Hfooooo

Hfooooo's Story Time Play Corner:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Hello, and welcome to Hfooooo's Play Corner, where you may get your fill of all the Scary, Sad, Gory, Violent stories you should you ever want. Shall we begin? Aaaaaalrighty then. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ***Mr. Macabre and his Sword of Antiwrath*** There once was a man named Molificious Morbid, and despite his name, he was the jolliest fellow around. He liked to laugh and sing and dance in the meadows, just like all the other children. Yet, although he was the nicest man in town, he nevertheless got jeers and fake coughs. "LOSER!".............."Coughidiotcough"........"NO ONE LIKES YOU! WHY NOT CHANGE YOUR NAME?"....and other insults of that nature. He put up with these things for many years, until finally, one day, he found a dark cloak, and wrapped it around his shoulders. He walked out onto the balcony, looking like death himself mind you, and said, "You have taken me for granted all my life. You have sucked the joy, the fun, and the soul out of my life. For this, I shall one day return the favor." He said this not in his usual jovial voice, but rather in one that sounded quite raspy,sick, deadly, and....evil. From then on he knew himself only as Mr. Macabre. As he walked down to the basement to gather what he needed, he noticed a strange little red man with horns. "Who are you Deamon?" He rasped with his newfound voice, devoid of any jollyness whatsover. "I am the monster under your bed, snakes in my hair, and eyes glowing red*. I am the one you call Satan, the one you call Death, but my true title is that of this......The Antichrist of all God's creations. I have come to deliver my sword to you, should you take it I will rerlinquish all my powers upon you, and you shall become the next Antichrist. All that I ask of in return is your soul. Will you take my offer?" Mr. Macabre pondered for a moment and then extended his hand. "I shall m'lord, for I no longer need this soul which has been sucked dry by my village." As the Demon gave Mr. Macabre the sword, he dissapeared, but with his dying breath of life, he said... "I dub thee, Lucifer Macabre, King of Demons." As Mr. Macabre walked away, he then realised he had gained three titles. what he did not realise, was that he was about to gain two more very soon. After that fateful day, Lucifer Macabre sucked the citizens of his village, the name of which was Transylvania, blood dry, fulfilling his promise, and leaving them dried husks. He became known as Vlad the Impaler, and we know him today as Count Dracula. ............THE END............. P.S, The quote, "I am the monster hiding under your bed, snakes in my hair and eyes glowing red" was taken from Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas. Thank you and goodnight. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ah, what a nice history lesson. Now it is time for the nex story in my Story Time Play Corner... are you ready for... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *** Death to America *** Far, Far away in the land of Beijing, there was a man named John Scout, and he was a Grad Student from Oxford. He decided one day, as he bought a nice hot rice cake, that he would take a stroll through one of the temple gardens. When he got to the temple, he saw a large sign declaring that the building was Condemned. Well, him, being an Oxford Man, muttered to himself, "How do you close a temple? Did one of the candles tip over?" when he chuckled at his own joke, he noticed a large hole in the large stone wall. A hole that he surely would have noticed if he had been paying any bit of attention. Now it is human nature to be curious....but it is also humans nature to die for it. He, being a human, (obviously), immediatly stuck his head in the hole, was sucked in, and was never heard from again. Until now. Twelve years passed, and he still had not returned. Family worried, then family eventually passed over it, and then passed on themselves. Friends, well, friends also worried, and then forgot, sometimes reminiscing about their old times, as friends do. And then one day a rather fearful looking fellow emerged from the hole, as the temple was never re-opened or torn down, and waalked down the street. As he walked everything he passed, died, wilted, or shut down. Flowers, machinery......people. He was dressed in all black suit, with a large hat obscuring his face. The hat had one large purple feather stuck in the rim, his symbol that people began to know him as, as the Duster. For that is exactly what he did. He swept the entire landscape of Asia, Europe, Australia, Antarctica clean, until he finally boarded a boat of his own construct, a boat made of dead bodies, wilted flowers, and skeletons rowing at the oars. A boat of death. He boarded this boat to leave for the one place that he left all those years ago for college life in Oxford. He left to kill his family and friends who had forgotten him. He left for America. To kill America. To do what numerous Countries, States, Cities, Clans, and otherwise had failed to do. And like all those before him, he muttered three words as his boat hit the shore. "Death to America". --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hmmm, I like to think that this last story reflects on terrorism, and how it will destroy the world, but, alas, that is my view on it, and you may enjoy it as you please.