Shminkus Shmayhem

Discussion in 'The Bar' started by banksy, Sep 25, 2016.

  1. banksy

    banksy FAT FADED FUCK FACE VIP

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  2. Mr Sinister

    Mr Sinister Gold

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    in before hoochied and banksy banned
     
  3. Mr. Potato Head

    Mr. Potato Head ~Would Like to Play~ Gold

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    It's coming. :facepalm:
     
  4. PLZ callmeTED

    PLZ callmeTED National Treasure Gold

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    This is a great fuckin' thread.
     
  5. banksy

    banksy FAT FADED FUCK FACE VIP

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    Dude

    Don't ban me

    I'm just trying to get some clarification
     
  6. Phil McKrakin

    Phil McKrakin AKA Howie POTY The Bar VIP

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    TOS, faggit...pwned!
     
  7. banksy

    banksy FAT FADED FUCK FACE VIP

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    hey thanks man
     
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  8. Mr. Potato Head

    Mr. Potato Head ~Would Like to Play~ Gold

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    On?
     
  9. ChuckZ

    ChuckZ Stay in bed, float up stream

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    What's wrong with this thread, I was doodling.
     
  10. JameGumb

    JameGumb We're all out of toner!

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    At only twenty-nine, Preston Humphrey Ashworth was one of the youngest billionaires in the world. Preston was not a typical billionaire, if there was such a thing. Money was not overly important to him. But he loved the things the money had brought him. Fame, toys, cars, houses, women, pretty much anything he had ever desired.

    His money had always been able to get him whatever he'd wanted.

    Except for now.

    Preston looked down at his failing body as the paramedics lifted him out of the ambulance. Press of all kind numbering over one hundred, were already waiting outside Our Lady of Pompeii Hospital. Flashbulbs sparkled and crackled.

    Preston was accustomed to press snapping pictures of him, but this was an entirely different scene. Nothing like the press rows he had known all his life; it was much too quiet. Not a sound was made by any of the bystanders, but Preston could hear the crackling of the flashbulbs and the wheels of the gurney rolling on the cement, so he knew that he wasn’t deaf.

    He had always been generous with his time when it came to the press and not just the biggies either. A year ago, a ten-year-old girl named Linda had sent in a request for an interview for her 5th grade newspaper. It turned out to be a tough interview, with questions that made him think. The day after, he'd sent in a donation for one million dollars to Linda’s school in her name.

    He pictured himself in a neck brace, or worse, on the cover of Time magazine.

    I'm so fucked, he thought.




    “Preston.” A familiar voice called out, a moment later Victoria Moynahan stood over him. Behind his fiancé, he could see his personal physician Carl Somerfield.
    Tears poured from Vicky’s eyes like a faucet, it was the first time Preston had ever seen her cry, and it moved him deeply. He wanted to tell her he was all right; felt no pain and, that he surprisingly was at peace with his situation.

    Speaking was impossible however, because they had put a breathing tube down his throat. He regretted that he still hadn’t married her. What had he been waiting for anyway? Thinking about it now, he could find not one solid reason to not marry her. Victoria was beautiful, smart, funny, adventurous; the last five years of his life had been the happiest, and by far.

    “I’m right here baby; I’m going to be right by your side.” She assured him.


    Usually, Victoria looked movie-star perfect, her large, round eyes were a radiant green. Jet-black hair combed down looked shiny and silky. Her natural golden-brown skin tone, made those women who spent hours at the beach, or at tanning salons every day, envious. Her high cheekbones, full lips and infectious smile, made her envied by most of the women who had ever laid eyes on her. Preston called her his exotic angel, even though she was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois.

    Now, her cheeks had black streaks running down her face from the mascara. Her hair was pulled back and held with a rubber band.

    “You’re going to be just fine Pres, I promise you. I don’t care how long it takes; we’re going to walk out of here hand in hand. Then we’re going to go home and get to work on some children. Five years, you think you can get rid of me that fast, you better get ready for a battle, because I don’t plan on giving up, and, I don’t intend on letting you give up either
     
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  11. banksy

    banksy FAT FADED FUCK FACE VIP

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    Are we not allowed to speak of Dinkus mayhem?
     
  12. ChuckZ

    ChuckZ Stay in bed, float up stream

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    Calm down Gumb.
     
  13. Mr. Potato Head

    Mr. Potato Head ~Would Like to Play~ Gold

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    He wants his privacy.
     
  14. JameGumb

    JameGumb We're all out of toner!

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  15. banksy

    banksy FAT FADED FUCK FACE VIP

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    How is posting on a message board invading his privacy :wtf:
     
  16. Mr. Potato Head

    Mr. Potato Head ~Would Like to Play~ Gold

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    Is that alcohol in that cup?
     
  17. Mr Sinister

    Mr Sinister Gold

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    :jj::jj::jj:



    dingus made the posts not us
     
  18. banksy

    banksy FAT FADED FUCK FACE VIP

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    Plz do not mention me again.
     
  19. banksy

    banksy FAT FADED FUCK FACE VIP

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    Don't mention it :grad:
     
  20. Phil McKrakin

    Phil McKrakin AKA Howie POTY The Bar VIP

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    Stuff a sock in it, mister!