I posted a... rather lengthy post and now the thread is dead.  Whoops. Sorry. |
I broke the thread!
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MrWorf 64,187 posts
Seen 7 hours ago
Registered 20 years agoStupid Tart. -
Oh. Shit. I actually copy/pasted an entire massive article, instead of the first few paragraphs of it. That's what did it.
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silentbob 29,527 posts
Seen 1 year ago
Registered 19 years agoLet the genuine insults flow! -
haowan 7,385 posts
Seen 1 year ago
Registered 15 years agoYou fucking cripple. -
silentbob 29,527 posts
Seen 1 year ago
Registered 19 years agoYou cripple fucker!! -
haowan 7,385 posts
Seen 1 year ago
Registered 15 years agoWas that too far? You know I love you, Gremmi. -
Anyway, I posted this in it (now stripped down to avoid thread fuckage!)
"I searched for Egon Spengler's "YOUR MOTHER" soundclip to put in this thread, but instead I found...this fantastic Ghostbusters Fan Fiction:
"The green room," said the Ghostbusters' client. "People have actually disappeared from there. My mother claims she's felt a presence there."
The tug he gave at his vest endangered the straining buttons. Peter Venkman couldn't help wondering why Ezra Collins didn't break down and buy the next size up--or maybe the size after that. Vanity. Had to be. It glittered out of the man's beady little eyes and matched the smug twist to his thin-lipped mouth.
Of course, Collins' vanity didn't matter, as long as his check was good. Collins Hall gleamed with furniture polish, and Egon had remarked that the Van Gogh over the fireplace in the grand salon was real. Never mind Spengler had never studied art appreciation; he knew something about everything under the sun anyway. Peter was inclined to believe him.
The smell of money could be subtle, ostentatious, or overblown. Here, it was subtle. The glimpse they'd had of Elspeth Collins before her son had whisked the Ghostbusters away to examine the rest of the house showed her to be a ramrod-straight, elegant lady whose dress was deceptively simple. People in the Donald Trump crowd probably went to the same dress designer. Maybe Peter could sneak in a major rate increase for busting the Collins family ghost. After all, they'd had to drive all the way up here, a whole hour away from New York. He could throw in mileage....
By all accounts, the ghost was probably a Class 3, one of the Collins ancestors; the family had lived here since the Revolutionary War, so there was bound to be a disgruntled spirit or two lurking about the sprawling mansion. Class 3's weren't that difficult to bust, and the month had been wildly busy; it was nearly Halloween, and, at that time of year, the Ghostbusters often found themselves running in six directions at once. They didn't like to split the team, but there was no way to keep up otherwise, so this morning Peter and Egon had driven up in Ecto-1, while Ray and Winston had taken a series of small jobs in Manhattan. They'd borrowed Janine's car. The secretary had agreed to lend it on the condition that Winston did all the driving. She'd ridden with Ray a time or two and knew that he made New York cabbies resemble panicked little old ladies when he climbed behind the wheel.
"The readings are very faint," Egon told Mr. Collins with a hint of disapproval. "Just residuals. Enough to indicate that there is a ghost, but not that it is present currently. Perhaps it appears only at certain types of day. A fixed repeater."
"Whatever that is." Collins didn't appear to like them at all. Peter had the feeling that asking the Ghostbusters to come was a last resort option, something the banker had considered only when all other possibilities had failed. Certainly his eyes had narrowed and his mouth had curled when he opened the door to them. "Only two? I thought there were four of you," he said when he realized Peter had picked up on his distaste.
"We can send for Ray and Winston, should it become necessary," Egon offered before Peter could say anything. Typical Egon. He always seemed to know when Peter was ready to jump in with a smartass remark--and when to head it off. Peter reined in his temper--and his wisecrack--and let Egon take the lead.
Egon produced his P.K.E. meter--guy never left home without one--and took readings at a variety of settings. His face didn't light with intrigue. Unless the ghosts knew the Ghostbusters were coming and had taken off for Hoboken for the duration, it didn't look like it would be a difficult bust.
They saw the old lady only long enough for her son to announce, "These are the Ghostbusters, Mother," and for her to say, "How do you do," before Collins guided them away.
"Her heart is bad," their client continued. "I'd as soon she endure no frights. Please, bust it as quickly as you can."
The problem, Peter quickly realized, was that it was impossible to bust a ghost that didn't manifest. Egon's readings were inconclusive, and Collins' stories about mysterious disappearances were as vague as old legends usually were. Until they came to the green room.
Collins flung wide the door. "My Uncle Rupert was last seen in this room."
Egon led the way inside with Peter hot on his heels. Green. Definitely green. The lower half of the walls was paneled in a dark wood, but the upper half was papered in forest green. The ceiling was painted the same color and all the furniture--big, heavy upholstered chairs, a sofa, a love seat--wore a matching fabric. Throw pillows in contrasting shades lay here and there on the chairs, and the lampshades were all green, too. -
Stickman 29,986 posts
Seen 5 months ago
Registered 17 years agoI'm fucking you, cripple! -
andy-w 515 posts
Seen 5 years ago
Registered 17 years ago
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Ironically, I managed the perfect insult by utterly wrecking the best insult thread. 
ps you are all cripples -
Uh..isn't this somewhat of a major bug, anyway? It means anyone can completely fuck any thread just by posting masses of text in it.
Methinks a sensible character limit is in order. -
MrWorf 64,187 posts
Seen 7 hours ago
Registered 20 years agoYou crippling fuck! -
MrWorf 64,187 posts
Seen 7 hours ago
Registered 20 years agoALL YOUR -
silentbob 29,527 posts
Seen 1 year ago
Registered 19 years agoGremmi wrote:
Yes. Thank the maker no one has drawn attention to this shortcoming yet or all hell could break loose!
Uh..isn't this somewhat of a major bug, anyway? It means anyone can completely fuck any thread just by posting masses of text in it.
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haowan 7,385 posts
Seen 1 year ago
Registered 15 years agoPost the rest post the rest -
Razz wrote:
ALL YOUR
BASE -
haowan 7,385 posts
Seen 1 year ago
Registered 15 years agoPOST THE REST -
"Hey, the color of money," Peter said brightly.
Collins cast him a look so brimming with scorn and resentment that Peter secretly resolved to bug the guy every chance he got. "Well, it is," he muttered to Egon.
"Peter," said Egon gently. He didn't make it a reproof; Peter's comment had not been particularly offensive. It was simply a warning. The client had no tolerance for flippancy. Egon continued before Peter could persist. "When did your uncle disappear?"
"In 1942. I was five. I can't really remember him."
"And he was never seen again?" Peter started to get interested. The old guy had probably slipped away on purpose. Did people take off to avoid the draft back in World War II? He moseyed over to the window and looked out, only to draw back involuntarily. Collins Hall was built on a bluff high above the Hudson River, and this particular room directly overlooked the river. At the sight of the abrupt drop, Peter's skin crawled and he averted his eyes. Unless Rupert had done a swan dive into the river so far below, he hadn't gone out that way. "Anybody else ever vanish in here?" he prompted.
"There are legends of other disappearances that go back over a hundred years. Some of the maids don't like to come in here. They say they feel uneasy in this room."
The meter didn't share their uneasiness. It lay dormant in Egon's hand. "Perhaps a cyclical occurrence," the physicist mused. He ignored Peter's reaction to the drop beyond the window. Peter knew Egon understood it, just as he knew he could overcome his acrophobia should any of his friends need him. The ghost wasn't out there hovering above the Hudson anyway, so it shouldn't matter today.
"If you can't bust it, you're useless to me," Collins said tightly.
"I didn't say we couldn't bust it," Egon replied. "But we surely can't bust it if it isn't even here. We will need to take additional readings. Peter, do you have the magnetometer?"
"Which one is that, Egon?" Peter teased. Collins shot him a frown so full of scorn and contempt that Venkman produced the correct device and activated it as deftly as possible.
In certain cases, the magnetometer did a better job than the P.K.E. meter, but usually they went with the standard device first because it was specific to the type of readings ghosts produced. Refined in the team's more than seven years of busting until it could detect just about every paranormal variant the team was likely to encounter, it was Egon's 'weapon' of choice, and he always carried one, even when he took Janine out for the evening. Wouldn't do to endure a haunted date. Peter smiled. -
\o/
bed time. thanks grem
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