Sinfest

Dennis J. Squidbunny

as much as I enjoy giving Darqcyde shit, I do sometimes find it hard to come up with the right name for the right character.

Dump all of your stupid ideas here, because the joke wasn't dead after three posts of gag names, add ones here.

Dennis J. Squidbunny · Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 10:59 am Post subject:

"Alternatively, we could take those names, and use them to write 100 word max flash fiction," said Smurna Munford, raising her normally petite voice to try and be heard over the roar of the biplane propeller. Her travelling companion, Eugene Onco, sat despondently at the steering apparatus, staring at the myriad of whirring dials and flashing lights.

"Jesus Christ!" he thought, "What am I doing? I can't fly a plane! I'm a horse!"

Darqcyde · Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 11:07 am Post subject:

Darqcyde · Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 11:15 am Post subject:

Then again, there's always Dick Trickle, who doesn't go by Richard or Rich or Rick or Ricky or even Dickie. It's always Dick, Dick Trickle. Considering NASCAR's popularity in the US "bible belt", I posit that this is proof of God having a sense of humor. I wonder if he shops at BJ's wholesale club.
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Michael · Joined: 09 Jul 2006 Posts: 10264

Eartha Kitt

Michael · Joined: 09 Jul 2006 Posts: 10264

Bosco Presworth
Helmut Stoffelmeister
Zina McDish
Bobgommery Joe
Chad Cheswick
Deborah Umpton

Vox Raucus · Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 1:32 pm Post subject:

Michael · Joined: 09 Jul 2006 Posts: 10264

Shankar Flow
Marjorie Tombswaith
Deborah Flannigan
Charles Bumpk
Cat Withers
Jeremy Trot
Hubert E. Fracas

WheelsOfConfusion · Joined: 09 Jul 2006 Posts: 10741 Location: Unknown Kaddath

You might suppose that Jeremy Trot got a lot of grief for his name over the years. You'd be wrong. Nobody but nobody besmirched the good name of the Trots, as one Aarvid Curcumine was about to learn... the hard way. Class is in session. Walk, don't run, to the lecture hall. Your campus? The Twilight Zone.

WheelsOfConfusion · Joined: 09 Jul 2006 Posts: 10741 Location: Unknown Kaddath

Hwangsely Jorblicrompe was not a man with whom to be trifled. Until he met his match, and then his better, in the form of one Francine MacBludgeon. Occupation? Trifler. Theirs was a whirl-wind romance that ended in battery, as Francine first iced and then literally trifled Hwangsely, giving him away as just desserts.

WheelsOfConfusion · Joined: 09 Jul 2006 Posts: 10741 Location: Unknown Kaddath

Bat Slacidar had been in tighter spots before, or so he told himself. Yet even the swashbuckling rustic's steely nerves took note when he saw the well-scrubbed face of his tormentor reveal itself from the shadows.
"Surprised to see me?" There was venom in the melodically delivered taunt. Both voice and visage were familiar, but twisted by a powerful hatred Bat had rarely come up against in all his days. They belonged to none other than the urbane dame who had come to him as the client on this case.
"Reckon I am... Ms. Natalie Drest."

ShadowCell · Joined: 03 Aug 2008 Posts: 4450 Location: California

Yogurt Jones knew he wouldn't catch the pass. He knew it before the ball even left the quarterback's hands.

It was the Super Bowl. Time was expiring and he was in the endzone to catch a Hail Mary pass to win the game. It had started so well. He beat cornerback Quince Meatbeam. He stiff-armed Hubert E. Fracas on his way to glory, but that was okay, the refs wouldn't call him on it. He beat Yes Pinely-Faberge into the endzone. But there was one man left that he hadn't accounted for. One man who had the jump on him. One man who was there to snatch his dreams away just as they reached his fingertips.

As an empty-handed Yogurt Jones hit the turf, all he could do was look up in desolation at the celebratory fist-pumping of French Piss Addict.

WheelsOfConfusion · Joined: 09 Jul 2006 Posts: 10741 Location: Unknown Kaddath

That's like 141 words composed of 749 characters, man! 100 words max!

An uneasy disposition settled over the patrons as he walked into the corner dive. Some, the pasty young lads, sank deeper into the tavern's shadowy corners at his approach. The more experienced made a show of minding their own business. The grizzled veterans knew better than to meet at the tavern in the first place. Every player in this deadly game knew one thing, though. When this character turns up, sheet is about to go down.
Yes, the reputation of Maximilian "Hundred Words Max" Rholexikos preceded him wherever he found himself.

WheelsOfConfusion · Joined: 09 Jul 2006 Posts: 10741 Location: Unknown Kaddath

Elias Quinstonbury
Smirchard Prungfellow
Candice Bereille
Bill Quacklecrest
Yogi Berra
Calliope Rotaspronk
The Maw

As the Quince Meatbeam Professor of Proctology at Bilgeford College in Pitville, AS, it would be fair to say that Dr. Hortense Rescideux hated her lot in life. Few in the faculty suspected this, however, or the foul depths to which she would sink in her quest to become the rector. Deep in the bowels of the campus waterworks, she hatched her plan.
"The stench of this job will discommode me no longer," said she.

"I can make your problems all go away." The solicitation, unlooked for yet enticing, was a spark in the depths of my misery. I glanced up at the primly-dressed old gentleman who perched in front of me like a vulture over a man stranded in the desert. His fleshy mask affected a smile.
"How?"
The gentleman reached a gloved hand into the pocket of his inky coat and placed before me a shard of glistening white. The bone-colored card was simple. In unassuming, plague-black font was printed "Sir Tinleynotte N. Assassin: Respectable Tradesman by Occupation," trailed by a phone number.

WheelsOfConfusion · Joined: 09 Jul 2006 Posts: 10741 Location: Unknown Kaddath

"Al, what have you done to me?" demanded Al as he shook Al's frame like a manic crocodile death-rolling a straggling zebra, weighed down in its Nile crossing by not one but two pairs of oversized clown shoes. A zebra who was born a Hapsburg princeling in the body and surroundings of an Aussie. "Whenever I get bored, I start writing flash fics!"
Al managed to extricate himself from Al's weak, typist's grip and straightened his zebra-striped tie. "SETTLE FUCKING DOWN, YOU GREAT FUCKING MINGE-HOLE!" whispered Al. "ALL I DID WAS STOKE THE DEMON INSIDE. THIS IS ALL YOU, FUCKFACE!"