one line at a time please.

There was this guy...

next

who went to Michigan State...

and earned two degrees...

in history and something else...

(perhaps in the interest of getting good participation nobody should post a line within 3 lines of a previous post they made). That way at least 4 people MUST be participating. It's Tahoe's thread though, I'll let him make the rules. Just a suggestion because I could see this turining into a 2 person arguement if the right/wrong people are in here.

(good idea)

(continuing...)

This man decided being rich, powerful and extremely intelligent was not enough.

and decided to visit either London or Nairobi...

(perhaps in the interest of getting good participation nobody should post a line within 3 lines of a previous post they made). That way at least 4 people MUST be participating. It's Tahoe's thread though, I'll let him make the rules. Just a suggestion because I could see this turining into a 2 person arguement if the right/wrong people are in here.

LOL on the second part Chris.

We did it where you couldn't post 2 in a row, but 3 sounds better cept when the board is slow.

The one rule I have is ERay has to post in this thread, or it dies.

London and Nairobi were the names of his two of his friends; London, the cocaine dealer and Nairobi, his beautiful table-dancing, non-exclusive girlfriend.

London lived in Nairobi and Nairobi lived in London...

His heart, though, was always in Lansing...

(this guy, who has yet to be named, WILL go overseas at some point damnit)

while his head was buried in Smithsonian magazines...

During his funeral, all that was left was that head, wrapped up in his beloved Smithsonians; so naturally it was a closed casket ceremony, but we'll get to that later on and at this point, discuss his trip to London, where his Nairobi resided.

There we go, none of that happily ever after bullshit in this story

His decision was whether to call Nairobi to let her know he was coming, or show up unannounced and surprise her with roses and his special gift

His gift was his dick in a box so he went with both, but not without a very uncomfortable flight as well as a trip to customs at Heathrow airport where he landed with a smile on his face, a bag of clothes he carried on the flight and his dick in a box.

...but his dick was the removable kind, very much like the song. During a stopover back in the states, in New Jersey, it was taken from him, while in the midst of ordering pancakes and cornbread from the local quickie-stop...

... upon questioning several individuals outside the quickie-stop, about whether or not they've seen a man holding a black box adorned with a Velvet Elvis lid, one quips "Yeah, looked like that Benny Blano fuck from the Bronx"

To this he replied, "Follow the rules, motherfucker," and shot the man in the face.

But Mr Dick Missing was undetterred and wanted to see his beloved Nairobi and would not give up

Nairobi however had been kidnapped and taken captive by a couple of Walmart Wolverines.

(I don't think you guys understood my post. Dick Missing shot the random guy in the face. Oh well, That is all)

After Dick Missing shot that random guy in the face, it made him think back to when he was a child and that horrible accident where he went through his uncles Corn Harvester, where he lost his arm, part of his leg and his dick, and the unfortunate surgery where they mistakenly reattached his arm to his leg socket and his leg to his arm socket and they just gave him his dick in a box.

Missing recollected the feeling of seeing his own phallic parts in a box. He knew that they would never be operable again, and felt the wicked sting of a tear roll down his cheek. He looked at the gun and his hand, and thought, long and hard.

lol

...but, with the cold steel of the gun barrell pressing hard against his temple, he suddenly realized a power long forgotten -- the kinetic ability he shares with dick in a box. Through his mental ability, he can make it come alive!

And though it was a very tiny dick in a somewhat small box, this was still an ability that he thought could get him laid.

I decided to collect what we had, with a few grammatical corrections and additions to make it flow a bit better:

There was this guy who went to Michigan State and earned two degrees in History and Something Else. The man decided that, being rich, powerful, and extremely intelligent, was not enough. He decided to visit either London or Nairobi. His name was Dick. Dick Missing.

London and Nairobi were the names of his two of his friends; London, the cocaine dealer and Nairobi, his beautiful, table-dancing, non-exclusive girlfriend. London lived in Nairobi and Nairobi lived in London. His heart, however, was always in Lansing while his head was buried in Smithsonian magazines. During his funeral, all that was left was that head, wrapped up in his beloved Smithsonians; so, naturally, it was a closed casket ceremony. But enough of that for now -- we'll get to that later on. At this point, we shall discuss his trip to London, where his Nairobi resided.

His decision was whether to call Nairobi to let her know he was coming, or show up unannounced and surprise her with roses and his special gift. His gift was his dick in a box. So, he went with both, but not without a very uncomfortable flight as well as a trip to customs. At Heathrow airport, where he landed with a smile on his face, was a bag of clothes he carried on the flight and his dick in a box.

But, his dick was the removable kind, very much like the song. During a stopover back in the states, in New Jersey, it was taken from him while in the midst of ordering pancakes and cornbread from the local quickie-stop. Upon questioning several individuals outside the quickie-stop about whether or not they've seen a man holding a black box adorned with a Velvet Elvis lid, one quips "Yeah, looked like that Benny Blano fuck from the Bronx." To this, Dick replied, “Follow the rules, motherfucker,” and shot the man in the face.

After Dick Missing shot that random guy in the face, it made him think back to when he was a child and that horrible accident; that horrible accident where he went through his uncle’s corn harvester, losing his arm, part of his leg, and his dick. During the unfortunate emergency surgery, they mistakenly reattached his arm to his leg socket and his leg to his arm socket. After this, they gave up and they just gave him his dick in a box.

Now, Missing recollected the feeling of seeing his own phallic parts in a box. He knew that they would never be operable again, and felt the wicked sting of a tear roll down his cheek. He looked at the gun and his hand, and thought, long and hard. But, with the cold steel of the gun barrel pressing hard against his temple, he suddenly realized a power long forgotten -- the kinetic ability he shares with his dick in a box. Through his mental ability, he can make it—his dick, his penis, his being--come alive!

And, though it was a very tiny dick in a somewhat small box, this was still an ability that he thought could get him laid. So, he put Nairobi at the forefront of his mind and made a decision. He was to be laid by Nairobi in London, whence he would tell her he was to bring her back to Lansing.

The plot to this story is pretty tenuous.

(Shutup Glenn, that comment was not cogent considering the context of this post)

You're right, I'm sorry.

With the MSU football season over until the bowl game, I've been working on the WTFDetroit "bukdow retention strategy v1.0" all day and I think that may be messing with my mind a bit.

Back to the story...

So, he put Nairobi at the forefront of his mind and made a decision. He was to be laid by Nairobi in London, whence he would tell her he was to bring her back to Lansing.
But by the time he got there, the G Brothers were pounding her pussy to the woodshed.

And then he woke up and it was all a dream

(what a cop out, Tahoe--that should have been taken further)

Or was it a dream? He felt for his dick and...

(thought it was dead and couldn't just let it sit there without a bullet to the head...but maybe it was a blank)

...thank goodness, it was there, all two and a half inches of it. What a strange dream, he thought. My pedophilia is really starting to show itself in my dreams with those boys and Nairobi.

He then contemplated what to do with his immaculate 2.5" of morningwood, debating between child porn and the stack of fatchickmagazines under his matress.

Then, he remembered. He and Nairobi were to be married in London today, and that made him extra excited for tonight, which he had saved his v-card for. He was curious as to whether Nairobi would be judgmental about the little thing down there, but no matter; he had a flight to catch from Detroit, and only a few hours until takeoff.

only he'd forgotten to pack everything he needed. There was something he was forgetting.

Yes, YES! The Whizzinator! How in the hell could he forget the Whizzinator? But, he remembered that he packed it into the dead body that was bound for Tanzania via horseback.

But would it get there in time? Could he possible pull it off?

Just then, he remembered. His contact from the Smithsonian in Tazmania would be able to retrieve it for him and send it to London.

Later, Mr. Missing pulled into the airport. As he entered, out of the corner of his eye he saw two men dressed in black suits, staring directly at him.

He saw one holding an earpiece to his ear, the other was reaching for what seemed to be a gun. He didn't know what to do.

He shielded his face monentarily with his baggage. The two men came over, cutting in front of Missing. They went through the security gate, and the alarm went off. The security officer stopped them. One of the men gave the security officer his cell phone, and went back through the gate.

As they stolled by, Dick thought, I've seen them before.

http://img205.imageshack.us/img205/2879/mibwd6.jpg

No, no, that couldn't be it, he thought. The Men in Black fought aliens. There are no aliens on this planet. At least, not of which he was sure.

One of the men in black slipped something to the security officer. The security officer nodded and let them both through, giving the cell phones back. The suited men picked up their pace, heading down the terminal.

Where were they going in such a hurry? He had to know.

Thankfully, he was next in line. After walking through the terminal without interruption, he picked up the pace. The men in front of him did as well. Power walk. Jog. Sprint. Dick Missing followed suit.

It was at that moment when a giant 40 foot robot with rocket boosters burst through the building. The robots red eyes glowed with disdain for Mr. Missing. The robot screamed "You've fucked my wife for the last time!"

Mr. Missing, having left the robot for dead months earlier, was taken aback.

"How could he still be alive?" thought Dick. "I pulled his circuitry and drained all his batteries."

lol god dammit motown
The robot boosted himself back into the air outside as the thousands of people crowded in the airport shrieked while exiting as fast as they could. Missing put his hands on his hips, and thought, God damnit, this is my fucking wedding day. Can nothing go right?

Missing, with his hands on his hips, thought to himself "You know what I haven't done in a while? The Macarena." He started humming to himself and doing the Macarena in the now empty airport. After 20 minutes, the robot returned, angry as ever. Missing was in no shape to fight the robot, exhausted from the extensive, flawless Macarena. He jumped on the airport security golf cart thingy as the robot pursued him close behind.

Swerving right then left around crowds of passengers, Missing lost ground because the robot plowed right through them. The robot got closer, closer still. Missing felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as his instincts told him to panic. Missing then pressed the "fly" button on the security golf cart thingy.

It sputtered, then quickly took to the sky. Missing had no idea how hard it would be to control.

As Missing quickly realized, Airport Golf Cart thingies don't actually have "Fly" buttons and what he had pressed was actually just a fly. He was not actually airborne but only flipped up into the air by the mighty robot who had finally caught up. Realizing he was caught, Missing resigned himself to being brought back to the lair of the evil yet mighty Lord Bukdow.

Where he would be subjected to U2 music throughout the night. "Fucking Bono" missing mused to himself. "I fucking hate Bono"

As he sat in the dungeon-like basement that served as Bukdow's castle, missing finally made himself a bed out of the numerous issues of Harper's and Smithsonian strewn across the floor. He knew he'd need all the rest he could get if he were to win his freedom in the big battle of Axis and Allies come the morn.

As he sat in the dungeon-like basement that served as Bukdow's castle, missing finally made himself a bed out of the numerous issues of Harper's and Smithsonian strewn across the floor. He knew he'd need all the rest he could get if he were to win his freedom in the big battle of Axis and Allies come the morn.
POTY Candidate!

Something came across Missing’s mind. He rose from his cot of intellectually elite magazines and climbed the stairs slowly. He attempted to turn the door handle, but it did not open. Missing knocked on the door, asking The Great Lord loudly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Recap:

There was this guy who went to Michigan State and earned two degrees in History and Something Else. The man decided that, being rich, powerful, and extremely intelligent, was not enough. He decided to visit either London or Nairobi. His name was Dick. Dick Missing.

London and Nairobi were the names of his two of his friends; London, the cocaine dealer and Nairobi, his beautiful, table-dancing, non-exclusive girlfriend. London lived in Nairobi and Nairobi lived in London. His heart, however, was always in Lansing while his head was buried in Smithsonian magazines. During his funeral, all that was left was that head, wrapped up in his beloved Smithsonians; so, naturally, it was a closed casket ceremony. But enough of that for now -- we'll get to that later on. At this point, we shall discuss his trip to London, where his Nairobi resided.

His decision was whether to call Nairobi to let her know he was coming, or show up unannounced and surprise her with roses and his special gift. His gift was his dick in a box. So, he went with both, but not without a very uncomfortable flight as well as a trip to customs. At Heathrow airport, where he landed with a smile on his face, was a bag of clothes he carried on the flight and his dick in a box.

But, his dick was the removable kind, very much like the song. During a stopover back in the states, in New Jersey, it was taken from him while in the midst of ordering pancakes and cornbread from the local quickie-stop. Upon questioning several individuals outside the quickie-stop about whether or not they've seen a man holding a black box adorned with a Velvet Elvis lid, one quips "Yeah, looked like that Benny Blano fuck from the Bronx." To this, Dick replied, “Follow the rules, motherfucker,” and shot the man in the face.

After Dick Missing shot that random guy in the face, it made him think back to when he was a child and that horrible accident; that horrible accident where he went through his uncle’s corn harvester, losing his arm, part of his leg, and his dick. During the unfortunate emergency surgery, they mistakenly reattached his arm to his leg socket and his leg to his arm socket. After this, they gave up and they just gave him his dick in a box.

Now, Missing recollected the feeling of seeing his own phallic parts in a box. He knew that they would never be operable again, and felt the wicked sting of a tear roll down his cheek. He looked at the gun and his hand, and thought, long and hard. But, with the cold steel of the gun barrel pressing hard against his temple, he suddenly realized a power long forgotten -- the kinetic ability he shares with his dick in a box. Through his mental ability, he can make it—his dick, his penis, his being--come alive!

And, though it was a very tiny dick in a somewhat small box, this was still an ability that he thought could get him laid. So, he put Nairobi at the forefront of his mind and made a decision. He was to be laid by Nairobi in London, whence he would tell her he was to bring her back to Lansing

But by the time he got there, the G Brothers were pounding her pussy to the woodshed. Then, with his world turning red with rage, he suddenly woke up in a sweat. It was all a dream. Or was it a dream? He felt for his dick and thank goodness, it was there, all two and a half inches of it. What a strange dream, he thought. My pedophilia is really starting to show itself in my dreams with those boys and Nairobi. He then contemplated what to do with his immaculate 2.5" of morning wood, debating between child porn and the stack of fatchickmagazines under his mattress.

Then, he remembered. He and Nairobi were to be married in London today, and that made him extra excited for tonight, which he had saved his v-card for. He was curious as to whether Nairobi would be judgmental about the little thing down there, but no matter; he had a flight to catch from Detroit, and only a few hours until takeoff. But he'd forgotten to pack everything he needed. There was something he was forgetting. Yes, YES! The Whizzinator! How in the hell could he forget the Whizzinator? But, he remembered that he packed it into the dead body that was bound for Tanzania via horseback. But would it get there in time? Could he possibly pull it off? Just then, he remembered. His contact from the Smithsonian in Tanzania would be able to retrieve it for him and send it to London.

Within minutes, Mr. Missing pulled into the airport. As he entered, out of the corner of his eye he saw two men dressed in black suits, staring directly at him. He saw one holding an earpiece to his ear, the other was reaching for what seemed to be a gun. He didn't know what to do. As they strolled by, Dick thought, I've seen them before. Is that… Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith? No, no, that couldn't be it, he thought. The Men in Black fought aliens. There are no aliens on this planet. At least, not of which he was sure.

One of the men in black slipped something to the security officer. The security officer nodded and let them both through, giving the cell phones back. The suited men picked up their pace, heading down the terminal. Where were they going in such a hurry? He had to know.

Thankfully, he was next in line. After walking through the terminal without interruption, he picked up the pace. The men in front of him did as well. Power walk. Jog. Sprint. Dick Missing followed suit. Dick’s impulse sent his view towards the ceiling.

It was at that moment when a giant 40 foot robot with rocket boosters burst through the building. The robots red eyes glowed with disdain for Mr. Missing. The robot screamed "You've fucked my wife for the last time!"

Mr. Missing, having left the robot for dead months earlier, was taken aback. How could he still be alive? Thought Dick. I pulled his circuitry and drained all his batteries. The robot boosted itself back into the air outside as the thousands of people crowded in the airport shrieked while exiting as fast as they could. Missing put his hands on his hips, and thought, God damnit, this is my fucking wedding day. Can nothing go right?

Missing, with his hands on his hips, thought to himself, you know what I haven't done in a while? The Macarena. He started humming to himself and doing the Macarena in the now empty airport. After 20 minutes, the robot returned, angry as ever. Missing was in no shape to fight the robot, exhausted from the extensive, flawless Macarena. He jumped on the airport security golf cart thingy as the robot pursued him close behind.

Swerving right then left around crowds of prospective flyers, Missing lost ground because the robot plowed right through them. The robot got closer, closer still. Missing felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as his instincts told him to panic. Missing then pressed the "fly" button on the security golf cart thingy. It sputtered, and then quickly took to the sky. Missing had no idea how hard it would be to control.

As Missing quickly realized, Airport Golf Cart thingies don't actually have "Fly" buttons and what he had pressed was actually just a fly. He was not actually airborne but only flipped up into the air by the mighty robot who had finally caught up. Realizing he was caught, Missing resigned himself to being brought back to the lair of the evil yet mighty Lord Bukdow, where he would be subjected to U2 music throughout the night. Fucking Bono, Missing mused to himself. I fucking hate Bono.

As he sat in the dungeon-like basement that served as Bukdow's castle, Missing finally made himself a bed out of the numerous issues of Harper's and Smithsonian strewn across the floor. He knew he'd need all the rest he could get if he were to win his freedom in the big battle of Axis and Allies come the morn.

Something came across Missing’s mind. He rose from his cot of intellectually elite magazines and climbed the stairs slowly. He attempted to turn the door handle, but it did not open. Missing knocked on the door, asking The Great Lord loudly, “Do you want to talk about it?"

Missing could sense a certain uneasiness and hesitation in the evil Lord Bukdow's voice as the legendary giant stammered out "Wh-wh-what do you mean?" from behind the mighty door, a far cry from the cool, calm, confident bellowing that was always reported in the annals of the historic SpartanTailgate.com.

"Could it be that Bukdow was not quite the Giant he was made out to be?", thought Missing, as he calmly sought a plan in his mind to potentially turn the situation to his advantage.

One thing was certain: The situation was clearly not as cogent as was once believed. Something disingenuous was going on here.

[Sorry, just read the rules...]

[sorry Tahoe]

[Whoever takes over next, please note that if a "Sergeant MacDaddyFromCincinatti" is involved, I won't necessarily be upset.]

Missing carefully tiptoed down the steep stairs, certain to stay quiet while mentally plotting his next move.

If this giant robot character was really such a big pussy, there had to be a way he could use that to his advantage.

If only he could somehow get a message out to Sergeant MacDaddyFromCincinnatti and the rest of the rebellion.

....................

Missing then realized his detachable penis actually doubled up as a two way radio where MacDaddyfromCincinnati was connected on the other side. If only he could find the box that his dick was in...

...but as he reached the halfway mark of his descent of the wooden staircase, he came to the sudden halt of a major allergic reaction, his sinuses swelling to the point of asphyxiation. Only one thing could be the culprit: rich mahogany.

He suddenly realized that under all those Smithsonian and Harper's magazines was a wooden floor. Somehow he hadn't caught the rich mahogany scent, probably due to the overpowering smell of the many leatherbound books scattered throughout the room.

Stumbling to the end of the staicase, Missing spotted the dick in a box, and knew what he had to do -- blow the dick deeply down his throat to keep his airways open. But, as he swallowed...

He heard the footsteps of Nairobi, his beautiful table dancing, non-exclusive girlfriend.

Could it really be? He thought. We are supposed to be married today. In London! At that point, his already blurred vision began to turn to hallucinations.

Dick sharted.

Hallucinations of his dick in a box being attached to the wiry, pale 98 pound body of Bukdow. But as he reflex-gagged, he bit, followed by a Spartan-like yelp of pain... waitaminute....?

Hallucinations of his dick in a box being attached to the wiry, pale 98 pound body of Bukdow. But as he reflex-gagged, he bit, followed by a Spartan-like yelp of pain... waitaminute....?

(continued due to lack of interest combined with sudden board-wide bukdow manlove)

..."whis sip mo aahuphimaphum" (translation: this is no hallucination!"). Standing before him, holding a meat whistle in one hand and a camcorder in another, stood Bukdow. "Sausage-muncher", he chortled. "I'm going to send this to your fiancee, and you'll NEVER get married -- right after I..."

Suddenly Dick awoke from his 18 month slumber. He thought to himself, "I wonder what happened to Nairobi? I've been asleep in my own shit for 18 months. She must have left me!"

Figuring that he must start anew, Dick went to the airport to board a plane.

As he stood in line at the ticket counter, some Walmart Wolverine almost bumped into him. Dick pummeled the mental midget where he stood and his life was changed forever: Dantonio gave him a scholarship.

Dick said shove your scholly up your ass. I want to wear adidas.

Dantonio put on his assless clergyman robes and began Missing's punishment by reciting Psalms 10:7 "His mouth is full of cursing and deceit and fraud: under his tongue is mischief and vanity. Now put on this ski mask." The Pastor turned, bending over a pew whilst giving Missing a long, longing stare.

Wow, dude.

Missing jumped into the air and grabbed hold of the ceiling, Spiderman-style. He swiftly snatched a maul and wedge that the construction crew left there and let himself go. He came down upon Dantonio, perfectly driving the wedge down the middle of Dantonio's skull with impeccable timing, what with him falling from 80 feet. He landed in a half squat with a demonic smile on his face.

With Dantonio no longer a problem, he immediately booked a flight to London. He packed seven bags, mostly including Harpers and Smithsonians. Little did he know, in the eighteen months since he had passed out in his own shart-feces, airport policies and fees had widely changed.

In addition, since that time a new terrorsist threat had emerged. Sparty Nation had become a national nuisance, and several splinter groups had embarked on domestic attacks on prominent Michigan alumn, including a top senator!

Proudly displaying his MSU sweater like a peacock in heat, Bukdow had no idea what he was getting himself into as he strolled into the terminal.

Missing pulled up to the airport and thought about his last trip to the airport. He shuddered, thinking there was no way there could be a repeat of last time. He saw the sparkle of some newly shined metal out of the corner of his eye and instantly knew his robotic nemisis was waiting for him. "Fuck my stubby little dick," he muttered to himself. The flight to London wasn't going to be easy.

Had the giant, 40-foot robot noticed him yet?

He hadn't, however, it was at that time Missing noticed something different about the robot. What was the robot reading? Could it be? Unbeleaveably, it was true: The robot had a copy of Smithsonian and behind it, he sported a large block Michigan 'M' with the addidas logo proudly prevalent.

It was the much needed break Missing was hoping for: The robot was now an ally!