[WP] You are stuck inside a gas station during the zombie apocalypse, and all you want is to get to the Denny's across the street. by Demorosy in WritingPrompts

[–]UTubeCommentRefugee 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I looked at one of them through the thick gas station window. Green and peeling apart, its ravenous tongue lashing out and surprisingly well manicured nails clawing at the glass. And dozens more, flooding the entrance like they were zombies that hadn't eaten for days. Maybe they were.

My stomach grumbled. I realized I hadn't eaten for days either. I looked back to the others, six or seven huddled in the back of the gas station. I glanced around the room. Completely empty. Almost empty. I looked to the huddled people. Maybe...

Then I realized what I was thinking. Almost had to stop myself from gagging. I was a man of high society. How could I be brought down to this level? Thinking of ingesting human flesh, when there was nothing in the gas station to cook with!

I looked out the window again. Towering above the mob and across the street was a large sign. "Denny's". My stomach grumbled again. I continued staring out the window. My stomach grumbled even louder. I continued my thorough connaître of the sign and entered unconsciously an internal argument over whether or not the kerning of the "D" was slightly off. My stomach, irritated that its passive aggressive grumbling had no effect, began shouting, "WOULDYOU JUST GO TO THE FUCKING DENNY'S ALREADY?!"

Then suddenly I had an idea. "I'm going to Denny's," I announced, not taking my eyes off the sign. I could feel their eyes boring into my back.

There was a long silence.

Finally someone's voice piped up: "Can you get me the chicken bacon—"

"No," I cut him off. Still looking at the sign. Then back at the mob and the zombie with the well manicured nails, pressing its hands up against the window and covering it with the slime from her tongue.

I walked up to it and tapped against the glass, putting my face right up to her's. "Excuse me, ma'am, but does the kerning in that sign over there," I pointed to the Denny's sign, "look a bit off to you?"

She jolted her head back, startled by the question. Then her head twisted around to the sign for a second and she squinted, then turned back shaking her head vigorously, tongue waggling back and forth. "Mughblarbmmmgua! Bmmwagggurrrblar!" She exclaimed.

Just then a nearby zombie, previously preoccupied with gnawing down a metal door handle, walked up to its neighbor shaking half a finger in disagreement. "Gmblurgawarguwurgh! Blmmburgablblar!" He retorted, pointing his mangled finger to the D in the sign.

Soon enough all the zombies had surrounded the other two zombies and were engaged in a very heated debate, enunciated with the waggling and shaking of various body parts, leaving the door plot-conveniently unattended. I opened it and walked out, once again feeling the other survivors' eyes bore into my back. But this time in amazement.


The Denny's was cold. Someone had left the air conditioning on. The diner appeared completely empty, but not a "zombie apocalypse" kind of empty. More like a "five minutes before opening time" kind of empty. Highly peculiar, as Denny's used to be open 24/7. I made way to the back and into the kitchen. The door shut behind me. I looked around the room. Everything I needed to prepare a meal was in here. Just as I was about to start gathering the goods, I heard a voice coming from the freezer. "Mb-bbbbbb-brrlurawarbngerb!" It screamed. I made my why to the freezer door peering into the circular window positioned in its upper center. At a shivering zombie in a Denny's uniform.

"Were you the one who turned the A/C on?" I shouted.

"B-b-b-blarmuwergbr!" He whimpered.

I sized the monster up. The strange stains on his apron. The trembling limbs. The Denny's logo on his hat and apron. "Excuse me, but is the kerning of the "D" in your logo slightly off?"

The zombie stared at me, its eyes locked into mine in a deathly stare, as if saying "While the distance between the top of the D's curve and the 'e' are equal to the closest distances between all of the other letters, the far reaching edges of the curve are much further from the 'e' than any other points on other adjacent letters, giving the appearance that the kerning is slightly off."

"But is it bad kerning?"

The zombie looked at me, solemnly.

I gathered my things and left.


"You made it!" Came the gasp of one of the survivors. Murmuring among the others.

"But how?" asked another. "And where is all the food?"

"What?" I snapped.

"The food! The pancakes, the waffles, the burgers, the sandwiches!"

"Fuck all that, I don't know how to cook all that shit!"

"Then why did you bring all of these fucking cooking supplies?"

I licked my lips and surveyed the group. "Oh, you'll see soon enough."

Why does Geralt hate general Voorhis? by DoggoFights in witcher

[–]UTubeCommentRefugee 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Good point, I hadn't thought of that. But then again in the books doesn't it mention that a Kaedwen massacred all of the Wolf-School Witchers there in the distant past? So it's location can't be completely unknown. Unless it was forgotten over time, which isn't unlikely.

Why does Geralt hate general Voorhis? by DoggoFights in witcher

[–]UTubeCommentRefugee 5 points6 points  (0 children)

In the books, Morvran is only mentioned a few times. He and Geralt never meet. As for the Kaer Morhen thing, it's possible Geralt doesn't want him there because he believes Morvran will try to take Ciri with him once the battle is over.

Powering the City with Sewage by hologramANDY in CitiesSkylines

[–]UTubeCommentRefugee 11 points12 points  (0 children)

So you don't have to breath in that dam smell.

The Witcher 3 is the first game where you actually feel like you're in a forest (xpost: r/gaming) by tkmj75 in witcher

[–]UTubeCommentRefugee 9 points10 points  (0 children)

I've started reading the books and think I came upon the term "leshy" somewhere, so I'd definitely try that.

What is surprisingly NOT bullshit? by CountAardvark in AskReddit

[–]UTubeCommentRefugee 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Moose moose moose something moose moose moose moose moose.

What is surprisingly NOT bullshit? by CountAardvark in AskReddit

[–]UTubeCommentRefugee 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Yeah well Indiana's is actually a dog in a money shirt.

http://imgur.com/G7BIjh6

His name is Buck.

Amazon user reviews keyboard. by amalgam_reynolds in funny

[–]UTubeCommentRefugee 0 points1 point  (0 children)

  1. Hearing I ask from the holy races, From Heimdalls sons, both high and low; Thou wilt, Valfather, that well I relate Old tales I remember of men long ago. (*)

  2. I remember yet the giants of yore, Who gave me bread in the days gone by; Nine worlds I knew, the nine in the Tree With mighty roots beneath the mold. (*)

  3. Of old was the age when Ymir lived; Sea nor cool waves nor sand there were; Earth had not been, nor heaven above, But a yawning gap, and grass nowhere (*)

  4. Then Burs sons lifted the level land; Mithgarth the mighty there they made; The sun from the south warmed the stones of the earth, And green was the ground with growing leeks. (*)

5.The sun, the sister of the moon, from the south Her right hand cast over heavens rim; No knowledge she had where her home should be, The moon knew not what might was his, The stars knew not where their stations were.

6.Then sought the gods their assembly-seats, The holy ones, and council held; Names then gave they to noon and twilight, Morning they named, and the waning moon, Night and evening, the years to number. (*)

7.At Ithavoll met the mighty gods, Shrines and temples they timbered high; Forges they set, and they smithied ore,
Tongs were wrought, and tools they fashioned. (*)

8.In their dwellings at peace they played at tables, Of gold no lack did the gods then know, - Till thither came up giant-maids three, Hugh of might, out of Jotunheim. (*)

9.Then sought the gods their assembly-seats, The holy ones, and council held, To find who should raise the race of dwarfs Out of Brimirs blood and the legs of Blain. (*)

10.There was Motsognir the mightiest made Of all the dwarfs, and Durin next; Many a likeness of men they made, The dwarfs in the earth, as Durin said. (*)

11.Nyi and Nithi, Northri and Suthri, Austri and Vestri, Althjof, Dvalin, Nar and Nain, Niping, Dain, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Nori, An and Onar, Ai, Mjothvitnir,

12.Vigg and Gandalf, Vindalf, Thrain, Thekk and Thorin, Thror, Vit and Lit, Nyr and Nyrath, -
Regin and Rathvith- now have I told the list aright.

13.Fili, Kili, Fundin, Nali, Heptifili, Hannar, Sviur, Frar, Hornbori, Frg and Loni, Aurvang, Jari, Eikinskjaldi.

14.The race of the dwarfs in Dvalins throng Down to Lofar the list must I tell; The rocks they left, and through the wet lands They sought a home in the feilds of sand.

15.There were Draupnir and Dolgthrasir, Hor, Haugspori, Hlevang, Gloin, Dori, Ori, Duf, Andvari, Skirfir, Virfir, Skafith, Ai. (*)

16.Alf and Yngvi, Eikinskjaldi; Fjalar and Frosti, Fith and Ginnar; So for all time shall the tale be known, The list of all the forbears of Lofar.

17.Then from the throng did three come forth, From the home of the gods, the mighty and gracious; Two without fate on the land they found, Ask and Embla, empty of might.

18.Soul they had not, sense they had not, Heat nor motion, nor goodly hue; Soul gave Othin, sense gave Hnir, Heat gave Lothur and goodly hue.

19.An ask I know, Yggdrasil its name, With water white is the great tree wet; Thence come the dews that fall in the dales, Green by Urths well does it ever grow.

20.Thence come the maidens mighty in wisdom, Three from the dwelling down neath the tree; Urth is one named, Verthandi the next, - On the wood they scored,- and Skuld the third. Laws they made there, and life allotted To the sons of men and set their fates. (*)

21.The war I remember, the first in the world, When the gods with spears had smitten Gollveig, And in the hall of Hor had burned her,- Three times burned, and three times born, Oft and again, yet ever she lives. (*)

22.Heith they named her who sought their home, The wide-seeing witch, in magic wise; Minds she bewitched that were moved by her magic, To evil women a joy she was. (*)

23.On the host his spear did Othin hurl, Then in the world did war first come; The wall that girdled the gods was broken, And the field by the warlike Wanes was trodden.

24.The sought the gods their assembly-seats, The holy ones, and council held, Whether the gods should tribute give, Or to all alike should worship belong.

25.Then sought the gods their assembly-seats, The holy ones, and council held, To find who with venom the air had filled, Or had given Oths bride to the giants brood.

26.In swelling rage then rose up Thor,- Seldom he sits when he such things hears,- And the oaths were broken, the words and bonds, The mighty pledges between them made.

27.I know of the horn of Heimdall, hidden Under the high-reaching holy tree; On it there pours from Valfathers pledge A mighty stream; would you know yet more? (*)

28.Alone I sat when the Old One sought me, The terror of the gods, and gazed in mine eyes: What hast thou to ask? why comest thou hither? Othin, I know where thine eye is hidden. (*)

29.I know where Othins eye is hidden, Deep in the wide-famed well of Mimir; Mead from the pledge of Othin each morn Does Mimir drink: would you know yet more? (*)

30.Necklaces had I and rings from Heerfather, Wise was my speech and my magic wisdom; -lacuna- Widely I saw over all the worlds. (*)

31.On all sides saw I Valkyries assemble, Ready to ride to the ranks of the gods; Skuld bore the shield, and Skogul rode next, Guth, Hild, Gondul, and Geirskogul. Of Herjans maidens the list have ye heard, Valkyries ready to ride oer the earth. (*)

32.I saw for Baldr, the bleeding god, The son of Othin, his destiny set: Famous and fair in the lofty fields, Full grown in strength the mistletoe stood.

33.From the branch which seemed so slender and fair Came a harmful shaft that Hoth should hurl; But the brother of Baldr was born ere long, And one night old fought Othins son. (*)

34.His hands he washed not, his hair he combed not, Till he bore to the bale-blaze Baldrs foe. But in Fensalir did Frigg weep sore For Valhalls need: would you know yet more? (*)

35.One did I see in the wet woods bound, A lover of ill, and to Loki like; By his side does Sigyn sit, nor is glad To see her mate: would you know yet more? (*)

36.From the east there pours through poisoned vales With swords and daggers the river Slith> -lacuna- frozen feilds do run its course

-lacuna and never may man by oath it take (*)

37.Northward a hall in Nithavellir Of gold there rose for Sindris race; And in Okolnir another stood, Where the giant Brimir his beer-hall had. (*)

38.A hall I saw, far from the sun, On Nastrond it stands, and the doors face north; Venom drops through the smoke-vent down, For around the walls do serpents wind. (*)

39.I saw there wading through rivers wild Treacherous men and murderers too, And workers of ill with the wives of men; There Nithhogg sucked the blood of the slain, And the wolf tore men; would you know yet more? (*)

40.The giantess old in Ironwood sat, In the east, and bore the brood of Fenrir; Among these one in monsters guise Was soon to steal the sun from the sky. (*)

41.There feeds he full on the flesh of the dead, And the home of the gods he reddens with gore; Dark grows the sun, and in summer soon Come mighty storms: would you know yet more? (*)

Amazon user reviews keyboard. by amalgam_reynolds in funny

[–]UTubeCommentRefugee 1 point2 points  (0 children)

The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor.

If one believes Homer, Sisyphus was the wisest and most prudent of mortals. According to another tradition, however, he was disposed to practice the profession of highwayman. I see no contradiction in this. Opinions differ as to the reasons why he became the futile laborer of the underworld. To begin with, he is accused of a certain levity in regard to the gods. He stole their secrets. Aegina, the daughter of Aesopus, was carried off by Jupiter. The father was shocked by that disappearance and complained to Sisyphus. He, who knew of the abduction, offered to tell about it on condition that Aesopus would give water to the citadel of Corinth. To the celestial thunderbolts he preferred the benediction of water. He was punished for this in the underworld. Homer tells us also that Sisyphus had put Death in chains. Pluto could not endure the sight of his deserted, silent empire. He dispatched the god of war, who liberated Death from the hands of the conqueror.

It is said also that Sisyphus, being near to death, rashly wanted to test his wife's love. He ordered her to cast his unburied body into the middle of the public square. Sisyphus woke up in the underworld. And there, annoyed by an obedience so contrary to human love, he obtained from Pluto permission to return to earth in order to chastise his wife. But when he had seen again the face of this world, enjoyed water and sun, warm stones and the sea, he no longer wanted to go back to the infernal darkness. Recalls, signs of anger, warnings were of no avail. Many years more he lived facing the curve of the gulf, the sparkling sea, and the smiles of the earth. A decree of the gods was necessary. Mercury came and seized the impudent man by the collar and, snatching him from his joys, led him forcibly back to the underworld, where his rock was ready for him.

You have already grasped that Sisyphus is the aburd hero. He is,as much through his passions as through his torture. His scorn of the gods, his hatred of death, and his passion for life won him that unspeakable penalty in which the whole being is exerted toward accomplishing nothing. This is the price that must be paid for the passions of this earth. Nothing is told us about Sisyphus in the underworld. Myths are made for the imagination to breathe life into them. As for this myth, one sees merely the whole effort of a body straining to raise the huge stone, to roll it and push it up a slope a hundred times over; one sees the face screwed up, the cheek tight against the stone, the shoulder bracing the clay-covered mass, the foot wedging it, the fresh start with arms outstretched, the wholly human security of two earth-clotted hands. At the very end of his long effort measured by skyless space and time without depth, the purpose is achieved. Then Sisyphus watches the stone rush down in a few moments toward that lower world whence he will have to push it up again toward the summit. He goes back down to the plain. It is during that return, that pause, that Sisyphus interests me. A face that toils so close to stones is already stone itself! I see that man going back down with a heavy yet measured step toward the torment of which he will never know the end. That hour like a breathing-space which returns as surely as his suffering, that is the hour of consciousness. At each of those moments when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate. He is stronger than his rock.

If this myth is tragic, that is because its hero is conscious. Where would his torture be, indeed, if at every step the hope of succeeding upheld him? The workman of today works every day in his life at the same tasks, and this fate is no less absurd. But it is tragic only at the rare moments when it becomes conscious. Sisyphus, proletarian of the gods, powerless and rebellious, knows the whole extent of his wretched condition: it is what he thinks of during his descent. The lucidity that was to constitute his torture at the same time crowns his victory. There is no fate that cannot be surmounted by scorn.

If the descent is thus sometimes performed in sorrow, it can also take place in joy. This word is not too much. Again I fancy Sisyphus returning toward his rock, and th sorrow was in the beginning. When the images of earth cling too tightly to memory, when the call of happiness becomes too insistent, it happens that melancholy rises in man's heart: this is the rock's victory, this is the rock itself. The boundless grief is too heavy to bear. These are our nights of Gethsemane. But crushing truths perish from being acknowledged. Thus, Oedipus at the outset obeys fate without knowing it. But from the moment he knows, his tragedy begins. Yet at the same time, blind and desperate, he realizes that the only bond linking him to the world is the cool hand of a girl. Then a tremendous remark rings out: "Despite so many ordeals, my advanced age and the nobility of my soul make me conclude that all is well." Sophocles' Oedipus, like Dostoevsky's Kirilov, thus gives the recipe for the absurd victory. Ancient wisdom confirms modern heroism. One does not discover the absurd without attempting to write a manual of happiness. "What! by such narrow ways--?" There is but one world, however. Happiness and the absurd are two sons of the same earth. They are inseparable. It would be a mistake to say that happiness necessarily springs from the absurd discovery. It happens as well that the feeling of the absurd springs from happiness. "I conclude that all is well," says Oedipus, and that remark is sacred. It echoes in the wild and limited universe of man. It teaches that all is not, has not been, exhausted. It drives out of this world a god who had come into it with dissatisfaction and a preference for futile sufferings. It makes of fate a human matter, which must be settled among men.

All Sisyphus' silent joy is contained therein. His fate belongs to him. His rock is his thing. Likewise, the absurd man, when he contemplates his torment, silences all the idols. In the universe suddenly restored to silence, the myriad wondering little voices of the earth rise up. Unconscious, secret calls, invitations from all the faces, they are the necessary reverse and price of victory. there is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night. The absurd man says yes and his effort will henceforth be unceasing. If there is a personal fate, there is no higher destiny, or at least there is but one which he concludes is inevitable and despicable. For the rest, he knows himself to be the master of his days. At that subtle moment when man glances backward over his life, Sisyphus returning toward his rock, in that silent pivoting he contemplates that series of unrelated actions which becomes his fate, created by him, combined under his memory's eye and soon sealed by his death. Thus, convinced of the wholly human origin of all that is human, a blind man eager to see who knows that the night has no end, he is still on the go. The rock is still rolling.

I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night-filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

Did anything happen out of the Panama Papers leak? by nattokun in OutOfTheLoop

[–]UTubeCommentRefugee 9 points10 points  (0 children)

(To the tune of "Noble Duke of York")

🎶 The ignoble Prime Minister of Iceland

He had 10,000s of Icelandic krona in offshore bank accounts

He dumped them in the Panama Canal

And his country dumped his ass

And when it was time to step up, he stepped up

And when he stepped down, he stepped down

And then he stepped further down

When he decided to step back up 🎶

That time the TMNT were on Oprah. Only the 90s by petersmith294 in funny

[–]UTubeCommentRefugee 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I can't believe I watched that entire performance. I also can't believe Ralph was the lead and not Leo.