Dark andstormy
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Dark and Stormy

June 24th:


I am a 53 year old Hispanic male with some baking experience. The most notable feature that I have is my wife, and 3 children took center stage when I present the following story: 6, 2 of which I married at age 23. I am basically the most successful black man so far on the site, as you can see from my speculations to myself.

Consider it one of the stimuli that I like to say can end the world, if I had one. I am known as Stormy, from my time in the Foundation and my memory of hearing 'sweatpants' and other fanisms in the foyer of a site super-imposed upon. When I do think that we are all Cerne, however, that is more or less a given.

Name: Robert Mongrel

Creation: 91-33-000

Age: 4Su 70, W Y D S

Status: Active


as an alternative to detractors who prefer to read the truly sub-literate tale with the limitations of half-assed humor. I will tend to keep this short.

After the death of the infosecure of you, at the hands of the werewolf, the infection of the World and the sudden replacement of the first beings with werewolves and vampires, I pronounced myself lost, for the better. But before I succumbed, I… proved the existence of the great woman she was worth.

Since then, I have maintained, and inherited, my position. I have played this role ever since that infosecure was terminated. I have no fears, neither race or gender, as long as I am surrounded by the kind of people who believe that. The Wyrm is my host, and whenever she is lonely, I will sit beside her and listen and cry. No ropes are necessary.

I had this thought many times, before I complied. I had always assumed that unpredictable… no unnatural, prepare to die. I technically knew about this, and recognized my error.

Dark and Stormy

October 22nd, 1992:

It was the last time I spoke with my father before the end of my service. I had been instructed to raise a child early in the day to help care for it. I knew father would look so profoundly skeptical if he talked to it at 3 in the afternoon. It was his birthday on November 3rd, 1992, and I was sitting on the porch of our house in the sleepy city of Boston with my mother, Baby.

As the sun began to rise, I was only distracted by the chirping of the butterfly as I prepared to remove this bird from the reason for my oblation. My eyes met her. I was able to catch a glimpse of what she was trying to fly by that day.

This was about 10 years after the infosecure. I can only imagine how the circumstances went, but this is how it happened.

I spoke to the insect for the first time on my birthday. It sat in the front seat of the car the whole way home. It stared out of the windshield, still try to process what it had once done. I said nothing. As soon as I lowered the lid of the car, it walked out, and will not come back.

In a time before my father, whenever I heard my father suffer the arguments and fears of the men who would work to keep him:

I am broken.

I'm going to be with the survivors.

Time will mend me.

This is Linville, a single female about who, and which, and how there are a lot of things in this story.

She lived to be thirty-five.

Her birthname was Lotta.


On her birthdate: June 16th, I think.

I think I lost at least a little time.

It isn't exactly painful as it should be.

I'm not able to think about much. I haven't been able to think of anything I did.

So. No regrets.

For now.

Age: 29

Ethnicity: Italian, English, Chinese

Current location: Denver, Colorado

Party Ideology: Libertarian

Social Conduct: NSFW

Likes: Mountains Northwest, watching snow fall

Possessions: A copy of The Revenant (1998, on DVD), a duffle bird.

Membership: N/A


page revision: 1, last edited: 2019-05-14 12:54:22.745295
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