The New Adventures of Momo Murphy: Episode 7

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The New Adventures of Momo Murphy: Episode 7

Post by Furburt on Sat Jun 02, 2012 3:00 pm

Chapter 36

Xanadu is waiting, holding hell back with arms, not hands, so tall he can compare himself to mountains favourably without being accused of exaggeration, his arms pound as earth force upon the ground that causes tectonic shifts which causes evolutionary bottlenecks which causes ethnic strife which causes Iran, which causes Iranian running shoes, which causes broken limbs at the 2016 olympics, which causes 2012 to happen retrospectively.

Xanadu is pounding, pounding as earth force upon the ground. A man half his size would drink a lake in agony after not long, but Xanadu is pounding. The entire British political establishment is gambling, gambling like mad women at the darby.
They want to bet on Xanadu, but they don't even know that he exists, so they sent out their best men in a boat built for their worst men in the hope that the French will copy them and fail as terribly as they are about to now.

Winston Church, a lighthouse operator who charmed queers into range regularly, took a break from his senselessness and focused his ultra-shooby binoculars in the direction of Xanadu. He saw the action unfold with a weary glint, first royal marines would toss themselves into the water from their zodiacs, sacrificing their bones for a flabby scientist, who sat on a yacht many miles away pretending not to pretend to himself that he was a government employee with a bathrobe and a tan.

He was meant to be supporting them with hell-fire, but fell asleep in a martini and was drank by a hungry female. Tragic.

Xanadu seemed to not care, he kept pounding, each pound separating the world of water beneath him, and exposing the underside of the ocean. He had expected it to be the colour of brown, but instead the only way to describe it was to kill Tobias.

He kept smashing the surf in order to reach the fabled dry zone underneath, burning through his hands with a pain not unlike ambition for ones former father to do well in pointless agony. Colonel Duckmark took pause for a second to consider his options. Xanadu was on the other side of a fabled wall.
Fabled walls were sacred blends of earth and water that operated around areas that holy men had tread. By this we do not mean scumsuckers like the pope or the ayatollah, who cause apathy and dismay, by this we mean holy men like Ron Howard.
He once tread on the atlantic in a brief period in his career between films where he impersonated a drowning man for his own amusement.

Using a clever system designed by his own, he could keep himself, visually, in a state of perpetual drowning. He would peruse the local ship routes for hours, row himself out to the optimum apex of water and tide and feeling and mankind and dump himself there for hours.

Hypothermia wouldn't even give him pause for thought. It was as the 14th cruise ship passed by mournfully that he realized his newfound obsession had given him the opportunity to commune directly with God.

God told him to sail to each point in the galaxy, starting with Earth and moving onto other places, where he would deploy a bag of Holy at each location, ensuring it was a fruitful place forever. It would have to be in the water, because water is a happy, holy place. Fish believe in God.

He only left 5 locations on Earth before fleeing to Titan, but each of them is so convenient that within 200 miles of its position a fabled wall can be formed by any of such a disposition to do such a thing as erect a fabled wall.

However, people with this disposition are rare and far apart, and don't bond well with their horses, so Duckmark knew that this was an unusual occurrence that was not covered by his Handy Manual.

He searched for the biggest gun he could find among the small vessel and raked his teammates with lead. Their incessant thinking was growing loud on his already strained mind. Their death would serve as a warning to himself that he kills people when upset.

Xanadu paid no heed to the dutch inherited gobblings of the sapiens below. He kept pounding, and pounding, and pounding.

The sway in the water was caused by the disruption of the aqua firma by the pounding we have previously mentioned. Unfortunately, in the moments preceding the event that follows the event I am describing now and soon after the death of his crewmen, Duckmark inhaled all the compressed oxygen.

He drifted through the boat, rubbing himself calmly on the straps and oars, feeling the majesty of the sweet oxygen coasting through his brain. He slid into the water without a care in the world. He felt his oneself being tugged each which way by the conflicting currents created by Xanadu, one 34m away, one 66m. Unfortunately, he was busy feeling himself becoming a new man again to feel the slide under the first. Soon, water gave way to air, and he felt Xanadu make him part of the earth from which he sprang.

This is not the whole story of Xanadu, but it's the part everyone shouts about when they're drunk and angry.

Chapter 37

I am the western crucifix. Hello. I am made of a strong and knotty wood of which I do not know the name, I stand daily facing towards Nineveh. In the days, I hoist my own weight in pain, who have taken from this air, this air which I breath. In the nights, I concentrate. I concentrate because I want a stomach. If I try hard enough each night, maybe I can find one.

One summer I awoke with a monstrous black wig upon my head, condemning me. It had been placed there by Gentilicio Scipioni, a trader of some note. He hated the wood that birthed me because of a dream. He passed through lanes of stone, frightened and afraid, a hard gauze on the jagged protrusions that assaulted him on his terrible upward mule. Upon the entrance to the next land, he saw a burning fire, assaulted by images of destruction and fire, he retreated down his tunnel of slime.

As the path constricted and the darkness continued, Gentilicio finally awoke. His thighs were warm with fear, and his wife was already hopelessly panicked, and told the children to fetch their special domes that the blacksmith had constructed for them, as the same demon that killed the coast was here to belch his flaky mold upon the town. She was wrong, and Gentilicio, even in his early morning state, recognized this.

I saw all this happening as their house is in the west. He wanted to convince his wife of his undying loyalty to her, which he did by petting the dog twice, in front of her and everything. She simply continued rambling paranoid.
Her current favourite were that the neighbors were the natives of a pre-determined civilization demanding rights to return to the peninsula from which they were birthed. She had already eliminated Gaius Tent's house, and his livestock were deadstock now.

The western crucifix, that is, me had become tired of waiting. For 12 years since my felling I have hoisted sinners and shinners and winners and seen no benefit. I had made no progress in any direction whatsoever. It came to me to march, and march good.

I ripped my body on my legs and marched towards the man himself, David Mann. He screamed and lost himself instantly at the sight of me, but the sands around me were swirling and the burning sands began itching and David Mann knew that the area he was in was the only area he was allowed to be in because walls had been created because I was meant to do this to him now.

I could not observe these kinds of marital problems, I said, without a hint of malice in my voice, without any sort of financial safeguard, I said.

He replied in a muffled piss.

I knew the deal had fallen through, because my mother told me that when I thought the deal had fallen through, I definitely knew that the deal had fallen through.
I could tell David Mann was not willing to negotiate with me, so I hoisted him up on myself, as a prisoner. That may seem excessive and predictable, given how things like this generally turn out, but none of your fucking opinions would stop me. I did it special this time too, I made it sure that with every stride I took, I landed him back into his soft position.

That boy-man who wigged me remained inside that fucking house like a crimson HowMouth.
I patrolled the streets for many hours after that. I would go up a street straight, then turn back on my axis and continue down the same street. I would then count the amount of cars on the street and divide that by the amount of roads that lead off the street. I would then take that number to decide which turn I should prioritize next. I would also bite horses and children, all the way.

One day, one of Gentilicio's children was insecure enough to venture outside, to show herself to the boys, to prove she had not gotten flabby. I ran at her like I was Mike Tyson and she was Some Other Animal and I burnt her on me, jiggling like a mad torch, trying to convince the residents of this settlement that I WAS INDEED THE AFTERMATH OF THEIR HEDONISM

David Mann and Yulia Scipioni burned in tandem strapped into my straps as I shook and jiggled violently in the street. In another context, it would look almost romantic, except he was 40 and she was 15, and they were both burning on me.

I felt the heat alright, but because it was voluntary, it didn't spread. Gentilicio Scipioni looked out his window with some dismay. Yulia was not a person he was interested in, because his son Tummy was far more cool and hip for him to hang out with. Still, she had nice face and wholesome technique.

I shouted at Gentilicio that only bees would stop me, and that he did not have any bees, so that he might as well consider that nothing could stop me, because the only thing that could stop me is so far out of his reach that he could not possibly use it to stop me.

Gentilicio Scipioni replied with a grunt that sounded half-merecat, half-I'm a whole man, baby. I was confused by this, and responding by throwing his charred daughter at him. He took the ashy thingy left over to the face with some dismay. i felt that my point was not being adequately communicated to the hunk of flesh that lay staring at me in the upstairs window of his pretty middling city hometown in the hometown of Crucifix town. I am the western crucifix. His wife began going through his apartment area with a machete looking for eerie voices coming from her feet. She stood on white sheet, so when she finally got her toes right where she wanted them, cleaning time would be easy-lime. She did not seem overly concerned.

It was implied that I was doping him for hours, but that's just not true. I found it a little ridiculous that Gentilicio Scipioni was allowed to have sex with a tree but a tree was not allowed to have sex with him. I was about to drag him down to the petrified forest and teach him fear, but he returned with my greatest enemy, wood-buddies!

I had to flee the garage where he kept the gigs for the Domus. It was a groovy place, but those fucking wood-buddies got so damned close, I had to hammer it back into neutral. I kept to the roads.

My siege goes on now, but I'll give you updates someday. You just have to write in comments below that you're a happy homeless man, and explain why. NOTE: No cornflakes answers.

Don't worry, I'll get him eventually. Just keep strong for me!




Last edited by Furburt on Thu Jun 07, 2012 11:06 am; edited 1 time in total

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
This device will make me famous
This device will make me fly
This device will make me holy
This device defies all laws

Laws that are stupid, and make no sense.

Big Black, Newman Generator

The New Adventures of Momo Murphy
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Furburt
Arrested For Copying Dogs

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Re: The New Adventures of Momo Murphy: Episode 7

Post by Furburt on Thu Jun 07, 2012 11:01 am

Chapter 38

I am lusting after a girl. The girl has a wizard on her shoulder telling her that I am a fool. I must kill the wizard. I stabbed the girl in the shoulder after school. It hurt her, but killed the wizard. We are happily in love.

In 20 years time I will become a hard hitting investment banker with a huge cabinet full of files. In these files I will document all the times I have come close to purchasing the rights to parade a docile crab around the Epicentre. Three times. Three whole times.

Once the vodka becomes a martini, I cannot account for my movements. If you were to ask me where I was on the night of November 5th, I'd say I'd have to find you another negro to stare at while I become the night.

Creases on my suit, they drive me mad. If I burned Rusty Buttons, could I still return to a civilized life? Or would Incredible Jed, the town superman, simply drop me off a fertile field and watch me plummet through every negative zone? I need my suit ironed by a lady with hands like hammers. If you can't find me a women such as this, I'll be forced to reconfigure Annie for my own purposes.

Bass is like a bell, you play it with your head. Before I became a hard hitting investment banker, I killed Father Clock. I used a bass guitar, which was in fact a .22 rifle, disguised as a petulant dullard called Subtly. I would thumb the gun in my hand and puff like a ______ until the desired effect had been achieved.

My files shook and rattled once the Freedom had been achieved across the land. No more were objects simply designed for our own purposes, they had achieved thought, and feelings, and in them grew a great desire to escape to Monaco, where they would establish a kingdom that would threaten the EU, and their Technocats.

Oh, on that note, if any of you fine motherfuckers want to join me and just kill some fucking cats somewhere, with guns, and knives, or whatever, just ring me at MY NUMBER!!!!

I told myself I would keep some cream in the fridge for you, because I know you like your coffee to resemble the last scream of a dying elk. You came in when the lights were already dim, which was kind of stupid.
When we first met, I explained to you that when the lights are dim, I am not myself. I am terror. When you felt the cream hit your eyes like a dash of salt straight from heaven, you knew our time on earth was limited.

But that's enough of that random knowledge, maybe you can figure me out a radio station where men are men who know how elms grow? Sorry, that doesn't make any sense. GET ME A MILKSHAKE

I have been asked by my solicitor to shove soap into my urethra, but this is an absurd suggestion by a clearly deranged mind. If you ask me, I think he did it to himself already, accidentally, and is simply looking for company in misery. What a cunt.

I hope that when I slide down a railway line by communing with a dream that you will hold my salary in every single post office in the world in equal amounts so I can fly anywhere with impunity. I know you'll do this, because you're my son. Please, for gods sake, vote for the floating head.

When I turned myself into a trinket for a day, my wife got away from me, she had been jittery for years, but when I changed, she saw her chance and bolted. I hope Rufus Wainwright does not get too distracted by his singing career to snap her neck. All in a matter of time.

In the meantime, I go around cabinets in my own personal mind, snapping secretaries to pass the time before 20 Ships returns. 20 Ships was a son of a fleet magnate who owned 20 ships. He named his son 20 Ships because he had blown half his head open with a shotgun the morning before his son was born. 20 Ships was his only words for the next 3 days, until he crossed into the Other World, where he fought with his own soul.

20 Ships was my best friend in the whole world, because he was the only man who understood me. He first saw me attacking a vending machine in Paris and killed 10 men introducing himself to me.
They were Algerian and Spanish, so the pretty French girls nearby giggled at their demise. These women were demons, but that was common in the French capital.

I shook 20 Ship's's hands and told him a special secret. He told me one back and shot me in the stomach with a crossbow. I passed out holding hands and cemented our friendship.

I would hope that as soon as Carol destroys what's left, 20 Ships will arrive, a clam killer if there ever was one, so I hoped in it. I had books to sort out, for first I was a businessman most of all.

Book one was all about the Dutch fleet, it said:

I HOPE THAT WHEN I GET BACK TO AMSTERDAM I CAN GET A BIG BUCKET OF GREASE AND DIP TOURISTS IN IT STOP

I AM A GENERAL IN THE DUTCH ARMY AND I NEED TO BE A BARBARIAN STOP

This was normal and in order. He had received the same message every day for the last 20 years of his life.

The second message intrigued me more. It was a manifest destiny sheet for a Ms Momo Murphy, anchored in the port of Nairobi. It requested 80 pints of arsenic for a party and 12 air-cycles. It did not outright request Mythical Birds, but implied that it did.

Such brazen fury in a manifest destiny was unusual, and could only be the work of Momo herself.

It was only as 20 Ships walked in the door that I realized what this meant. Momo was coming home.

I began to trip, and trip hard. 20 Ships saw this and started to trip too. Soon, we viewed each other only as goats to be exterminated. We killed the buildings generator with our Auras and fought in the darkness.
The patterns created on the walls make the gouging out of eyes seem almost significant. He got a few good hits on me, or maybe his goat self did, I don't know, but I felt something. I didn't like feeling things ever since childhood, so I beat Mr Goat until 20 Ships returned, then I beat him until 20 Ships' head turned inward and leaked out of itself, and then I kept going.

I felt good, because I had processed the grief of losing him by beating it into what was left of his face.

Still, Momo was returning. Oh dear.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
This device will make me famous
This device will make me fly
This device will make me holy
This device defies all laws

Laws that are stupid, and make no sense.

Big Black, Newman Generator

The New Adventures of Momo Murphy
avatar
Furburt
Arrested For Copying Dogs

Posts : 16683
Leprechaun Gold : 71874
Pineapple Power : 42707
Join date : 2010-10-08
Age : 24
Alignment : The Clan MacGinty, the Clan Nangle, The Clan O'Neill and the Clan Moriarty
Location : Éire.

http://steamcommunity.com/id/Furburt

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