Lurker > HotLap

That might work honestly.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Iwin2013 posted...

TheMaskedPooper posted...

Iwin2013 posted...

au_gold posted...

Stewman_Magoo posted...

It loses its spark after the 7th or 8th time

No, it doesnt.

Literally watched it thousands of times, and it gets better for me each time.

Explain

Bust a move.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Garioshi posted...

ledbowman posted...

As a Batman fan it's my dream movie.

I can totally understand. There's practically nothing I would change.

Id change the scene where Batman takes off his suit and theres nothing underneath. The shot of his dong all mangled by sweat and tight pants seems really gratuitous and unnecessary.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Merr Chrimmy
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

do u eat ass
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Do T eat ass?
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Marmaduke
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

HotLap posted...

fire_bolt posted...

Caught up.I legit expected this last update to be the finale lol

Nah we got a little ways to go before we get there. Probably will happen near the beginning of the next topic.

Looking like the next update will be Wednesday, Thursday at the latest.

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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

fire_bolt posted...

Caught up.I legit expected this last update to be the finale lol

Nah we got a little ways to go before we get there. Probably will happen near the beginning of the next topic.

Looking like the next update will be Sunday, Monday at the latest.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Thanks man! Glad your friend liked it, that sounds awesome.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

I'm thinking about trying stand-up soon. I've started writing jokes, but I need to fine tune and rehearse them more. Has anyone tried it and is willing to share their experience? I've heard it's basically 99% failure but you need to just power through.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

DrizztLink posted...

slimfizzle2 posted...

Now I'm sad there was no bears

i cant bear it

Just bear with me now.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Screaming into a spread butt.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

"I wouldn't count on the second one," you shrug. "The honey plan obviously didn't go well. And when I was washing all the honey off, I kept staring at this razor blade on my counter. I could have slashed my wrists right there in the shower and been done with it. But if it can't look like an accident, I don't want my wife to find me like that. It just... doesn't seem I can get it right."
The old man nods solemnly before smiling. "Well that's great!"
"Huh?" you raise an eyebrow.
"Don't you see?" he giggles. "You'll never get it right. There will always be some kink in the plan or some reason not to go through with it. And do you know why?"
"Amaze me," you lean your head onto your hand.
"Because you don't want to do it," he smiles. "If you wanted to, you wouldn't come up with a plan so ridiculous as covering yourself in honey and feeding yourself to bears. You still care about your wife enough to not let her discover your body. It'll never be right. Because you want to live."

You stagger your way back to your house and swing your front door open a little after midnight. You collapse onto the lumpy green sectional and lose consciousness almost instantly in front of Cinemax's original programming. In what seems like a matter of minutes, you are shaken awake and see Carrie standing over you with a suitcase at her side. "Hey," she smiles down at you.
"What time is it?" you ask groggily.
"It's about quarter to five, I'm about to head to the airport," Carrie replies. "Just wanted to say goodbye before I leave."
You nod. "Well thanks, I appreciate that."
"What are you gonna do on your day off?" she asks.
You silently nod at the television.
"I thought as much," she leans down to kiss you before heading for the door. "I'll be back in a couple of days. Love you."
"Love you too," you reply quietly as the door closes behind her.

You swing yourself into a sitting position and put your head in your hands. It'll never be right. You rise from the couch and head over to the sink. You grab the sponge by the faucet and squirt some dish soap onto it before getting the water going. You wash out the Joe's Crab Shack mason jar, dry it with the dish towel by the stove, and place it back into the glass cabinet. You reach into the back of the cabinet to grab your champagne flute, fill it, then slowly sip as you lean against the sink. Once empty, you gingerly place the flute onto the counter and head for the bathroom. You start the shower, then calmly push the bathroom door closed, using a single finger to click the latch shut.

===========================================================================

That's all for now. Next update will have a vote in it for sure (and will likely be a little less heavy), I just wanted to get through some backstory stuff. Thanks for your patience as always!
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

"Two shots of bourbon," you reply, wanting to switch it up from the vodka. As you plop your credit card on the table you tell the barman, "Leave the bottle if you would."
"Eh... sure," he reluctantly leaves the booze with you.
Of course, the chipper old man at the bar leaves his seat to come join you. "What're you celebrating?"
"Not celebrating anything," you say bluntly as you rip the first shot.
"Then what's the occasion?" he asks.
"My suicide attempt failed," you reply.
"Ooooohhh..." he answers uncomfortably while looking at the floor.
"I mean what did you expect?" you scold him. "Look at where we are. You think anyone in this place at this hour had a good day today?"
"Well I did," he replies cautiously.
"Hey, peaches for you, sir!" you announce as you pour him a shot of your bourbon. "Drink up."
The man waves his hand at the offering. "I'm sorry, I'll just leave you be."
"No, buddy you're in it now," you let out a sinister chuckle as you fill your own glass and raise it. "You asked. Cheers."
You clink glasses with the old timer and you both down your shots.
You remain silent as the old man shifts uncomfortably while waiting for you to speak. He clearly didn't expect to lead the conversation after being told he was in it. "Well... at the very least," he begins, "I'm glad it didn't work. Because then I wouldn't have gotten this free drink."
You give him a sidelong glance before starting to laugh in spite of yourself. You laugh harder and longer than you intend to, but eventually clap the man on the back and say, "Well that's something, isn't it? That's something... Happy to oblige."
Curiosity getting the better of the old man, he asks, "So what happened?"
You bite your lower lip and zone out into your empty glass. "I covered myself in honey and wandered into the woods, shouting for bears."
The man crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, eventually gathering the courage to say, "That's gotta be the dumbest suicide attempt I've ever heard of."
"I wanted it to look like an accident," you explain. "I feel like a tragic accident would be a lot easier to accept for my wife and mother, instead of them having to accept that I was unhappy enough to... do this."
"Well why are you so unhappy?" the man asks. "You have a wife and family, things can't be all bad, right?"
"There hasn't been a new episode of Forbidden Science in nearly ten years," you mumble.
"What was that?" he holds his hand to his ear.
"Nothing," you throw back another drink. "I'm just tired."
Sensing he's not going to get any more from you, the old man moves on. "So no bears, huh?"
"No, the police found me hollering out in the woods behind the cemetery. Turns out there weren't any bears out there anyways," you recount.
"Behind St. Harold's cemetery? Well, geeze son, there's bears out there."
"What?" you seethe.
"My grandson and I go deer hunting back there, every once in a while we see a bear pass through," he tells you.
"Son of a fucking bitch!" you bang your shot glass on the bar, drawing everyone's attention. You look down while timidly waving in apology.
"So what now?" the old man asks. "Is it back to the woods for you, or have you realized that maybe life's not done with you yet?"
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

You turn on the sink and fill the Joe's Crab Shack mason jar to the brim. You glug the entire jar right there in the kitchen. You place it on the counter and head to the bathroom. You throw your honey soaked clothes straight into the washing machine and get the shower going hot. You step inside and let the water cascade over you for awhile before making any real effort to clean yourself. "No bears in those woods," you whisper to yourself. "No bears in those woods!" you chant a little louder as you smack yourself hard across the face. The smack would have surely been louder and more painful without the honey padding. You swipe the facecloth from the railing, promptly biting down hard on it and screaming as loud as you can through gritted teeth.

Peeking around the shower curtain, you can see your razor sitting on the bathroom counter. It'd be easy to pop one of those blades out and take care of things right here. The water's hot, the alcohol in your system will probably numb you a little. Conditions are perfect.

Conditions are perfect.

After washing all the honey off yourself, you creep into your bedroom for some fresh clothes. As you're getting dressed, Carrie stirs and says, "Kev?"
"Hey, sorry. Did I wake you?" you ask her.
"No no no, I've just been tossing and turning. What is it like ten? We never go to bed this early," she mumbles.
"It's quarter of, actually."
She slips her arm out from underneath the comforter and beckons you over. "Come to bed. We can lie awake together."
"I just got back from the bar, actually," you reply. "You know how my bladder gets when I drink. I'll be up and down all night, I don't want to keep you up."
"Mmmrrrmm," Carries voices her disapproval of your plans to sleep on Old Faithful.
"Plus, I actually have tomorrow off. So I'll likely only be going down once you start to get up."
"What are you gonna do until 4AM?" she demands.
"Masturbate to Cinemax in the living room," you tell her.
"Of course, as always. Mind if I join you?" she asks.
You gasp. "You never want to join me when I pretend to masturbate to Cinemax in the living room."
"I know, and I still don't. I just wanted to see how excited you'd get," she brings the blanket back over her shoulders and rolls over, satisfied with herself.
You stroll over to her side of the bed and kneel down, kissing her goodnight. "Enjoy laying here with your eyes shut."
"Enjoy Forbidden Science or whatever," she replies.
"Hah, Forbidden Science hasn't been on the air since 2009, idiot," you retort.
"For someone who's only pretending to masturbate to Cinemax, you sure know a lot about their programming," she squints.
"Gotta go," you quickly rise to your feet as she chuckles.
You walk back to the living room, switch the television to Cinemax, and set the volume to seven (the agreed upon volume while someone in the household is trying to sleep).You watch sloppily acted softcore for a few minutes before rising from the couch and sneaking out the front door.

More sober than you were a couple hours ago, you walk to the bar in the center of town to remedy that. You haven't been in the local bar past 10PM on a weeknight before. You imagine it'd probably be full of desperate townies and visceral shame that has taken human form. Entering the bar doesn't really dispel this notion. A few patrons are spread out across the establishment, all with a booth to themselves so they don't have to talk to the others. There's one brave soul at the bar smiling at the basketball game in front of him. You make sure to sit several seats away from him. The bartender strides over and asks, "What're you having?"
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

"That's a sequel to the not real thing," Kees says annoyed. "I just need a big arrest, then I feel like I could move up to more serious challenges. My arrest records are all petty crimes and traffic violations."
"Want me to commit ssserious crime?" you offer. "I could... murder the mayor'sss son."
"That's a kind offer, Kevin, but I think you need to just get some rest."

Kees pulls the cruiser into your driveway. Before you get out, he puts his hand on your shoulder and asks again, "Are you sure you're alright?"
You nod silently.
"It's alright if you're not, Kevin. There are people who can talk to you. People who can help," he says.
"I don't... I'm fine," you reply as you attempt to scoop honey away from your eyes.
"There's no shame in it, man. Everyone needs help sometimes. Please, please tell me if you do. You got nothing to gain from hiding it."
You push your tongue into your lower lip and look at the floor. "I..."
At that moment, Kees' radio goes haywire with a series of numbers and an address. "An alarm went off. At a jewelry store!" he says giddily. "It's not that far from here."
"Oh.. nice?" you say as you step out of the cruiser, unsure of whether you're supposed to sound excited or not about crime.
"Well I... um..." Kees gently places the radio down before motioning to you. "You... you're-"
"I'm fine," you smile. "Go!"
Kees eagerly grabs the radio and announces into it, "Unit 129 responding!" He throws his lights on and speeds off into the night, your smile fading the farther away he gets.

You stumble up your front steps and through your front door. Glancing at the clock, you see it's 9:23 PM. You try to remain as quiet as a near blackout drunk covered in honey can. Carrie doesn't normally go to bed this early, but she's waking up at 4AM to go to a work conference tomorrow.

You wash the honey off your hands in the kitchen sink, before opening up the cabinet to your left to grab a glass for water. You spot your favorite one right in the front. You move it aside to look at the others. You spot Carrie's favorite glasses in the back, the champagne flutes from your wedding. That was the first thing you two drank out of as a married couple. You're not sure if you've drank anything out of them since that night. Carrie still takes them out of the cabinet every once in awhile to run them through the dishwasher and ask you if you remember them. You always play dumb, and she always laughs at your feigned ignorance. You look back to your favorite glass, a mason jar that you stole from Joe's Crab Shack. The champagne flutes should be your favorite, but the mason jar just holds the perfect amount of whatever you want it to. How did you know, Joe? But the wedding flutes are a symbol of you and Carrie's love, and she's done her part over the years to make sure they've remained sparkling.

But how'd they get the crab on the jar though? There's a full blown crab shape jettisoning out from the side of the mason jar. You're not gonna pretend to know anything about glass blowing, but Joe had to blow the shit out of this jar to get that mint condition crab shape on it.

Although, Carrie will likely hear the bad news while at her conference, and you honestly feel guilty about that. Maybe one way to squash some of the guilt would be to have her walk into the house and see your wedding flute by the sink. Some small droplets of water still at the bottom, the smudge your fingerprints on the bowl of it, and the mark of your lips by the rim. It might not be much, but perhaps she'd be comforted by the fact that the last thing you chose to drink from was the token of love she'd spent years maintaining. And at that moment she'd know it wasn't all for nothing, she'd be assured that you loved her. Even in your final moments.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Kees smells the vodka on you and waves his hand in front of his face. "Holy shit, you are lit, pal."
You lick some honey off your upper lip. "Nope."
"We got a call about someone behind the cemetery screaming, I'm assuming that was you?" he asks. Before replying he runs the flashlight down your body and seems to notice the honey for the first time. "Do you have any identification on you, sir?"
You scoff. You don't have time for this, you have bears to find. But the sooner you give this swirly toddler what he wants, the sooner you can be on your way. You reach into your back pocket and produce your wallet for the officer.
Kees gingerly accepts the wallet and attempts to navigate around the honey blobs. He reads your name from your driver's license. "Kevin Rosen."
You make a noise halfway between a grunt and an affirmation.
"Kevin, are you trying to harm yourself out here?" Kees asks you.
You sway back and forth uneasily. You can't let him know, because then everyone will know. "No," you reply groggily. "No no no no no..." you confirm while trailing off.
"You can tell me if you are, Kevin. I gotta say, you're covered in honey out in the woods shouting for bears... it kinda seems like you are," Kees responds.
"No," you reiterate your denial. "Bearsss don't eat... just lick. Big lollipop..."
"You want the bears to lick the honey off you like you're a big lollipop?" Kees tries to understand what he just heard.
"I like dogsss. Bearsss just big dogsss," you slur.
"God f-," Kees starts before he lets out a quick sigh. He takes another look at your license. "You still live at this address, Kevin?"
You nod.
Kees begrudingly grabs your honey soaked arm and starts to lead you back to civilization. "Let me take you home."
"But the bears-" you begin.
"There are no bears in these woods, Kevin," Kees tells you. "A bear probably hasn't lived in this forest for over a decade."
"Aww what the fuck, bears?" you say in spite of yourself.
"I know, I know," he tries to soothe you.
"No bears," you whisper as you try to hold it together.

As you near the edge of the woods, you spot the police cruiser by the clearing. "Can I sssit in the front?"
"Sure," Kees replies.
"Can I run the sssiren?"
"Absolutely not."
As he opens the passenger door for you, he says, "You- ugh, you don't have a towel or... shit man you're gonna get honey all over the seat."
"Shall I strip nude?" you ask in your most coherent sentence of the evening.
"No... just go ahead and have a seat. I'll deal with the mess later," he tells you.

Once you're all buckled in, Kees offers you a bottle of water. You drink enthusiastically and mention that you'll give him five stars. On the way home, you try to make conversation in an effort to stay awake. "So how does a young blur like yourssself get to be a police copficer at the tender age of ssseventeen?"
"I'm twenty-five, Mr. Rosen," he corrects you. "But... yeah, I suppose I do look young."
"That'sss not a bad thing," you reply.
"It kinda is, actually. No one seems to take me seriously. I get all the bitch work like... tracking down drunks in the woods," Kees explains. "I've been a cop for three years. I thought I'd be further along in my career by now, but it's just the same old shit day after day. I wish I looked older, I really do."
"Hey.... 21 Jump Street," you whisper.
"That's not a real thing," he grumbles.
"... 22 Jump Street."
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

You stride over to the gravestone you've parked in front of. "James F. Rosen," you say aloud before hiccuping. "Sssorry I haven't brought you flowers in a lil bit. I know flowers weren't your ssstyle, anyway. Mom brought you a wreath last Christmasss, a really nice one too. When Carrie wanted to decorate the house for the holidays, I actually came here and grabbed it to hang on my door. I figured you wouldn't have minded, you weren't really using it. Mom actually came back here a couple days after that and called me - just like fuckin' dissstraught - that someone has ssstolen it. I blamed the youthhh. Then Christmas Day comes and ssshe's on her way over, and I remember like half an hour before she's supposssed to get here 'Oh fuck the wreath is on my front door'. So I jammed it in the back of my closet without Carrie noticing. When Mom got here, Carrie opened the door and noticcced the wreath was missing. Once could be anything, twice is a pattern. Now Mom and Carrie think thisss town is full of teenagers who like to steal circles made of treesss. Don't tell Mom I told you that."

"Don't tell Mom," you whisper softly to your brother's grave. "Remember after dad died, I found thossse old porno mags of his when going through his ssstuff? I told you not to tell Mom about that. Of course, you did almost immediately becaussse you were the little brother. I got grounded for a week, so I walked ssstraight into your room and punched your sssquare in the nards. You told Mom about that too, so I got grounded for two weeksss. So I had to punch you in the nards a sssecond time, but after that you seemed to get it. And you didn't sssnitch on me anymore after that."

A tear tries to fall from your eye, but gets caught in the honey on your cheek. "I miss you, James. There are so many thingsss that I wish I could tell you not to tell Mom about. She'd jussst worry... and I guess for good reason. But I feel like you'd get it, y'know? You would understand." A mosquito buzzes through the summer air to try to suck some blood out of your neck, but gets caught in a honey mausoleum. You remove the bugged blob from your neck and wipe it off on James's headstone. "Or maybe you wouldn't, I don't know. I haven't ssseen you in ten yearsss." You reach into your pocket and produce a nip of vodka. You crack it open and drain in between your honey soaked lips. "But I'll see you soon."

You solemnly stroll away from both your brother's grave and your car toward the wooded path into the woods. You veer your neck in the direction you think your house would be from here. "Goodbye, Carrie."
You take a step into the woods. "Hello bears."

For the next hour, you stumble along the woods shouting at the top of your lungs, "BEARS?! BEEEEARS?! COME ON OUT BEARS!" You continue to drink your pocket vodka throughout your journey. You trip over roots in the trail several times. Your legs have become a disgusting dirt honey hybrid. You're on the move almost the entire time, except when you came across just the shittiest tree stump you've ever seen in your life. Every inch of every splinter was painted white. You remove another vodka nip from your pocket and toast to the stump's honor before tossing the empty plastic aside.

Despite your hour long efforts to coax the local bears into devouring you, none have accepted your gracious offer. However, a beam of light skewers the darkness and falls upon your face. "Bears?" you call out hopefully into the distance.
"Oh my god, buddy are you alright?" a voice calls out. The light gets closer and reveals a police officer with a blurred swirl for a face, but you can tell it's a young swirl.
You groan. "You're not bears."
"No I'm not- did you say bears?" Officer Kees asks bewildered.
"Yeah... da bearsss," you reply drunkenly.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

You look over his face again. Everything about it seems a little too hardlined. "Eh... you'd think bears would be a dead giveaway," you respond. "I feel like if I met you and multiple bears at the same time, I'd definitely remember it."
"Well we-" the officer starts to respond before you cut him off.
"But your face is starting to look a little... I don't know. Maybe if we softened up your features a little bit... Actually a lotta bit," you correct yourself. "We soften 'em up so much that they're almost blurry. Like they're barely even features at all."
"Yeah that makes sense," he replies. "You were basically blackout drunk when we met."
"Oh no," you sigh. "Did I embarrass myself in front of the bears?"
"No, you didn't," he says much to your relief. "But that's because you never found any, at least I don't think. You were certainly trying to though. Remember?"
You wince as memories of the night you died start to flood in. You remember almost everything about your life, and basically nothing about heaven, but the moment of transition is still a little foggy.
The young policeman points to his name badge. "I'm Officer Kees, remember?"
His name sends another ripple of visions through your mind. You see the gravestones, the wooded trail, and the beam of white emanating from his flashlight.
Seeing he's helping you recall your last night, he continues. "We got a couple calls about a lot of screaming and yelling in the woods behind the cemetery. I..."
It's all come back now. All the heartache, pain, and even panic you felt in those final moments takes over your body. Only for a moment, however, as the rotten seratonin your decomposing brain is producing washes it all away almost as quickly as it arrived. "You found me in the woods, I remember. I remember now."

===========================================================================

"I sshouldna drove here," you whisper to yourself. You've put your car in park along one of the stretches of asphalt that line the cemetery. Hey, at least you wouldn't have killed anyone if you crashed. Maybe knocked a few headstones to bits, but that means the headstone guy is gonna come into some business. Everyone wins. Except the people who have to spend money on new headstones for their dead relatives. They don't win. But maybe the headstone guy really needs a win. It's gotta be depressing making the gravestones for dead people all the time. He could use the extra cash. Oh fuck, but he's got to do his depressing ass job more than usual to get that extra cash. Everyone doesn't win at all, everyone loses. What have you done?

You look at your hands gripping the steering wheel so hard your knuckles have turned white. Oh that's right, you haven't done anything. The headstones are fine. You gotta get it together. You adjust the rear view mirror to look yourself in the eyes. Your cheeks are aggressively magenta and your left eye is drooping to about fifty percent closed. "We're doing thisss. We ressssearched thisss. I mean rehearsssed this. Oh wait, I didn't do that either. No matter." You point your right hand at yourself in the mirror. You try to think of more words, but can't so instead you just nod off-kilter to your reflection.

You grab the golden plastic bear from the passenger. "Hello Mr. Golden Bear. You ain't gonna be golden much longer. Gonna see right through yo' ssshit." You uncap the honey and squirt some into your hand. You smear it across your face and look back into the mirror. More determined nodding. You step out of the car, hold the bottle above your head, and squeeze as hard as you can. As the honey piles on top of your head, you move the stream to your arms and legs, even covering all your clothing with the sweet sticky solution. You shove the empty honey bottle under the seat of your car before closing the door.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Wrote between 3-4 posts worth of content tonight, but didn't really reach a natural break. I'll keep at it tomorrow.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

I was making right around that for my first job out of college. As long as you're smart with your money, it should be more than enough.

Edit: Okay I just saw the post about zero loans or car payment. You don't even have to be smart with your cash anymore, go nuts my man.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Bump to save. Sorry, didnt finish last night and Im busy tonight.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Tom Brady
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Spongebob! My legs are frozen solid. Youll have to cut them off with a saw.
No Patrick, I cant do that.
Why not?
Because Ive already cut off my own arms!
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

If you're a lady could you buttfeed your baby?
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Waffle's just a huge fan of John Krasinski.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Lengel slides his hand down to his holster, but Gheis grabs his arm.
You look around curiously. "Hmm... welp I can't throw you towards the dock anymore, since you'll get hit by the hose... I could just throw you up there." You gesture at the stone precipice across from the yacht. Atop the stone wall is a patch of grass, followed by marina parking.
"That's even further than the other dock was," Gheis groans. "That's like fifteen feet across and ten feet up."
"I can do it," you reassure him. "I lifted a car earlier today."
The fire is chewing through more of your island, there's only about six feet left. Gheis nods and says, "Okay do it."
You immediately grab his hips and chuck him towards the precipice. You put a little stank on that throw, as Gheis somersaults through the air until his back meets the rock face with a loud, wet crunch. His screeches of pain can be heard until he plummets into the water, never to reemerge. A splotch of red stains rock face.
"Oh wow, I definitely could not do that," you loudly announce in case anyone else is in earshot. "I'm a real dink for this one."
Lengel promptly unholsters his weapon and points it at you. Before he can shoot, however, a loud crash comes from above as your last molotov has finally exploded, sending flames across the deck. The explosion startles Lengel, who looks up at the source of the commotion. As he does, you shout, "I'M SUCH A DINK!" and stomp your foot into the dock in between you and the officer. Lengel's side of the dock instantly collapses, sending him into the sea with the rest of the burning wood. Smoke fills the surrounding area as the flames are quenched by the sea, shielding you from the sight of nearby survivors. You duck down and reach a hand out for Lengel. "Grab my arm, sir!"
A distraught Lengel sloshes over and clutches your hand.
You smile. "Don't be sad, officer. The second part of your life begins now. And honestly, it's a lot doper than the first part."
"Wh-what?" he chokes, coughing up water.
"I SAID IT'S GONNA BE DOPE...Maybe I'll see you again someday. Say hi to Gheis and Hurley for me," you give his wrist a sharp, forceful tug and rip his arm clean off his body.
Lengel gasps, too stunned to scream, and sinks into the water. You briefly ponder how much more effective your dabbing could be with three arms before delicately plopping Lengel's arm into the water.

You wait for the hose to redirect it's aim before gracefully leaping to the other side of the dock. You waltz over to the stairs to try to exit the marina as another cop barrels towards you with his gun raised. "Hands up!"
Not learning from before, you echo, "But what if it wasn't even me though?" before raising your hands anyways.
The officer meets your gaze and slowly brings his gun down. "Oh my god..."
"I know, I'm pretty hard to look at," you joke. "You should see the other guys."
"No, no it's not that," he whispers. "I know you."
You look over the young officer's face. His messy brown hair peeks out from under his cap, his green eyes are speckled with gold, and his chin is much too large for his head. He's familiar, but you can't exactly place him. You give him a small shrug.
"I did this to you," he mutters. "I'm the reason you're dead."
"I know it's night so it's harder to see, and the rot has darkened some of my skin, and I guess I shriveled a little bit so I could theoretically be the height of a tall twelve year old, but this was a suicide," you tell him. "This wasn't you guys."
"No, no you... you don't remember me?" the young officer asks. "You know, with the...."
"With the what?"

He lets out a long sigh as he lowers his gun completely. "The bears?" he asks.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

You pop back into view and announce, "Alright, I'm coming down."
"Good," the flame adjacent officer replies. Starting to feel the heat, he moves a few paces away from the blaze.
You grab the unlit Molotov and ask, "Can one of you hold this for me?"
"Absolutely not," comes the angry response. "You're being arrested."
"You can't just hold it and give it back to me after I get out?" you ask.
"We do that with like wristwatches and shit, not bottles filled with gasoline."
"Well if you're not gonna hold it for me, can I at least throw it at another boat?" you request.
"No! Get the fuck down here, now!" Lengel shouts nervously as the fire inches closer.
"Okay, I'll just leave it here," you say, crouching down out of view to quickly light the cloth and leave the bottle resting on the deck. "Alright I'm gonna get a running leap and land on the non-fiery side of you guys."

You back up as the flame slowly creeps up the cloth towards the neck of the bottle. You sprint forward, crouch, and spring yourself off the yacht. You give yourself a little more air than you needed, partly for style, and sadly, partly because you're gonna need to get wet to make this plan work. You slam your feet down hard on the dock and feel the wood splinter beneath you. The entire section of the already weakened dock between the officers and the safety of the shore gives way beneath your thunderous hurdle, sending it crumpling into the bay, and you with it. "Aah!" you squeal as you splash desperately in an attempt to keep as much of your rotting body out of the water as possible.
"Take my hand!" Officer Hurley calls.
You instinctively grab his arm as he pulls you onto the police sanctioned stretch of dock. You sit up and inspect your legs. Doesn't look like they soaked up too much water. If you need to, you could always dry them up in the sun or by the very present flames by your side. You and the officers are on a patch of wood about ten feet long. One side sea, one side towering inferno.

The engines have arrived, with firefighters dumping out of their trucks to get the hoses ready. "Looks like we gotta swim for it," Officer Gheis announces. The other two nod.
"Nonsense," you disagree. "I can just toss you guys over to the other dock."
"That's like a thirty foot gap," Hurley protests. "You can really chuck a human that far?"
"Probably farther," you admit, eyeing the firefighters carefully. "Why don't I 'Hurl' you on over there, eh officer?"
Officer Hurley rolls his eyes. "What's preventing you from just throwing us all in the bay and escaping?"
"Absolutely nothing!" you declare happily as you grab Officer Hurley by the waist, swing him back, and heave him towards the opposite dock. Just as Officer Hurley leaves your arms, a firehose from the nearest engine erupts a jet of water towards a nearby flaming yacht. Hurley flies ten feet into the air before slamming into the fireman's geyser, and hurtling straight into the burning boat.
"HURLEY!" the other two officers cry out.
"Aw beans," you curse. "That was, and pardon my frustration here, a real whoopsie."
"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" Officer Lengel puts his hands around your neck before quickly recoiling them. "Ugh, feels so gross!"
Officer Gheis restrains his comrade. "Calm down, Lengel! It was an accident! A freak accident... It's not like he was timing when the hoses would turn on."
"Also, you have a gun," you point out. "You didn't have to touch my gross neck to kill me."
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

B) Fight through the officers to get out of the marina.
C) Attempt to flee the police without harming them.

You listen to the crackle of the flames, interrupted intermittently by the collapse of a yacht or a stretch of the dock. Sirens play softly in the distance as the fire department approaches. You suppose you could just wait until the dock fully burns away and try to use your newfound athleticism to leap to shore. Although, the cops would just retreat and wait for you there. Plus, the longer you wait, the more cops will show up. Ah geez, seems like mass arson at the scene of a murder is one of those strictly enforced crimes. This ain't jaywalking. You crawl back to the side of the boat near the cops. You place the molotov at your side and cautiously raise your hands above the railing, slowly standing all the way up. "Hi."
All three policemen are still aiming their guns at you. The one on the left yells, "Come down from the boat!" His name tag says Hurley.
"Am I gonna go to jail?" you ask.
The officers exchange glances between each other and the burning marina. "Uh, yeah. Definitely."
"But what if I didn't do it though?" you protest.
"If you didn't do it, you would just say that," comes the reply. "You wouldn't ask what if."
You pause. The horns and sirens of the fire department are getting closer. "Yeah but what if though?"
"We literally saw you holding a molotov cocktail," Officer Lengel speaks up.
"Well that's not fair," you argue. "If you come across someone who's been shot, you can't just assume the guy with the gun did it."
"What?! That's exactly what we assume!" The flames on the dock are approaching the officers with Officer Lengel only about ten yards away now.

Ugh, you don't want to go to jail. Granted, you'd do very well in prison. There's no doubt about that. You could literally rip apart anyone who gave you any silly talk. You'd be the head goober in no time. Also, you probably could escape, like literally anytime you wanted to. Just bend those bars into a big ol' hole and hop on through. But now that Mills is gone, you want to explore the world and do all the things you never did when you were alive. You guess you gotta kill these cops to do that.

Although, that could create another problem. If you brutally murder these police officers, when people spot you experiencing the world and all it's glory, they might not be all, "There's my boy Slim." They might instead say things like, "Oh no!", "Run!", or "Call the police, oh wait they're all dead. Call the army!" Plus Mills did explicitly tell you not to do things like this before he left. But could you realistically kill literally all the police and then the Army? Yeah, probably. However, you don't want to experience the next stretch of your life alone. Let's face it, if you gotta do it, then so be it. You'll be fine. It's like when a restaurant offers you a caesar salad with iceberg lettuce because all the romaine lettuce has e coli. Will you power through the subpar iceberg caesar salad? Sure, but you much rather would have risked the e coli.

"Hey!" Officer Hurley brings you out of your stream of consciousness. "What's it gonna be?"
"Gimme a sec, I'm still working it out," you call back before squatting down. "I just have to solve the e coli issue."
"Wh-... Huh? You have e coli?" he scratches the back of his head. The fire's getting closer now.

Back to the game plan. If you murder these cops, you won't able to stroll freely about town. Unless... you make it look like you were trying to save them. You just recently came into your zombie strength, it's reasonable that you wouldn't know how to yield it yet.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Actually fuck it, I'm gonna post what I have now. I reached a good stopping point and you all have been bumping this for two months. Hoping to finish the update tomorrow.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

WafflehouseJK posted...

slimfizzle2 posted...

WafflehouseJK posted...

OffTempo posted...

Bump

Penis

How crass! Not in my good, clean, innocent Assmuff CYOA!

How dare you! Im pushing it back further for this phallusy!

For real though, my biggest weakness when updating is trying to do it all in one night, often staying up until 3 or 4 in the morning to do so when I have to wake up for work the next day. I know sometimes I post half an update and finish later, but I want this one to all drop at once, so Im gonna break out the writing over a couple days. Ive started writing it but it probably wont be ready til ether tomorrow or Friday. I have like a full page of notes of what I want to get to, and when I jot notes down I dont include any dialogue so its gonna be a long one.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

slimfizzle2 posted...

HotLap posted...

slimfizzle2 posted...

So Monday then

So Thursday

Eevee-Trainer posted...

Plot twist: every time we complain TC knocks back the next update 3 days

I actually don't mind, but I will use this to buy myself a couple extra days.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

slimfizzle2 posted...

So Monday then

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Napoleon Too posted...

HotLap posted...

Hey everyone. Sorry I haven't been active for the last six or so weeks. My aunt passed away and my mother had a pancreas and kidney transplant, so I've been fairly busy with family stuff. Plus I ended up getting a lot of new responsibilities at work.

It's been a bit of a whirlwind lately and pairing that with the writer's block I was kinda hoping this would just die out. However, seeing you guys keep this topic alive and active for six weeks, I think letting it die out now would be, and I apologize for the language, a real dink move.

So thank you, and I'm sorry, and I'll do my best to motivate myself to get you an update in the coming week.

Im sorry for your loss. You dont have to force it but just let me say this; you arent just some guy writing something for a message board. This is the output of a true writer. If you ever publish this or anything let me know; use amazon createspace if you have to. I want to buy a copy. I havent laughed this much since Hitchikers guide to the Galaxy. You have the rapier wit and ear for dialogue of a Terry Pratchett or Douglas Adams and I want to buy your books.

@HotLap

Thanks everybody. And I love Hitchhikers Guide and Good Omens so thanks for this comment. I have an idea thats adjacent to this but a little different for a novel, hopefully someday Ill get it done.

Moms doing well. It was a scary couple weeks but shes recovering.

I know how I want to advance the story and am hoping to update on Friday.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Hey everyone. Sorry I haven't been active for the last six or so weeks. My aunt passed away and my mother had a pancreas and kidney transplant, so I've been fairly busy with family stuff. Plus I ended up getting a lot of new responsibilities at work.

It's been a bit of a whirlwind lately and pairing that with the writer's block I was kinda hoping this would just die out. However, seeing you guys keep this topic alive and active for six weeks, I think letting it die out now would be, and I apologize for the language, a real dink move.

So thank you, and I'm sorry, and I'll do my best to motivate myself to get you an update in the coming week.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Bill Russell
Mookie Betts
Tom Brady
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Scrubs
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Community
Scrubs
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Curb Your Enthusiasm
Scrubs
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Maybe this weekend I can update. Having a bit of writer's block to be honest.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Futurama
Malcolm in the Middle
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

https://m.imgur.com/gallery/5ZjKcmU
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

PnutUntouchable posted...

OffTempo posted...

slimfizzle2 posted...

B but C. And end up killing them inadvertently in comical ways

seconded

Thirdeded

Are you an alt, boy? Tell Papa the truth now.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Sunday purely for Carrie Underwood's thighs.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

pres_madagascar posted...

I'm playing definitive edition on ps4. I restarted 3 times before finding what I really wanted most. Dual lone wolves, maining fane and having Ifan with me, both of us summoners with different complimentary magic. You hit 10 summoning before even leaving Fort joy, and then it's beautiful. Dual Champion incarnates are rad, totems everywhere, lots of magic.

When I defeated the act 1 boss in like 10 minutes, I knew I loved it.

https://i.redd.it/lxi2ov76u2oz.jpg
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Should be demodded tbh
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Divinity: Original Sin 2
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

My roommates and I got to Act III before we had to move and haven't picked it up since, but so really want to continue playing.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Dance Dance Resolution is maybe my favorite comedy episode of the last few years. They burned through like a full season's worth of ideas in 22 minutes.

@WafflehouseJK have you watched season 2 yet?
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.