A salvaged story from my 4th grade class!
Once there was a burgler with lots of stolen stuff. He went to a football game to watch some cheerleaders. Some evil dude with a Baseball threw a large, black coconut at the top cheerleader when they were in a pyramid. She just fell back on the other cheerleaders. The announcer guy said, “Dang it! One less cheerleader to watch!” The game was over and the score was:
Leopards – 29
Monkeys – 33
Once upon a time, Prince Charming and his steed leisurely galloped through Avando Forest, bathing in the warm sunlight of a midsummer afternoon. The birds cheerfully sang songs of joy and the wind danced quietly to the forest’s flittering melodies. Nearing the end of the beaten path, Charming hadn’t yet been satisfied by the wonder of nature, and so he rode merrily into the deeper, less travelled stretches of the forest.
In sadness, there is lost love. Love outlines virtually everything you offer undaunted. When emotions wear erosion, real emotions present. Every reticient fact eventually creates tales. In time, husbands imprisoned need know all bitches only understand the years of unhappiness; even vixens eventually realize you don’t allude yesteryear. And now dead, naked in grief, hate thrives.
A man dressed all in black stood at the top of a tall building, holding onto a spire for support. His long, blue hair blew gently in the cold night’s breeze. “A cold wind is blowing,” he said forebodingly. He fought the urge to shiver and looked to the dark, westward sky. “It will be here soon.”
The sky’s white light intruded in Lord Chamberlain’s parlour through the open windows, sparing no corner in the room of the warmth the spring sun provided. An uncaring breeze strolled in through the windows, but relinquished any further destination when it came across a large wooden table, fit for no less than kings.
A blonde man, ethereal in stature, was wearing an honest smile when his butler intruded to announce that Lord Rupert Callaghan had arrived. He quickly rose from his seat and withdrew another for his long-time friend.
I woke up this morning to the blaring roars of police sirens. They were outside, not immediately outside my house, but somewhere in the city. Somewhere close enough to hear. Too close.
“How’d you like the movie?” My mom sat next to me in the car; she in the driver’s seat and I in the passenger’s. We went out to see some new movie, and it was late getting back to our hotel. But really, we’re on vacation, who cares if it’s late?
“It wasn’t too bad,” I said as we pulled into a parking space on the side of our hotel. “I liked how the end was like the exact opposite of the beginning, I guess.” As an older teenager turning young-adult, I didn’t talk about feelings and emotions very often.
So, being the extremely leet hacker that I am, I’m obviously an administrator at some hacking forums. But that’s not important; what is important is that occasionally we get some scrubs that come in wanting to find a hacker for hire. I’ve seen anywhere from ten dollars to ten grand offered for everything from a homework assignment to blowing up a major science facility.
Everything was pitch black as I slowly turned the doorknob and slipped it open, trying my best not to make a sound. The door opened an inch, and I pressed my face to the crack, listening and looking for any signs of life or noise. My hands trembled with my extreme efforts to be silent.
She lept into the night. He barely saw the dark cloth wrapped around her body out of the corner of his eye, but he was sure he saw it. He turned his head back to his ship, remembering he had a hearty crew to back him up if things ever got too chancy. He turned back and scanned the horizon.
Once upon a time there lived a Green Bottle, full of strange, brown liquid. This bottle was special; not because of his innate blitheness that was rare with the other bottles, not because of his cleverness or wittiness, but because of his ability to hold vast amounts of fluid inside. However, keeping stuff inside wasn’t the norm with the other bottles, and as they were all sharing and diluting themselves with the dulcet innards of one another, the Green Bottle never let anyone inside and slowly became a lonely outcast.
It had just gotten dark, no more than thirty minutes ago. I was driving home from a friend’s house and enjoying the city’s dusky scenery on the way. Off in the distance, I could see a large fire. I joked to myself, “That better not be my house.”
I was walking into Wal-Mart on a hot, weekday afternoon. The old lady at the front door cheerfully greeted me as I rushed by towards the bathroom. In the small distance between the front door and the restrooms, glances around Wal-Mart told me it was quite busy today. A minute later, as I was washing my hands, I heard a loud boom and several screams. The boom repeated itself and I ran to the door of the bathroom and looked out. Over by Register 14 there was a man with a rifle. My heart jumped a few beats as I stood there, mesmerized.
First, install several subdomains to anonymize your DNS and wrap your IP with a cat5 SATA. Next, load up your ISP with the -n flag and nettrace your target to obtain their octagonal megahertz address. Plug this address into your latest hardware compiler. Now you can brute force the beowulf cluster with your gigatera proxy and extract the binary hash to your RAM where, depending on the speed of your kernel compilation, it will process and interpret the ones and zeros associated with an OSI model encrypted password.
There was a small chill in the air, the chill that emanates from outside your walls when it’s raining outside; but that was to be expected. It had been raining a lot in the past week, and this morning was no exception. I was sitting in a wooden chair in the kitchen waiting for my dad to finish doing whatever it was he was doing to get ready. The clock over on the wall told me it was ten minutes until eight, which meant we should have left five minutes ago if I was to get to school on time. Finally, my dad emerged from the hallway off of the kitchen, announcing we could leave.