He was a cockatiel with sexy delusions; I found myself falling under his spell, not questioning the dark untrodden path of forbidden sexuality he was sending me down.

The bird, preoccupied with making waffles, was oblivious to the plot developing around her. That is, of course, until she noticed the brand name of her waffle maker:

Waffeleisen - Reich 4000

Damnit, I thought. He was onto me and my reichdiculous plans to dominate this dark world with waffles.

If only my advances had cum on sooner, maybe we'd have been living in a nazstier world.

"I had this strange feeling, just now, that somebody was narrating" She casually said to Whally.
"Narrating what, Lucy?" He asked.
"I donno" She replied, sitting down. "Just....Narrating.."
"That's strange." He was silent for a moment. "How'd that new waffle maker work out?"
"I dont want to talk about it." she said bluntly.

She was upset about the waffle-maker. Who was I to complain? My domination had come out in swarms like a bad allergic reaction. My mind, my narration was all I had, driving me mad like a spinning hole hitting the bottom to give way to another circle in this junktown hell. "Narrating what, Lucy?" she had said, her voice high-pitched, curiosity filling it.

The waffle-maker was a deuce, flawed from the get go, I understood that now. Sitting down, imagining these cockatiels talking, I could only think the scotch was getting to me. Somewhere inside, my need for Nazi domination stirred in the elongated hallways of horror my mind had come home to. There was a Nazi Max pulling the strings here.

Whally felt like something was...off....
He looked up at Lucy, noticing that her yellow feathers had taken on a paler shade.
"What's wrong?" he inquired. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Where exactly did you get that waffle maker Whally?" she asked.
He thought for a moment...it was only the other day that the strange man had passed him on the street, thrusting it into Whally's possession.
"Some guy....why, what's the matter? Lucy, if there's something bothering you, dont be afraid to ask."
She went to bed without responding. Whally walked into the kitchen, only to find that the waffle maker had vanished...

Life took over, man. I just didn't have the time to post as much as I liked.

Yes. Definitely. Max Payne 1 is much more noir, atmospheric, and darker as a game. The gameplay is a lot like Max Payne 3 but a little outdated, and the second one is a wonderful game too. I'm glad I made a fan of the series. Every game is amazing in the Max Payne series.

I'm playing the first one now, but unfortunately the sound is screwed up so i'll have to download some sound patch for it.

Sound is very important for the first one. The events of Max Payne 1 and Max Payne 2 shape how Max is in the third game, so they're very important story-wise. Worst comes to worst you could torrent the game as it's rare to get nowadays.

Like snow falling into the lap of New York, my own vices and habits would continue on. bruinslover told me I didn't seem to talk much anymore. I wanted to tell him I was biding my time, building up my life, trying to superglue pieces of that broken mirror back together after seeing it crack and smash too many times before.

I'm slowly trying to get more active. I recently lost two of my grandparents and have been very occupied with the funeral arrangements.

i felt like the biggest dumbass on earth. the bad joke everyone got but me.

Reading is one of the most important things you can do. Read stuff you like, and occasionally read stuff you don't like! I became adept at writing because I just did it a lot. If you write every day, then you just get better. It's a fact. Writing is very much like a muscle and if you practice it every day, you're going to get somewhere.

Get into a community! Writing forums, small groups, facebook groups. Write stories and understand that criticism is KEY. People are going to tear your work and your characters apart, but you have to understand it's all just a process, and you're getting better with every mistake because you learn. Other people will push you in the direction on how to get better.

Also, just read a couple of books to understand things easier. Story by Robert McKee is amazing. Writing Fiction for Dummies is good too.

Simply put, I got good by writing a lot, getting shot down, getting help from others, and by studying the craft. I am by no means, a good writer, but I feel like I'm going in the right direction with it all.

It helps to have somebody to bounce ideas off of. To talk to about what you want to write etc, etc. If you ever need help, just PM me, and I'll answer any questions you have.

Keep writing, writer.

Thanks man. I don't know if you've seen any of my posts around or even heard of me (probably not) but I like to call myself a writer. Even though I'm really not. Honestly, I kind of fear it. I fear what people will have to say if I show them my writing. I fear that I'll put twelve hours into something and another person shoots it down immediately. Weirdly enough I also fear that people will like it since I don't think I deserve any praise.

I'm reading a lot but I don't know if I'm picking anything up from it. I'm drawn to books that have a, let's say, unconventional style of writing. Chuck Palahniuk and Cormack McCarthy are two of my favorite writers and their writing is far from what can be considered normal.

Also, not a good writer? Knock that **** off. Humility is good but understand this: You are the best writer I have seen on this site.

chuckpalahniuk.net/features/13-writing-tips Also, here's 13 writing tips by Chuck Palahniuk.

Damn. You are on the ball.

I've only been around for about a month now, and I tend to scour the uploads, find some relevant content and bang out some work, so I don't see many writers unless they message me.

Also, you may have put 12 hours into something, but writing is like a car. You don't throw the whole thing away because one of the wheels is ****** ! You will get to a point where your work, physically, can be tweaked. Spelling errors and such are cosmetic and can be fixed, but you have to want to get your work out there.

Also, some advice: EVERYBODY'S FIRST DRAFT IS TERRIBLE. EVERYBODY'S. Nobody out there never published a first draft--NOBODY. It's mental. If you worked twelve hours on something and it sucked, then you EDIT it and FIX it.

Somebody might read it and go "Well, I'm not into this kind of stuff," but regardless, everybody knows good character and good story and people will tell you what works and what doesn't. Your work is just that: WORK. It can be fixed. So don't ever doubt that what you write is going to be ripped to shreds, because even if it is, you will learn from the mistakes and improve. And the next 12 hours you work will be greater because when you come back, you'll have made less mistakes that can be fixed easily as the other ones.

I've read Haunted by Chuck Paluhniuk, and a few others by Cormac. They are very good writers. Try some people like Kurt Vonnegut, Terry Pratchett, Ian Rankin. They all write strange, experimental stuff that is wonderful and strange to read.

Humility wise, I'll never agree that I'm as good as people say I am. I'm a writer, just that, and writers are always learning, trying, and adapting, and I've never looked at myself and gone "I'm the best writer I know." You have the ability to be better than me. In the end, does it matter who is better? The fact there's two people here who can write some kickass stories that evoke responses is a good enough achievement for me. I'll agree I'm good when I finally hit a bestseller list or something, haha.

Thanks man. I don't know your background, I don't know what experiance you have, I don't know if I'll ever be as good as you are but I'll try. And if you did put a book out I'd be the first one to buy it.

I'm here if you ever need the help. Also, I'd like to just try and get some shorts published before I took on such a heavy endeavour like a novel.

AlcoholicGoth popped into the bar, just to tell me he liked my company. I offered him a drink and he took it willingly. We sat in the shadow of one of the booths within Walton's and let the party go all night, until both of us were stumbling up Main Street, without a worry in the world, and a pocket full of painkillers.

I of course bust out laughing at a hotdog vendor we pass and throw a handful of peanuts I stole from the bar in his confused walrus face. We just continue on and start to sing an old song from back in the day when we were on the force. *remember that time I did the cool flip over the hood and caught that guy in the back of the head with my foot?", I said in a goofy slur.

Not in public Sasuke-sama...

I...My loins stir too loudly. The embarrassment...I cannot.

"Thanks, friend," I told tiles as he sat down and ordered a drink. We shared a few hours in the blissful throes of scotch-drenched conversation. I told him there was plenty of me to go around.

I'm glad I made a friend as cool as him.

I told him I was here for the long haul. The secret mantra behind my own goal was that I had no secret mantra; I was only sure that I was going to bide my time, not spam, and stick around to make people happy for as long as possible.