recent authors' stories

showing all 15 stories written together by alittlebitdarkorange and catie

Sob Story

By alittlebitdarkorange and catie on November 24, 2011

Thanksgiving happens only when I feel hungry for fat tofurkey and potatoes. "Mmmmm," said my turkey. "I always eat tofurkey for Thanksgiving, and later I feel super sleepy and a dire need for therapy." It flapped its wings and gobbled up the vegetable poultry with gusto, as onlookers cried out desperately in horror. "That's cannibalism! Don't you know that is real turkey?!" The turkey lifted his beak and spat furiously, spraying bits of bird all over the onlookers. "I am tired and depressed. It was more delicious than any dream I've ever imagined." He then wept like the dickens. "Sob."

Our Last Stand

By catie and alittlebitdarkorange on August 6, 2011

'Watch out for creepers!' I shouted frantically at Bahizdala Jones. She spun wildly around, her long robes whipping dervishly in the morning dew, causing millions of tiny forest creepers to scatter in every direction. Bahizdala swiftly recomposed herself and drew her broadswords, eyes blazing as fiercely as her incarnadine hair. Whenever she looked at me, I felt such fear that we might not survive this maddening ordeal, but I knew the creepers would perish if Bahizdala's powers were utilized to their most extreme capacity. Her arms quivered as she raised both blades, and then with terrifying ferocity she spoke: 'Together.'

How Henry Ruined 'Puppies Day'

By catie and alittlebitdarkorange on June 18, 2011

"Spin those suckers around until they go into my secret spot," I mimed towards Henry. 'Puppies Day' usually went like this. Henry remained complacent, gently stroking the nearest basket handle, disregarding the tiny fluffy Dachshund inside. The Dachshund spun itself halfheartedly, and tumbled wumbled away into a bottomless bramble. This caused Henry to vomit enthusiastically, which was honestly the most abhorrent response imaginable. I immediately threw down my secret special spot and stormed out of the fairgrounds, leaving a pile of disheartened Dachshunds behind, whimpering and whining like only abandoned Dachshunds can. This was the worst 'Puppies Day' ever. EVER!

The Sweet Father

By catie and alittlebitdarkorange on April 2, 2011

Sorry to break this pattern of betrayal, but I really need to be faithful just this once. I ate several whoopie pies that were sitting on the church pew yesterday. I stuffed each pie into my gluttonous frothy maw with fervor unmatched. But still, despite the deliciousness, I feel such remorse that Father Wilkinson worked so diligently and religiously. He is so talented and caring and yet I stole his pies. How do I repent?! I took selfishly and I ate shamefully! Today I have plans to find out where he bakes his sweets and give him a frosting-covered smooch.

Valentine's Massacre

By catie and alittlebitdarkorange on February 18, 2011

Today was Valentine's Day! Naturally, I felt depressed. So I wandered toward Kmart equipped with two peacocks and one donkey named Dolphus IV. My sedan was packed full of fireworks so powerful that I couldn't risk speeding, so instead I chugged along at a grand old speed akin to molasses in molasses. When we finally arrived at Kmart we arranged for our own spectacular entrance. Dolphus IV climbed atop my sedan while cheering like Tarzan. The employees promptly retreated at once and went to hibernate. Peacocks abhor hibernation, so they ignited the fireworks, which cascaded and made glorious midday carnage.

Basement Thursdays

By alittlebitdarkorange and catie on February 25, 2010

Thursday is the Friday of Bangladesh. On this day a spectacular event occurs weekly at 9:05 in my basement. You don't want to know how bad it smells afterwards. But during it, lemme tell ya, it is like a beauteous sparkling cylindrical pipe-bomb event. WOW! just thinking about it makes my heart thump and pump double-time. Honestly it's arguably the most popular event in the world. I cordially invite you to join me but make sure you bring an umbrella and a extra pair of pants. It is a matter of life and death. I'm going to prep the piggies.

Faux Friend Crow Foe

By catie and alittlebitdarkorange on November 9, 2009

Crows have two methods of dismantling their foes. The first is by far the more gruesome method as in the end, the victim has no kneecaps. The second method is fun, believe me, as in the end the victim has extra kneecaps.

If you are ever given kneecaps from a crow, be on your guard because it means you're probably going to need a pair of kneecaps since the crow will take yours. This is the reason you should always double up on pants. The best mode of defense is eating enough crows to diminish their numbers... But don't. Yuck.

Empty-Bellied Spontaneity

By catie and alittlebitdarkorange on November 7, 2009

Spontaneity should never be initiated after prolonged periods of starvation. The problem with empty-bellied spontaneity is there's simply no room for thoughts when all you can think about is bacon and burgers. This digression leads to blind rage usually followed by a stabbing. This proves the original saying, "A stabbing goes further than a steak."

Poor fools that do not heed this advice will end up in a nuthouse. One such fool actually thought that nuthouses were full of real nuts. Poor guy was sorely, hungrily, and nuttily disappointed.

Maybe we should change the way we handle hungry impulsive fools.

Tuberculosis Contest

By alittlebitdarkorange and catie on November 6, 2009

Tuberculosis consumes over ten billion pieces of phlegm every second, but I am not a piece of phlegm so I don't worry too much about that. What I do worry about is how I might get a chance to get my hands on some of that sweet phlegm.

I've been obsessed with mucus for seventy minutes and love its slimy disposition. A dream of mine is to hold a contest to see who can stuff the most chunky phlegm into their pockets and run into my basement (and back again) before the tuberculosis gets their pants all tuberculosisy and consumptiony.

Overbearing Dragon Grandmother

By alittlebitdarkorange and catie on November 6, 2009

"My good lord, Miley. How can you possibly keep such good posture while doing the funky chicken?" asked Jeremiah Statesenskiser the third son of the crown-touting Prince of Winchstenshyer.

"Well," said Miley. "My grandmother was a dragon and she spent a long time standing on a cliff with fifteen villagers trying to get her egg while distracting her by hunching like demented hags. She therefore had a lot of practice noticing the curves of a badly shaped spine and as a result every time I exhibited bad posture she would blow fiery balls of gasoline at my face until ignition."


By alittlebitdarkorange and catie on November 5, 2009

Flabby baby Jeremy waddled quickly towards the umbrella in the corner of the Pretzel Pantry. Stupid kids! Not thinking of the better pastries, but always settling for umbrellas. Ironically, Jeremy planned on eating the umbrella stand and using the umbrella as a utensil. Jeremy was fond of all types of nonsensical nonsense and only thought about his flubbering mischief.

"Gimme that tootsie pop gimme gimme more, Pops! Right now!" demanded Jeremy. Pops looked forlorn and was disappointed in his own stupidity. He shouldn't have let Jeremy live. Maybe if he moved to the Dominican borderlands, he could finally sleep peacefully.


By alittlebitdarkorange and catie on November 4, 2009

Squitzerland is an enemy of Switzerland. It has a big army of octopi employed by coercion which means that any time now, the intelligent beasts will probably ally with the pansies in the Alps.

When inky spears find their way into Switzerland, you must remember that wise Swiss saying: "I will go to McDonald's, but I will not order beef." No Squiss has ever killed less than thirteen thousand Swiss cows. The saying almost makes sense, but Swiss folk logic never really makes that much sense, so "interpretation is left up to the cows".

Dang, darn, here them Squits a'comin.

Dangers of the UCC

By alittlebitdarkorange and catie on November 4, 2009

Stars make some people anxious but others are more relaxed about their glitter so they light incense while praying to the 'gods astral'. I don't care about any cosmic tomfoolery like that. Instead, my obsession lies in Underground Curling Competitions.

The most interesting part of illegal UCC events is that most participants neglect to even learn the rules! But that doesn't matter because really it is so dark down there that no one even knows what happens amidst the sweaty toiling bodies of curlers.

Unfortunately, I have lost my right arm and won't be able to participate any time soon.

Wikipedia Stub on Monkey Revolt

By catie and alittlebitdarkorange on November 4, 2009

Millions upon millions of monkeys once ran the New World. It would have worked fine except whenever a banana came into the picture the chief monkey would order his parliament to destroy it before anyone else heard about it. As a result, all monkeys became emaciated and vicious and delusional. This trend led to the proletariat revolt of 1844 (in terms of monkey lord). The last bloody battle was to determine the fate of humans and their place in the balance of power. It didn't ever end and still continues today in remote banana-y regions of Southern and Eastern Canada.


By alittlebitdarkorange and catie on June 2, 2007

Five round turkeys wobbled back towards the den. As they got close a giant bowl headed down the sunlit path, full to the brim with deliciously gooey franzbrochen.

"Ahhhhhh! I would fly to that pastry if I weren't so round and my belly was not dragging in mud!" said Squaker, the roundest draggiest turkey.

"Ahhhhhh!" echoed the other turkeys. "But you LOVE franzbrochen!"

"You have no honor to refuse my German diet!" shouted Squaker.

"ENOUGH!" yelled the bowl. "I am very disappointed and delicious and gooey and not forgiving!" With that, it picked up all the turkeys and ate them!