America: where God is only as great as we need him to be

1776: The greatest country in the world is created. God wets his pants and sends Jesus to pacify the great power of the United States of America, only for he himself to become an American under the guise of Johnson Sullivan.

The deeds of our forefathers were plentiful and great, though actions alone have rarely changed the world. The force of a country, one united and yet diverse, is required for conquest, and though it has been replicated elsehwere, the United States has remained the most powerful. We are a team that has integrated this spirit into our actions (as well as our names) and due to this we are really good at aiming and ♥♥♥♥.

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how i wasted my weekend

6 de junho de 2010 - d*rpenburg | 0 comentário(s)

So.... I was wiki blue linked into world war 1 and was suddenly inspired to write some historical fiction. No idea why the hell that connection makes any sense but anyway I posted up a whopping 4778 word 'how i wasted my weekend' piece for all of you look at so my ego gets larger and its about ww1. Actually, scratch that, it's about boobies, America and how all you non-Americans need to totally aspire to be Americans. Oh wait that's called reality! (snap, I guess mostly to myself)

I don't consider this story thing to be my best and I realise that the dialogue is ♥♥♥♥, and I know it's not all that funny, so it seems like you shouldn't read it anyway. Well I'm doing it so you can all gasp at how amazingly creative my time wasting is, and so I don't ever forget that its not only mw2 that stops me from doing doing essays. Its bloody Microsoft Word's fault, damn you and your blank empty page ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥.

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how i wasted my weekend PT8 (final part)

6 de junho de 2010 - d*rpenburg | 2 comentário(s)

Sullivan had never seen no man’s land as he did at that moment when he went over the top. It was dark but he could still make out the pockmarked field ahead of him, strewn with slender mannequins and barnhouse carcasses, and even pieces of uniforms and corpses. There were more than a few corpses, he saw, British and Germans pale and bloated like dead china dolls .He ran across the field, clearing some barbed wire, cursing the rain, losing track of Johnson, losing track of Phillips, losing track of Patch, losing track of Wilson, losing track of himself, seeing only the machine guns open fire ahead of him, seeing his men fire back uselessly and falling, smelling the egglike stench of gunpowder all around him, seeing only blood, death, regret, fire, and worst of all rain. But he didn’t shiver. He closed his eyes, he didn’t want to see these things, he wanted it to stop, he closed them tight so he wouldn’t have to open them ever again.

He never did.