PASS-AROUND STORIES

These made just a little more sense than last meeting's. Kudos once again to our resident perverse minds for not adding eyeless people.

The one Matthew started:
She grasped it firmly, yet efficiently, and (injoke!!11!)
turned on the shower.
The shower was very hot.
She threw her head back and moved her hand for a more secure grasp. (Officially the most perverted meeting ever, by the way.)
Grime, dull like the patina of sin
dripped
down her calves
The dirt swarmed around her on the floor of the shower. (What had this girl been doing?)
She turned the heat up on the shower head. Seeing the steam swarm around her.
She tried to organize her thoughts and feelings.
And failed . Because the shower was that epic. (Sorry, there's no underline option on this typer-majig.)

AND the story that I started (best for last):
In a dark alley, Spiderman stands motionless. Far above his head, a brick dislodges...and tumbles downward...
Spiderman reaches out his arm to casually catch it, when a speeding car bounces over the curb and hits him in the chest. MJ yelps.
"No problem," said Spiderman from underneath the car. It'll take more than a Dodge Charger (?) to take me out." "Oh, Spidey," said MJ, "I'm the luckiest girl in the whole world."
Then the brick, which had been dislodged from Spidey's hand when the car hit, bounced off the building and cracked open MJ's head.
"Oh no!" Spiderman said. "I don't have a girlfriend anymore! This is horrible!" He angsted for approximately twenty seconds. Suddenly, Harry Osborne (Osbourne?) walked by. "Hey Spiderman!" Harry said, "Wanna make out?" Spiderman paused, reflecting on his newly-dead girlfriend. "Yeah, OK!"
And in the next state, a taxman's pencil snapped.
"What the hell is this?" Taxman, aka Shithead (pronounced "Shih-theed", you immature people.) "This crap makes no sense! I want to make out with Spiderman, dammit!"
Just then the door burst open, and Spiderman and Harry Osborne came walking in hand in hand. Spiderman was wearing a pink sleeveless costume.
Taxman stared. And stared. And stared. Then decided to purchase his own pink costume and become a super villain in order to make out with Spiderman and Spiderman's large, pink muscles.

That was epic, bees or no. Really, when did the idea that you need bees to be epic come about? (But that does qualify Ros and Guil are Dead as epic: Hamlet, the sexiest bee!)

I urge people to post their horrible romance novel passages on the blog. Do it. Now.