"user, you're always reading so tell us a story!"

aight aight aight.

I used to work at a grocery store called no frills. really old location. one of our toilets broke. if you flushed it, the water would keep running. so instead of turning the water valve off we just stopped using it. someone decided to shit in it and we all thought it was funny to keep shitting in it afterwards. letting the shit pile up high. eventually we shit so much that it was filled right to the rim with shit. one flush and we were fucked. by that time we noticed it was kinda gross and we shouldn't have done that. what ever, weeks go by and the shit is still in the toilet. funking up the entire upstairs. one day one of the delivery truck drivers asks if he can use the washroom before he leaves. "yeah sure man, do what ever you want". he leaves and about a half hour goes by. I walk to the back room and it's fucking raining from the ceiling. not even raining it's like a goddamn waterfall. constant stream of water coming down. I think "that's odd". go get my buddy to show him. we stand there laughing and wondering what it is. so we go upstairs to check. open the bathroom door. to get into the bathroom you have to go down 2 steps. it's literally filled with a foot of shitty doo doo water. the fucking doo doo water is raining onto all the grocery goods we just got delivered. we both look at each other like "fuck one of us has to turn that water valve off". "I'm not fucking doing it, you do it". negative. no way we were gonna walk in that shitty water. we go get the manager. he can't believe what he's seeing. he pooped in the toilet too. so he takes it like a man and walks into the shitty water ankle deep and turns the valve off. we had to let it rain shitty water for about an hour for the bathroom to finally empty. I remember pushing the shitty water out the back door with a giant floor squigee with my buddy while he danced around singing "singin in the rain". so it finally stopped raining shit water. well guess what. the owner says that products going out onto the floor. we're selling that shit. fucking kleenex boxes drenched in shit water they were falling apart. cardboard so soggy they couldn't hold their shape. entire pallets of paper towel, half drenched with brown water. you name it we sold. best part of the story is now. a few hours later it's shift change. a new kid comes in. I tell him to grab the pump jack and take out a pallet of paper towel. he pumps it up pulls the pallet then abruptly stops. dumping a huge load of shitty water all over his head and face. he smiles at me and says "wtf was that". I look at him. hand over my mouth in shock. I speak slowly and calmly to him " Dylan, you know the toilet upstairs? well someone flushed it and it flooded, that's why the floors all wet". "he's like "are you fucking serious". "yeah man that's shitty water all in your mouth". he rips off his shirt throws it on the floor and just marches out of the store. walks right through the store with no shirt on. went hom

I was young, far too young. He was wintering in Kent, whoever 'he' was. I may have convinced myself that it was all a dream. I first saw him when he held the door for me at the local railway museum, and our paths crossed again in the library; we both reached for the same copy of Nabokov's Pale Fire as he hummed the vocal melody of Van Morrison’s Cyprus Avenue. Our hands brushed, and we looked to each other – I with a nervous smile, he with a grin that has now come to haunt my mind's eye whenever I allow my thoughts to wander as I am taken in by the motorik rhythms of certain popular German progressive rock bands. "Take it," he said. "I much prefer his earlier work." I thanked him and turned to leave, but as I did so he grabbed my dress and tugged me back, forcefully wrapping his arm about my waist and pushing my bottom against the rock of his crotch. I respected the policies of the library too much to scream. He pressed his nose to my scalp – "You're a soft little machine, aren't you? Mhm... seven out of ten." For reasons I still do not entirely comprehend, his judgement relaxed me. I told him my train was not leaving for another hour and he led me back to his cottage. Foreplay consisted of him slapping me about the face and asking "What does my baby say?" until I tearfully replied with "W-we can live in the empty spaces of this life." I do not wish to recall the rest of the afternoon in any more detail, but it was, as you would expect, slow, deep, and hard. Part of my therapy has involved revisiting the library, wherein I overheard a man at the desk enquiring as to where he could find a book on the Beatles. The look that crept upon the librarian’s face is one with which I am all too familiar. My smile is stuck, I cannot go back to your frownland…

I actually tell that one a lot.
not for entertainment purposes, it's just an interesting parable.

...

>he rips off his shirt throws it on the floor
>Everybody walk the dinosaur

"yeah fuck off lol, anyone want a drink?"

Once upon a time there was a big castle with lots of grain stored in a deep vault protected by huge walls. The king and queen thought the walls were invulnerable, but there was a slight crack, just big enough for one ant. So one day, an ant found the crack, snuck in, a took a single grain of grain back to its nest. The queen ant decided this was good food, and soon there was a column of ants marching to the crack, then through it. One ant picked up some grain and took it out. Then another ant picked up a grain and carried it out. Then another ant picked up some grain and transported it out. Then another ant- you get the fucking point. Moral of the story is give me some food, I'm hungry and dinner looks good.

oh i saw a conference today and the guy told that!

"I don't know who any of you are, how do you know I read? Why am I here? Where is this? Once I was with a buddy of mine named Lil Larry, and we were off doing something, making moves, you know the drill. We were on our way to sell a bit of degeneracy. Suddenly, as we rounded a curve, a police car started following us, and soon turned on his lights. Lil Larry was driving my car, and he apparently had a warrant. "I aint goin" replied Lil Larry when I asked him what we were to do in such a predicament. There were two cucks in the backseat of the car who had no idea what was going on and were both very frightened. I pulled on my seatbelt and braced for the high speed chase. Lil Larry began to accelerate and fled from one police officer, skidding through the mud between two roads in the Buick Century, a tank of metal and ferocity, and escaped the first officer. We sped near 110 miles an hour down the wrong way on an off ramp, and escaped a second officer. Finally, due to some perception of escape, he attempted to pull into a crossroad that was occupied by a large truck. Lil Larry spun the wheel as he launched us into a ditch. We were all safe, and minimal damage occurred to the vehicle, however it was necessary to climb out of the window to escape the car. At the time no police were around, and Lil Larry took off to parts unknown, reiterating the sentiment "I aint goin". I dusted myself off and looked sadly at my Buick before sitting idly next to the ditch, waiting for the police. The cucks followed behind, not knowing what to do, and querying me at every second. I told them they were not culpable for any crime and that I would take whatever responsibility. The police eventually arrived, with guns out, screaming at us. I complied and told the cucks to do the same, as I didn't want any of their blood on my expensive clothing. We were questioned and I happily supplied them with the details, telling them that my friend had fled, but that I was still in the vehicle and did not know his last name, and that my presence was one merely to obtain drugs. Apparently, a person who had left their CDs in my car some months ago held a grudge and attempted to set us up, telling the police that we were carrying weapons. I told them how silly that was, and that I had never owned a gun in my life. They then grilled me on the name of my friend who had fled, to which I replied that his true name was unknown to me. (it wasn't, but I was familiar with the fact that the police don't have the ability to read minds.) They promptly took me and the cucks to the local town, after giving me a ticket for obstruction. Eventually I went before the court, and explained the situation and was released. Lil Larry was eventually caught, but weeks after our last meeting. I saw him not two months ago, and we shared knowing smiles, and did a complicated handshake, and exchanged our new numbers. There's your story. Now tell me where I am."

>not reciting complete Iliad to them

they said a story, user, not a boring af poem about whiny bitches.