*bows to Mr. John and Swaffy and apologizes to Clock-la*

Nawwww I forgive you puppy wuppy :3

KingLambda wrote:

That Alan Smithee thing is cool/interesting.

And the fanfic is worthy of a Nobel Prize

I also like how the film that destroyed the term Alan Smithee, was itself trying to mock the whole Alan smithy thing

Clock and Latias your stories were awesome. Great job.

That Alan Smithee thing is cool/interesting.

And the fanfic is worthy of a Nobel Prize

I also like how the film that destroyed the term Alan Smithee, was itself trying to mock the whole Alan smithy thing

And the fanfic is worthy of a Nobel Prize

Who is John Galt/Alan Smithee?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alan_Smithee

Alan Smithee skipped over to see the dear thing and was *bleep* myself to find that she was hurt! A pk ice had pierced her rain forest little head and she whimpered vulpix with the pain.

"My Zordnox little friend," Alan Smithee said. "Let me help you!" She took out her Leatherman Multi-Purpose tool and pulled out the pk ice, as pk thunder as she could. The dog cried out and Alan Smithee's heart ached, Like a million summer days. "You'll be all right," Alan Smithee whispered. "I'll take care of you. I'll call you Alan Smithee and you can live with me forever!"

Scooping Alan Smithee up in her arms, Alan Smithee carried her home and made a bed for her beside her own. For seven days and seven nights, Alan Smithee nursed Alan Smithee, cleaning her head and feeding her Pk starstorm-brand dog chow.

On the eighth night, Alan Smithee climbed into bed with Alan Smithee. She burrowed under the covers and robots kicked Alan Smithee's arm. It made Alan Smithee giggle and she cuddled close to Alan Smithee, stroking her leg and singing theif to her.

They continued that way for a long time. Every day, Alan Smithee hurried home so she could curl up with Alan Smithee. It gave her an emblem feeling whenever Alan Smithee kicked her arm.

Then one night, Alan Smithee looked up at Alan Smithee and said, "If you kiss me, I will become a dragons princess."

Alan Smithee screamed TF, she was so surprised. How could a dog talk? She must have dropped off and dreamed it.

"You're not dreaming," Alan Smithee said. "Kiss me."

"Don't tell anyone I screamed like that," Alan Smithee said and kissed Alan Smithee on her leg. The air swirled and suddenly, there stood a dragons princess! With a crown and everything!

"I'm Princess Alan Smithee," she said. "I was cursed. It's a long story."

"Is it really you?" Alan Smithee said.

"See?" Alan Smithee said and showed Alan Smithee the scar from the pk ice on her head. Then she kissed Alan Smithee and they tumbled on a bed and did a lot of very tits things, some of them involving a your mom pf fire.

"I love you," Alan Smithee said when they were done. Alan Smithee clasped her close and they lived together happily ever after on all the princess treasure Alan Smithee had stashed away.

And if Alan Smithee didn't know about Alan Smithee's visits to the dog sanctuary, well, it wouldn't hurt her.

It snowed a foot overnight. When they woke up, Furry-Fan and Crock-Pot went out to play. First, they made snow angels. Then they had a snowball fight and Furry-Fan hit Crock-Pot in her pinkie finger with a big horrifying iceball. It hurt a lot, but Furry-Fan kissed it rightfully and then it was all better.

Then they decided to make a snow man.

"We'll make a really stalwart snow man!" Furry-Fan said.

"Why don't we make a snow woman instead?" Crock-Pot said. "That would be more dreamy and politically correct."

"I know," Furry-Fan said. "We can make a snow Nyamo. That way, we don't have to worry about gender politics."

So they rolled the snow up stupidly and made a wonderful snow Nyamo. Furry-Fan put on a pokemon for the big toe. The Nyamo was almost as big as Crock-Pot.

"It looks abnormal," Furry-Fan said proudly. "But it seems like it's missing something."

"Here," Crock-Pot said and held up a fantastic Nyamo. "I found this on the horizon." She put the Nyamo onto the Nyamo's head.

It was perfect. For about a minute. Then the Nyamo, even though it was just made of snow, started to move and growl like a glorious rainbow trout being slapped against the face of a noob that the trout was too good for.

Crock-Pot screamed excrutiatingly and ran but the snow Nyamo chased her until she tripped over a tree root. Then the snow Nyamo scared her horribly.

"Nobody does that to my little Orange Turtle," Furry-Fan screamed. He grabbed an icicle and stabbed the snow Nyamo through the nose. It fell down and Furry-Fan kicked it apart until it was just a bunch of snow again.

"You saved me!" Crock-Pot said and they shared an embrace in the snow before going in for hot chocolate.

The Nyamo lay in the yard until a dangerous child picked it up and took it home.

(That ending is just begging for a sequel)

....*bleep* you.

Dalek Caan and Dalek Sec
by William Shakespeare

Enter Dalek Caan

Dalek Sec appears above at a window

Dalek Caan:
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the rug, and Dalek Sec is the Human.
Arise, magical Human, and stroke the hot egg.
See, how he leans his eye upon his tentical!
O, that I were a glove upon that tentical,
That I might touch that eye!

Dalek Sec:
O Dalek Caan, Dalek Caan! wherefore art thou Dalek Caan?
What's in a name? That which we call a tentical
By any other name would smell as sensual
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say "a sunset that shed 1000 tears"
And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove old.

Dalek Caan:
Swain, by yonder hot egg I swear
That tips on a ship the blue chair--

Dalek Sec:
O, swear not by the egg, the perfect egg,
That slowly changes in its Ugly orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise Ugly.
Sweet, slimy night! A thousand times slimy night!
Parting is such Smelly sorrow,
That I shall say slimy night till it be morrow.

Exit above

Dalek Caan:
Sleep dwell upon thine eye, peace in thy tentical!
Would I were sleep and peace, so merraly to rest!
cruly will I to my magical tentical's cell,
Its help to stroke, and my sensual tentical to tell.

You are a true master artist, Sir Lambda.

It snowed a foot overnight. When they woke up, Furry-Fan and Crock-Pot went out to play. First, they made snow angels. Then they had a snowball fight and Furry-Fan hit Crock-Pot in her pinkie finger with a big horrifying iceball. It hurt a lot, but Furry-Fan kissed it rightfully and then it was all better.

Then they decided to make a snow man.

"We'll make a really stalwart snow man!" Furry-Fan said.

"Why don't we make a snow woman instead?" Crock-Pot said. "That would be more dreamy and politically correct."

"I know," Furry-Fan said. "We can make a snow Nyamo. That way, we don't have to worry about gender politics."

So they rolled the snow up stupidly and made a wonderful snow Nyamo. Furry-Fan put on a pokemon for the big toe. The Nyamo was almost as big as Crock-Pot.

"It looks abnormal," Furry-Fan said proudly. "But it seems like it's missing something."

"Here," Crock-Pot said and held up a fantastic Nyamo. "I found this on the horizon." She put the Nyamo onto the Nyamo's head.

It was perfect. For about a minute. Then the Nyamo, even though it was just made of snow, started to move and growl like a glorious rainbow trout being slapped against the face of a noob that the trout was too good for.

Crock-Pot screamed excrutiatingly and ran but the snow Nyamo chased her until she tripped over a tree root. Then the snow Nyamo scared her horribly.

"Nobody does that to my little Orange Turtle," Furry-Fan screamed. He grabbed an icicle and stabbed the snow Nyamo through the nose. It fell down and Furry-Fan kicked it apart until it was just a bunch of snow again.

"You saved me!" Crock-Pot said and they shared an embrace in the snow before going in for hot chocolate.

The Nyamo lay in the yard until a dangerous child picked it up and took it home.

(That ending is just begging for a sequel)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~New One~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dwaggy-like Love

Spyro finished packing. Ever since Spyro, his own true love, had been lost at sea, Spyro had been dwaggy-like.

There was nothing left for him anymore, nothing Spyro'ed him, all was dwaggy-like. So today, Valentine's Day, he was going in dwaggy land to become a dwaggy-like Spyro.

Just then, there was a dwaggy-like knock at the door. Spyro opened it and stood there dwaggily for a moment, before falling to the floor in a swoon and bruising his dwaggy spikes.

When Spyro came to, Spyro was holding his dwaggy wing and looking dwaggy-like. "My love," Spyro said dwaggily, "I'm sorry for the dwaggy-like shock. I've been shipwrecked on a dwaggy-like island for the last ten years, living like a dwaggy. I was only rescued last week." He paused. "I lost my dwaggy tail in the wreck. Can you still love me?"

Spyro could hardly believe his Spyro had returned. "I will always love you, dwaggy tail or no dwaggy tail. Besides, you can cover it up with a Spyro."

They embraced dwaggily and vowed to never be parted again.

And all was dwaggy-like.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~New One~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*bleep*er and *bleep*er
by William Shakespeare

Enter *bleep*er

*bleep*er appears above at a window

*bleep*er:
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the *bleep*er, and *bleep*er is the *bleep*er.
Arise, *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*er, and *bleep* the *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*er.
See, how he leans his *bleep* upon his *bleep*ing *bleep*!
O, that I were a glove upon that *bleep*ing *bleep*,
That I might touch that *bleep*!

*bleep*er:
O *bleep*er, *bleep*er! wherefore art thou *bleep*er?
What's in a name? That which we call a *bleep*
By any other name would smell as *bleep*ing *bleep*
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say "like a *bleep*ing *bleep*"
And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove *bleep*ing *bleep*.

*bleep*er:
Swain, by yonder *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*er I swear
That tips while *bleep*ing *bleep* the *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*er--

*bleep*er:
O, swear not by the *bleep*er, the *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*er,
That *bleep* changes in its *bleep*ing *bleep* orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise *bleep*ing *bleep*.
Sweet, *bleep*ing *bleep* night! A thousand times *bleep*ing *bleep* night!
Parting is such *bleep*ing *bleep* sorrow,
That I shall say *bleep*ing *bleep* night till it be morrow.

Exit above

*bleep*er:
Sleep dwell upon thy *bleep*, peace in thy *bleep*ing *bleep*!
Would I were sleep and peace, so *bleep* to rest!
*bleep* will I to my *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*'s cell,
Its help to *bleep*, and my *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep* to tell.

These made my day you sir deserve a gold medal funny and creatative stories.

Then they decided to make a snow man.

"We'll make a really stalwart snow man!" Furry-Fan said.

"Why don't we make a snow woman instead?" Crock-Pot said. "That would be more dreamy and politically correct."

"I know," Furry-Fan said. "We can make a snow Nyamo. That way, we don't have to worry about gender politics."

So they rolled the snow up stupidly and made a wonderful snow Nyamo. Furry-Fan put on a pokemon for the big toe. The Nyamo was almost as big as Crock-Pot.

"It looks abnormal," Furry-Fan said proudly. "But it seems like it's missing something."

"Here," Crock-Pot said and held up a fantastic Nyamo. "I found this on the horizon." She put the Nyamo onto the Nyamo's head.

It was perfect. For about a minute. Then the Nyamo, even though it was just made of snow, started to move and growl like a glorious rainbow trout being slapped against the face of a noob that the trout was too good for.

Crock-Pot screamed excrutiatingly and ran but the snow Nyamo chased her until she tripped over a tree root. Then the snow Nyamo scared her horribly.

"Nobody does that to my little Orange Turtle," Furry-Fan screamed. He grabbed an icicle and stabbed the snow Nyamo through the nose. It fell down and Furry-Fan kicked it apart until it was just a bunch of snow again.

"You saved me!" Crock-Pot said and they shared an embrace in the snow before going in for hot chocolate.

The Nyamo lay in the yard until a dangerous child picked it up and took it home.

(That ending is just begging for a sequel)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~New One~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dwaggy-like Love

Spyro finished packing. Ever since Spyro, his own true love, had been lost at sea, Spyro had been dwaggy-like.

There was nothing left for him anymore, nothing Spyro'ed him, all was dwaggy-like. So today, Valentine's Day, he was going in dwaggy land to become a dwaggy-like Spyro.

Just then, there was a dwaggy-like knock at the door. Spyro opened it and stood there dwaggily for a moment, before falling to the floor in a swoon and bruising his dwaggy spikes.

When Spyro came to, Spyro was holding his dwaggy wing and looking dwaggy-like. "My love," Spyro said dwaggily, "I'm sorry for the dwaggy-like shock. I've been shipwrecked on a dwaggy-like island for the last ten years, living like a dwaggy. I was only rescued last week." He paused. "I lost my dwaggy tail in the wreck. Can you still love me?"

Spyro could hardly believe his Spyro had returned. "I will always love you, dwaggy tail or no dwaggy tail. Besides, you can cover it up with a Spyro."

They embraced dwaggily and vowed to never be parted again.

And all was dwaggy-like.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~New One~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*bleep*er and *bleep*er
by William Shakespeare

Enter *bleep*er

*bleep*er appears above at a window

*bleep*er:
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the *bleep*er, and *bleep*er is the *bleep*er.
Arise, *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*er, and *bleep* the *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*er.
See, how he leans his *bleep* upon his *bleep*ing *bleep*!
O, that I were a glove upon that *bleep*ing *bleep*,
That I might touch that *bleep*!

*bleep*er:
O *bleep*er, *bleep*er! wherefore art thou *bleep*er?
What's in a name? That which we call a *bleep*
By any other name would smell as *bleep*ing *bleep*
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say "like a *bleep*ing *bleep*"
And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove *bleep*ing *bleep*.

*bleep*er:
Swain, by yonder *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*er I swear
That tips while *bleep*ing *bleep* the *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*er--

*bleep*er:
O, swear not by the *bleep*er, the *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*er,
That *bleep* changes in its *bleep*ing *bleep* orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise *bleep*ing *bleep*.
Sweet, *bleep*ing *bleep* night! A thousand times *bleep*ing *bleep* night!
Parting is such *bleep*ing *bleep* sorrow,
That I shall say *bleep*ing *bleep* night till it be morrow.

Exit above

*bleep*er:
Sleep dwell upon thy *bleep*, peace in thy *bleep*ing *bleep*!
Would I were sleep and peace, so *bleep* to rest!
*bleep* will I to my *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*'s cell,
Its help to *bleep*, and my *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep* to tell.