flint_the_dwarf wrote:C'mon Chaos, we want action! I'm going to boycott that test unless you spice it up with Hollywoodization-ness. You don't want me to boycott, Chaos, you don't want that.
After consulting with my marketing department, I have decided that, in order to avoid a boycott and appeal to a larger audience, the story must be re-vamped.
Behold, the new, more entertaining version of the story, complete with flashy special effects and gratuitious violence and nudity!
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So, I'm with my girlfriend one day, when she says she wants to break up. I get pissed and call her a slut. She calls me a diseased man-whore. I call her a prissy, uptight bitch and throw a rock at her. She dodges it and picks up a chunk of ice and throws it at my head. I catch it in mid-air and crush it bare-handed. She then runs up, grabs me by the shirt, swings me around, and throws me clear through the passenger window of a VW Bug. I get out, rip off the door, and run at her with it screaming. She summons the God of Starfire and begins to glow white. She then incinerates the door and burns all of my clothing.
It was about this time that I got mad.
I summoned the essences of the Lord of Chaos, channeled his dark energies into my fragile mortal form, and unleashed a devastating psychic attack upon her. She held her head in agony before super-heating the air around me to corona levels. I reached out with my mind and gave life to the bodies of the dead that lay beneath us. They burst through the street and the sidewalk, diseased flesh barely hanging onto their skeletal forms, eager to do my bidding. Being very dry and brittle, they didn't last long against her Supernova Wave. I then reached into her head and tried to seize control of her mind. As our pure will clashed inside her mind, our energies lashed out at the terrain around us. Buildings crumbled, the earth shook, puppies spontaneously combusted. In the end, she kicked me out of her head, and, having spent all of our aetheric energies, we both decided to call a truce and just be friends, at least until we could recharge.
It was the worst birthday ever.
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Disclaimer: One or two elements in this story have been falsified. My birthday is in February.
