I did a writing submission too, I am so trendy what with the trends and all!
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It's titled:
Passion on the Plotter
Cock.
Giant, sweaty, man-cock.
Gilbert couldn't stop thinking about cock.
It was 1960s or whatever, you know back when the computers were huge and filled rooms, and he was assigned to the dreaded night shift in the computer-y room place whatever. 2:00 AM, according to the clock on the wall. Which was totally analog and not digital because they didn't have digital ones yet, you know. I guess they had Nixie tubes. Have you ever seen those? They’re pretty badass. I saw some at a swap meet once but stupidly didn’t buy any. Too expensive to put on clocks though.
The workload was pretty light most days, which was great because Gilbert could use the time to pursue his own interests with the computer. Tonight, for example, he’d spent the first few hours of his shift using the huge plotter in the center of the computer room to draw images of cock. Giant, sweaty, man-cock. Gilbert couldn't stop thinking about—oh wait I already typed that bit. Now, looking at the plotter paper with satisfaction, he sat back in his uncomfortable corporate chair and thought to himself:
“Wouldn't it be great if there were some kind of interconnected network we graveyard shift operators could use to share our images of man-cock? I could also use it to share the images of cats I got from the dumpster next to the glory-hole last night, and add cute captions like, ‘I pissed in your mailbox!’ or ‘Up with Stalin!’ Some kind of … inter… work? But of course that won’t exist for another few years or perhaps decades or maybe it already exists, I’m not doing any fucking research for this bullshit story.”
Sometimes Gilbert wondered why he couldn't stop thinking about man-cock. Was he being punished by God? Or maybe he actually was God, but some kind of weird future space-God in a universe where everybody was gay and he came here looking for better saltines than he could get back home? But then, you’d think he’d remember doing that.
The obsession was affecting his work, though. I mean wasting plotter paper was bad enough (it cost 26 drachmas per hectare!), but there was also the… unthinkable… things he did to the tape drive spindles. He looked down to his bottom drawer, looking at the pile of “used” (IF YOU GET MY DRIFT THAT’S AN INNUENDO) spindles.
Suddenly, the door crashed open and in walked Monica. She was gorgeous, she looked like that one rogue FBI agent in that one episode of X-Files who could like breathe underwater or whatever and she drowned men, Christ that episode was stupid. I guess that character was played by Lucy Lawless, so like imagine Lucy Lawless in the late-90s but this story is in the 60s so try not to get confused. And don’t picture Xena because she always wore that leather armor outfit and Monica had on a business suit. Not that the leather outfit wasn't, you know, sexy or anything, but it just doesn't fit in the computer room environment. Not very practical. Anyway she was hot.
“What are you doing here, Monica!?” Gilbert ejaculated.
Ejaculate: verb (used with object), ejaculated, ejaculating. 1. to utter suddenly and briefly; exclaim.
“I stayed late, I heard the workload was low. A guardian angel told me it’s… time to clean the spindles!”
Gilbert suddenly panicked. SHE KNEW! He close the bottom desk drawer with his shoe, quickly crumbled up the centi-hectare of plotting paper and took a few breaths to calm himself down. This took a while but during this Monica did and said NOTHING AT ALL because she was like just staring or something, I dunno, just go with it. Once Gilbert was collected, he said, in as calm and metered a voice as he could manage:
“YOU KNOW ABOUT THE GAY PORN AND THE SPINDLES!”
Monica smiled, “Everybody knows, Gilbert. That’s all we talk about on the day shift. We have long meetings in large conference rooms talking about Gilbert and his porn. They last hours. We get pizza catered. Also one time we found a photo of a cat with some coffee grounds on it and ‘All Hail Stalin!’ printed at the bottom in Sharpie. Sharpies exist now in the 60s, because fuck if I’m going to do any research for this tripe. But we’re going to fix that, we’re going to fix… you! Tonight!”
Then she yanked open her conservative business top, and moaned, “Let’s go, STUD!”
So they had sex RIGHT THEN AND THERE ON THE PLOTTER. Gilbert was relieve she didn't mean “fix” as in “cut off his balls”. Because you know it could have had a dual-meaning or something. That was something I thought might confuse the reader.
As they were going at it, down the hallway walks old kind-hearted Mr. Prentice, the night custodian. He smiled to himself in a self-satisfied way to himself. “The guardian angel strikes again!” he said, as he peeped through the door lock and began masturbating into his yellow wheeled mop bucket.
Come 6:00 AM, Gilbert’s shift was over and he was still panting from the HOT SEX WITH MONICA. He sat back in the chair and thought to himself, “wow! It’s amazing that that shitty Apple will still work after being in a house fire caused by a cat, about 12 years from now!” SEE I INCORPORATED THE ANECDOTE INTO THE STORY! THAT WAS THE RULE!
EPILOGUE:
Gilbert went back to his family and stayed happily married for many years (only barely thinking about man-cock) until he died when one of the early Betamax VCRs fell off a pallet of Billy Beer and crushed his skull. Because it was the 70s by then, so Billy Beer was a thing.Monica blah blah who cares. MRA FOREVER!
Mr. Prentice might get out of State Pen. in only 3 more years with good behavior.
The next day, a foundry in Idaho began forging an I-beam using the data from that them computer center back east in them thar big city. The I-beam was installed in a pavilion for the State Fair where, in 1973, it failed, collapsing the roof and killing 14 heifers, at least three of which were potential blue-ribbon material. Also 37 Cub Scouts and 3 nuns.
The “interwork” was never invented and we all live in a crumbling shithole deprived of futuristic technologies, like monorails.
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http://basicinstructions.squarespace.com/storage/2010-12-14-ruinjoke.gif
Also:
Nixie tubes
Those are absolutely awesome. I'd get some, except they work on like 200V or something.
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This is awesome. Not sure in what way it's awesome. But it's awesomely something.
Oh wait.
AWESOMELY MESSED UP.
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10/5 would get slightly sexually confused again
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It was actually supposed to be "the". GRAMMAR NAZI PWN3D!!!!
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I'm pretty sure that you're wrong.
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I'm pretty sure that you're wrong.
Dude knows what he meant, not your place to question it
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Based on his posts lately, I'm not so sure of that.
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There is no argument, he's obviously wrong.
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I call plagiarism. Blakeyrat stole my first draft.
It's pretty obviously my work, since it revolves so thoroughly around cocks, just like me (with sufficient lubricant).
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But is that lubricant your mother had to buy you instead of the expensive lotion?
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I don't think you're getting this job either.
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Sorry, that story was missing Infinite-scroll and how much better the apple 2 was!
So you only get 10/10.Filed Under: also, this might not be frontpage material but that clearly doesn't matter with your huge oversight
Addendum: I know this makes me immature and terrible but I actually laughed when I read this. I was expecting more of a twist, though. #HonestFeedback
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Cock.
Giant, sweaty, man-cock.
Gilbert couldn't stop thinking about cock.
At least you are writing about things you are familiar with.
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@Intercourse said:
At least you are writing about things you are familiar with.
More than I could say about my attempts at writing.
