It dawned upon me, while I was writing a reply to that fellow who had his stuff stolen, that a story about something ooc with ic stuff in it, written properly, could be hilarious.

Now, this is an ooc contest, so... well, I'll give a credit to the winner. I figure most people who would write on this topic are the people who write for fun anyway.

Something like:

So there I was, sitting in my training class at work, just thinking about bashing astral. I mean, what could be better than that. Forget the darned computers, let me smash a lobstrosity, let me destroy a stainless-steel goat!

It was really getting to me. And I swore to myself, if five 'o clock didn't come around soon, I was gonna ancestralcurse someone...


Have fun with it, please only reply to this with stories.

And yes, I know a credit is ic, this is ooc. I'll give you a dollar if you want instead, come see me in Washington.

Hey Richter, does my dream count? And...just fyi...if the fellow you're talking about was me...I'm a girl.

...

Nowhere did it say you where a girl... heh...

And yeah, only post with stories! *bop*

And dreams do not count, unless you are in fact a girl, and I was in it.

Its not a short story but its the best thing I've ever wrote in Aetolia that gave a brief explanation of my character's path.

The Trails of Pandemonium begins many years ago, with the birth of the
Midnight Age. Everyones memories of the past shrouded in darkness and
the world in much chaos. Corrupted officials arise to the higher ranks
of mortals, while those who followed evil, chaos, and despair had to
hide their true identities. True evil, those who believe in the purest
forms of evil, not corruption, had no one to look to. There was no place
evil can stay, so we hid ourselves. Many people tried to change, to bend
their way to the righteousness. Others did not believe how they were, so
they imitated others. Others just did not do anything, they did not
know. While others, like myself, begun organizing the plan of the
future, the spreading of chaos and evil all around. Through time, the
tools of evil begun to shape us to our future, carving our weapons,
minds, and spirits with the hatred of the chaos and despair. Our ways
shadowed that of how we truly were, but we were smart enough to not show
our true form.

After my return from my very long absence, a man approached me and said
he wished to teach some people a lesson and together, we begun planning
out. After a few years of no progress, he disappeared, but I still felt
strong about my opinions, but I just did not want to teach a few people
a lesson, I wanted to teach everyone that opposed us a lesson. So I,
myself, begun planning even harder and working harder to spread my
ideals, a few people were interested, others did not want me to waste
their time. Hatred burned through me, pushing me farther though what I
had believed, a dark abyss of no progress. After awhile, I gathered all
my thoughts and told the people what I believed. Many people listened
and took it in, but most people thought I was crazy to even try this.
That no one would follow me, that Im just useless and would never amount
to anything. It seemed like the world was crashing around me, everywhere
I turned I got kicked or bit, or just pushed back. I began to think I
wouldnt accomplish anything, in fact I thought I knew I wouldnt. Until
finally, after a series of skirmishes and kicks, I re-found my hatred,
and it burned even harder within me. The simple idea of the
righteousness not bending itself to aide a darkened mind when they had a
common enemy, while the darkened minds adapted to the righteousness, but
the righteousness could not commit. This new found hatred, re-awakened
my chaotic, desperation, and darkened thoughts to take over all my other
thoughts. Evil had flooded over me, anger was my common thought, revenge
whipped me from both sides to wreck havoc upon my enemies.
I preached this new hatred to many people, even more people listened to
me, some agreed to help me, while others waited to see what I could do.
They mustve seen how hatred, revenge, chaos, evil, despair and anger can
swarm together to create one mind. I got help from unexpected sources,
people I thought Id never trust and that would never help me, but here
they are, aiding me to overcome the impossible. We begun this group, the
Spirits of Pandemonium, born of hatred, bred of evil, carved by chaos,
to create the world of pure evil, where even the brightest areas be the
darkest of the night. Even the ones who call themselves, "evil," will be
taught a lesson of what "evil" really is. Those who claim to be "evil,"
have never seen evil like this. Pure hatred forging our weapons, chaos
running through our veins and despair beckoning our thoughts.
The faintest star shines tonight, as the darkened purge burns within us
and comes forth to unleash havoc upon the world



I consider it my personal Mein Kampf.

Ted sighed and slopped his mop down again, spreading the soaped water around the smooth, tile floor. Just another day, he thought. At least I'm not stuck killing the damn rats, like Bob. Those things are hard to get.

As he moved down the hallway, mopping the floor as he went, he saw a man's shadow through the cheap, plastic, mosaic window of a door. Ted leaned his mop against the wall and edged over to the door. He could see that there were two people in there, and one of them was jabbing his finger at the other, the shadow of his finger rising and falling like a dagger.

Suddenly, a burst of light erupted from the tip of the shadow's finger, temporarily blinding Ted. He stepped back, but slipped on the wet floor, and accidentally kicked the door in on his way down.

Ted was seeing stars - literally. Little motes of light flashed around him, and he suddenly found himself on the floor of the room he was just looking at. He looked up into the face of his administrator - Jack Runnels, a man famous for his temper.

Unable to restrain himself, Ted rolled his eyes and said, "Honestly, was it necessary to summon me five feet?"

It was then that he saw the smoking form of the other man beside him. He jumped up and threw a punch at Jack, who suddenly appeared to blur and slip through time, and Ted cursed.

Jack pulled on some cosmic threads and threw out a bunch of webs at Ted, who fell to the floor, writhing and swearing. "Damn web-whore! That's the lamest trick in the world!", to which Jack replied, "It's a legitimate skill!"

Ted freed himself from the webs and ran out of the room, making sure to avoid slipping a second time. Jack was unaware, and followed him out - right into the wet floor. He slipped and cracked his head on the soap-water bucket, then fell down on it, dunking his head face first inside it.

He quickly pulled his head out, but started to vomit violently. He grabbed a bottle of choleric whiskey and took a swig. He looked up to see Ted coming at him with the mop.

Ted swung full-force at Jack's head. Jack simply ducked, then laughed and said, "Ha! Even you know that using one weapon is useless!"

Ted used his momentum to get into the office and lock the door. Jack started pounding on it futilely. After several seconds of pounding, Jack waited.

Ted searched frantically inside the office. At last, he found what he was looking for - the spare lamp that Jack always kept. He walked over to the door and raised one leg.

Suddenly, Jack was thrown backwards as the door flew open. A holy light seemed to shine from behind Ted. Actually, it was just the sunlight pouring through the window, but Jack had already taken a blow to the head.

Ted swung at Jack's leg with the lamp, but missed and hit his toe instead. Jack cried out in pain and keeled over, holding his toe. Ted took the opportunity and lunged at Jack with the mop, impaling him on the end of it.

Jack immediately started trying to free himself. Within moments, he removed himself from the mop's dangerous end, but found himself unable to stand, fight back, or do much of anything but swear. "Damnit! Not again! Impale is such crap."

Ted simply replied, "It's a legitimate tactic," and walked away, laughing to himself.

Alex folds the flyer mailed out weekly by his shopping cluband tucks it into a pocket. Grabbing up his keys from the hall table, he heads out the door. Taking out his cell phone he sends a message to David, his shopping club leader. In moments he receives his reply.
"Hmm, celery again. A few cayenne peppers, must be making a fire sauce."
Alex's phone beeps.
"Ahh yeah and a few bottles, yup fire sauce."
Quickly jumping into his bored out V-8 Besom, he sets off to the store in an outlying town.

Pulling into the lot in front of the store Alex scans for a clear spot to park. Suddenly his cell phone beeps to life again, this time a voice emitts from it, speaking of a traffic snarl on the highway through the forest. Several others confirmed this and give alternate routes.
"Yeah... go n,ne,w,se,nw,e,sw that'll getcha there."
Quickly walking across the lot Alex scans around for the brushed aluminum carts that tend to lurk in car lots. As Alex is crossing the main throughway in front of the store a rattling and rasping aluminum cart charges out of a large hole in the wall.
Alex, thinking quickly, snatches out his cell phone, and points it at the cart. As he thrusts the phone at the cart a brilliant white Nike swoosh shoots forth, slamming into the wire frame of the cart. Undeterred the brushed aluminum horror bears down on Alex and strikes him a glancing blow. Sent reeling, Alex tumbles to the ground, quickly rolling over, he can see that one wheel in the front does not always turn as the cart rolls toward him at breakneck speeds. With rare agility Alex manages to flip himself up and out of the way just as the carts wheels tear across the pavement where he had just been.
Pointing his phone once again he unleashes the curse of the phone, fusing the good front wheel, which causes the faulty wheel to also sieze and flip the cart. With a resounding clatter and crash the brushed aluminum cart smashes into a pile of firewood. Not waiting to see if it is indeed dead, Alex bolts for the store.

Quickly making his way to the section where he could get celery, Alex looks around fervently.
"Ahh man, it's all gone!" exclaims Alex.
"Every friggin' time I need something, someone's come along and gotten it all."
At the area where the celery is stored Alex notices a small stalk still left.
Taking out his phone he dials 911, as he does so a bright green light emits from the screen of the phone bathing the area in a healthy glow.
Glancing furtively around Alex pulls out of a pocket a small sign, about the size of his palm. Alex quickly props the sign against the last celery stalk and walks away.
Upon this small sign is a large bear wearing a silly hat, looking so very sad. The caption beneath reads "Only YOU can prevent over-harvesting".

offa the top of my head. heh like that one