A story.

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UnexplodedCow
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A story.

Postby UnexplodedCow » Thu Mar 15, 2018 9:03 am

As this happened in another thread, let's create something. There is no right answer, as all we have is what's left. Get the pun? Good. On we go! The idea is to write several sentences, furthering the story. I'll start.

There once was a person named Urgburgle, though most called him "Urg," with a hard G, since it was simpler, and less embarrassing to scream during intense moments. Like most people, Urg was born, and later discovered his gender identity to mirror that of what we'd call male, hence referring to him as "he," or other masculine. Despite an inauspicious beginning that seems to have been conjured up as much by myth as the random meanderings of a certain guitar-loving group of forum goers, Urg would go on to do a great many things, and possibly become an intranet sensation in terms of puns and wordplay. We may never know, but let's begin with considering some of Urg's earliest memories. The very first one was.....
We are entitled to our own, wrong, opinions.

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Re: A story.

Postby UnexplodedCow » Fri Mar 16, 2018 11:01 am

....of eating a very large bowl of canned pork and beans. He didn't like them much, but they nevertheless were in front of him, ready for mastication and subsequent ingestion. His mother was standing over him, yelling profane words about how he needed to eat his food. The bowl was so large, seemingly unending. He soldiered on, eating those beans. At the last, he had finished the last bite, only to be greeted by another bowl being placed in front of him with his "dessert" for being "a bad boy." He was forced to eat the hunk of fat that accompanies such a can of beans. Dismay took over his very soul from that day, never again would he actually enjoy canned beans, despite existing on them for many years to come, as we will soon find out, should anyone else care to chime in with this, and prevent the originator from writing this one post at a time.

More is to come, as we learn hear more about Urg's other memories, some of which include....
Last edited by UnexplodedCow on Mon Mar 19, 2018 1:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.
We are entitled to our own, wrong, opinions.

Guitar theorem: G=X+1 where G= guitars one needs, and X = guitars one has.

Do or do not; there is no understand.

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Re: A story.

Postby Praiser » Fri Mar 16, 2018 1:01 pm

....playing with his long gone twin brother, Herd. The two of them would spend hours out in the fields and pastures, just to escape the constant olfactory assault that resulted from the never ending supply of canned beans they were incessantly fed. Once outside in the fresh air, they would just run and play as if they had no cares in the world. Often, they would encounter their Father's scraggly group of cows that typically stayed down by the creek, but intermittently wandered to less trampled areas for fresh grass. Then came that fateful day. Everything seemed normal enough at first, but then, for no apparent reason, one of the cows just exploded. Then another, and another, until only one was left. From then on it was referred to as, you guessed it, the Unexploded Cow.

Herd was tragically lost when.....
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Re: A story.

Postby UnexplodedCow » Mon Mar 19, 2018 11:54 am

he climbed inside the last cow that was about to explode, knowing that he could save it if he had more time. He had heard rumors of a jealous neighbor's love-triangle related plot to get back at him for unrequited childhood fantasy infatuation in regards to a certain girl named Kelpla. Herd always referred to her as "Q'pla," as a random Star Trek reference, and possibly a sarcastic one, since Kelpla's parents were of the lower, uneducated caste, which were often barely able to procreate. Nevertheless, they were successful. Herd thought it was funny, as he struggled his way down the giant cow's throat to diffuse the bomb.

Explosions from the left and right sent shockwaves everywerhere, tipping some cows over and setting them off early. The smell of cooked beef and blood was in the air. Urg sat crying, rocking himself back and forth, yelling for his brother. Herd was silent, as he kept working. Another cow exploded; a large explosion rocked the area this time. What was left of that one was a small crater, and hamburger.

Finally, Herd had figured out how to diffuse the bomb completely, and, wiping sweat from his brow, clipped the proper wire with his Leatherman (they come in handy sometimes). He sighed in relief, slowly realizing that he was laughing, and giddy. Apparently the cow's stomach had little oxygen, and he was suffocating. Herd laid down in the warm, moist silage in the cow's stomach, and fell asleep. He was slowly digested over a long period of time. The cow was considered sacred, and nobody ever bothered to attempt exploding it again.

When the explosions finished, all that remained were craters and hamburger. Somewhere in the distance were echos of "robble, robble," and "duh, Ronald." Urg assumed they were the culprits of such a massacre. He vowed that vengeance would be his.

Urg started on his plan of justice by....
We are entitled to our own, wrong, opinions.

Guitar theorem: G=X+1 where G= guitars one needs, and X = guitars one has.

Do or do not; there is no understand.

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Re: A story.

Postby spudmunkey » Mon Mar 19, 2018 12:54 pm

I will eventually post something of worth to this thread, because I'm enjoying the heck out of it so far... But just wanted to share this link i was reminded of, of a reading of something similar, of what NOT to do. As read by 2 Milwaukee radio DJs just shy of two decades ago. https://youtu.be/bE2C6PpSabI

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Re: A story.

Postby UnexplodedCow » Tue Mar 27, 2018 7:19 am

UnexplodedCow wrote:Urg started on his plan of justice by....



Gathering up the pieces of cow remaining, and taking them home. He was determined to honor the memory of his brother by making the best burger possible, and by proxy, it would force those giant golden arches out of business, hopefully silencing the haunting cries he heard every night in his dreams. No more calling for someone named Ronald...or someone who sounded like they had a speech impediment. He would right the wrongs, and fill the needy bellies of the world with his deliciously seasoned meat burgers.

So he started, working on the ingredients. It all began with a large pinch of curry powder to a half pound patty. Then he added some garlic salt, some worcestershire sauce, minced onions, a small pinch of smoke chipotle powder, and just the smallest hint of cumin to top it off. He was pleased with the outcome, and served on a brioche bun with some ghost pepper mustard/mayo sauce for an added kick. He decided to start selling these on the street corner, in something like a lemonade stand.

The public response/outcry was astonishing, people would.....


(Tangent: this is an actual burger seasoning recipe, so feel free to try it and tweak)
We are entitled to our own, wrong, opinions.

Guitar theorem: G=X+1 where G= guitars one needs, and X = guitars one has.

Do or do not; there is no understand.

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UnexplodedCow
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Re: A story.

Postby UnexplodedCow » Tue Apr 17, 2018 6:49 am

"The public response/outcry was astonishing, people would....."

Go to the doctor, complaining that they just didn't have enough stomach size, and wanted more, in order to keep having more delicious hamburgers. A new field of medical research grew practically overnight, in the form of aiding people in growing a larger stomach, or even growing a second one. The possibilities were nearly endless!

Unfortunately, those who were able to withstand having a second stomach were envied by the one-gut peoples, which eventually turned into anger, resentment, and prejudice. It was as though the "two guts," as they were called, were somehow inferior and didn't deserve such things. A class warefare ensued, only to be momentarily quelled, and later reignited, by people sitting down for a friendly MeatBurger (tm).

This was a constant background issue for Urg, though he would late solve the issue, for now he was focused on inching ever closer to a boss battle with the "Ron." He was looking forward to it, and had special plans for the day they finally met. The first blow really was struck by the Ron's pithy cache of lawyers; all pocketed by promises of gross amounts of money, mansions, slaves, and infinite hamburgers. The Ron had no intention of actually paying anyone above minimum wage, however, so these lawyers lived under a false pretense that they would, one day, achieve the "Murican Dream."

That first blow was simply a cease and desist notice for mentioning The Ron's golden-arched hamburger chain as being inferior in taste. It was a salutation for the onslaught that would later be known as "The Infinite Meat War." Supreme commanders would be charged with taking on the enemy, in order to either capture, or spoil, their meat supply. Never, in the world of fast food, had anyone ever considered an actual global-scale open war. The vanity of it all!

That situation was still years in the making, and our humble Urg simply sat at his desk, staring at the legal document, wondering what his first actual move should be.

He pondered, he furrowed his brow, and he even drank strange concoctions in order to open his mind to additional possibilities. None helped.

Urg then discovered his answer by.....
We are entitled to our own, wrong, opinions.

Guitar theorem: G=X+1 where G= guitars one needs, and X = guitars one has.

Do or do not; there is no understand.


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