Fire is pretty.
The next poster is untrustworthy.
Huh?
Next poster play as curvy woman in Skyrim/insert RPG of choice
Sometimes my main character feels more like a woman. I'll not apologize for that.
The next poster just discovered that money cannot buy happiness.
Meh. It's a living. Thanks for hiring me so much.
The next poster gets fun horizontal bed times with Shelyn. And her brother. At the same time.
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The next poster enjoys shadow puppets.
Undead put on the best marionette shows. It's an objective fact.
The next poster has found a potato with an unusual property.
Downtown Manhattan. It's Tubero Trump!
The next poster intends to become the Republican nominee for President, come what may!
Yes. I remember when presidents did what they should, by jove! They beat up the Brits! None of this namby-pamby "social security", "chicken in every pot" or tolerance for PETA stuff. Yeah, and no newfangled oil business. America needs to get back to classic, well tested businesses like whaling!
The next poster has some suggestion for my platform.
It requires a wheel of cheese 10 times the size of manhattan. Trust me it'll help.
The next poster knows where to obtain said cheese wheel.
Indeed. We will simply broadcast a half hour of him staring disapprovingly into the camera. Voters will be compelled.
The next poster heads up a Super PAC.
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It's called Americans for the Re-Making of America's Great American Greatness. We've raised tens of ones of dollars already!
The next poster thinks that they'd make a good addition to the ticket as the Vice President.
True, but I have pencil skirts and hooker heels to entice my employer to sin...
The next poster knows all there is to know about the crying game.
BWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
*sobs uncontrollably*
The next poster cannot say any word that contains the letter "g," or they must play a neverending game of FATAL with Byron Hall himself as the gamemaster.
It is the price I paid for eternal power. But I have been careful, so I think it's going-
No... NO!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
The next poster is a legal expert with a specialization in weaseling out of contracts signed with evil monstrosities.
Yep, I think we can find a loop hole, just need to roll to see if the circumference is wide enough to pull a dragon through it, nope, rolled too low on THAT table too.
The next poster believes that a Care Bears TTRPG is THE next big thing.
It is. Seriously, my pitch of it to the prison system representatives found ample interest. After all, with enough hours or months playing it, even the worst criminals will be ready to repent and live well.
The next poster can attest to its effectiveness from the test run in the experimental prison facility.
Didn't work as well as my Savage Worlds of Rainbow Brite homebrew.
The next poster would like to tell us all the story about the five blind men attempting to describe GoatToucher.
They could see just fine before they started trying to describe him.
The next poster has assembled an armada for an usual purpose.
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Said the first, "The GoatToucher is like unstable earth, it make my legs tremble!"
Said the second, "Nay, the GoatToucher is like foul air, its very approach makes me feel the need to vomit!"
Said the third, "Dost thou jest? The GoatToucher is like voracious fire, I shrivel up in agony at its touch!"
Said the fourth, "Fools, all of thee! The GoatToucher is like torrential water, I came near and now my pants are wet!"
Said the fifth and wisest, "EEEEEUGGGHHAAAAAAAUUGHHHOHHOLYONESGETITAWAYFROMMEEEEE!!!!!"
Armadas are usually assembled to fight pirates - but this one's meant for hunting NINJAS! *fires cannons at Ventnor*
The next poster has miniature magic 8-balls for eyes.
They said try again later. Back in 5.
The next poster will make the 5 minutes go really quickly.
Here, Goddity, KahnyaGnorc, let me introduce you to something called Candy Crush.
The next poster has an idea what we'll do with the zombified remains of Goddity and KahnyaGnorc.
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Well, my gimmick is that all of my attacks involve punching and kicking. My ultimate technique, "Kicking Foot," involves using my foot to kick someone. It's a very original fighting style, let me tell you!
The next poster needs a training montage for a very important competition that's coming up.
MATT DAMON!!!
*tries to lift a barbell with styrofoam weights on*
*fails miserably*
*pants*
*weeps*
Matt... Damon...
*looks helplessly for someone to give it a montage*
The next poster is also getting ready for the competition.
And I'm going to win. The trophy for best decorative cake frosting will be mine!
The next poster is a judge at the competition.
Whu...? Wazzat? Championship? Me, judge, yeah, someone might have said something about that...
Zzzzzzzzzzz...
Indeed I shall, my cake was crafted by Duff Goldman of Charm City Cakes, as you can see, it is a three layer traditional wedding cake, white fondant, intricate piped decoration, and red velvet as a base. Oh, never mind those little red flecks all over it, the baker took some vigorous "persuading" before agreeing to take this job.
The next poster please present your competing cake (with or without enslaving a reality show baker)
I just stole forty cakes (that's as many as four tens, you know) and mashed them together into an über-cake.
The next poster is the final contestant, with a cake of their own to present.
Mine is a 5 tier death day cake with a creamy ectoplasmic frosting.
The next poster will reveal the winner of the contest.
As head judge, I declare that I won. It's a delicious trophy after all.
The next poster is entering a different competition.
I'll win this year's Trophy-Stealing Competition Trophy for sure!
The next poster is sick to death of contests and intends to do something about them.
A pimento loaf Gallipoli paid for my house in Portugal.
The next poster is my scantily-clad pool cleaner.
Despite what you've heard, I can't always do the impossible. If she doesn't have a brain I can't bring it to you.
The next poster will invite everyone over for a movie marathon.
24 hours of 'GoatToucher Does Narnia'. Last one to vomit's a rotten egg!
The next poster would like to summarise their Aslan slash-fic for us.
(REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED) with the White Witch's (REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED) shake of his (REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED) Pevensie (REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED) soup (REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED) until the next morning, when, well rested, Aslan began to (REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED) and with a mighty roar, the Great Lion (REDACTED)(REDACTED)(REDACTED)(SWEET MERCY, REDACTED!) at which point, the Pevensie family returned to London, though they would never be quite the same.
The next poster has received an unedited copy of my work, and will compose a review for our benefit.
Don't. Just Don't.
The next poster will dispose of my unedited version of this horrible fan-fiction.