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Mass Fiction is a long running collaborative fiction effort.

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Hitler was shocked. "No!" He said. "Do not speak of this, but the Jew thing is just a distraction. There are much bigger things about to happen."

George then felt a bullet pierce his skull. He died, and Hitler's cover story became the official story.

My, but I certainly love penis, don't I? I love it even more than I love drinking diarrhea, don't I?

Here's yer daily affirmation, toots. Please don't forget to take yer meds. God bless.

In the next room, we immediately see great works of art, too heavy to remove from this alabaster building, the museum. We will choose first the smallest piece and with the cooperation of all hands in our group of 25 and including the 51st and 52nd hands of our docent will try our massed (fictional) strength to slide this marble goddess (long ago confiscated from an ancient nation) to another location in the same room. We carefully arrange ourselves with our 52 hands each finding a hold on the pedestal, or on the base originally attached to the sculpture.

Oh how satisfying from the first moment to be invited to touch the statue with our hands, we who have visited this museum many times even since childhood. Also, fear we feel, imagining that this big stone might rock and topple at the first pressure we apply.

For the love of God, Gene, pull the fucking plug!

Or just ban these idiots who insist on assing up our fun. You know, like the page says you will do. Does anyone even watch this thing anymore? This is seriously one of the worst websites ever. I don't know why I keep coming here, I guess I just love the torture of reading such worthless bullshit, this diarrhea coming out of some clearly disturbed minds. I say we round them all up, and douse them with some Mr. Clean! These idiots probably haven't had a shower in years, and Mr. Clean will wash the filth right off!
Listen Gene, this site is a violation of national security! I heard the Russians will invade your backdoor and give you a virus!
Nah, just kidding, yo. THis site is dope. Me and my boys come here all the time. We wanna find out the best methods for coming up with rhymes.
I love mass fiction, and i'm here to say
i like to leave spam here every day
All i really want is some tits in my face
making the world a better place
move on over, here comes the master race
fucking mad bitches all over the town
turn them upside down, and sideways too, you see
Ban everybody! Ban that guy! He don't wanna work, he just wanna get high!
Build rocket boots, and take to the sky
No looking back, no need to know why
Mundane and idiotic? This is definitely not it
This is much better than reading about shit
All they ever say, every day,
Gay gay gay gay gay gay gay?
Is there another way? What's that you say?
Pull the plug Gene? Delete this scene? Change the background green?
Call Mr. Clean?
Nobody reads this site anymore. That's because, it's a horrible bore.
Nothin but stupid shit, what are they sayin?
Can't take this site, and I ain't playin
I'm gonna hunt you down, find your town
Knock on your door, call your mom a whore
Take you outside, go for a ride
Into the park, into the dark

Sweet mother of God.

Spencer opened his eyes. The dildo was still taped to the ceiling. Beauregard was somehow responsible for this. Payback was needed. But the voice outside was also still there.

"Oh THIRTEEN" "You know pencils are great, and gay ones even better because..."

Spencer couldn't think straight. Is there a pencilism? He THOUGHT.

Frankly, I'll just go on hating, loving, and having ambivalence towards most stuff as I always have, he THOUGHT.

But you must believe all that we believe you MUST say! If ya don't, well...

Spencer was suspicious. People claimed a Utopia that made no sense.

A world that had very little to do with freedom in any way...

In actu-

Tribulation: Actually, I think that if you read the right books you'll actually find that...

They'll publish anything for the right price, thought Spencer.

Tribulation: We certainly believe that we're doing the right thing for a...

Let me cut it, said Spencer, you're wrong. My, but I'm a raging homosexual, aren't I?

For the love of God, Gene, pull the fucking plug!

And so Gene pulled the plug. Well, a, plug. Spencer's butt plug.

"Ow, Fuck!" yelled Spencer.

"They made me do it" said Gene.

"MY ASS!" Spencer cried. "It Hurrrttsss!"

Spencer hummed the Duracell theme. He sure did love those batteries.

More Valmorx, please.

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