!uck yea with a capitol ! Monday, October 2nd, 2006, 7:03 PM Central Fignuton

18 Responses to !uck yea with a capitol !

1. Samsonite October 2nd, 2006 at 9:24 PM

   did…did you call me a prick?

2. Anonymous October 2nd, 2006 at 10:04 PM

   hahahaha yeah
   i guess i did

3. the little mermaid October 3rd, 2006 at 12:30 AM

   its time for a new car fig.newtons.

4. the little mermaid October 3rd, 2006 at 12:30 AM

   i mean with all that money you rollin in. im sure you could afford one.

5. fignuton October 3rd, 2006 at 6:24 AM

   nope i dont want any more monthly payments ive got two more things to fix on this car and it should be fine

6. Samsonite October 3rd, 2006 at 8:37 AM

   a-hole… :D

7. Robin Sulkosky October 3rd, 2006 at 9:50 AM

   Snap Dragon! Hey, I’ll give you some advice: there’s nothing you could do with your life that isn’t not worth doing, going to church included (which is to be an eventual point a a super-post I’ll never finish). I think Evan going to church is more important than whatever those b-holes said about you being a bad father. My personal, incorruptible view is that church at an early stage in life provides an EXCELLENT moral foundation. I’m glad my parents made me go. As a matter of fact, when my chilluns is old enough to walk and learn I plan on making them attend church until a certain age, and I plan on going with them, despite my own extremely shaky beliefs in spirituality. Just about every church has a killer moral code that I think it would be a shame to deprive a kid of. You could even take Evan to a Mosque?
   Most religions are equally credibile in my eyes. Just watch out for that fundamentalist bullshit. Take Evan to church. And if you need two hours a week to show your faith in something, even if WITHOUT Evan, do it.
   The only thing I caution against is the usual: You don’t need to work so hard. You know and I know that ain’t what life’s about. Ask Jeremiah, he’ll tell yeah. In nothing but socks and shoes. Teabagging your ass. Or your mouth.

8. vlad the impaler October 3rd, 2006 at 12:59 PM

   A lesson is to be learned here my unson.

   Long ago in the most southeastern part of the Carribean a sailor captain known as Brandonite Prestonite III was in the middle of a journey to South Africa to search out more slaves for the lazy white rebels of The Confederacy, when things suddenly took a strange, unorthodox twist.

   The sails set only half mass for the wind was blowing far too heavily for full. A fellow sailor Jeremiah (named after the man in the bible) “The Dyke” sat uncompfortably in the crows nest hoping to see somewhat ahead through the thickening fog. With compass in hand Brandonite turned the wheel bits at a time, just enough for the rutter to keep the boat a-steady. As the wind came to a calm the fog cleared from the sky, nearly instantaniously the sun appeared through the clouds bright but not too warm. Within a few seconds the boat bottomed out. With his crackly sailors tongue Brandonite exclaimed,”What da fuck in god’s name is goin’ on here ya damned scalliwags! Get us off dis fuckin bar!”. The Dyke replied,” But cap’n , tis no bar, but an island.”. Taking no prisoners Cap. Brandonite replied back, “Shut ya blubber’n mouth ya fuckin’ moron I knew dat!”. He walked to the starboard side of the dingey old boat where the drop ladder hung in case of an emergency, peeked around for a moment, then climbed down. His legs submerged in the misty course salt water nearly past his thighs. He walked his way through the water to the island, water splashing back and forth. Once on the Island the stout sailor turned only to cackle as he caught a glimpse of his prized boat’s name, “S.S. Niggers’ Nightmare”. Momentarely he hollered,”Getcha lazy arses off me damn boat ya buncha worthless scoundrels!”.

   Many mistook the old captain for a pirate, with his harsh looks and foul mouth, however that fell far from being the proper title. He was simply a sailor, all he ever knew, all he ever felt he needed to know. Through his rough childhood he learned what kind of hard work was required in order to be something in the world. This old captain, was in fact no old man, but mearly a young man who’d already worked his way up within the first couple years. Now all he was required to do was point his finger, however occasionally he’d feel it be neccesary to get his hands a bit dirty.

   Each of the men came down from the ship and rushed to the front as quickly as possible. Brandonite in the middle, just under the naked mermaid at point, and fellow sailors to each side, the crew pushed the old stubborn boat from the beach in which it had landed. Quickly the crew climbed aboard and were off once again.

   To be continued…..

9. Samsonite October 3rd, 2006 at 2:38 PM

   Ya know, I never really went to church when I was a kid, except when I visited my relatives. I think I have a good set of morals despite this. But yeah, what Robin says is probably true. Church probably helps.

10. Jeremiah October 4th, 2006 at 1:15 AM

    aye avast!

11. xack symnz October 4th, 2006 at 11:13 AM

    ahm shut the fuck up, deusch. God didnt say that, deusch bags did. Thats why i dont really like going to church. People shit their opinions/beliefs and interpretations of a book you cant take literally all over you.

    God has nothing to do with fuckasses. Dont even try that shit.
    Or ill fucking kill you.

12. xack symnz October 4th, 2006 at 11:24 AM

    *smile

13. vlad the impaler October 4th, 2006 at 12:31 PM

    ………
    Once again the sails were set, this time at full due to the calm of the wind. Cap’n Brandonite held the wheel with a stance of a greek god, each sailor doing his job as was his duty, the ship sailed on. Mile after mile the ship sailed through thick and thin, taking on the most trecherous of waters, nothing could stop it, or so the crew thought.

    Directly in the middle of the Atlantic the old boat bottomed out once again. “How can dis be,” Brandonite thought to himself, he simply shook his head and yelled to his mates,” get off da damned boat and inta da waters wit ya lazy arses, and find out what stopped me ship! Nothin’ stops The S.S. Niggers’ Nightmare, NOTHIN!”. The crew climbed aboard the old wooden paddle boat that had been tied along the starboard side just next to the drop ladder, the Cap’n worked the crank to lower the cruddy old piece down. Once the paddle boat had reached the water, three shipsmen dove in the water to see if they could find anything below. “Nothing!” the first exclaimed as he reached the service. Another emerged,”Nothin Cap’n!”, he shouted. A few moments passed with no news from the third sailor. Had he found the problem and held his breath in attempt to fix it?, Had he drowned simply by staying submerged too long?, Sharks?. A few more moments passed with no reply from the third sailor. The crew dazed at the water in hopes of his return, nervous and frightened of what could have happened. Suddenly, not a moment later, the sailor’s carcus was spotted as it floated to the surface. The crew pulled him aboard as quickly as possible. As they turned him over in hopes of revival each sailor’s eyes widened at the wounds upon his chest. No sea creature could do such a thing, no man could do such a thing. Instantaneously the ship began to move. Quickly the Cap’n cranked the paddle boat back aboard.

    Once aboard the crew lied the body down on the old weathered planks that made up the deck. Each sailor inspected the gashes with his own precisioned eye. The ribs had been broken through directly infront of the heart, which had been cleverly torn from the arteries. The asophogus ripped out from throat to near belly causing a near perfect line straight down the chest. None of this was done at random, as an animal would do, but with pattern as if with memory of technique. Captain Brandonite slowly broke through the men and covered the body with a tearing of an old sail, “Jeremiah was a good fella, I’d known him nearly me whole life, nows he be dead, but we must sail on.”. The crew slowly went back to work one by one, the sails back at full mass.

    The ship sailed for days with no troubles, they had arranged a day and night shift so the men could get rest as needed. The heat overwhelming, the rain at a mist yet the air still felt dry, yes they had reached destination, they had reached Africa. A large open gap on a relatively clear shoreline made for a descent place to dock. The boat was pulled half a shore then tied down with stakes and strand of rope pulled to trees. The loader was dropped making a large bridge from land to the boats deck. A few from the crew arranged camp in a nearby open area under some shade trees. Once all arranged the Captain granted the crew 6 hours rest and a full meal in the morning for a job well done.

    Sunrise came and Brandonite woke the crew with a loud ring from a cast skillet hit by a large wooden spoon. Each of the shipsmates came to attention and grabbed a plate to fix a meal. Whiskey was the drink of choice in hopes to cause some awareness throughout the day. As the crew finsihed up the captain exclaimed,”arite ya landlovers we gots some traps ta set and we got some raidin’ to be done!, I wants atleas 60 blackens b’for da nightfall so we can be up-n-out in da morn!, Gets ta work!”. The crew worked together to bring traps down from the ship, bear traps, robe and rocks, nets, and more. This old captain knew how to make the job fun, no guns just brute and traps, kill none take all, that was the theory.

    The sailors split up into self chosen groups and head there own ways. A few hours later the first group came walking back with a long chain with about 15 cuffed future slaves trailing behind. The third group to set out returned momentarilly with a cage on wheels cram packed full of faces from the age of 3 to about 15, each face bruised in some fashion. The last group who set out returned with only a few and were sent back out do to their lack of effort. The second group to set out finally return with the mother load, a full chain of beaten and bruised males, all atleast 6 foot tall and none too thin. Below the decks of the the boat now sat nearly 50 faces to be slaves for The Confederacy, some young some old, some thin some built, a few pregnant and a few with child in arms. Finally as the sun began to drop the last group return with an average 15 clamped tight to the rusty chain. The group loaded the product and made way for rest.

    to be continued…….

14. Jeremiah October 4th, 2006 at 11:52 PM

    shit, damn ,lost…i am off to see davey jones and his locker of treats.

15. Robin Sulkosky October 5th, 2006 at 10:27 PM

    what b-hole said you were a bad father, anyway?

16. fignuton October 6th, 2006 at 12:32 PM

    looki promise im not gay

17. vlad the impaler October 6th, 2006 at 1:57 PM

    Captain Brandonite Prestonite III was quite the troop, always working hard, never allowing anyone to tell him what he wasn’t capable of. With his strong will and brute wits he succeeded at everything he set his mind to, a better man then any soul or unsoul to date. At birth the docter asked the parents if they’d rather him just dispose of the child claiming he had the look of a failure, the parents denied the assumption and took the child home. Over the years he had become stronger and stronger, with the build of an ox. When he finally succeeded and was granted captain his life became a bit more laid back and the oxen build became more along the lines of the misterious manatee. Yet his mind remained focused and unbreakable.

    The nightsky black, the air dry and burnt, each of the sailors lay spread eagle atop spread cloths along the dry crackled ground. The captain left restless stairing towards the horizon in hopes of a the inevitable sunrise. “Finally, lite o’r the horizon!”, the captain thought to himself. Quickly he grasped his wooden spoon and paddled away at that same skillet from the morn before. The sailors had each awoken quickly and rose to attention. “Arite ya landlovers we hit da sails early dis morn an we’s be eatin are breakfast aboard da ship! Now get aboard and hop to!” the captain exclaimed with good crisp voice. Something had changed, some reason the captain had felt rather grand this wonderful bright morning. The feeling of success was near overwhelming. Once aboard the sails were set simply at half mass for a steady take off and compfortable ride until breakfast had past.

    “Missy!”, the captain hollered. “Missy!”, he hollered once again. Once more, “Mis-”, “WHAT!”, a loud abnoxious voice replied. “Was just seein’ if ya’d like ta come up and share som breakfast with me this fine morn, after all ya hadn’t been out the cabin since we arrived at da shore.”, the captain stated. “Fine”, she mumbled. For this was the voice of Brandonite’s Missy, wife to the captain. They had a child together, Brandonite worked, and Missy stayed at home with the exception of her agreeing to come on this adventure with her husband. Brandonite had pleeded on his very knees for her to come along just this once, with knees worn to the bone, she finally agreed.

    Morning had past, and now mid afternoon, the sky was shaded with near perfect skies. The ship had sailed through noon with no problems, with the exception of one sailor’s slight sea sickness. Captain Brandonite stood tall at wheel with compass in had and eyes straight ahead. Through his mind ran thoughts of his lost friend Jeremiah. The night sky set in and that annoying voice broke the silence,”Hey!, Hey!, HHEEYYY!”, she shouted. “Yes dear.” the captain replied. “We need talk about you and some things that need to change.” she stated. “Arite lets talk bout’ it”, said the captain. “I’m sick and tired of you being gone for months at a time and leaving me and Edward at home while you’re on this damned ship lollygagging, he is your damn son too ya know!”, she shouted. In reply he stated, “I jus’ try doing me best ta-”"And this worthless crew of yours and this stupid old boat full of all these smelly mongrals, you choose this over us.” she spit. “darlin’ I simply try and make da bes’ money possble fer you and lil’ eddy.” He replied once more. “Nonsense!, if you really cared you’d be there spending time with him and raising him every minute you’ve got!” she hollered. “I do care thats why I’s be doin what I’s be doin’ is all.”, he said quickly in order to not be cut off once more.”You aren’t worth a damn, puttin’ on this act like you’re some kina good father or something, Baphoon!”, she shouted. By now the entire crew had been awoken and was listening in the crew’s cabin, not to mention the men in control of night watch had lost all concentration and had no idea where they were headed. Suddenly the captain wallered out the cabin door, blanket and pillow in hand. “Whatcha lookin’ at get back ta yer buisness ya fuckin’ brown nosers!”, he screamed. The captain climbed high to the secondary crows nest in order to be as far from Missy as possible in hopes of silence. As he slept an idea pondered through his mind, an idea so devious yet pure genius.

    Two weeks had gone by and the halfway point was about to set in. The captain at his usual post with wheel in hand. Strangely he asked a fellow shipsmate by the name of Robinto, a retired spanish conquestador, to grab the wheel. With little knowledge of the english language the shipsmate simply knodded his head and took hold the wheel. For a moment the captain disappeared, suddenly the boat came to a slamming hault and turned ragingly near flip on the starboard side. Missy ran out of the cabin where she’d been sound asleep for the past 10 hours. “What the hell’s going on, wheres my husband!”, she shouted. “Over here came a voice from the rear walkway hidden to the rest of the ship. Quickly, she ran to her husband in a rage on his “stupidity”. Instantly the voice of the captain was heard shouting,”ALRITE VLAD YOU OL’ BASTARD, I KNOW YA TOOK ME FRIEND JER BY MISTAKE, BUT NOW I GIVES TA YA MA WINCH, TAKE THE BLOODY BITCH AS MY GIFT TO YAS!” . Screaming of the young woman was heard from the waters, only to be muffled out as she was pulled below. There was no return of the carcus only her severed head with spinal cord attached floated to the surface with a blast of air bubbles only to sink to the bottom again. The Captain turned to the crew with a never before seen smile upon his face as he spoke,”Arite ya bastards, lets get home I got me boy ta see and only bout a weeks time ta see him. After all, we got works ta be done.”.

    The End

18. Brad the Inhaler October 14th, 2006 at 12:15 AM

    As head of the Council of Bad Tales, the Inhaler applauds this blue ribbon winner!

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