Granted. If by art gallery you meant a gladiatorial arena.
I wish Cyberpunk Hannibal Lecter is hot.
I wish Cyberpunk Hannibal Lecter is hot.
Ruin-A-Wish Foundation.
- Thread starter Soxafloppin
- Start date
Recommended Videos
Granted. I break up with Cyberpunk Hannibal Lecter and go out with a real woman fitting the description on my original post on this page.
I wish Cyberpunk Hannibal Lecter has a nice remainder of her life that doesn't involve harming anyone I know and am connected to in anyway.
I wish Cyberpunk Hannibal Lecter has a nice remainder of her life that doesn't involve harming anyone I know and am connected to in anyway.
Granted, CHL wishes for you and only you to suffer in pain. She will orgasm off your screams.
I wish to ride a pony.
I wish to ride a pony.
Granted. It's the dullest and worst rap ever, causing everyone who listens to it to commit suicide.All the news stations hear about this and report on it. They also all foolishly play the song, and everyone who sees these reports promptly kills themselves as well, killing off so many people that they just forego burials and end up just burning the bodies.
With the workforce depleted to the point where their aren't enough people for the jobs around, the world is basically fucked for a least a few years.
I wish for a candy cane.
With the workforce depleted to the point where their aren't enough people for the jobs around, the world is basically fucked for a least a few years.
I wish for a candy cane.
Granted. In your younger and more vulnerable years your father gave you some advice that you've been turning over in your mind ever since.
?Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,? he told you, ?just remember that all the people in this world haven?t had the candy canes that you?ve had.?
He didn?t say any more, but you'd always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and you understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, you were inclined to reserve all candy canes, a habit that opened up many curious natures to you and also made you the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to candy canes when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college you were unjustly accused of being a sweet tooth, because you were privy to the secret taste of candy cane. Most of the confidences were unsought?frequently you have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when you realized by some unmistakable sign that an candy cane was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving candy canes is a matter of infinite hope. But still you were a little afraid of missing a candy cane if you forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and you snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.
And, after boasting this way of tolerance, you came to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point you didn?t care what it was founded on. When you came back from the East last autumn you felt that you wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; You wanted no more candy canes with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only suger, was exempt from your reaction?sugar, which represented everything for which you had an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about it, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if it were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the ?creative temperament.??it was an extraordinary gift for sweetness, a romantic readiness such as you have never found in any other food and which it is not likely you shall ever find again. No?sugar turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on sugar, what foul dust floated in the wake of its dreams that temporarily closed out your interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.
Your family had been prominent, well-to-do people in a Middle Western city for three generations. They were something of a clan, and have a tradition that you descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of your line was your grandfather?s brother, who went there in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and started the wholesale hardware business that your father carried on to-day.
You never saw this great-uncle, but you were supposed to look like him?with special reference to the rather hard-boiled candy cane that hangs your father?s office. You graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after your father, and a little later you participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. You enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that you came back restless. Instead of being the warm centre of the world, the Middle West now seemed to you like the ragged edge of the universe?so you decided to go East and learn the candy cane business. Everybody you knew was in the candy cane business, so you supposed it could support one more single man. All your aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for your, and finally said, ?Why?ye?es,? with very grave, hesitant faces. Your Father agreed to finance you for a year, and you went into business.
You flopped.
I wish for a bowl of soup
?Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,? he told you, ?just remember that all the people in this world haven?t had the candy canes that you?ve had.?
He didn?t say any more, but you'd always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and you understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, you were inclined to reserve all candy canes, a habit that opened up many curious natures to you and also made you the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to candy canes when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college you were unjustly accused of being a sweet tooth, because you were privy to the secret taste of candy cane. Most of the confidences were unsought?frequently you have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when you realized by some unmistakable sign that an candy cane was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving candy canes is a matter of infinite hope. But still you were a little afraid of missing a candy cane if you forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and you snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.
And, after boasting this way of tolerance, you came to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point you didn?t care what it was founded on. When you came back from the East last autumn you felt that you wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; You wanted no more candy canes with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only suger, was exempt from your reaction?sugar, which represented everything for which you had an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about it, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if it were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the ?creative temperament.??it was an extraordinary gift for sweetness, a romantic readiness such as you have never found in any other food and which it is not likely you shall ever find again. No?sugar turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on sugar, what foul dust floated in the wake of its dreams that temporarily closed out your interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.
Your family had been prominent, well-to-do people in a Middle Western city for three generations. They were something of a clan, and have a tradition that you descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of your line was your grandfather?s brother, who went there in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and started the wholesale hardware business that your father carried on to-day.
You never saw this great-uncle, but you were supposed to look like him?with special reference to the rather hard-boiled candy cane that hangs your father?s office. You graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after your father, and a little later you participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. You enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that you came back restless. Instead of being the warm centre of the world, the Middle West now seemed to you like the ragged edge of the universe?so you decided to go East and learn the candy cane business. Everybody you knew was in the candy cane business, so you supposed it could support one more single man. All your aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for your, and finally said, ?Why?ye?es,? with very grave, hesitant faces. Your Father agreed to finance you for a year, and you went into business.
You flopped.
I wish for a bowl of soup
Granted this bowl of soup gives you the drive to pursue a career in the soup stock market, mainly beef, and after a boom in stock needs because of a forthcoming internationalist soup convention your business skyrockets to the fifth best soup distributer in Staten India.
But a rival company poisoned several hundred of your stock stock, thus making you re-check every one of the packets. Only finding a few you go a head and distribute the stock killing three hundred people.
Your business now is bust and your on the run for the cops what ever will you do?
I wish for a thrilling conclusion.
But a rival company poisoned several hundred of your stock stock, thus making you re-check every one of the packets. Only finding a few you go a head and distribute the stock killing three hundred people.
Your business now is bust and your on the run for the cops what ever will you do?
I wish for a thrilling conclusion.
Granted.@Dr.Susse
While on the run I managed to scrounge up the evidence linking my rival to the poisoning. I turn myself in and use power of attorney to start my case while still in custody.
It is the day of the initial hearing. The media are waiting outside as the defendants arrive at the courthouse. As my rival and his legal team disembark they pounce on him like meth addicts on uncrushed amphetamine crystals. Eager to get a scoop, one intrepid reporter sticks his microphone in my rival's face. "Can you tell me how confident you feel that you'll win" he shouts. "I have the utmost faith that the false accusations of this wanted criminal will be shown beyond all doubt to be absolutely false."
Feeling high and mighty with his wolfpack of suits and briefcases he climbed the steps of the courthouse. Coming through the revolving doors he was met with a wall of camera flashes and yelled questions. He grinned nastily, like a kindergarten bully about to throw mud at another child, and swiftly walked into the throng. The media parted quickly, intimated by the ruthless eyes on the men surrounding him.
He was at the door to the courtroom now. He could feel the anticipation in his stomach, a kind of giddy fear. All his plans would finally come to fruition. This would be it, the moment he finally crushed that little bug that had dared to challenge his canned empire of sustenance. He had to stop himself from laughing like a manic at the thought of it. He composed himself, then took a look around at the men gathered around him. Stony-faced killers he thought. No weakness. No possibility of failure. He returned his gaze to the double doors infront of him. He smiled. And taking one step forward. Pushed through the doors, and felt his heart stop.
The figure that met my rivals eyes as he entered the room had the affect of a naked woman on a group of Amish adolescents. Phoenix Wright didn't even give the man the chance to speak before he called out across the courtroom:
"Everything you have said, are saying, and will say is invalid and false!" "This man is guilty of manslaughter and 31 other offences. Here is the evidence, arrest this man!" Phoenix thundered.
The judge took less than 2 minutes to find him guilty. And eventually had him sentenced to the most cruel and unusual punishment he could think of, being castrated and then forced to act in porn films where he was the subject of near constant female domination.
I wish for a boyfriend.
While on the run I managed to scrounge up the evidence linking my rival to the poisoning. I turn myself in and use power of attorney to start my case while still in custody.
It is the day of the initial hearing. The media are waiting outside as the defendants arrive at the courthouse. As my rival and his legal team disembark they pounce on him like meth addicts on uncrushed amphetamine crystals. Eager to get a scoop, one intrepid reporter sticks his microphone in my rival's face. "Can you tell me how confident you feel that you'll win" he shouts. "I have the utmost faith that the false accusations of this wanted criminal will be shown beyond all doubt to be absolutely false."
Feeling high and mighty with his wolfpack of suits and briefcases he climbed the steps of the courthouse. Coming through the revolving doors he was met with a wall of camera flashes and yelled questions. He grinned nastily, like a kindergarten bully about to throw mud at another child, and swiftly walked into the throng. The media parted quickly, intimated by the ruthless eyes on the men surrounding him.
He was at the door to the courtroom now. He could feel the anticipation in his stomach, a kind of giddy fear. All his plans would finally come to fruition. This would be it, the moment he finally crushed that little bug that had dared to challenge his canned empire of sustenance. He had to stop himself from laughing like a manic at the thought of it. He composed himself, then took a look around at the men gathered around him. Stony-faced killers he thought. No weakness. No possibility of failure. He returned his gaze to the double doors infront of him. He smiled. And taking one step forward. Pushed through the doors, and felt his heart stop.
The figure that met my rivals eyes as he entered the room had the affect of a naked woman on a group of Amish adolescents. Phoenix Wright didn't even give the man the chance to speak before he called out across the courtroom:
"Everything you have said, are saying, and will say is invalid and false!" "This man is guilty of manslaughter and 31 other offences. Here is the evidence, arrest this man!" Phoenix thundered.
The judge took less than 2 minutes to find him guilty. And eventually had him sentenced to the most cruel and unusual punishment he could think of, being castrated and then forced to act in porn films where he was the subject of near constant female domination.
I wish for a boyfriend.
Granted, did somebody post something? XD
I wish for a picture of a dead Bony.
man I'm over using that joke...
I wish for a picture of a dead Bony.
man I'm over using that joke...
