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View Full Version : Salute to autumn thread


pablobaluba
10-19-2006, 12:43 PM
Tucked away in her cozy "gourd shed" with baskets hanging from the rafters, Marilyn Nacke surveys the birdhouses and jack-o'-lanterns that have been left behind. She's taken most of them to Battle Ground for a fall festival, but there are still enough left to give a visitor a hint of what goes on here.
Most years, Marilyn grows her own gourds, but this year the weather was so wet, she harvested only about 100. She gets the rest from Brown's Country Store and Candles in Attica. This year they gave her about 200. She keeps them in a boat-sized net in back of her shed, where they dry out and cure.
On any day from August through October, Marilyn can be found there - under the wisteria - cleaning the dried gourds.
Inside the shed, she cuts the top off of one gourd, just like you would cut the top off of a jack-o'-lantern, only she uses a miniature reciprocating saw. She scrapes the insides of the paperdry gourd and decides this one will be a birdhouse - it's shaped just right.
Marilyn explains that big bushel basket gourds make good jack-o'-lanterns and the small ornamentals are good for basket arrangements.
"Lots of people grow them; you see these a lot at road-side stands," she said.
Next she paints on a dye, reddish brown for the jack-o'- lanterns and various colors for the ornamentals, which gives them a natural autumn look.
She uses the tiny saw to cut out the face of the jack-o'- lantern, and finishes it with ribbons and a sprig of berries.
Now that looks like autumn!

Gawd
10-19-2006, 12:53 PM
I yawn untill nefrititos balls flop out

Sexy Jasper
10-19-2006, 04:02 PM
From clear across the dimly lit cereals and potato chip isle in the local Sherm's grocery store, their brightly glinting yet highly glazed over eyes met, clashing like a medievil sword fight. Chemistry struck firm, unexpected and unappreciated like afternoon gas, twisting their intestines into intricately laced and interwoven knots.

His major internal organs began a mad scramble to see who could be the first to jettison out of his ass like rats on a sinking ship; hers simply quivered as they continued to attempt to break down a microwaved burrito, without much luck.

As if a Nascar referee just waved the checkered flag, they dropped the items they were restocking and ran towards each other atop nervous and anxious spaghetti legs. In their wake, a jar of chunky, medium-hot salsa tumbled through the stale early morning-late night air and shattered into a million fragments, a delicious yet dangerous concoction of spice and slice. Good thing there's no hungry dogs around.

The two strangers sail through the stratosphere at each other, unfortunately missing by several inches. She sails recklessly into a fex boxes of Coco Puffs that cushion her fall considerably. She nods her head appreciatively and makes a mental note to go coo-coo for them from now on. He manages to hit the ground running, until he loses control of his momentum and stamps his right foot into the janitor's mop and bucket filled to the brim with filthy, grimy soapwater. Luckily, he catches his balance and skates across the linoleum effortlessly thanks to the wheels on the bottom of the bucket. Sure, his leg may be soaked, but that's a small price to pay for victory over the quick and deceptive hands of fate.

Eventually he glides over to the nearby frozen foods aisle and comes to a halt, resting his sweaty palms on the cold icy glass door. He shakes his leg frantically in a losing attempt to dry himself, and she brushes her shoulders off and drunkenly prances over to her newfound lover like a horny deer on morphine.

They proceeded to furiously shred each other's clothes off with the impatient ruthlessness of starved wolves ripping into a fresh carcass. Her long plastic nail extensions, painted amethyst purple with little silver stars, dug into his back like a hot cheese grater going through a block of Monterey Jack. His right fist gripped, pulled and occasionally yanked her shoulder length hair, which was tinted a warmly boring dark auburn. His left was firmly planted on her ass, thrusting her lower body against his with the force of a sledgehammer swung by the Incredible Hulk.

They fucked with wild abandon, safe in the knowledge that they were working the graveyard shift, thus they wouldn't be interrupted or arrested. Though they'd worked there together for the past month and a half, never once had they so much as uttered a common courtesy grunt of recognition towards the other, which makes this spontaneous burst of passion from two basic strangers that much more unpredictable and amazing.

Truthfully, as this dream spills from my head onto paper, not even I, the grand storyteller, know how this is going to end and won't until the last word stains the page.

At the precise moment of mutual climax, they fell into each others' arms, exhausted and satisfied. After all, getting two people to cum at the same time is akin to commanding ten dogs never to lick their own balls again. Not an easy task by any means.

He tried to pull out of her, but he felt a strange tug on the head of his cock that made it impossible to seperate. It felt like a stainless steel ring wrapping around his dick, stopping just where the mushroom head meets veiny shaft, locking it into a noose-like stranglehold.

She smiled sheepishly as he futilely attempted to arrange these newfound thoughts into a neat, logical column inside of his panic-stricken brain. He tried to yell, but she placed her right index finger on his pursed lips softly, causing him to fall silent, although his body still instinctively bucked against hers, still trying to free itself.

With an audible *clack* emanating from her belly, he finally managed to break their two bodies apart. The thing he saw when he looked down shocked and horrified him to no end; there was a grenade pin firmly stuck on his swollen helmet.

The next scene closely resembles something out of a war movie, two soldiers stuck in a foxhole with a mortar careening through the sky towards them.

Both of their bodies burst, like water balloons full of piss, shit and blood thrown at a bed of nails. Shreds of skin and pasty flesh propel swiftly, splashing all over the frosty glass sliding doors of the frozen food row like splatter art. Dripping grey matter, clinging helplessly to fragments of skull, paints the part of the window covering Hot Pockets and frozen pizzas.

The janitor, who was nearby licking up the broken glass and salsa puddle (partly because of his inability to buy a decent meal, but mainly out of the optimistic hope that it would finish him off for good), wipes the crimson mask from his face with his trusty snotrag that he keeps in his back pocket. Knowing he'll have to eventually clean up the tragic mess, he curses under his breath inaudibly. He would rather single-handedly mop the entire city of New Orleans.

A nonchalant, emotionless voice boomed over the sound system.

"Cleanup on aisle 8, Frozen Foods. I repeat, cleanup on aisle 8."

With a hearty sigh, the broken down old toilet scrubber sucks up the last spicy shard from the ground and ambles on over to his mop and bucket. "Another day, another dollar," he chants to himself, repeating his mantra over and over again. If he repeats it enough, he just might start to believe it.

CherChezLaMarauder
10-19-2006, 06:13 PM
Fall is my favorite season, well in NY at least.

Seeeeeeeeee youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

in Septemmmmmmmmberrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Sexy Jasper
10-19-2006, 07:12 PM
From clear across the dimly lit cereals and potato chip isle in the local Sherm's grocery store, their brightly glinting yet highly glazed over eyes met, clashing like a medievil sword fight. Chemistry struck firm, unexpected and unappreciated like afternoon gas, twisting their intestines into intricately laced and interwoven knots.

His major internal organs began a mad scramble to see who could be the first to jettison out of his ass like rats on a sinking ship; hers simply quivered as they continued to attempt to break down a microwaved burrito, without much luck.

As if a Nascar referee just waved the checkered flag, they dropped the items they were restocking and ran towards each other atop nervous and anxious spaghetti legs. In their wake, a jar of chunky, medium-hot salsa tumbled through the stale early morning-late night air and shattered into a million fragments, a delicious yet dangerous concoction of spice and slice. Good thing there's no hungry dogs around.

The two strangers sail through the stratosphere at each other, unfortunately missing by several inches. She sails recklessly into a fex boxes of Coco Puffs that cushion her fall considerably. She nods her head appreciatively and makes a mental note to go coo-coo for them from now on. He manages to hit the ground running, until he loses control of his momentum and stamps his right foot into the janitor's mop and bucket filled to the brim with filthy, grimy soapwater. Luckily, he catches his balance and skates across the linoleum effortlessly thanks to the wheels on the bottom of the bucket. Sure, his leg may be soaked, but that's a small price to pay for victory over the quick and deceptive hands of fate.

Eventually he glides over to the nearby frozen foods aisle and comes to a halt, resting his sweaty palms on the cold icy glass door. He shakes his leg frantically in a losing attempt to dry himself, and she brushes her shoulders off and drunkenly prances over to her newfound lover like a horny deer on morphine.

They proceeded to furiously shred each other's clothes off with the impatient ruthlessness of starved wolves ripping into a fresh carcass. Her long plastic nail extensions, painted amethyst purple with little silver stars, dug into his back like a hot cheese grater going through a block of Monterey Jack. His right fist gripped, pulled and occasionally yanked her shoulder length hair, which was tinted a warmly boring dark auburn. His left was firmly planted on her ass, thrusting her lower body against his with the force of a sledgehammer swung by the Incredible Hulk.

They fucked with wild abandon, safe in the knowledge that they were working the graveyard shift, thus they wouldn't be interrupted or arrested. Though they'd worked there together for the past month and a half, never once had they so much as uttered a common courtesy grunt of recognition towards the other, which makes this spontaneous burst of passion from two basic strangers that much more unpredictable and amazing.

Truthfully, as this dream spills from my head onto paper, not even I, the grand storyteller, know how this is going to end and won't until the last word stains the page.

At the precise moment of mutual climax, they fell into each others' arms, exhausted and satisfied. After all, getting two people to cum at the same time is akin to commanding ten dogs never to lick their own balls again. Not an easy task by any means.

He tried to pull out of her, but he felt a strange tug on the head of his cock that made it impossible to seperate. It felt like a stainless steel ring wrapping around his dick, stopping just where the mushroom head meets veiny shaft, locking it into a noose-like stranglehold.

She smiled sheepishly as he futilely attempted to arrange these newfound thoughts into a neat, logical column inside of his panic-stricken brain. He tried to yell, but she placed her right index finger on his pursed lips softly, causing him to fall silent, although his body still instinctively bucked against hers, still trying to free itself.

With an audible *clack* emanating from her belly, he finally managed to break their two bodies apart. The thing he saw when he looked down shocked and horrified him to no end; there was a grenade pin firmly stuck on his swollen helmet.

The next scene closely resembles something out of a war movie, two soldiers stuck in a foxhole with a mortar careening through the sky towards them.

Both of their bodies burst, like water balloons full of piss, shit and blood thrown at a bed of nails. Shreds of skin and pasty flesh propel swiftly, splashing all over the frosty glass sliding doors of the frozen food row like splatter art. Dripping grey matter, clinging helplessly to fragments of skull, paints the part of the window covering Hot Pockets and frozen pizzas.

The janitor, who was nearby licking up the broken glass and salsa puddle (partly because of his inability to buy a decent meal, but mainly out of the optimistic hope that it would finish him off for good), wipes the crimson mask from his face with his trusty snotrag that he keeps in his back pocket. Knowing he'll have to eventually clean up the tragic mess, he curses under his breath inaudibly. He would rather single-handedly mop the entire city of New Orleans.

A nonchalant, emotionless voice boomed over the sound system.

"Cleanup on aisle 8, Frozen Foods. I repeat, cleanup on aisle 8."

With a hearty sigh, the broken down old toilet scrubber sucks up the last spicy shard from the ground and ambles on over to his mop and bucket. "Another day, another dollar," he chants to himself, repeating his mantra over and over again. If he repeats it enough, he just might start to believe it.hahahahahahaahahahaha gross

Kriszy Substance
10-19-2006, 07:19 PM
wow jasp....did you write that?

Sexy Jasper
10-19-2006, 07:21 PM
Nah an internet friend of mine did. It's my favourite bedtime story.

pablobaluba
10-21-2006, 03:49 AM
bump

Bloo
10-21-2006, 04:24 AM
From clear across the dimly lit cereals and potato chip isle in the local Sherm's grocery store, their brightly glinting yet highly glazed over eyes met, clashing like a medievil sword fight. Chemistry struck firm, unexpected and unappreciated like afternoon gas, twisting their intestines into intricately laced and interwoven knots.

His major internal organs began a mad scramble to see who could be the first to jettison out of his ass like rats on a sinking ship; hers simply quivered as they continued to attempt to break down a microwaved burrito, without much luck.

As if a Nascar referee just waved the checkered flag, they dropped the items they were restocking and ran towards each other atop nervous and anxious spaghetti legs. In their wake, a jar of chunky, medium-hot salsa tumbled through the stale early morning-late night air and shattered into a million fragments, a delicious yet dangerous concoction of spice and slice. Good thing there's no hungry dogs around.

The two strangers sail through the stratosphere at each other, unfortunately missing by several inches. She sails recklessly into a fex boxes of Coco Puffs that cushion her fall considerably. She nods her head appreciatively and makes a mental note to go coo-coo for them from now on. He manages to hit the ground running, until he loses control of his momentum and stamps his right foot into the janitor's mop and bucket filled to the brim with filthy, grimy soapwater. Luckily, he catches his balance and skates across the linoleum effortlessly thanks to the wheels on the bottom of the bucket. Sure, his leg may be soaked, but that's a small price to pay for victory over the quick and deceptive hands of fate.

Eventually he glides over to the nearby frozen foods aisle and comes to a halt, resting his sweaty palms on the cold icy glass door. He shakes his leg frantically in a losing attempt to dry himself, and she brushes her shoulders off and drunkenly prances over to her newfound lover like a horny deer on morphine.

They proceeded to furiously shred each other's clothes off with the impatient ruthlessness of starved wolves ripping into a fresh carcass. Her long plastic nail extensions, painted amethyst purple with little silver stars, dug into his back like a hot cheese grater going through a block of Monterey Jack. His right fist gripped, pulled and occasionally yanked her shoulder length hair, which was tinted a warmly boring dark auburn. His left was firmly planted on her ass, thrusting her lower body against his with the force of a sledgehammer swung by the Incredible Hulk.

They fucked with wild abandon, safe in the knowledge that they were working the graveyard shift, thus they wouldn't be interrupted or arrested. Though they'd worked there together for the past month and a half, never once had they so much as uttered a common courtesy grunt of recognition towards the other, which makes this spontaneous burst of passion from two basic strangers that much more unpredictable and amazing.

Truthfully, as this dream spills from my head onto paper, not even I, the grand storyteller, know how this is going to end and won't until the last word stains the page.

At the precise moment of mutual climax, they fell into each others' arms, exhausted and satisfied. After all, getting two people to cum at the same time is akin to commanding ten dogs never to lick their own balls again. Not an easy task by any means.

He tried to pull out of her, but he felt a strange tug on the head of his cock that made it impossible to seperate. It felt like a stainless steel ring wrapping around his dick, stopping just where the mushroom head meets veiny shaft, locking it into a noose-like stranglehold.

She smiled sheepishly as he futilely attempted to arrange these newfound thoughts into a neat, logical column inside of his panic-stricken brain. He tried to yell, but she placed her right index finger on his pursed lips softly, causing him to fall silent, although his body still instinctively bucked against hers, still trying to free itself.

With an audible *clack* emanating from her belly, he finally managed to break their two bodies apart. The thing he saw when he looked down shocked and horrified him to no end; there was a grenade pin firmly stuck on his swollen helmet.

The next scene closely resembles something out of a war movie, two soldiers stuck in a foxhole with a mortar careening through the sky towards them.

Both of their bodies burst, like water balloons full of piss, shit and blood thrown at a bed of nails. Shreds of skin and pasty flesh propel swiftly, splashing all over the frosty glass sliding doors of the frozen food row like splatter art. Dripping grey matter, clinging helplessly to fragments of skull, paints the part of the window covering Hot Pockets and frozen pizzas.

The janitor, who was nearby licking up the broken glass and salsa puddle (partly because of his inability to buy a decent meal, but mainly out of the optimistic hope that it would finish him off for good), wipes the crimson mask from his face with his trusty snotrag that he keeps in his back pocket. Knowing he'll have to eventually clean up the tragic mess, he curses under his breath inaudibly. He would rather single-handedly mop the entire city of New Orleans.

A nonchalant, emotionless voice boomed over the sound system.

"Cleanup on aisle 8, Frozen Foods. I repeat, cleanup on aisle 8."

With a hearty sigh, the broken down old toilet scrubber sucks up the last spicy shard from the ground and ambles on over to his mop and bucket. "Another day, another dollar," he chants to himself, repeating his mantra over and over again. If he repeats it enough, he just might start to believe it.

Dammit I'll read this when I get home...

pablobaluba
10-22-2006, 02:52 AM
have you read it?

Bloo
10-22-2006, 03:04 AM
No, I forgot to :)

pablobaluba
11-11-2007, 02:52 AM
check your pm