The "General Games Chat" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
Sorry, Mystique, but I couldn't resist! Here we go...
------------------------------
I cIt started off as a nice, peaceful day outside Mystiques front garden, when Will Smith pulls up in a bran-spanking-new, black BMW with rocket launchers bulging out the front. He opens the tinted window and slowly puts his shades on.
"Hey, baby!" He says to Mystique. Mystique is quite confused, but before she can do anything, Will says,
"You're coming with me," and uses that weird flashy thing to wipe her memory, then quickly drives off after carefully placing her in the back seat.
Later, Mystique finds herself in the MIB HQ. Will uses the flashy thing once more to make sure she doesn't remember the way to the HQ. She has a psychiatrist staring closely at her, who is trying to get her memory back by showing her objects and asking her to name them.
First, he holds up a glove.
"Hand," she says.
"Close. It's a glove," says the psychiatrist. He tries again, this time asking her name.
"Mistake!" She replies. The psychiatrist sighs and holds up a fork.
"It's a!" she says.
The psychiatrist bursts out laughing. "No, no! Not. It's fork! We'll give it one more try."
He produces a Big Mac.
"Bug Muck!" She says.
"Oh God!" Says the psychiatrist in disbelief. "I reckon we'd better give up."
She is escorted into a lift, which takes her up to a conference room, with Sniper, Grix, er-no, shaneo and Goatboy sitting around a large, round table.
"Well hello," says Grix, welcoming Mystique. "Please take a. . ." SMACK!
"Sorry," says Mystique, drowsily. "Just get to the point."
Everyone gasps, except for shaneo who is half asleep and er-no, who is staring at her, dribbling. Mystique sits down. The chair starts to creek. She hears it and quickly stands up.
"Hey, you!" She says, referring to Goatboy. "Come here!" Goatboy complies without hesitating, trembling with excitement. Mystique quickly nicks his chair.
"Now," says Grix. "You are here because we need you to track down this fellow here," Grix points at a photograph on the table. "He has discovered life on Jupiter and wishes to use the aliens there to help him take over the world. Yes, I know, you've seen it every day in a film, but this is real, so be careful. He calls himself Elvis. We know that is not his real name, but we will refer to him by Elvis also, because we don't know his real name! He got himself a squad of bodyguards when he found out we were trailing him. Don't worry, these guys will be with you as long as they live through the mission."
"Oh God," she says, irritated. "I'll just. . .um. . .leave now." She stands up.
"Sit DOWN!" Says Grix, getting rather agitated. "I was told that you already have experience with firearms and stuff like that, when you encountered this bloke. . .erm. . .what's his name. . . Tiltawhirl, yes, ahem, so additional training isn't necessary. But how are you going to know who's who unless we properly introduce ourselves? ALL RIGHT GUYS. FRONT AND CENTRE, NOW!" Everyone lines up and, in order, says their names. Mystiques attention is destracted by a small figure, tugging at her trouser leg.
"Oh yeah," says Grix. "That's MiniMe. Okay, I don't care how you track Elvis down, just make sure you get him here, alive. Snaneo, get her kitted up and give her a descent weapon. Now GO!"
END OF PART ONE
Part two will be coming soon.
Enjoy!
------------------------------
I cIt started off as a nice, peaceful day outside Mystiques front garden, when Will Smith pulls up in a bran-spanking-new, black BMW with rocket launchers bulging out the front. He opens the tinted window and slowly puts his shades on.
"Hey, baby!" He says to Mystique. Mystique is quite confused, but before she can do anything, Will says,
"You're coming with me," and uses that weird flashy thing to wipe her memory, then quickly drives off after carefully placing her in the back seat.
Later, Mystique finds herself in the MIB HQ. Will uses the flashy thing once more to make sure she doesn't remember the way to the HQ. She has a psychiatrist staring closely at her, who is trying to get her memory back by showing her objects and asking her to name them.
First, he holds up a glove.
"Hand," she says.
"Close. It's a glove," says the psychiatrist. He tries again, this time asking her name.
"Mistake!" She replies. The psychiatrist sighs and holds up a fork.
"It's a!" she says.
The psychiatrist bursts out laughing. "No, no! Not. It's fork! We'll give it one more try."
He produces a Big Mac.
"Bug Muck!" She says.
"Oh God!" Says the psychiatrist in disbelief. "I reckon we'd better give up."
She is escorted into a lift, which takes her up to a conference room, with Sniper, Grix, er-no, shaneo and Goatboy sitting around a large, round table.
"Well hello," says Grix, welcoming Mystique. "Please take a. . ." SMACK!
"Sorry," says Mystique, drowsily. "Just get to the point."
Everyone gasps, except for shaneo who is half asleep and er-no, who is staring at her, dribbling. Mystique sits down. The chair starts to creek. She hears it and quickly stands up.
"Hey, you!" She says, referring to Goatboy. "Come here!" Goatboy complies without hesitating, trembling with excitement. Mystique quickly nicks his chair.
"Now," says Grix. "You are here because we need you to track down this fellow here," Grix points at a photograph on the table. "He has discovered life on Jupiter and wishes to use the aliens there to help him take over the world. Yes, I know, you've seen it every day in a film, but this is real, so be careful. He calls himself Elvis. We know that is not his real name, but we will refer to him by Elvis also, because we don't know his real name! He got himself a squad of bodyguards when he found out we were trailing him. Don't worry, these guys will be with you as long as they live through the mission."
"Oh God," she says, irritated. "I'll just. . .um. . .leave now." She stands up.
"Sit DOWN!" Says Grix, getting rather agitated. "I was told that you already have experience with firearms and stuff like that, when you encountered this bloke. . .erm. . .what's his name. . . Tiltawhirl, yes, ahem, so additional training isn't necessary. But how are you going to know who's who unless we properly introduce ourselves? ALL RIGHT GUYS. FRONT AND CENTRE, NOW!" Everyone lines up and, in order, says their names. Mystiques attention is destracted by a small figure, tugging at her trouser leg.
"Oh yeah," says Grix. "That's MiniMe. Okay, I don't care how you track Elvis down, just make sure you get him here, alive. Snaneo, get her kitted up and give her a descent weapon. Now GO!"
END OF PART ONE
Part two will be coming soon.
Enjoy!
Page:
Nothing, but it just seemed more lyrical than saying "multi-part story"
Goatboy, what makes you think it's a poem?
Ah, sorry.....I get you now (If I didn't I would probably be killed :P)
Lesbians? Where?
MJ
Lesbians? Where?
MJ
MILF
hur-hur-hur...Used to think that about Philipa Forester, but not now she ate all the pies.
hur-hur-hur...Used to think that about Philipa Forester, but not now she ate all the pies.
you dont know what milf means?
urgh
Mom
I'd
Like to
F***
= MILF
urgh
Mom
I'd
Like to
F***
= MILF
Goatboy wrote:
> You should be flattered.
Women swoon when they inspire poetry and writing
> from a male, don't they?
er ok
... eh hem
oh that is so sweet you wrote a story about me.
you are so cute
> You should be flattered.
Women swoon when they inspire poetry and writing
> from a male, don't they?
er ok
... eh hem
oh that is so sweet you wrote a story about me.
you are so cute
Sorry, not catching your drift really Mis-teeq......(thats how you spell it so don't argue)
MJ
MJ
Val][-][allA-Recoil wrote:
Stifflers mum......*drool* :P
i think the word is MILF
Stifflers mum......*drool* :P
i think the word is MILF
Hey, Goatboy, I see you have seen American Pie 2. I gt peed on :D Classic moment :P
Stifflers mum......*drool* :P
MJ
Stifflers mum......*drool* :P
MJ
You should be flattered.
Women swoon when they inspire poetry and writing from a male, don't they?
Women swoon when they inspire poetry and writing from a male, don't they?
Page: