drop’ bag sale.” Moaned out the chinaman.  Jeb was on his way before the phone hit the ground, he knew what this was… war.

                Jeb easily found and deactivated the robot and brought him to his secret robot lab. Programming him to eat cocks the robot did so for many years till it contracted aids and was put in the hospital, I mean space robot hospital.

                “yes you have aids” said the space robot robot doctor. “dam” said Orgasatron. “yup, not hiv, full blown aids” repeated the doctor “just to be clear”. “well how could this happen?” whined the robotic patient. “hmm… I don’t know perhaps all the biting off of everyone’s cocks?” chuckled the doctor. “oh yeah, the cock biting” said the distraught robotic pork sword remover.

                Kinda bummed about the whole aid’s thing, the robot cockbiteing man walked to the circus in an attempt to cheer himself up.  In the circus he meets an amazing clown called beebo and together they masturbate furiously till they both reach climax! Then suddenly the cockbiteing robot man bites his cock off and stored it in a special cock sack inside the robots titanium hull. “this cock is special and will be inside me forever” beeped the robot.

                “noooooo, I enjoyed putting that in my daughters cereal every morning without her knowing and laughing as she ate it!” said the clown. The clown now neutered and unable to produce cock soup for his little angel decides to go back to his old job in the physics of destroying the universe lab at Harvard 2.0 and does not change his makeup or attire to suit his new workplace environment.

                “ahh haha! I have built the UUA device!” shouted the cock-less wonder on his second day.  Then due to a slip and fall problem, the machine gets turned on and everyone gets 10 minutes to live except for people with clowns DNA somewhere in there body. As the universe slowly fades away the clown can see none other than the cock eating robot walking over the hill. Then slowly the doctor begins to kiss the robot. “Were in deep shi*t dude” he said.

 



By: sk8tertonyhawk

5/22/2008 | 478 views
new begining
 

she walks up to you late one night shaken and cold. her mind broken her mouth dripping her sooul sold. she puts her arms around your waist wanting you to have a taste. you try to push her hands away as you feel them at the hem of your shirt, you cant let her touch you again, it will onnly bring back the old hurt.she laughs and whispers in your ear tell you things you used to love to hear. you try not to listen to what shes say, but the moment she touches you, you can only start praying.she pulls you down closerso she can kiss you lips you try to break away but find your hands on her hips.yourheart tells you not to do this, but you body doesnt comply, yet the thing you dont know is its all a lie. its not that she doesnt love you, because she always will, its just now she has a different incentive, shes going in for the kill. she runs her tounge from your lips down to your neck she kisses and nips god your a reck. she bites down harder as her hands roam around, you wont let her know shes getting to you, so you try not to make a sound.you put your hands in her shirt and tilt your head to the side she gives another laugh, cuz this is was how she died.she grabs a handful of your hair and yanks your head back she pulled so hard that youre surprised your neck didnt crack. your heart starts to race as her fingers begin to trace you dont know how much longer you can let her do this, but your pretend your fine, she smiles and simply says"youll always be mine" she kisses you gently a few more times and licks the spot where your heart beat chimes.your stomach does some flips and your legs begin to shake you give a gasp as you feel her sharp teeth make your skin break.the shock of the pain the lack of blood in your vains. you can feel her excitement her happiness her joy. but you dont feel anything anymore , your nothing but her toy.......

By: twisted_fate

11/21/2007 | 704 views
FROGGY, WHERE ARE YOU?!

HERE'S A  STORY. ME AND MY FRIEND RYAN DECIDED TO GRAB A DEAD FROG AND MESS AROUND. THEN RYAN, MY BOYFRIEND, GRABBED MY OTHER FRIEND, RILEY, AND SHOVED THE FROG DOWN RILEY'S PANTS! IT WAS SO WRONG BECAUSE, ONE: IT WAS A DEAD FROG IN A GUY'S PANTS, AND TWO: HE KEEP IT IN THERE FOR 10 MINUTES BECAUSE IT WAS SOOTHING SOMEHOW!!!!! bUT HE DIDNT KNOW IT WAS A DEAD FROG DOWN THERE. YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HIS FACE!!! IT WAS SO FUNNY AND SLIGHTLY DISTRBING. BUT SERIOUSLY, YOU SHOULD TRY IT SOME TIME:) jUST DONT BLAME ME IF YOU GET CHASED DOWN 14 BLOCKS! SO NOT FUN!

By: bounphamam

11/17/2007 | 632 views
idiot ass cousin
heres a fun one. me and my cuz were on our way back from winterpark last winter. he's playing with our camera looking at all of our shots. He decided he didnt like one of the pictures so he goes to delete it, deletes all of the pictures instead. Three days of photoshooting down the drain lol.
By: Aphix

10/7/2007 | 676 views

Heres a short story I had to write for english class, hope you like it. I "borrowed' a couple of themes from some of the short stories Cyrus Shahrad had written for Transworld. Anyways, here goes
 

A Misty Upbringing

Growing up in the mountains, one finds little compassion. The mountains are harsh, cold and unforgiving. One then has to find comfort and familiarity with anything possible. Maybe it is the high altitude getting to your head, but one feels the need to latch tight to anything possible. For my small group of friends, we found ourselves guarding the secret of Old Priest Grade Road.

You see, our local town, Wolf Creek, was a ski town. Everything revolved around the local resort, also named Wolf Creek. The resort had easy access, right off of highway 420. Unfortunately, on weekends, this meant that everybody from the Bay Area who wanted to going skiing for the day, chose our mountain for its easy drive. Traffic became a complete gridlock sometimes, and often we wouldn’t find ourselves on the hill till 2 or 3 in the afternoon.

It was then that we found Old Priest Grade Road. We had searched in vain for years to try to find a shortcut to no avail. One day however, we took a wrong turn, and wound up on this certain road. It was quite possibly the skinniest little two lane road I had ever seen. At some points it shrank only wide enough for one car to pass. It wound back and forth, becoming more and more shrouded in mist as it went, up through McGregor’s pass. No matter how clear that particular day was, it was always so misty one couldn’t see more than 10 yards. When we finally reached the end, we found it dropped us right into the parking lot of Wolf Creek ski resort, completely bypassing all of the hideous traffic. From that day forth, whenever we had even the slightest suspicion that traffic may be unfavorable, we hightailed it up that old worn road.

Within a few weeks, we knew damn near every inch of that road. Every single crack and pothole was seared into our memories. We flew up that long stretch of concrete, ten miles an hour over the limit, music blaring. I always founds myself behind the wheel, sunk deep into my sheepskin seat. Jeff generally sat himself in the passenger seat, and spent most of the time spent driving to the mountain trying find the perfect song for the occasion in the pile of CD’s found in the glove box. In the back Matt and Sam bickered back and forth about some insignificant matter or playing a game such as Ro-Sham-Bo to pass the time. The rubber wheels of the 4runner gripped the road and delivered us our destination unscathed on a weekly basis.

Slowly we began to find, that every time we ventured upon that unusual road, something odd would happen that day on the mountain. Nothing big, nothing major, just something out of the ordinary, something unexpected. The first time we ever took Old Priest Grade Road, we didn’t leave the house until eleven. We had all figured the parking lot was going to be a nightmare, but when we arrived a spot opened right next the gondola. The next week, after a particularly nasty crash, Jeff found a ten dollar bill on the ground while crawling away from his wreckage. Weeks flew by, and every time we descended upon that treacherous road through McGregor’s pass, we found our day to be a little bit brighter. One day, Sam, being a poor ski bum, found that his old boots no longer fit his feet, and opted to rent a pair for the day. He really hit it off with the girl who ran the rental register, and later became her boyfriend. The next week, Matt suggested we should take a few more runs off the backside. We were all tired, but reluctantly agreed. On the way up the lift, we spotted two black bears. Fast-forward a few months, and a late season spring session in the terrain park led us to meet the park manager, who was very keen on our suggestions, which were almost all used the following year. It never failed, every single time we took that road, every single time.

It’s been nearly ten years now since we had our last day riding together. It seemed all at once everybody decided to begin their real lives. Jeff had left to what he called "The Next Step" by moving to the city to pursue a career as a businessman. Matt and Sam (who had since broken up with his girlfriend) had together opened up a small chain of struggling restaurant. Last time I had spoken to either of them they were debating closing a few locations down in order to make budget. I was the only one to remain in Wolf Creek, still clinging as tight as I could to the mountain dream. I worked nights as the night manager at a local hotel, and doing everything in my power to pay the bills and still get to go riding everyday.

I came home late one night, threw my keys on the table, and turned on the television. The local news channel was doing its nightly report. Uninterested I glanced back to the table and my eyes fell onto an old dusty photograph. It was the one we had all taken on our last day together on the mountain. Everybody looked so bittersweet. It was at that moment I heard it. I had almost forgotten the television was still on, and the local news channel was covering a breaking story.

"Highway 420, will be closed from March 3rd till March 10th, for special maintenance involving its being rerouted through McGregor’s pass along the previous route of that of Old Priest Grade Road." They were going to be demolishing Old Priest Grade Road.

I couldn’t believe it, I kept repeating the words out loud. The last link to my youth, my free-thinking younger self. It was being destroyed. My first reaction was to reunite the gang, to take that one last trip up that sketchy, long, road. The road that had brought us so many memories.

In the past, I had numerous times to get a reunion going. Always though, everybody was busy. A big trial, opening a new location, always too swamped, never able to slip away for the weekend. This time though, when I called, it was different.

"Hey, how’s it going, long time no see."

"Seriously, what’s going on."

"Nothing really, but listen, they’re going to re-route highway 420...up through McGregor’s pass. Their closing Old Priest Grade Road."

"...I’ll be there."

We all met up on a Friday night. The road was scheduled for demolition on Sunday ,and Saturday was to be its last day open. All night long we reminisced, caught up on things, and before long it felt like nobody had ever left Wolf Creek. Saturday morning came, and we all piled into the 4runner, which I had kept running strong through all these years. Off we sped, and within minutes we were back onto that narrow stretch of concrete. Still ten miles an hour over the limit with the stereo on full blast, our car disappeared into the mist.

We had to buy tickets once we arrived, since nobody had a season pass anymore. We stepped into the gondola, and we all sat silent, secretly wondering to ourselves what events this day would bring. The gondola arrived in the station and we stepped off. The rest of the day was spent laughing, smiling, high-fiving, and having what was quite possibly the best day of snowboarding we had ever experienced. We rode until they closed the lifts down on us, and our car was the last one in the parking lot. However, nothing out of the ordinary had happened all day. Slowly we packed up our gear, somewhat disappointed, and climbed back into the 4runner. We were determined to be the last ones to ever drive on Old Priest Grade Road. I pulled onto it, slowly taking a deep breath. I glanced to the right, and watched Jeff pop in a CD. I hit the accelerator, and off we went, faster than ever and never looking back.

Jeff, Matt, and Sam all left that night, claiming they had to get back to work. We said our good-bye’s, wondering when would see each other again. After seeing them off, I laid down on my couch and began to ponder everything that was around me. I stood up, feeling my bones creak and groan, realizing I wasn’t twenty anymore. I realized that my youth was behind me, and that I had to begin the infamous "Next Stage" Jeff spoke of. My phone began ringing, and slowly I answered it.

"Hello?"

"Yes, Is this Mr. Doe?"

"Yes"

"Mr Doe, we would like to offer you a promotion. You would be general manager of our new hotel opening in the city. You would have to move of course, but would you like a few days to consider it?

"I’ll take it.".

By: NitroBoarder1111

5/28/2007 | 559 views
short........
ski-ing sux, there....short story!  all ya need is the 3 B's..... board, ..... beer, ..... n something else that begins with B.......errrrm something whitty.....oh bolox.......
By: Hendster

5/16/2007 | 710 views
owned
3 chicks sitting in a row one girl as buckling in and her shirt was kinda up her back with bit but showing (crack kills) i rode by did a inocent quick turn, which caused snow to go in a arc all over her baire skin, and down her but...not 10mins later was on a new lift going up to the peak...it broke down OWNED
By: Gibber

2/26/2007 | 828 views

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