As we rode the choppa back to out summer home on the moon, out of no where a giant lizard attacked our ship. I do not wish to specify which type of lizard this was, or else you would shit yourself from pure horror of what we had seen. The lizard latched onto our ship and threw us down toward a nuclear plant. Luckily, o… Read more

As we rode the choppa back to out summer home on the moon, out of no where a giant lizard attacked our ship. I do not wish to specify which type of lizard this was, or else you would shit yourself from pure horror of what we had seen. The lizard latched onto our ship and threw us down toward a nuclear plant. Luckily, our pilot, Jim, handled this scenario quite calmly; he jumped out of his seat, grabbed a parachute, and ran screaming off the helicopter. It was a good thing no one liked Jim. Gabe ran up to the piloting controls, and started quoting Pink Floyd for no reason. He managed to land us on top of the control center for the nuclear missile. I smashed through the roof and targeted the lizard, while Gabe fended it off with his rocket launcher, Ol' Salty Roger. That thing made the most horrid sound. In the end, we killed the lizard, Gabe became a cyborg, and I upgraded my minigun, Ol' Not-so-painless. And we danced into the night. Unfortunately neither of us could dance well so the universe exploded upon itself.

It was dark times, in the land of Chapmantopia. We were in the 2nd Loitering company, 5th platoon, fighting the "Dragon Tales", a elite brigade of super soldiers during the Trampoline Wars. "Do you suppose this war is just?" I asked one cold February Sunday afternoon. Gabe, nicknamed the "Abbey Road J-Walker", belche… Read more

It was dark times, in the land of Chapmantopia. We were in the 2nd Loitering company, 5th platoon, fighting the "Dragon Tales", a elite brigade of super soldiers during the Trampoline Wars. "Do you suppose this war is just?" I asked one cold February Sunday afternoon. Gabe, nicknamed the "Abbey Road J-Walker", belched, and looked over me with haggard eyes. "Son, justice is overrated. Let's just superglue a shotgun to your rifle and kill 'em to teeny-tiny pieces." Our platoon sergeant called out to us, beckoning us onto the mobile Trampoline. "Well, we better get go-" Was all I muttered before a flaming pillow engulfed our Sergeants face. Gabe, guided by pure instinct, flinched right, flinched left, then speedwalked over to the ammunition dump where he handed me a bandoleer of paper bags with what I guessed to be dog poo inside. He brought out a smoke, lit it, and puffed out a wisp of smoke that resembled a LEGO brick, while simultaneously pulling off and lighting the paper bags strapped to my chest. One, then two, then three Dragon Tale soldiers were vaporized instantly, while another, his arm covered in flaming feces, screamed a scream I can still hear to this day. Aside from our childish nonsense, Gabe's got a load of awesome in his 'stream. He just needs to finish his damn predator MOC so I can admire them. Peace out, motherfruitcakes.