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UnderGround Forum >> ATTN Tito!!! FUTA1! RED ALERT!!!!
| 9/3/09 5:23 PM | |
Zedlepln
99 
Member Since: 2/24/09 Posts: 3691 |
RickStorm - 
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| 9/3/09 6:04 PM | |
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BROCKP4PNO1
Member Since: 7/22/09 Posts: 163 |
KnockedOffMyFeetByNateTheElite -D'oh! (angry-d'oh, not slap-forehead-d'oh) Listen, guys, if we're gonna win this war, and make no mistake, this IS a war in every sense of the word except most of the literal ones, then we're abso-fucking-lutely dependent on proper logistics and functioning supply lines. Everybody knows that's how you win wars (except the ones who don't, but they are extinct or irrelevant because they lost the war and live in fucking mudhuts now.) This possibly mortal blow to morale must be punished. The person responsible for determining the amount of chocolate muffins baked needs to report to general 2jupiter's hammer-proof underground bunker for corporal punishment (ie. treatment with various medieval torture apparatuses) ASAP. Until hot breakfasts, chocolate muffins and Tito. |
| 9/3/09 6:20 PM | |
Cheggers
Member Since: 4/28/09 Posts: 272 |
Cheggers - Ohferfuxsakes - tell jups I got the 'rabbit pie' and I'm taking it to safe storage where I shall await instruction. As I sit here leafing through my pachment copy of Homage to Catalunya, I am reminded that although my small band of men have travelled here from foreign shores (Manchester UK) we are united as brothers in arms, bound to a common cause which supercedes our national boundaries. A cause for which everyone of us would spill our lifes blood on distant soil. That cause is Tito. We will fight them on the beaches, we will fight them in the....what the WHERE'S MY GODDAMN BACKUP |
| 9/3/09 6:24 PM | |
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BROCKP4PNO1
Edited: 09/03/09 6:24 PM Member Since: 7/22/09 Posts: 164 |
I CAN'T FIGHT FECAL ROID MONKEYS ON AN EMPTY STOMACH |
| 9/3/09 6:25 PM | |
Squared Circle
30
Member Since: 11/20/08 Posts: 5237 |
Tito Ortiz Dies and is Dead |
| 9/3/09 6:28 PM | |
RickStorm
921
Member Since: 4/2/08 Posts: 4552 |
Alert TMZ!!!!! |
| 9/3/09 6:29 PM | |
2JupitersTooMany
785
Member Since: 5/14/06 Posts: 16699 |
*carrier pigeon settles into thread emptyhanded, glances about nervously, and then darts westward like a solar flare* In its wake: A single feather. Written on the feather, in thin lines of crusted blood: "SOS. Col OH. HH attic. U Tito. 2J" A mystery. |
| 9/3/09 6:42 PM | |
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2JupitersTooMany
785
Member Since: 5/14/06 Posts: 16700 |
*a second carrier pigeon settles into thread emptyhanded, glances about pensively, and then darts westward like a moonbeam* In its wake: A single feather. Written on the feather, in thin lines of slightly less crusted blood: "P.S. hijk pln. crsh. Sqr Cir betray. lies. dead or alive" |
| 9/3/09 6:51 PM | |
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2JupitersTooMany
785
Member Since: 5/14/06 Posts: 16701 |
*a third carrier pigeon settles lightly into the thread, emptystomached. It glances about hungrily, and then darts westward like a disillusioned Russian* *its tiny stomach growls, the gurgling tone dropping as the dopplar effect reminds the world that absolute rules exist, even during times of war* In its wake: A napkin. Written on the napkin, in thin lines of gruel and carrot drippings: "sav me a mffn" |
| 9/3/09 6:54 PM | |
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RickStorm
921
Member Since: 4/2/08 Posts: 4556 |
Wake up 2jups...... Your'e losing sight on what this mission is about |
| 9/3/09 6:58 PM | |
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Squared Circle
30
Member Since: 11/20/08 Posts: 5238 |
Shame about the circumstances surrounding Teto's demise in that mysterious explosion. And you were all so darn close. :-( I trust you'll all be at the funeral. There isn't much to inter, as only a single tooth was found. They say it is the size of a human fist. |
| 9/3/09 7:39 PM | |
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bktwothree
Member Since: 2/12/08 Posts: 85 |
2JupitersTooMany - *carrier pigeon settles into thread emptyhanded, glances about nervously, and then darts westward like a solar flare* *Casually strolling down Broad Street, in Columbus...whistling Hang On Sloopy* Damn pigeons just crapped on fresh car wash. That's a strange looking barren pigeon. Oh well, back to the salt mines... |
| 9/3/09 8:02 PM | |
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Cheggers
Member Since: 4/28/09 Posts: 273 |
Red squirrell, this is fat mallard, come in red squirrel. Today was a bad day. My whole squad, decimated. The rabbit pie, chomped. I'm afraid to say... I'm afraid to say the enemy knew. They KNEW our position. Gentlemen, we have an informant. My obsevations indicate that... ...what the... *distant gutteral roar of some unspeakable beast* my god what IS THAT...that abomination...oh lord forgive them...what have they created... I must depart into the Forrest before 'it' gets to camp ...protect futa the almighty, the redeemer and the holy toast. smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast. #message ends# |
| 9/4/09 12:16 PM | |
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2JupitersTooMany
785
Member Since: 5/14/06 Posts: 16708 |
I have walked thirty-six kilometers. And swam ten more. Then, I clutched the underside of a Coach Limousine for most of the remainder, before trundling into a government culvert adjacent to an Air National Guard base in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I have never felt more alive. It began as a standard return from Mosul. After a brief tack to Egypt, I bounded from Morocco to Amsterdam, and then directly to Chicago, only slowing briefly for boom and receptacle fueling mid-air. Just 5000 feet above the wispy grasses of Pine Hill Golf Course in suburban Lancaster, the sounds of machine gunned popcorn emitted forward of the cargo hold. Pop, Pop, Pop. Then the sharp TING of structural support rupturing. TING, TING, TING. Church bells and bass drums. The crew was dead, as were the controls. The dead-winged cylinder dropped with a show of leaden pyrotechnics. Calm, I worked escape options and related statistics. Initially, I calculated my chances of survival at 87.6%, given my altitude and lack of a parachute. But then, my ordered thoughts eruped into struggling darkness. There was a taste of cloth and fumes. I was overcome by some attacker who had hidden in the hold. And my consciousness followed in tow. I awoke in an attic, dust cascading from the peaked roof like arid raindrops. I was lashed to a hospital bed, full of clamps and tubes and bandages and puncture wounds, bound to its metal frame by four-point medical restraints. My mouth was stuffed with sickly gauze, soaked with the remnants of gruel, spilled down my unconscious throat and then returned again by my half-conscious stomach. I calmly awoke, and calculated my chances of escape at 74%, given my complete unfamiliarity with the larger surroundings. And then, I heard this: a young woman, probably 17 to 19 years old, speaking of renowned light artist James Turrell. Her voice was slightly modulated, affected by some sort of mounted speaker system. And the key: the tone of her voice dropped slightly as it passed, indicating the speed of her movement to be approximately 20 miles per hour. The Doppler Effect. My old friend. Naturally, I concluded that she was the guide of a tour bus at the Franklin Park Conservatory in Columbus Ohio, known for its permanent installation of Turrell's work. My recalculated odds of escape: 100%. I worked out of my restraints though a sweating, thirty-minute masterpiece of joint manipulation. I placed the gauze on the window sill, attracting three progressively famished pigeons. I marked the two with still-wet blood from my punctured femoral artery. The last, I marked with remnants of gruel, wrung from the dampened cloth. Imagine the rest. It was dull and uneventful. Naturally, it involved a bit of monotony concerning the tongues and bowels of my captors. One must never miss an opportunity to leave a message. Before I took his tongue, the twelfth captor turned on filthy mole and cunning propagandist Squared Circle. About him: I want eight of his organs on separate cooled helicopters to Baltimore within 72 hours. And I want the rest of him alive in Las Vegas in 96 hours. I want him to watch through his remaining eye as his healthy parts are sewn into injured soldiers. He'll do eight good things before he dies. Eight more than he's ever done. I will be with you soon. Until Tito. -2Jupes |
| 9/4/09 12:19 PM | |
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2JupitersTooMany
785
Member Since: 5/14/06 Posts: 16709 |
Interesting note: I CANNOT get the song "Hang on Sloopy" out of my head. |
| 9/4/09 1:19 PM | |
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MountainMedic
171
Member Since: 6/30/07 Posts: 7124 |
now neither can i. thanks jupes |
| 9/4/09 2:12 PM | |
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Squared Circle
30
Member Since: 11/20/08 Posts: 5267 |
You were all missed at Teeto's funeral. Pity poor Dana White, who delivered such a stirring eulogy to so few ears. It was truly a touching and heartfelt lamentation, devoid of all but three f-bombs; heard only by the flowers, the trees, a softball-sized tooth in a tiny casket, and a mysterious figure in black. While I regret that Titro is no more, having died in that inexplicable explosion as he so clearly did, I have already overcome my grief and begun the healing process. There are certain things that comfort me at this very moment: the knowledge that Tado is in a better place, this Victorian leather chair, the warm brandy swirling in my left hand, the luger twirling in my right, my knowledge of ninjutsu, and the three hulking bodyguards, traned in UFC, standing at my back. I cackle my delight even now... for Tieto. |
| 9/4/09 2:14 PM | |
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2JupitersTooMany
785
Member Since: 5/14/06 Posts: 16722 |
Ah. I see that my foil is here. En garde. Until we meet. |
| 9/4/09 2:17 PM | |
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Zedlepln
99
Member Since: 2/24/09 Posts: 3723 |
Do not fret. The counter-espionage ploy went like clockwork. Hammerhouse thinks FUTA1 is out of the picture. |
| 9/4/09 2:24 PM | |
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2JupitersTooMany
785
Member Since: 5/14/06 Posts: 16725 |
And SOMEONE GET CHEGGERS SOME COVERING FIRE. I don't like the sounds of the audio he's been relaying. |
| 9/4/09 3:13 PM | |
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mmalady
Member Since: 1/3/05 Posts: 2822 |
pure gold fellas...thanks :) ttt for Tito |
| 9/4/09 3:53 PM | |
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2JupitersTooMany
785
Member Since: 5/14/06 Posts: 16733 |
*BULLETIN* All reports of the demise of Tito's self, wherever it was at, are greatly exaggerated. Continue efforts to locate Tito's self. *BULLETIN* |
| 9/4/09 4:18 PM | |
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Zedlepln
99
Member Since: 2/24/09 Posts: 3729 |
Broadsword calling Danny Boy Broadsword calling Danny Boy Code name FUTA1 to appear at UFC 103 Q&A. Recommend sending covert operative Tom O'Bedlam, who can use a variety of screen aliases to slip past Hammerhouse scouts. << End transmission >> |
| 9/4/09 4:23 PM | |
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2JupitersTooMany
785
Edited: 09/04/09 4:24 PM Member Since: 5/14/06 Posts: 16739 |
Zedlepln, I'm breaking into your transmission. Brilliant.
Tom O'Bedlam is our best stealth agent.
I want him on the job.
If this mission succeeds, Zed, I'll have you promoted.
My word is as good as Punishment Athletics T-Shirt - Gold 707 ($27.95).
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| 9/4/09 4:54 PM | |
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BROCKP4PNO1
Member Since: 7/22/09 Posts: 167 |
2JupitersTooMany - And SOMEONE GET CHEGGERS SOME COVERING FIRE.Private BROCKP4PNO1 reporting for duty! I'm happy to announce that I've managed to procure a bag of cheese-flavored Tortilla chips and no less than 10 ounces of fine, dark chocolate. With such ample supply of field rations I should finally be able to assist Cheggers to the best of my capabilities. I must admit Cheggers' disturbing front line reports are gnawing on my mind though. Is it already too late? Is the opposition too overwhelming to overcome? And perhaps most important of all, what exactly is the nature of these demonoid beasts described as 'fecal roid monkeys'? Are we talking about monkey gholems made out of dried feces instead of clay, or are we talking about regular monkeys hurling their bloodied up roid-stools in the general direction of their assailants? Most worrying. In either case, I feel this will have an undue effect towards the enjoyment of my field rations. Cheggers, fear not though, I will soldier on and I promise I won't rest before I've made contact with you at the front lines. At that point, I'll probably need a good 10-hour nap, but I certainly won't rest before that, such is my dedication! Until Tito |
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