Re: Mini-Grand 5103 [Rou'); /home/gbce/.Trash]
07-02-2011, 01:30 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
Selvsetter never actually got to "sense". She just kind of trailed off after "made some fuckin'", before clamping a hand over her mouth and foregoing complete sentences for a steadier stream of muffled expletives.
"You seem troubled-" began Parsley.EXE, somewhat redundantly.
"Shut up. I- I dunno what the fuck jis' happin'd, but I do not fuckin' swear that much. When the fuck was th' las' time I sed somewen wes 'off their fuckin' rocka?"
"My programming wasn't designed to analyse speech patterns," frowned the antivirus. "But I'm failing to register any notable decrease in the frequency of your profanity."
Selvsetter glared back, seemed to bite back a "shut th' fuck up" just to prove Parsley.EXE wrong, and slapped her laptop shut before slipping it into the backpack.
"No. Look. I'll till you why i'ss bad. That ain't how I fuckin' talk, alrigh'? I mean, i'ss pritty fuckin' beleev'ble, sure, wha'evir. A deecin' i'nough first eff'it, but i'ss fuckin' bad bi'ces some - some other sonova fuckin' whore's tryin' their fuckin' hand at writin' fer me.
That ain't good, alrigh'? I mean sure, thi'ss place is an unebashed clustir-fuckin'- uh... whatevir. Point is, i'ss not your usual Gran' Battil. There's some jackass fuckin' with me, an' if I can't pull a Metaxican fuckin' standoff and tell all you fuck'irs t' shoot each othir on three 'kez I'm the only real one and thus toat'ly werth fuckin' saving, then I'm gonna have to actch'ly. I dunno. Fuck. Give th' fucker rispons'ble writing tips? Fuck, I dunno. This is rih'ly fuckin' weird."
Selvsetter took a deep breath, spluttered, fanned away the noxious green, and took several slightly more cautious breaths. She jammed her hat a little tighter on her head, and glared at an uncomprehending Parsley.EXE from under the brim. There was an incoherent snarl, a bit of pacing around and a consequences-be-damned kick at Melissa, before the woman could face the antivirus.
Her smile was a poorly-disguised shade of malicious by deception, the voice deadpan "as fuck", and her eyes bored the party slogan of "fuck you" into Parsley.EXE all the while.
"I'm sorry. That was me, Dikowin dot ee ex ee, glitching like a motherfuck'r. I don't know what came over me, and would now 'preciate yer help in finding the uh... the thing with Grand Battle in i'ss name. There are... some things. I have t' tell it. Ri'pressed antivirus things." She sighed. "Jes' help me find the fuckin' GBCE or wha'ever the fuck it was, alrigh'?"
Selvsetter never actually got to "sense". She just kind of trailed off after "made some fuckin'", before clamping a hand over her mouth and foregoing complete sentences for a steadier stream of muffled expletives.
"You seem troubled-" began Parsley.EXE, somewhat redundantly.
"Shut up. I- I dunno what the fuck jis' happin'd, but I do not fuckin' swear that much. When the fuck was th' las' time I sed somewen wes 'off their fuckin' rocka?"
"My programming wasn't designed to analyse speech patterns," frowned the antivirus. "But I'm failing to register any notable decrease in the frequency of your profanity."
Selvsetter glared back, seemed to bite back a "shut th' fuck up" just to prove Parsley.EXE wrong, and slapped her laptop shut before slipping it into the backpack.
"No. Look. I'll till you why i'ss bad. That ain't how I fuckin' talk, alrigh'? I mean, i'ss pritty fuckin' beleev'ble, sure, wha'evir. A deecin' i'nough first eff'it, but i'ss fuckin' bad bi'ces some - some other sonova fuckin' whore's tryin' their fuckin' hand at writin' fer me.
That ain't good, alrigh'? I mean sure, thi'ss place is an unebashed clustir-fuckin'- uh... whatevir. Point is, i'ss not your usual Gran' Battil. There's some jackass fuckin' with me, an' if I can't pull a Metaxican fuckin' standoff and tell all you fuck'irs t' shoot each othir on three 'kez I'm the only real one and thus toat'ly werth fuckin' saving, then I'm gonna have to actch'ly. I dunno. Fuck. Give th' fucker rispons'ble writing tips? Fuck, I dunno. This is rih'ly fuckin' weird."
Selvsetter took a deep breath, spluttered, fanned away the noxious green, and took several slightly more cautious breaths. She jammed her hat a little tighter on her head, and glared at an uncomprehending Parsley.EXE from under the brim. There was an incoherent snarl, a bit of pacing around and a consequences-be-damned kick at Melissa, before the woman could face the antivirus.
Her smile was a poorly-disguised shade of malicious by deception, the voice deadpan "as fuck", and her eyes bored the party slogan of "fuck you" into Parsley.EXE all the while.
"I'm sorry. That was me, Dikowin dot ee ex ee, glitching like a motherfuck'r. I don't know what came over me, and would now 'preciate yer help in finding the uh... the thing with Grand Battle in i'ss name. There are... some things. I have t' tell it. Ri'pressed antivirus things." She sighed. "Jes' help me find the fuckin' GBCE or wha'ever the fuck it was, alrigh'?"
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow