hey, /b/, read me a bedtime story.

it's been a long day and I'm tired and ready to hit the hay.

I have a bedtime story.

It's called "The Ugly Barnacle".

Once there was an ugly barnacle...

He was so ugly that everyone died.

The end!

>>723160770
Once upon a time go fuck yourself

>>723160865
>>723160994
You guys will make horrible parents.

>>723160770
Ok, here goes.

Ahem.
"Woof woof woof. Woof woof. Woof, woof woof woof bark bark woof bark growl woof. Bark bark bark woof. Woofbark. Woof."

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>>723161165
Cute, anon.

Once upon a time i was a happy rapist going around the town pouncing on any unsuspecting half decent looking girls and pounding them while licking their tears. Sadly I've developed erectile dysfunction and can no lomher rape. The police think I'm in jail or dead I'd die if they knew that my pecker doesn't work anymore. I'd be the laughing stock of the beast wing

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The altright stole pepe and they will never give him back.

Once upon a time i was a happy rapist going around the town pouncing on any unsuspecting half decent looking girls and pounding them while licking their tears. Sadly I've developed erectile dysfunction and can no lomher rape. The police think I'm in jail or dead because my attacks had ceased, I'm still alive and kicking it's only my pecker that died.

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>>723161331
>>723161388
what the fuck.

>>723160770
Once upon a time, Anon went to /b/ to find a good thread to occupy his time. He didn't find any good threads, though. He was upset by this and decided to calm himself down by looking at porn. Anon went to the local g/fur thread and jerked his meat to gay animals fucking each other and then went to sleep. Anon proceeded to do this every day until he jerked himself to death.
the end

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>>723161573
Poor anon... :( do any of these stories have happy endings?

THERRE WAS ONE TIME A GUY WHO WAS A MURDER. HE THOUT TO KILL LOTS OF GUYS SO HE DID. 1 DAY THE MAN TRYD TO KILL A GUY BUT IT WASNT A GUY. IT WAS RELLY A MONSTER! SO THE MAN WENT HOME AND WAS SAD FOR HIS MURDER. HE SAID NEVER KILL MORE GUYS SO HE DIDNT EXEPT ONE GUY. IT WAS HIS GIRLFREND WHO WAS NOT KNOWING ABOUT HIS CRIMS. AND THEN SHE WAS DED SO HE HAD BLOOD ON HIS SCARF. IF YOU EVER SEE A MURDER GUY RUN OR HE MIGHT GET YOU.

>>723161054
Who wants to be a parent anyways? The world is overpopulated anyhow.

>>723161741
There are no happy endings on /b/.

>>723160770
Once upon a time, there was this dog. His name was Joking Joe and he was always making everyone laugh really hard at all his funny jokes. And what did our hero do, you wonder? He came up with the most cleverest of clever plans...and it worked! And everyone called him a genius. The End!

>>723161859
Once upon a time, there was this robot. His name was Holy Toledo, and he was really powerful. And was our so-called hero scared? You bet he was. He cried like a little baby "Waah! Waaah! Waaaaaaaaaaah!" And all his friends laughed at him! The End! That's all folks!

>>723160770
Once upon a time, there was a little boy. His name was Andy. Andy really wanted to become the president. As he got older his parents revealed to him that he was retarded. But this didn't get him down, little Andy still wanted to try to become the next president. Every day at school he told all the other kids "I guna be da pressdadent!". All the other kids always laughed at him, and he never understood why. One day in school one of the older kids pushed him into a ditch and called him a retard. Later that day Andy hanged himself and never became the next pressdadent.
The end

Once upon a time in the neon drenched far future of 1997, a lone hero rode 800 pounds of Japanese steel into the San Francisco metroplex. As he screamed across the bridge, he felt the shape of the pistol in his jacket. Cold comfort, but it was all he had. He knew he would not be leaving alive.

>>723160865
That didn't help at all.

>>723162540
Jack Torrence was not a smart man. Maybe that was why he was here at 3 am, listening to the sound of twin turbos and the freeway instead of back home in Modesto in his tiny house, watching the anemones in his fish tank wave gently as the bills kept piling up and the world kept spinning out of control, but he had nothing left to lose.

Jack Torrence was not a smart man.

>>723162871
As he bombed through the suburbs, Jack knew that he didn't have much time left. He could feel the eyes watching him. Software was already working against him. Soon the system would know who he was, and the city never forgets your sins. He was not proud of the things he had done, but the men the system would send after him were much worse.

It began to rain, and his hot breath turned to fog against the inside of his mirrored visor.

>>723163528
Why was he here? The simple answer was to kill Martin Jameson, the man who brought to pass his fall from grace. Because of that man, Jack went from a comfortable middle-manager at a security firm to practically untouchable overnight. Whatever the cost, no matter what else happened, Martin Jameson must die.

It was more than that, though. Jack was happy once, a long, long time ago. Before Jameson. Before the firm. He had hopes. Dreams. But the steel wheels of the corporations had ground that out of him. He had seen too many good people ruined, too much good destroyed in the name of progress. He knew that tonight he was the moth that strikes the windscreen of a truck on an overnight long haul. It felt good to know that his life was finally simple again.

He finally let his Suzuki roll to a stop in front of a seedy bar in the old factory district, close to the Scar. The lights were on, but there were only a couple of cars out front. No bikes, like he had been hoping.

He killed the engine, put down the kickstand, and stood up slowly. Jack rocked his neck back and forth, muscles stiff from the ride.

"Hello?" he asks the sickly, pink-tinged street. "Is anyone even out here?"

>>723164974
He sighed. It was a longshot coming here in the first place. Nobody even cared anymore, at least nobody alive. His friends were dead or empty shells. He was a shell. Jack leaned back in the saddle for a bit, thinking about what had brought him here in the first place. He had nothing left, not even revenge. He was empty inside, and his bike was nearly empty too. The sun would be up in a couple of hours, and with it the constant press of traffic, work, bills, and advertisements. He hadn't eaten that night. He hadn't slept for a few more. All he knew was that he didn't want to see another sunrise.

Jack kicked his bike, and the engine roared dutifully to life. His last true companion. He still had his pistol, and enough fuel to take the long way home to use it. Jack Torrence came to San Francisco knowing he would not leave alive. It just took him a little longer to figure out that he was dead long before he got there.