Captain Monologue

Eric didn’t think he could sign his name or write his SSN again for the rest of his life. Eventually, he finished the god forsaken packet (Yes, I have family, here is all their information. No, I have never been married. Yes, I did go to school, here is all that information. No, I have never been a part of a secret drug cartel) and he received a date to go to MEPS.

The scene starts off by Spongebob and Patrick screaming as they are being pulled out of the fish tank they are being held captive in. The scuba-diver, Spongebob and Patrick in hand, marches over to a table lit with a lamb, each step thumbing across the wooden floor. Spongebob and Patrick, the lamps intense heat bearing down on them, begin to sweat and dry up. The scuba-diver laughs menacingly. He then proceeds to take a book and close the door to the bathroom. As they lay in the gift shop, shriveling up from the heat of lamp, Spongebob and Patrick realise that they have made it to Shell City. Overcome with joy, they began to sniffle and a single tear forms in an eye from both. Spongebob and Patrick sing as loud as they can, “I’m a goofy goober,

"Feed a hungry pirate day!" a boisterous voice bellowed to the left of me at during the procession of the exit parade. Ladies and gentlemen I would like to introduce you into the funniest, most lovable swashbuckler I know. Yet, before you can meet him you must meet the person inside the costume; the sincere, shy, and caring Shawn Howland.

If you grew up with white boys Who only look at black and Puerto Rican porno Cuz they want something that their dad don't got Then you know where you're at Mortaring your ear holes shut In a rush with wet coke In a Starbucks bathroom with the door closed On booze some left in residue and confused Like the first time you used soft water Down on my luck caught unaware Like Houdini when the last fist struck Sinking in laughing at something sunken in I am If I'm sinking in laughing at something sunken in I am

And I've always known that you'd never care, but I'll be honest this is an all time low

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” I say as I run the blade ‘down the road’ on my wrist. I cried softly, hoping no one can hear me. I don’t want to be in this world anymore. How can I live in the world when everyone hates me? My parents abused me all the time before they died. I guess it’s now taking an effect on me. My friends all stabbed my back a thousand times. I Wish I didn’t tell them my secrets. They just went and told everyone else and now I’m known as the town slut. Even my boyfriend hates me. Or should I say ex-boyfriend. He proved it today. (Flashback) I was walking to class. I saw two people kissing next to the lockers and thought “I wish my boyfriend and I were like that.” As I got closer, it was my boyfriend with another girl. How could he? He said he loved me. We all lie at one point in our lives. Am I right? He

Ralph never should have been made chief. He does not let anyone have fun. All he does is boss us around. Thank god I left his tribe. Now I have my hunters who obey my every command. Now I have the respect I deserve. I am built to be a chief. I am strong, confident, assertive, and I don’t let feelings get in the way. And Ralph thinks he can come to my side of the island? No way. I am in charge here and he needs to leave. How dare he call me a thief in front of my hunters? Who cares if Piggy needs his specs. That fatty does nothing all day so there is no use for his glasses. That so called “chief” can’t even fight well. Ralph deserves a good beating for constantly going up against me. He thinks he is better than me just because of that stupid

I would have this answer in a matter of moments. The Tutsis took me to a clearing on the beaches of Lake Kivu. I looked around and realized that we were close to the neighboring country. I saw a wide landscape without major obstacles and wondered what it meant. The guerrillas were tense; however, tough men are used to facing bad times. President Paul Kagame handed me his weapon, whispered in my ear and pointed to the Congo, and at a military village, precisely. Then, I knew why I was there: they gave me a target of opportunity, a prominent Hutu official, who was on the other side of the lake, wearing medals and insignias. I stretched my fingers and took some deep breaths a few times. I placed a homemade projectile into the rifle, a redeeming bullet, once kissing its vile metal. I estimated the distance across us and the strength of the wind, making a ritual to focus on myself. I did not want to miss that shot. Perhaps, I would not have another opportunity like that. In my thoughts, I saw dead Twas children lying on the ground, raped women, and tears coming out of Rose Kabaguyois's eyes. Nevertheless, having painful images in my head, I could not succeed. Therefore, I thought about flowers. The

A particularly nasty group pf men set at the far end of the bar, their drunken crooning filling the rest of the tavern with horrid, off key notes. From what Marco heads from their legible conversation, much of what they "say" are merely drunken slurs, it appears that they are a band of mercenaries or something similar.

Hello Robyn! I've read about running, it is not simple at all, I thought running is just left foot, right foot, breath. But actually, it's science!

I Stood there at the door not sure if I should come in or to turn and walk

The heavy mint cream white fog pours into the room from all sides near and far. In the foreground I can see brilliant cherry red and lime green laser lights flood the room. The four strobe lights positioned behind me are all scintillating a pearl white, in a synchronized pattern. Hundreds of people all sitting out in front of us fill the whole room. The giant vermillion and charcoal colored stage curtains hang from the ceiling all the way down to the floor on the stage right in front of us. Then the giant curtain splits in half both ends quickly accelerating left and right.

The year was 1942 right smack dab in middle of World War two. One of many spies was out in his humble 1,200 square ft house. Jack, as very few people knew him wasn’t always like this, exclusive, irritable, longing for a friend. Jack probably the best artist ever, he was always being hounded by fans and reporters, until he was painting with some very flammable paints, when a very unaware man came in and started to smoke long story short he caused the Paint to explode in Jack’s face. He was rushed to the hospital and he was fine but horribly scarred. He later that month faked his death so people would stop coming to his house. All was calm and had been for many years. Jack slowly becoming lonely but not letting himself know. He was listening

Ok, as you sound French, I shall respond in the style of Bernard-Henri Lévy a man you may be aware of who speaks your tongue and is as provocative as they come...

The pearl, in my opinion, was not evil, it was bait. It lured bystanders in as a test. It reminds be of the trails to get to heaven; it was made to entice the greedy and selfish so they may be punished. Those who can keep away the destructive thinking of power and riches get rewarded. It was a standard to leech out the sinners.