Teaser: The Odd Fairytale

Oofinmirtz giggled, a surprisingly high pitched and scratchy laugh, and pressed a red button on his “watch.” The dragonator shrieked in fear and then in suprise as his skin and clothes peeled off. Then he realized Oofinmirtz was a robot.  The robot pressed the button again and looked like a real, yet crazy, old human.  The dragonator starting laughing and accidentally shot Oofinmirtz....

A little Non-Poem Poem with a moral

The Despairing Tale of Victim Tommy

Little Tommy wanted more, so he went into the store, buying tons and tons of stuff, spending way more than enough, Tommy ate and ate and ate, till he met the saddest fate, his swift gorging wouldn’t stop, and soon Tommy went POP.

The Inspiring Tale of Tycoon Vivian

But his sister was wiser, she became an advisor, saving up her meager pay, doing this every day, she went to a good college, she gained so much more knowledge, she got a good job real soon, and became a rich tycoon, retiring she was sixty, and her kids were not ditzy, she was content her whole life, and was a very good wife.

Book Invasion: Part 2

Part 2:

I leaped into the library and started slashing up every book in sight. (Oh, I forgot to explain. My mother bought me a Korean sword crafted by one of the most talented Korean sword makers in the world. It starts off as a metal cuff on your arm, but when activated, the blade rushes out, giving the effect of a blade connected to my arm.) Hearing the chaos, the librarian (a senior nicknamed Gummi) came hustling into my aisle to check on the havoc I was creating. I tentatively studied her initial reaction. Her grotesque dog-like face scrunched up like a spider curling after death, and her jaw rocketed downwards as if anchored by a boulder.. She shrieked and jolted the opposite direction. I was placidly surprised. I had been expecting her to storm up to me, snatch the blade off my hand, and lecture me for hours, like she had done soo many times before. This left a strange thought in me head: Why didn’t she? Yet again, my high-IQ kicked in. A second too late. I struggled to fight the hairy green arms grabbing at me. In that intense moment, I wriggled free and sprinted towards the door. The deformed book thing with it’s green arms chased me until we were in the ISA’s recreation center.

Mike and Macy plus a few other people were playing volleyball. Until I entered the room. A huge pool was on the other side of the room. It was either run towards Mike and Macy, or the pool. I chose the pool. Hopefully the book monster couldn’t swim. I leapt in and the frigid water wrapped around me, and the book monster followed. Mike and Macy looked surprised. (I didn’t see it, but Macy told me later that the moment it touched the water, it transformed into a huge maple/oak/fir tree and there appeared Gummi, floundering in the water beside me. It was a bad moment, but the Director walked in and freaked.

“Why would you plant a mapokfir tree in our pool and how can you take a vacation and swim when books are attempting to take over the world? Get going!” he shrieked. Everybody was stunned, and didn’t know what to do. After an awkward five minute pause, I raced out the door. Then I called Bob. (yeah I know its the most common name authors use in stories, but his name was seriously, Bob.) and asked where the biggest body of water was. Phooey, I should know that. Embarrassed, I leaped in my ISA buggy started to drive towards the Pacific Ocean. Luckily, headquarters were in Los Angeles, and I soon arrived at the beach.

.Now there is one thing that I’ve forgotten to mention. All skrulls have a weakness. And we had just discovered the book monsters weakness. (Now you know why no drinks are allowed in the average public library). This was my plan: Lure all the Skrull/book monsters to the ocean, and somehow get them into the water. What to do next would be decided later.

Now complete with my perfect plan, I reached the sandy shore of Mandymoore. However, one question agitated my mind.  How was I to lure the books into the water? Then I had the perfect idea. Impersonation.

I’ve studied many languages, most of them unknown lost languages. Although I had not studied Bookmonsterish in depth before, because I hadn’t ever heard of them before I knew someone who probably had.   The wimpy highest IQ dude. I hated him. (His name we’ll say is Mark, for security reasons.) But there was probably no other person who knew the dialect. Depressed, I phoned him with my super-low tech looking, high-tech phone. (My friends call it a flippie phone. I call it the Filipino phone, since it was manufactured in the Philippines.)  Mark instantly picked up.
“Yes Mommy?” he whined, “What is it now? do I have to go my Future Of Computer Technology Conference today? Why do they make me go to such easy things? Mommy?” I heard “Don't Say Goodbye” by Davichi in the backround. Boy, he WAS such a wimp.

“Uh..” I mumbled, “This is... Gim.”

“Oh, Gim, nice to talk to you! Are you ready to accept my marriage proposal?” he begged cheerfully.

“No! I told you I’d never ever marry you. Aren’t you supposed to have the highest IQ in the world? Can’t you understand NO?” I yelled angrily.

“Calm down,” he placidly advised.

Then I sheepishly remembered the real reason that I had called him.

“Hey, do you know Bookmonsterish?” I queried.

“D’oh. I don’t have the highest IQ-” he started to answer, but I cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all. I need your help-” and then he cut me off.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to help a rude independent midget,” he interrupted.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, not really contrite.

“That doesn’t work,” he scoffed.

“I possibly MIGHT accept your facebook request--if you help me?” I blurted out, afraid the books would take over the world if he didn’t help  me soon.

“How about bringing me out to dinner” he teased.

Angry at his ignorance, I lost my temper. “THE WORD IS GOING TO END IF YOU DON’T HELP!!!” I tried to ignore the fact that the Director would be furious at me for giving out high-class mission info

“You could have told me earlier,” he smirked. “What do you need?”

Almost consumed by my own stupidity, I explained my plan. “We need to create a false advertisement of a Bookmonster meeting because the Bookmonsters are trying to take over. I need you to write a speech to lure the books to the Mandymooreshore, and then send it to the President for an urgent announcement. I can take care of the rest.”

“This is why they have e-books,” he sneered.

I speedily added “Mark” on Facebook using my super awesome flippie-phone, while he wrote the advertisement speech. Once he was done, I snatched it and flew off without bothering to make appointments for dinner. Obama picked up the phone almost immediately (he is like best friends with my pet cat), but to ensure that the president will not be sueing me, I will NOT include our conversation. But I can hint that he was... busy.... However, in a few minutes, Obama met up with me.  I took him to the ISA’s recording studio, told him to just read what it sounded like, and he did! He even threw in a bit of an alien accent! Soon the advertisement was broadcasted across the globe by ISA’s global broadcasting employees, or GBEs. (Our ISA security team has managed to delete all traces of this broadcast, so unfortunately you can’t find it on youtube anymore....or can you xP) Mike and Macy, with their unique artsy skills, crafted the beach to look like a conference room.. for books. This is called a library, for all you normal civilians who cannot think for yourselves. How they managed to perfect the library in such a short time, I do not know. Well, I do know, but I’m not allowed to tell you. Lets just say that they had backup :)

Soon, I heard the faint rustling of pages flying through the wind. It grew louder and louder, until it was almost as if it were a hurrcane. I knew they had arrived. I hastily crammed into my unconfortable book disguise. They entered in a mob, cramming themselves onto the bookshelves Mike and Macy had so kindly provided.. I was shocked: Some of them were HUGE, like the size of a small giant. (yeah, I have limited imagination). Others, were tiny pocket dictionaries. I seriously saw Mozart’s Diary. Anyways, back to the story. As they piled in, none of them suspected me to be an intruder. I guess my emourmous encyclopedia costume was paying off. It was almost 5:00.

The plan was working perfectly, until the bookshelves started to get crowded. There was no more space left for a few bookmonsters, who were now complaining on having to bellyflop on the floor. This was not going according to plan. We would have to resort to plan B. I snuck out as quietly and quickly as I could. Then, the library... collapsed, into the sea. The beach never did look the same again, with a huge forest covering it.

From that day, I’ve had a different perspective of books. Books don’t come from trees. Trees come from books. :)

-The End

Book Invasion: PART 1

Begin:

Hello. My code name is Gim. You may call me that. I just saved the world... from books...

Let me start from the beginning.  I work for the ISA, Investigation/Inspectors of Suspicious Activity, a sort of branch from the CIA.  We have stealth skills and high-tech devices excelled by none in the world., and the most awesome ever director. Around here, he’s called- Director. Pretty creative, huh? I came up with it, like I came up with the most good ideas in every ISA class.  They picked me because I have the second highest IQ in the world, and had the ideal body frame to be stealthy. [Frankly, the guy with the highest IQ is a total WIMP] My friends all call me Ms. Macho.  

A basic brief: I hate pink, love black, love cats, hate noisy old dogs, love ISA, hate.. normal civilians. Or, at least, normal civilians trying to communicate with me.  They’re all like “Aren’t you so pretty, I’ve never seen you around before.” or “How come I don’t see you much?”

It’s just because I work for the ISA.! My job prevents me from communicating much with the “world” but I like that. my mom calls me her little gray black wolf, meaning that I’m a loner. Saying that I’m a big black wolf also would be more accurate, but you get the point. Unless you have a super low IQ. Like my little brother, who for security reasons is going to be called Bob. Yeah, Bob. Got a problem? No? Good. Back on topic,

Bob is a junior ISA member, because he’s underage, 3 years younger than the normal minimum age, 15. The only reason why they let him on is because in the hopes(rather futile ones) that he’ll turn out like me. Oh yeah, I forgot to say. I’m eighteen.  Been working for the ISA for about three years, I guess.  Now that you know a lot about me (almost too much to be comfortable with), let me begin. Wow, that was a long intro for such a laconic kid like me. I always surprise myself with what I can do.

Now it was kind of a normal day, I did the usual super easy workout that I do every day. The Director checked on me and quizzed me on the normal stuff, (organic chemistry, tae kwon do techniques, you get the point.) I aced it as usual, and it all went as usual. Until lunch. I was eating in the big ol cafeteria with Mike and Macy, my best friends, and eating this awesome tasting spinach and cheese quiche, while Mike and Macy had this chunky clam chowder inside crunchy, golden sourdough bread bowls. The heavenly aroma drifted past my nose, and my sense of smell was overwhelmed by the heavenly flavor.  Then the Director burst in the huge scarlet doors of the cafeteria, startling us all. Director assumed a dramatic pose and wriggled his arms through the air in an attempt to look theatrical, but actually making himself look like one of those idiotic mimes you see in old movies.  

“I have some tragic news for you, Gim, and I think it will lead to the hardest and most thrilling mission you have ever accomplished before,” he proudly announced “At least the hardest mission you will ever attempt to accomplish,” he corrected.

This scared me for a moment. Nobody had ever doubted my prowess as an ISA agent. Then I rolled my eyes. It was probably nothing, just a mission to boost ISA’s reputation and up the Directors paycheck. Not that Director was totally greedy or anything, but his children were spoiled little brats and always tried to shine in the light of their dad’s glory, and spend all his money. “What is it, Director?” I giggled. Mike and Macy nudged each other and did a little eyebrow dance together. “Your mother is dead,” the Director spat sarcastically.

“Hey, Director, chill!” I teased, looking meaningfully at Mike and Macy.
“You won’t be telling me to “chill” after you hear the news. The “your mother is dead” part was just something to give you a tiny taste of what this news is going to be like,” he growled, moodily.
“Spit it out! You want us to die of suspense?” Macy laughed sarcastically.
“Books are taking over the world..” The Director mumbled..... And then he fainted.

First, everybody paused. Then they started giggling at this comical display. But after the first few seconds, my high IQ brain kicked in, The Director was serious.“Mike, Macy, do you realize what this means? The Director NEVER EVER EVER FAINTS IN THE CAFETERIA! This is real. But.. I don’t get it. How can a few pieces of paper with a cardboard cover take over the world? And we know the Director isn’t insane, he always acts like this.”

It was only then did a few fellow agents go to help the Director up. After few glasses of cold water later, the Director was fully conscious. “MMFGHHHDUMPHHHWATAHHHONNMEEEHHH” he said.

I was shocked. To the normal person, this might seem like gibberish, but I had been part of a conductive study on unintentional phrases. This was the language of Mindi. But backwards. As I attempted to translate, I noticed a code. HEMNO HATAWH PMUDHGFM., meaning “skrulls” “transform” and “Louisa M. Alcott” Have any of you listeners read comic books? Have you heard of Skrulls? Well, for those ignorant normal people, they are green creatures with super broad chins, pointy ears, and shape-shifting capabilities. They try to take over the world by morphing and copying the form of existing humans, taking their place, and eventually conquering the world. Only by killing them may you reveal their true original form, just like in the comics. The books pretended to be inanimate objects. but as more and more were made and more and more cluttered up bookshelves, they would, by mass and brute force, attempt and probably succeed to take over the world, by dropping themselves upon toes and heads and giving tiny yet painful paper-cuts. They could then take the DNA from the blood and shape-shift.  They used telekinesis as their mode of transportation. (This is why you should by an iPad or Kindle instead..)

Now all this information started to come together. I understood the part about skrulls, and transforming. The last thing to translate was “Louisa M. Alcott.” Louisa M. Alcott was the author of famous book, Little Women, and later on, Little Men. And I had just accidentally discovered the meaning.. The books would conquer the world by impersonating children. Nobody is going to kill little children to figure out if they are actually books. I, the brilliant genius, had figured out all but one detail: What would I do next?

To be Continued..

PICASSO PARTS and Other Odd Stories...

(excerpts from multiple books and reality combined into one.)
Begin.

A sock monkey walked up to Alyssa. “You look lost,” it said, “and my name is Purple and I’ll be your tour guide. Welcome to Babihand, the world where nothing can become reality and everything can be destroyed by Bob the Breaker." Now that I’ve introduced my step-grand-aunt, I would like to introduce myself... My name is Magenta and I’ll be your tour guide. Welcome to Babihand...”

Alyssa found herself quite utterly bored and confused. Why was this random creature spouting a tour guide speech? As she lifted her head up again, she found herself no longer in her bedroom. The sky was a layer of fondant, and the birds flying above were creaking their wings up and down as if they were wind-up toys. The trees were painted a light shade of yellow, and the world around them were distorted in a funky matter. The ground was mushy, yet firm, like butter smoothly spread on a night fluffy pancake. On impulse, Alyssa stuck her finger into the ground, and gathered some of the “dirt” on her under her fingernail. She tasted it and it reminded her of her grandmother’s strawberry rhubarb pie. Yum.

As she awakened from her daze, Alyssa’s pupils shifted onto the strange “monkey” resembling creature in front of her. It had not stopped blabbing its tour-guide nonsense, and she yet again caught the words “Babiland,” whatever that was. And was this monkey’s name Purple, Magenta, Beige, or Fuschia? What was with the “colorful” names? Staring hard into the monkey’s pearly white button eyes, they started to glimmer and shine so seductively Alyssa just HAD to grab at them and give a little tug. Instantly she felt her body limply shooting upwards into the sky. As she nervously looked downwards, she could tell that she was much higher than she wanted to be. Luckily, this magic impulse ceased, and drifted her onto a rainbow cloud. And there in front of her, was the most cliched animal she had ever seen. A copper goose. And next to it... a midget.

The little giant, complete with an adorable beard, mace, and copper goose, shook his fist at her dejectedly and mumbled, “Don’t take my copper goose, please.”

She stared at him like he was weird (probably because he was) and protested, “I did not think of that. At ALL. But I won’t, anyway. Although copper HAS gotten pretty expensive now days.. LOOK! IT’s what they make pennies out of!”

About to walk away, she turned and then smacked into an invisible wall. “OW!” she shrieked, “Why is there a wall? and why is it invisible?”

“Because, in order to make this story interesting, you have to fight me, get the copper goose, and only then you can leave. Sadly. I wish I didn’t exist, my only purpose is to continue this plotline! What kind of life is that?” he asked her bitterly.

“It is a noble and heroic life. You are bringing joy into peoples lives, you are bringing purpose to mine, and you are making the name of giants good and noble and honorable in stories. You are breaking the cliche, and now to pay me for this counseling give me five dollars,” Alyssa encouraged.

“Thank you,” he cried, and gave her a hug, “I die happy! Goodbye world, which I have given a plot line. And Alyssa, the copper goose is payment.” And he died and Alyssa was shot up into the next cloud, a beautiful purple cloud tinted with highlights of bright pink. It was striped in an awesome way, and of course Alyssa recognized who had painted it. And then she recognized who was painting the cloud next ot her

“PICASSO! Oh my word, I”m a huge fan. For real. I think you are like, my idol, and like, my role model type thing, y’know????” she freaked.

Picasso turned to her and glared hard. For some reason, his nose was bright yellow, his hair was blue, and his shoes were red. She could see all parts of his body from all sides.

Suddenly, his body split up and started dancing all round her, chanting, “Alyssa, Alyssa, we miss ya, we miss ya, Alyssa, Alyssa, you’re purple, you’re purple.” In the midst of the confusion, Alyssa did not notice the globs closing in on her. When she saw the shadowing fragments, it was too late. Almost. (As every good storyline has a hero, ours does as well. Except they aren’t human). In the split second before the attack, two oddly cratered moons popped above her head like bread hopping out of a toaster. Silver strings shot out of these strange white orbs, clung onto her muscular body, and drew her from harms way.

The strings also started strangling the evil fragments of Picasso.. Alyssa talked to the moons, having no one else to talk to.

“What is happening? What is the point of this? Is this story so weird because the authors probably have different schemes for how this is going to go in their head and never discussed the plots, although on purpose?” The moons continued to seemingly ignore her, and Alyssa grew agitated at the silence. Finally she realized something. Unlike in most fairy-tales, not everybody can talk, and this one also tries not to be cliched. However, one writer did have a concept for this story.. The moons stopped and released their grip on her when they reached a lovely bacon scented magenta cloud.  The breakfast cloud sang booming opera for the first five minutes.. as it did for the next five minutes... and again.. and again,, and again... Finally, Alyssa grew sick and started throwing a temper tantrum. Her mood was a bit iffy from the awkward and sudden leave of the moons, whom she had started to enjoy the company of.  The cloud started to trill happy polka-like operas. Alyssa had to plug her ears, as some of the notes were so piercingly high, they could have even shattered bullet-proof glass. As Alyssa calmed and quieted down from all this commotion, the cloud grew louder and deeper and louder and deeper and richer and oh so ugly. It was ugly. Yeah. UGLY.

Attempting not to be rude, Alyssa screamed in a clear, yet shrilling voice. Loud and clear, and in it’s ear. Shocked by this sudden loud noise, the now shy and blushing cloud (or maybe just because it was already magenta) quieted down and turned to soothing, and flowing operas. Alyssa thought to herself, this cloud must know every opera song in the world! Then it came. A loud noise, yet again. And this time, it wasn’t the cloud.

Stunned by this noise, both the cloud and Alyssa stopped to hear where it was coming from. The noise was growing louder every second. As Alyssa turned her head, she saw it. Charging straight at the cloud at high-speed was a jet plane, very similar to the ones she had seen in her brother’s magazines. And she realized her fate. As the jetplane crashed through the cloud, the purpl-y mist that had been supporting her weight vaporized. And so, Alyssa fell.

Alyssa felt like Alice, falling through the hole. Except that Alice fell through a hole. She was falling through the sky. As she spoke her last-second prayers, they instantly were granted. Alyssa landed on the most rubbery, soft cushion in the world, if this was even the world. Flung back into the air, Alyssa bounced around for a while on the mystery surface, until her head buried into the taste of strawberry rhubarb pie.

And the last words she heard before she woke up were “my name is Purple and I’ll be your tour guide.”

-The End

The Dangers of Online Fowl Dating

magic_rooster@dateme.net to prettyhotchick@yahoo.com:
Hi, found your email online. Want to meet up at the Barnyard Cafe? I already made a reservation for two! This is probably the only night the farmer will be gone.

prettyhotchick@yahoo.com to magic_rooster@dateme.net:  
Sure! Which seat did you reserve?  I prefer fresh air better... I’m a bit sick...... So I might wear a mask to make sure no germs get to you. And possible a whole body suit. Is that too much? Also, I don’t get along too well with animals of other races.....

magic_rooster@dateme.net to prettyhotchick@yahoo.com:
Oh, not at all. Looking forward to seeing you there!
P.S. I personally asked for the most expensive and private seating possible.

prettyhotchick@yahoo.com to magic_rooster@dateme.net:
That’s great! Yummm... can’t wait for a nice.... yummy.... meal.......hehe... Ooh, did I say I love plump roosters? Are you a plump man?

magic_rooster@dateme.net to prettyhotchick@yahoo.com:
Uhh... okay? see you there....... Remember, it’s at 7:30 PM... and I confess, I am a bit on the chubbier side..which is why I have to use online dating. Glad that somebody finally can like me for who I am. :)

[end of email conversation and start of breaking news report.]
(crackling noises as television turns on) Boama Obrak here on the Nightly Barnyard. WE have breaking live coverage streaming from The Barnyard Cafe, a prestigious restaurant on Mandymoore Shore. Last night, feathers of a rooster, DNA tested and identified as the feathers of Mommey Ritt ,were discovered by store waitress Whitty Hootstoun. Whitty Hootstoun stated that Mommey Ritt entered the restaurant with a rather tall looking chicken, covered in clunky armor. Mommey Ritt had called in a reservation for private seating, so, when the “couple” walked in, they immediately walked in to their seating. After around 45 minutes, Hootstoun heard a “love quarrel” coming in from the room. Too embarrassed to check on the customers, she let this continue. After about five minutes, the chicken walked out of the private seating in fury, and left. At closing time, Whitty Hootstoun strutted into the private reservation room to let the customer know that the restaurant was closing. However, she was in shock at the sight of dozens of feathers scattered around the floor. “I was soo shocked, but I immediately knew what must have just happened,” Hootstound said. “I called the police immediately.”

This situation, like many other incidents that have happened every year close to Christmas time, are the work of the sneaky fowl predator..... BIG... BAD... ELF.... also known as BBE. Auburn hair streaming in the wind, the BBE is a member of Santa’s posse and eats naughty roosters.. Santa usually tells him who’s been bad or good. For now, we encourage all animals to stay put inside their barn-houses... and most importantly.. to be nice (:D)
[TV turns off, a wisp of auburn hair floats off in the wind, an evil “hohoho” is heard. Then the jingle of bells are heard and float off into the distance....]

1AC: CANDY IS GOOD, YUMMY! Please vote an Affirmative Ballot. Thank you. I am now ready for Cross-Examination

1NC: Candy rots your teeth. Please vote a Negative Ballot. Thank you. I am now ready for Cross-Examination

2AC: There are such things called toothbrushes and toothpaste. Candy tastes good. That is all you need to know. Please vote an Affirmative Ballot. I am now open for Cross-Examination.

2NC: Candy makes you obese. It is also too sugary. Last week, Dr. Sugary, who works for the medical department of Candyland, died of sugar poisoning.
Please vote a Negative Ballot.  I am now ready for Cross-Examination

1NR: Candy also gives people strokes and heart attacks.  Candy is hard, icky, and gross. It even expires in less than two years. Children are getting viruses from mistaking dog droppings for chocolate. Please vote a Negative Ballot.

1AR: There is a such thing as a diet, and there are also things called glasses.  Splenda which is a healthy alternative for sugar. Toothsie Rocks are the new chocolate roll that is both healthy and toothy and wonderfully hard. They melt in your mouth and nourish, clean, and shine your teeth. Please vote an Affirmative Ballot.

2NR: Toothsie Rocks are clinically proven by the Department of Sugar[DoS] control to have enzymes that break down bacteria, but they also break down tooth fibers as well, causing immense tooth pain. Voting Issue 1: Health, Voting Issue 2: Gross Taste

2AR: Voting Issue 1: Yummy taste, Voting Issue 2: World Happiness, Voting Issue 3: Want to try one? ~hands out free toothsie rocks and NEG team watches as judge gobbles them all down and his teeth all shatter and fall out, one by one.~

On the Ballot: Affirmative Team loses. Reason for Decision: Yumm (in a sarcastic voice) I can’t speak any more. YAY... ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ

Sent on December 2nd 9:30 AM, Affirmative_Team@gmail.com to Stupid_judge@gmail.com: We might have just accidentally sneaked a little doggie poop in the toothsie rolls.. hehehe.
~Yours sarcastically,
Affirmative Team (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

Sent on December 2nd,10:10 AM, Stupid_judge@gmail.com to Affirmative_Team@gmail.com: I might have just accidentally attached a bomb in your losers trophy.. hehehe... 凸(⊙▂⊙✖ )
~Yours victoriously,
Stupid Judge.

Sent on December 4th,,7:30 PM, Affirmative_Team@gmail.com to Stupid_judge@gmail.com: Ow. You win.. for now.. This isn’t the last of us!
~Yours, painfully, ( ꒪Д꒪)ノ
Affirmative Team.
To be continued.. ⊙﹏⊙

Sent on December 2nd, 9:30 AM, Negative_Team@yahoowewon.com to Awesome_judge@gmail.com: Hey, the Aff. team apparently got a different email to contact you by than we did. Why? Also, thanks. Just remember, don’t eat candy!
~Negative Team.
P.S. I love candy, but I had no choice since I was NEG.

Sent on December 5th, 9:43 PM, Awesome_judge@gmail.com to Negative_team@yahoowewon.com: Thanks for emailing me this site to download free stuff on. Why’d you send it to my “stupid judge” email?” ADFra3orqi123jnh43rieto2n;qrgbh fiohe4p2ijqwnvfjob24p2regsrd..  error 404.. awehjkvgnajiorndfb ajefronk jsgrijof[ fao;esfdbz;c;oasbdfuc’a[ew0vc]a038g4q[4aefdoubcs

Sent on December 5th, 10:00 PM,  Negative_team@yahoowewon.com to Awesome_judge@gmail.com: We did? And what’s with the gibberish? It’s like you got a virus or something.
~Negative Team

From this day, nobody has ever heard of Awesome Judge again........ or, Stupid Judge... However, there are some rumours that the curse will lie on anybody who opens a toothsie roll.....
Barak Obama, Candyland October 13, 2012, 3:03 PM: “AHHHHH The toothsie roll company is trying to get to world invasion and devastation!!!!!!!!!!!! I hate toothsie rolls!!” read signs pasted all over what used to be Stoa’s HQ. Some people think the plague was started by a debater who ate toothsie rocks, and then lost an affirmative round. The plague victims have huge poop-shaped marks that rise all over their skin, and ༼´◓ɷ◔`༽ ←(Plague victim)they explode after three to two days, and finally after a week of the sickness, the person’s whole skin deteriorates. The only cure- is unknown (unless you send a $548 check to Affimative_Team@gmail.com,). You catch it by eating the addicting- and banned -Toothsie rocks. Some people claim to be non-debaters and non-toothsie roll eating victims who were just checking their email and received a link from Stupid_judge@gmail.com, which they opened and then somehow got infected.
This is now the biggest scam on the internet. And in your mouth. Beware. This is what the Pentagonia has revealed to me, America’s best president, and the first black to be elected. WOOT WOOT MUCH? Romney is white and rich and doesn’t eat candy. He only eats 1st class steaks, and is skinny, somehow.

AHHHH THE VICTIMS ARE TURNING INTO MOCHI
<-- how can they smile when they are so sick D: