《Memories of Madness: Illustrated Short Stories》Sip, Sip
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Pretty girl, pretty child, sweet little thing. What do you have there, Gulp wonders? What delicious treat do you have?
Gulp’s lumpy pate sat low in the water, as dark and craggy as a bolder. His eyes shone like headlights on the highway, brilliant orbs, perfectly reflecting the night’s lunar luminescence.
Do you have strawberry, Gulp wonders? Do you have chocolate? Is it vanilla? Perhaps even all? You humans are so creative at making even sweet, sweet.
His colossal feet kicked up plumes of sand and silt as Gulp shuffled closer to the shore, closer to the inviting sounds and smells of the promenade, with its janky music, and colourful signs.
Down here everything is salt. Every drip, every drop is the same. Everything looks the same, everything tastes the same, and that same is never sweet. No, never sweet. You would hate it, I think. It is never human sweet.
Gulp’s great arms pawed at the ground before him, dragging him through the gently tugging tides of the sea, pulling him closer and closer to the girl on the beach, sipping her delicious dairy treat.
You humans should share, Gulp thinks. There is enough sweetness to go around, Gulp thinks. Won’t you give Gulp a little drink? Won’t you give Gulp just a few sips?
The allure of that sweet nectar grew stronger and stronger. Gulp forgot restraint. He forgot to hide. He forgot how the children would run and scream whenever they saw him.
Yes, just a sip or two, yes?
Water cascaded over his shoulders and back as Gulp pulled himself to his full, colossal height. His dark, barnacle encrusted skin obscured the constellations. The warmth of his kelp and crustacean breath could almost be felt on the shore. That salty, savory breath, issuing in short, sharp pants.
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Don’t be greedy now, human. Share. Share. Just a sip. Just a sip.
The girl on the beach shivered a little, despite the warmth of the night and the gentle rumble of the van’s engine. She had wiped out a few times on the waves that afternoon, she reminded herself. All that dunking is not good for a person. She was probably catching a cold. She sighed. It was definitely not a good idea to be drinking a milkshake right now.
Sip. Sip.
A little annoyed at herself, she jumped down from the roof of the camper, pausing only briefly as a wave of anxiety washed over her. She shrugged it off, convinced now that she was coming down with something.
Siiip.
She walked a few paces to the nearby bin and dropped the milkshake, still two-thirds full, into the trash.
Gulp froze where he stood.
Shaking her head, the girl hopped up behind the steering wheel, and kicked the old stick-shift into first.
Gulp’s breath caught in his throat. He glanced between the girl and the bin. In abject silence, Gulp watched as the colourful van chugged away down the road, off into town. A poor, out-of-tune rendition of ‘Living on a Prayer’ following in the VW’s wake.
Not even a sip.
Gulp’s shoulders sagged, and he hugged his arms to his chest.
Not even one, sweet, little sip.
It was a joyless journey back home. Gulp waded into the depths one slow, current changing stride at a time. He walked until the great ocean submerged him. He walked until great gouts of salt water filled his nose, his ears and his eyes. Always salty, ever salty.
But it is never a sip, Gulp. Gulp never takes just a sip. Gulp is greedy, and that’s why the humans won’t share. Gulp is far too greedy.
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Gulp clambered along the reefs until he came again to the hollow cavern he called his home, tucked away in the darkest depths, far from the prying eyes of mortals.
Gulp likes sweet things too much. He can never just take a sip. Too greedy. Yes, too greedy.
Gulp paused to look at the empty husks of children and teenagers adorning the nooks and crannies of his little cave. They were hollow, drained, brittle frames, rocking in the gentle undulation of the all-encompassing sea.
Yes, never just a sip. Bad Gulp. Gulp never stops at just a sip.
Gulp repeated these words admonishingly to himself as he settled down to sleep, surrounded by salt. Surrounded always by salt, with not a sip of sweetness left to be found.
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Badass
At the end of everything, Taylor Hebert realized something. She didn't want to be a superhero. No, she wanted to be a badass. And then her prayers were answered. Imbued with the power of mimetic badassery and the ability to channel a different real-life badass every week, she set out in search for all the best things in life - well, according to Conan, at least. Modeling herself after Conan have been a mistake. Join her on her high-octane, pulp-fiction journey for vengeance, adventure, victory and mayhem. This isn't just uncensored. It's anti-censored! =========================== (Worm/Fate/Badass of the Week) Warning: crack-taken-seriously, over-the-top pulp-fiction style violence, overpowered protagonist, banned on two other sites. Hell, even the light-hearted omake jokes in this were considered too subversive to persist. ============================ AN: There’s this really, really excellent website called Badass of the Week. I’ve wasted many an hour browsing through, marveling at all the crazy shit some humans are capable of. Check it out, then come back and read this in a few days when the awesome starts to wear off. It’s worth it (all 576 entries). Back? Good! Anyways, I was looking through it recently while thinking about who I wanted to make expy’s of for my The Flying Dutchman quest ship captains (which now languishes in indefinite hiatus), and I had this idea. What if Taylor, wanting to be a badass, triggered with the power to be a different Badass every week? With a bit of Fate-style ability to draw on the tools associated with the legend (but to a just marginally less ridiculous degree), and a drive and aura to be and do badass? And thus, Badass was born in it’s somewhat cracky glory. Enjoy.
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