ITT: post images or write short stories about them

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The niggers were getting closer, but I needed every drop of gas I could get if I was going to make it through the desert. Niggers hate the desert. Too hot. Too dry. I could make out their beady nigger eyes now and a shift in the desert wind brought me their putrid nigger stink. Four bullets left. Enough to take down the silverback at the head of the pack, but that still left six beta niggers. I reached into the car and retrieved my katana.

where does the skim milk fit into this situation

She thought to herself "breathe with your mouth".

>"bought her at walmart"
>"walmart you say?"
>"yep, walmart."

I fired three times at the lead nigger. He went down in a heap and didn't move. The others spread out to left and right, hemming me in. Surrounded by niggers. One shot left. I quickly baptized the blade in skim milk as was proper and adopted a mikushi-jutsu fighting stance. I took a moment to lament the fact that my last clean shirt was about to be drenched in nigger blood. Some things can't be helped.

Everyone in Europe says allez and olé

As smoke and fire kept rising from the city below, Kanun readied his wingbeast. From the castle's clock tower, he could see the destruction wrought on the capital by the invaders. Sporadic explosions sounded from the outskirts. Below him, a crowd raised their banners in the color of the crown - red, white dashes of yellow and green. He gave them hope. He gave them purpose. He would not let them down, even though, in his heart, he doubted they would stand a chance.

Hearing a rhythmic, chopping thud from the air, he straightened up and readied himself. Here the invaders came again. His wingbeast slung its head backwards. He pulled its reins and patted it on the beak, decorated with intricate gold leaves. "Easy", he said, and climbed into the saddle.

The noise grew louder, and now he saw it, to - a black teardrop shape, with a big, round blur on top. It flew, but not in the bobbing, slow fashion of a wingbeast, but in a straight line. Very curious invaders indeed. And unfortunately, often superior. But as a winged knight of the crown, he could not let down the people of the city.

He readied his sling, pulled the reins, and the wingbeast took a few lumbering steps, launched itself from the clock tower, and to the cheers of the crowd below, spreads its wings and rose to defend their beloved city against a menace none of them could really comprehend.

My god! Gas was pretty cheap here in comparison to my usual beverages... 2.24 for a gallon of Jim Beam would be wonderful. My fucking car drinks cheaper than I. Absurd.

This isn’t a Marlboro red. Fuck. I think that nigger on the corner gave me a joint. I never had a problem with the mad reefer, but it sure ain’t beating a line of coke of my second wife’s ass.

lol

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Day 15: Some capitalists are still on the run. Today we spotted a small group at a McDonalds. After fighting for 5 hours we finally managed to enter the building. Oh dear diary, the horrors I saw! Words aren't enough to express the feelings of utter shock and disbelief that shook us down to our bones. Half-rotten bloated fat bodies, laying in plastic chairs. Barely conscious employees who had to work for $7.92. The humiliation and starvation was carved in their yellowish skeleton faces, only a distant faded memory of what may once have been human left. Rowe was the first to say something, making me realize that I hadn't dreamed up some surreal nightmarish ninth gate of hell, it was actual reality. "Let's round em' up" he said, with a grim look on his face. We left no prisoners. Picture is comrade Rowe, holding up their perfidious manifest.

ahhh america

Bachelorhood is only fun until forty. Until that time, life is a chaotic mess of words and meanings, sex and limbs, alcohol and euphoria and all the rest of the ways a brain can feel.

Chad turned forty in August. The birthday came unceremoniously. He drank. He fucked. His friends did the same, going through hookers, five to a man. A fortieth birthday is a form of a funeral. It goes until fluids can't come out of a special eye anymore, if you can understand that.

America, AD2032, is much different than the America of yesteryear. All things became privatized, and all things once again returned to men in the quick way of business. But with hedonism and excess comes the mournful loss of pleasure and vitality. Chad was getting old as were many men who achieved greatness in that time. And with the pall of forty, the hands of time combed at his fraying hairline, and brought it far away from where it should have been.

Chad left his party and careened through the strip malls and retail squares that replaced the highways of yesteryear. He kept his sunglasses on, only letting the brightest signs and the lit up streetways into his vision as he searched the words for something that could ease the throbbing ache in his stomach, the sweat and fear that flushed through his mind and choked him.

The gas and grocery attendant stared through his kiosk at the blinking white and red lights of the street. Chad pulled up next to him and pulled the hose from the hook. He plugged it into his car. "Milk, bud."

The attendant nodded without looking away from the lights ahead and pushed a button. Chad squeezed the throttle on the hose and he heard the milk slush into his car, hissing. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, and enjoyed the warm smell of carbonized dairy among the tobacco. The attendant stepped out of the kiosk and scanned the license plate. Chad put the hose back. There was a fight in the parking lot. Two roasties were arguing. One of them swung her purse around and caught the other in the face. Chad watched them bicker and swing around accessories until they cried together and went into the grocery, stepping out ten seconds later with jugs of E85 in their fat hands. The jugs were already open and they were trying to drink from them. They weren't crying anymore. They swallowed at the jugs and made faces while they buckled. One of them vomited and it was the color of pepperoni on the pavement.

Chad got into his car and felt at his hair. He felt lost. But he didn't know how to say it. He didn't even know that he felt scared. There were hookers waiting for him at his party, but he didn't want to go. It was like a funeral. A lot of fluids, but nothing felt any better by the time it was over.

Dude on the left is fine

"Are you ready to talk?"

Francis awoke from his restless slumber, only to be met by a most fearsome apparition, sitting upon a rock.

He could only see its teeth glinting in the waning firelight as it asked once more-

"Are you ready to talk?"

He jolts upwards, raw, animal fear flooding his veins. Human rationality then takes over, and he rubs his sleep-clouded eyes. However, the figure still remained, sitting upon its perch.

Rather than dash, naked, into the night, or lunge at it with his fists, Francis decided to parley with the thing.

"Very well," Francis whispers, rising to his feet. He gives the figure a jocular glance as he covers his nakedness, as if to say- "Don't peek."

It doesn't seem to mind, and it even sighs contentedly as Francis seats himself.

Francis tries to discern some features amidst the blackness of its form, but only manages to find two eyes and a mouthful of teeth.

"So, what do you want?"

"I know," the creature begins.

"You know?" Francis asks, hesitantly.

"I know," the creature continues, "that you didn't brush your teeth."

Francis' spine straightens at this.

"E-Excuse me?"

"You did not brush your teeth before sleeping."

The creature reaffirms his worst dreams- it knew! It knew, curse it!

"Y-yes, I did brush my teeth, what are you talking abo-"

"You did not," the creature interjects. "I watched you."

The creature had watched him! So this was the fate of all those who did not brush their teeth! As to what horrors it had in store for offenders, poor Francis could not even guess.

There was no escape. No escape but the truth- "Very well. I didn't brush my teeth. What will you do with me, creature?"

The creature looks at Francis unblinkingly. "I will brush your teeth. If you don't care for your dental health, someone must." It then produces a toothbrush, already loaded with toothpaste, from some unseen compartment at its side.

"Open your mouth, Francis."

"Aaah." Francis opens his mouth, and the creature begins to brush, up down, up and down. It repeats these motions until Francis' teeth are fully lathered, and then conjures a cup of water from thin air.

"Use this."

Francis obliges and sucks up a mouthful of water, swishing it in his mouth. He spits the fluid into a nearby bush.

"Very good, very good, Francis," the creature croons. "Now, don't forget to brush your teeth from now on, or I'll be forced to pay you a visit."

It rises from its seat and saunters off, only to crane its head back and continue. "Though, knowing you, you will likely repeat your offense. Toodle-oo."

With this, it is swallowed by the night, and Francis remains alone on his rock, still unbelieving.

clever... for a reddit post