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Results Of The BRISCO COUNTY DVD Contest!!

Shocked & appalled my story didn't win by ScienceMan	Sep 11th, 2006 07:23:36 PM
This tale takes place in a humble port, its name is San Francisco There malign forces did align to kill a man named Brisco Whores, miners, Mexicans, and Irish by the briny sea Heroes and villains and simple folk in that town, ‘twas 1893 Where coolies emptied sailing ships and prospectors found docks Another world entered this one amid the bay-splashed rocks A villain resurrected there, the dread outlaw John Bly The future’s fugitive, back in time, he has split the sky And roamed the land, returned after most thought him dead He has found a last hidden Orb and its power he has bled To summon doors to another world, like portals in the air From them Bly calls allies forth, in the fog to meet him there A Gang of Five, they stagger out, and stumble to their knees An obviously evil bunch, as they all sport goatees The portals shut, the doors have closed, and they’re at Bly’s command He tells them riches will be theirs if his plan goes as planned Bly’s been forced to share his work with many a lesser criminal But he knows that with these Five his mistakes should be minimal “Kill Brisco County Junior, and yours will be wealth, women, and fame!” Exhorts Bly to these dimension-crossers, then calls them each by name The first wore a florid shirt; he was broad, red of beard and hair “The Outlaw Harold Knowles,” says Bly, as Harry gives an icy stare Bly approached the second renegade, like Jesus to a leper Astride a pogo-crucifix, he was drinking Doctor Pepper The black-clad ruffian to this man’s side was flatulent and farty “Most truly foul,” Bly observed, “You must be Moriarty.” Moriarty quickly rejoined, “That’s Quickdraw McWeeny to you!” Then he drew his piece of heavy iron and shot Bly in his shoe Bly just smirked as the Orb healed his foot and cleaned its grue The man who shot him was nonplussed and humbly offered, “Call me Drew.” To a scary man with a machinegun Bly said, “You must be Capone.” Then he turned to the last man, who on the ground lay prone “Help,” said he, reaching for Bly, “Please help me to stand.” Bly was shocked and disgusted at the wretch below him on the sand As indeed any eyes, no matter how hard and cruel, would be For the fifth and final outlaw had a shark clamped to his knee From that point down, the fish wriggled as blood pooled warm and dark This poor man had crossed dimensions only to get bitten by a shark Bly used the Orb to heal the wound, then tied the stump off with a splint The outlaw hopped up on his good leg, said “Much obliged, call me Quint.” As dawn broke they gathered round as Bly explained his plan To ambush Brisco in Chinatown and kill the Scarred Foot Clan For these adversaries felt smugly safe, thinking Bly demised And though Bly now possessed the Orb, revenge he also prized Once vengeance was exacted, Bly would use the Orb to flee To any time or place he chose, to shape the course of history For Bly lusted after nothing less than power over all And the Orb was, as he described, “The ultimate hole in the wall!” The means to walk through walls, or time itself, with impunity To create chaos and crime and revel in it, with god-like immunity All this he promised to the Five, and so they quickly agreed And set off toward Chinatown to do the dirty deed But they were none the wiser that their plans were overheard By a Scarred Foot spy who then rushed off and repeated every word Back to Brisco, who was in hiding, working with the Scarred Feet Ensconced in the lair of Master Lee Pow, beneath a Chinatown street For not long before, Brisco had found in his quest for the Coming Thing Another secret hidden Orb, and needed help to work the thing Professor Wickwire had fashioned a lab with the help of Lee Pow And their effort to decode the Orb had finally paid off now With them were Lord Bowler, Socrates Poole, and Comet And before them was the Orb, their attention turned upon it Brisco addressed his friends and was unusually terse “It seems John Bly has returned, with a door to another universe!” He explained that Bly had summoned forth an evil team Of five outlaws from another time. “But we can duplicate his scheme!” With that Brisco smiled and signaled to Wickwire The assembled crowd drew back as the professor tripped a wire Sparks flew and arced and bright light obscured the Orb’s apparatus Then appeared five figures walking through a misty lattice The portal closed behind them, as space and time were kinked By the Orb that Brisco had, which to Bly’s was linked For when Bly had summoned his gang, he had caused a schism In the fabric of space and time itself, due to the Orb’s mechanism Two dimensions had been opened, one evil, and one good From the latter were the five who before Brisco stood The best judge of moral character was Comet, the mighty steed He snorted in approval that none of these five were goateed The heroic Massawyrm had a cross to bear, Capone bore his tommygun Good Quint stood tall and straight, from a fight he wouldn’t run Valiant Drew McWeeny had eyes that burned like coals And last to exit from the gap was the lawman Harry Knowles Before introductions could be made, Bly burst in at that moment Unmindful of the changes to the Timeline he would foment For unbeknownst to him, a fact he could not guess Was that the two Orbs would work just once - no more, no less And when brought together, and new world they would create A mix of bad, a mix of good, half as much love as hate A meeting of both groups of five would trigger this event Then the Orbs would be no more, their quantum powers spent Such mighty consequences, no hero or scoundrel could intuit They would create another universe, though neither Bly nor Brisco knew it Doors Concealing the Scarred Foot lair are dynamited off their hinges A keening wail pierces the air and every gathered foe cringes Before Bly’s plan has even had a chance to leave the ground Its failure is portended by the awful grating sound The noise is nothing less than a matter-antimatter reaction As Brisco’s five heroes meet Bly’s evil faction A moan escapes Bly’s throat as he watches his plan crumble The Orbs vibrate wildly, the cavern commences to rumble Rocks and rubble fall on Bly, “This is not how it should end!” He screams in futile rage as the roof begins to bend Brisco turn to help, but the good Harry restrains him by the door “Let Bly meet his end here,” says he, “I’ll ensure he lives no more.” With these words the red giant motions to his four friends Brisco tries to argue, knowing what Harry intends “Go, Brisco, run out the door, the Twentieth Century awaits!” Harry gives him a nod, then heads toward the dimensional gates The good Moriarty, Quint, and Massawyrm, they all do the same Capone lets fly with his tommygun as the lair bursts into flame Explosions fly from the Orbs, in too-close proximity As each group of five lock in combat with grim finality Just before the good Harry engaged his evil twin He stopped above the dying Bly, and flashed a toothy grin The Good Harry chewed and finally spat his chaw The tobacco juice blinded Bly, then Harry punched him in the jaw “I’m not so goody-two-shoes I wouldn’t punch a dying man,” Said Harry as hate filled Bly’s eyes, though his pallor was faint and wan By then the other eight (four good, four bad) had been annihilated Just two more remained until a new world was created With a throaty howl the Good Harry leapt to meet the bad And as they fought and grappled, in dappled light they were clad A blinding light was the last that Brisco saw of them As the Orb swelled and pulsed, then lit up like a gem Their collective masses and potentials had cancelled each other out By the titanic clash of the two Harrys, resolute and stout And though Brisco would escape to live many more years and days He would never learn how this adventure had shaped Time’s mystic ways The groups of five were not in fact destroyed but had merged Some of the good and most of the bad from them had been purged In little more than a century they would write with wit and aplomb Regarding moving picture shows for the website AintItCoolNews dot com. (Fin)
BOOOOO!!!!!!!! as in bad by thebearovingian	Sep 11th, 2006 08:17:04 PM
What? These stories won? "Brisco rode into town on his HORSE. He tied up his HORSE and walked into Sheriif Herc's office.... but not before looking back at his HORSE and blowing a kiss to his HORSE. While inside, he heard his HORSE cough and became concerned about his HORSE." I stopped reading after the first two sentences. Sorry Nick but you already lost me.
Jesus.. by beny	Sep 11th, 2006 08:43:44 PM
I'm not saying I should have won, but honestly my story that I wrote in 15 minutes while drunk was better then 2 of these stories, and maybe almost better than a 3rd. I mean come on, the horse's f*ing name is Comet. And don't get me started on that last one. I mean, how does a story that is a third .............. win a contest. Honestly, the only story up there that even sounded like a Brisco story, and felt right in what and how the characters would talk was Daniel Hidalgo's story. So to Daniel, I salute you on a job well done. And to all the people in this TB that have posted better stories, ones that they put so much time into, I'm sorry that the judges f*ed you all over.
may the best story win (mine) by thebearovingian	Sep 11th, 2006 08:50:07 PM
Bly shoots Brisco. Bly shoots Poole. Bly shoots Harry. Bly shoots Latauro. Twice. Bly shoots Massa. Bly reloads. Bly shoots Moriarty but the bullet slices cleanly through him, splits in two and continues into Quint and Merrick. Bly shoots his henchman. As he clutches the Orb and turns to leave the cave, Hulk Hogan appears and says, "Gimme that fuckin orb, brother!" He powerslams Bly (who is instantly killed). Hogan climbs onto Comet and rides off into the sunset... while Dixie rides me.
TOO SOON by Sam Raimi's Car	Sep 11th, 2006 11:33:21 PM
for teh win
Goddamnit... by jollysleeve	Sep 12th, 2006 12:08:01 AM
...the more I think of this, the more it pisses me off. Who the fuck judged these things? Did they even TRY to make an effort to pick the best one? Or did they just pick four random entries so they wouldn't have to eat more than 10 precious minutes out of their day?.... Jesus. People worked really hard on these things. The least you guys could've done was bring at least half the care and conscientiousness into judging them as the average contestant put into writing them. That's just fucking common courtesy.... I'm seriously burned about this. Of course, I thought I should've won. But if I had to lose, I would've expected the chosen winners to have been better than these stories (or at least 3 of them). I assumed that if I lost, I'd be reading the winners and thinking, "Oh yeah. Admittedly, these are pretty good." Not even close. Seriously, what a debacle. (P.S. I probably devoted more time and effort into creating this post than it took to create that last winning "story.")
Hell... why not... by Agent Blue	Sep 12th, 2006 12:10:12 AM
Brisco held Merrick’s gaze, but from the corner of eye Brisco spotted the volcano spewing fire and ash into the sky. He was close enough to feel the heat. “Time to die, Brisco.” “I don’t know about that. You broke my watch.” Brisco thumbed back the hammer on his pistol, keeping it low, but ready, by his side. “Believe me. In moments, you’ll be plummeting to a fiery grave.” Merrick shifted his weight to the right and curled in his fingers. Brisco snapped up his gun to match the movement. “Then you’d better grow wings and fly in the next few seconds or we’ll both be two cooked birds... in case you haven’t noticed.” “Oh, how little you know.” “Everyone here who didn’t attend Harvard raise their hand. Merrick, go ahead and throw one high.” “Your time is up, Brisco, and mine is just beginning!” Brisco saw Merrick’s finger tips flicker with electricity. Brisco shot. Merrick jerked up his left hand sending forth a trail of blue sparks. The color caught the bullet and ripped it into a hundred dead pieces. Brisco fired again, but the bullet exploded in the light. “Very fancy,” muttered Brisco. The blue streak vanished. Merrick revealed his palm and hurled a sizzling green bolt at Brisco. On instinct, Brisco dove to the side, but the bolt caught the tip of his hat, sending it into the wind. Brisco launched himself up and grabbed the hat by the string. Merrick fired again. Brisco ducked, slammed on his hat, and fired twice. This time the bullets connected. The first bullet collided with Merrick’s medallion, turning it into bits of flying shrapnel. The second bullet exploded the back of Merrick’s head. Without working muscles, the wind swept up his body and threw it over the train. Brisco watched it tumble and disappear down the slopes of the mountain. “Simple physics. I win, you lose... Whoops!” Brisco rolled to his right as a chunk of molten lava splattered on the roof of the train. In momentary despair, he watched the lava eat through the metal roof, drip down, and reduce the train’s control panel into a melted pile of useless gadgets. “Oh! For the love of...” Brisco felt the train begin to speed up beneath his feet. Time to go, he told himself, but his own thoughts worked to catch up with his body as he was already running towards the rear of the train. He jumped down between cars and threw open the door. “Gentlemen,” he said, jumping over the two corpses on the floor. Brisco sprinted through the room and burst through the next door, avoiding two more corpses while trying to come up with a plan. So far all he’d come up with was to die with dignity. He decided to call dying Plan B. The next room was the dinning car, and past that was the kitchen car. Through the windows Brisco saw the mountain side gaining a familiar red tint as the windows became too hot too touch. He could hear the destructive lava tearing through the front of the train. He burst through the two passenger compartments and continued on through the large bedroom car. Brisco knew he was out of cars and out of time. Brisco came to a halt at the rear of the train. Where the train previously ended, there stood a red door leading to one more room. Brisco wanted to stop and ponder the intricacies of magic doors, but a voice inside told him to hurry. He saw no handle. He placed his hand on the door, and for a moment, the roar of the grinding metal tracks and the pop of fiery explosions fell away, and the bellowing of a great horn flooded his world. The notes came soft and low, yet they had power enough to fall great walls. If the voice had not brought him back to reality, prodding him to get a move on, Brisco believed he would’ve stayed there, listening, as the train soared down into hell. The outside noises returned, but the sound of horn did not fade. Brisco pushed open the door, and sitting on a wooden crate in the middle of the room, was the Orb. “Oh... you!” Brisco considered destroying the Orb. The damn thing had caused more trouble than its worth, but as he stepped forward, the horn became louder. The Orb was calling. Suddenly, the sound of grinding metal stopped like before, only now the roaring flames shook the train. Brisco’s world was thrown off balance. His body smashed against the far wall. He jerked his hand away from the doorway as the door slammed shut. The train was off the tracks. Time’s up, he thought to himself, time to move or die. Brisco quickly decided on Plan B and using all his strength, he planted his legs against the wall and lunged forward, trying to grab onto the orb. The horn now was deafening. The train turned on its side and began to fall. It twisted and turned through the air like a tiny piece of string. It slammed into the growing pool of molten lava, bending over itself and collapsing all the sides. Showering sparks of lava and flame burst forth around the sinking edges, signaling its doom, as the volcano finally engulfed the train. Brisco watched this from a distance. The Orb had ripped him from the train and sent him flying through air. He felt like he being pulled upwards by a giant lasso, only with no end in sight. He was gone from the volcano, gone from the island. Brisco was being ripped away from his world to somewhere else, only he didn’t think he could assign a label of where, even if he wanted to. He was frozen as images of worlds he’d never seen were thrust at him. His vision became a blur; the colors and noises and smells, beautiful, memorizing and horrible, flew by him. The worlds whipped by faster and faster. In the distance his eye caught a solid structure. All the colors flowed around it. Brisco was being thrown towards it at infinite speeds. The structure shone like a full moon in a black sky. A tower, tall and strong, surrounded by red roses. Brisco felt his heart leap and his soul quiver. He wanted to reach out and grab it, yet cower in fear from its obvious power, but in the same instant the tower shot by him. The worlds’ colors began to spin, and the moment before it turned black, Brisco hit land. **** Brisco felt cool waves licking his feet and the sand beneath his back. He closed his fist around a handful of sand and enjoyed the cool grains running through his fingers. He wanted to be sure he was alive before opening his eyes. “Whoa!” It was a monster with two raging, giant claws, moving towards him gnashing at his throat. Brisco tried jumping to his feet, but his legs thought differently and threw him back to the sand, so he rolled away. He was fifty feet away when his eyes came into focus, and Brisco realized his pursuer hadn’t moved an inch due to three broken legs and death. A giant crack ran down the length of its shell, and what Brisco assumed was its innards had spilled out on the beach. The thing was nearly in two pieces. “No worries, friend. It’s dead and gone,” said a voice from behind. Brisco’s hand shot to his holster, only he found his gun and holster were missing. Brisco cursed the Orb again, which even among the confusion, he realized was gone. Brisco quickly jumped to his knees ready to fight, but when Brisco saw his enemy, he lowered his fists. The voice had come from a man no older than Brisco himself, squatting down and smiling. By looking at the man Brisco could tell he meant him no harm. “Wait... what?” Brisco didn’t know what else to say. “Easy, friend. Things may not be what they seem, but believe me when I say I am a friend. My name is Jack Sawyer.” Brisco caught his breath and looked past Jack and saw the flicker of a campfire. Five shadows were sitting round the flame. “Jacky Boy, you mind telling me on what planet I landed? And more importantly, where are my guns?” “That explanation’s quite a tall order. Right now, in short, you’re on a beach, at night, and somewhere close by there are more crab monsters, only unlike deadite over here, they’re alive and moving and very dangerous.” Crazy always managed to give Brisco strength, and while listening to Jack, Brisco managed to work his way to his feet. Jack stood up at the same time, each man keeping his distance from the other. “Right,” Brisco said. “I don’t speak crazy, so you mind telling me, in English, who those folks are over there?” Without looking back, Jack nodded his head. “They are family. If we go over by the fire, what can be explained to you, will.” Brisco’s thoughts fought against his instincts to fight; any other time Brisco would’ve been ready to knock the looney to his back, but something about the man felt different. The whole situation was different. It was dark, he was lost, and the beach was full of giant man-eating crabs. “Ok, Jacky Boy, but no funny stuff.” Jack nodded and led Brisco to the fire. Jack took a seat, but Brisco continued standing. He wanted to check out the people around the fire. Next to him were two men, their faces still young but their eyes looked old. Each wore shirts made of leather with the symbol of a flying dragon burnt into the center. One of the men sat with a large bow resting at his feet and a quiver of arrows at his back, and the other man was sharpening a large silver blade on a whetstone. Next to the young men was a woman without legs who watched the dancing flames, lost in her thoughts. Laying next to her, a man who looked rougher then all of the others shivered in a cold sweat despite the night heat. All color was lost from his face turning it a pale white. Brisco had seen many men in need of drugs that looked like the man in alleyways on the streets. Jack sat next to the sickly fellow, but it was the man who took seat beside Jack that stole Brisco’s attention. The man’s posture alone informed Brisco he lead the group. The man looked as if he walked the world three times barefoot, and was beginning his forth, yet his scars were earned. The man looked like one tough bastard. By the man’s side hung a horn. Somehow Brisco knew it was the horn that had called him on the train. He took a seat next to the man. “I like your hat.” “Our time on this beach is over.” The man spoke with deep intent. “Not one for small talk. No problem. Name’s Brisco. You are?” “I am Roland Deschain of Gilead, last of the line of Arthur Eld.” “Well there, Roland, you mind filling me in on, well, everything?” “You were brought here, as the rest of us were, by the winds.” “The winds? What winds?” “Ka. The winds of ka.” Brisco listened, as the moon sunk and the sun rose, as Roland talked.
what crap by biggles2_22	Sep 12th, 2006 09:05:48 AM
I put all the all the effort in writing a story that ties Brisco to the Evil Dead and some guy writes a 4 line poem and wins?! Yeah, call me bitter. Lick balls, Merrick.
Funny stories and .... by thecoinman	Sep 12th, 2006 09:25:36 AM
liked the stories thanx for reading mine.
Niiiiiiice by biggles2_22	Sep 12th, 2006 09:26:19 AM
Yeah, I write a cool-as-hell story, tying Brisco to the Evil Dead & Ash and some putz with a four line poem gets the DVD's. Lick balls, Merrick.
at least mine was mentioned by darkjedijaina	Sep 12th, 2006 09:55:52 AM
"(one adventure found Brisco on alongside Quint on the deck of the Orca)". and here's the story if you want to read it: In a flash of light, Brisco found himself onboard a boat in the Atlantic Ocean. He was standing in the cabin, a bit dumbfounded, when he heard a gruff voice. "Jesus H. Christ! Where'd Brody go?" He stepped out onto the deck and saw a stern man climbing down from the crow's nest. Another man stood up from on the deck and moved toward him. Brisco cleared his throat a bit and spoke, "It appears that I've somehow found myself on a time quest. Would you men be so kind as to tell me where I am, or, more importantly when I am?" The two men looked at each other in disbelief. Finally, the younger man that had been sitting on the deck spoke up, "This is the year 1975. We're on a charter to catch a Carcharodon carcharias." Brisco asked, "A wha..?" The older man cut him off, "Shark. Big shark. Swallow your soul." Brisco nodded and introduced himself, "I'm Brisco County, Jr. 1893." The gruff old man extended his hand, "Aye, Cisco. I'm Quint. This here be Hooper." Brisco shook the man's hand and emphasized, "Brisco." Hooper turned to Brisco and offered his hand as well, "I'm an ichthyologist." Brisco cocked an eyebrow. "Ickyologist?" Hooper shook his head. "An Ichthy...I study fish." Brisco nodded slowly. Hooper asked, "Tell me, is your name really Brisco County or is that just where you're from?" Brisco replied, "No, that's who I am." Quint let out a guttural sound, "Well, Cisco, seems you should start chumming. Hooper, get up there and drive the boat!" Brisco nodded, "I'll help catch this here shark, but I'm going back after that! There's a crime wave going on in 1893! Let's take care of business!" Hooper nodded and then reluctantly began climbing up the ladder, but looked back at Brisco for a moment, "Be careful or you'll find yourself in McHale's Navy." Brisco looked at the gruesome bucket of chum and pulled his bandana up around his face and began tossing the chum out onto the ocean. At this moment, the shark came up out of the water and Brisco moved backwards to the cabin. Quint looked at him and Brisco said, "That's one hell of a bruce out there." Quint made his way on deck and the men watched the shark, trying to gauge it's size. They got a barrel on it and the shark disappeared. The men went inside and ate their supper waiting for the shark to resurface. They began talking about their scars and Brisco listened absently as he fingered his own L-shaped scar on his chin. Hooper asked him about it, and Brisco replied, "Well, if chins could kill, I'd be the first to confess as to how I got it. But, chins can't kill, and besides that, I don't even remember." Quint spoke about his time on board the Indianapolis, and the men joined in a bout of song. As they were singing, the shark returned ramming into the boat on various occasions. When it had quieted down a bit, Brisco said, "I do believe that shark wants us dead by dawn." The men made their way to the deck and Quint began shooting at the shark with his rifle, Brisco followed his lead and began trying to hit him with his pistol. The shark left them for the evening, but returned the next day. They got a few more barrels on him, and he went under again. Hooper said, "He's going down!" Brisco watched for a moment and shook his head, "No, he's going up," and the barrels came back up, right in the stern. Quint told the two to grab the ropes and start tying them to the cleats. After this, the shark turned and began pulling the boat out to sea. Brisco exclaimed, "It's a trick! Get an axe!" Quint ran for the machete but the cleats had given way by the time he returned. The barrels appeared once again and Quint decided to head back to shore, only he ran the Orca a little too hard and the engine died. Quint asked Hooper what he could do with all of his equipment onboard. He mentioned the syringe and how it might kill the shark. Brisco absently picked up a weapon and asked what it was. Hooper replied, "This is my boomstick. An impact-sensitive firearm." Brisco nodded, "Very fancy." They went back to discussion of how to kill the shark and they all agreed to let Hooper try to kill the shark by putting him in the cage and lowering it into the water. The shark returned and demolished the cage. Brisco cried out, "Why? Why are you torturing me so?! This is intolerable cruelty!" The shark attacked the boat and Quint slid down the up-ended and quickly sinking deck of the Orca. Brisco tried to save him, holding onto his hand, but the shark surfaced and swallowed Quint, taking Brisco's right hand as well. Brisco screamed, "Give me back my hand!" and quickly bandaged the stump with his bandana while the shark retreated for a moment. The shark returned and Brisco began throwing things frantically into the mouth of the beast, including a scuba tank. He grabbed a rifle and perched himself upon the sinking mast of the ship, making his last stand against the beast. "You want some of this? Huh? Come get some!" Brisco exlaimed. The shark sped toward him as he fired shot after shot. He took aim with his last round in the chamber and said, "I'll blow your guts to kingdom come," and he fired away, hitting the tank which exploded, sending the remnants of the shark sky high. Brisco laughed like a maniac cop, when all of a sudden, a bright flash of light appeared again, sending Brisco back to 1893, and Brody back to the future.
Yet another example better than the "Winner" by Oneiros71	Sep 12th, 2006 01:10:26 PM
Seriously folks, over a month to review "over 80" entries and this is what comes out on top! This reeks of abject laziness or downright favoritism. Let the readers judge such contests in the future. The lowest of all common denominators couldn't possibly do a more half-assed job. Anyway, enough venting, here's what I brought to the obviously tilted table of Brisco: Brisco Vs. The Crisco Kid I had heard of young Harold Knowles, aka “The Crisco Kid”. Hell. Who hadn’t? True, no one knew exactly how the man came about his mastery of all things light, flakey and delicious, but none could escape the news that he had put his skills to devious use robbing banks, bordellos, saloons and even small children throughout the territory by distracting his victims with his tasty wares. Posters were strung from here to Fort Moriarity and back offering a big reward for his capture or for one of his recipes. The descriptions were always pretty vague though. They only referred to a large happy-looking fella with a fiery mane and huge can of shortening strapped to his beleaguered steed. It seems the only detail the Kid’s victims could expound upon was the “taste of heaven” found in his apple cobbler or cherry pie. And now here he was, right in front of me, as big as the Montana sky and waiving what appeared to be an apricot danish in my direction. “Brisco County Jr!” he exclaimed with a puckish grin. “Your reputation precedes you.” “As does yours, Harry!” I replied as the scent of fruit and buttery goodness seemed to assault me from every side. Knowing I had not a second to lose, I went for my gun. Too slow! My fabled lightening reflexes vanished as he shoved that powerful pastry right in my damn pie hole! When I finished the delicacy and regained my senses, Harry was gone and my last dollar with him. I’d hoped to make chase, but found Comet too had been struck down by some sugary confection that left him useless. As I scanned the horizon, I could almost make out the distant figure of the ”Kid” and his horse with that huge can of shortening strapped to its side as they faded into the sunset. You won that round Harry, I thought as I began to walk Comet back to town. Still, I couldn’t help but smile as I licked a wayward crumb from the unshaven scruff of my cheek. I do hope I run into that tub of lard again someday. THE END
My first AICN contest. by mrfan	Sep 12th, 2006 03:35:25 PM
And my last. What a joke.
My first AICN contest. by mrfan	Sep 12th, 2006 03:41:43 PM
And my last. What a joke.
the other tales by cathartist	Sep 12th, 2006 04:32:10 PM
Rather than have every other of the 76 entrants post their stories in the talkback section, is it possible to dedicate a page to the other entires, or would that be too long? I admit I feel bummed that more people didn't get to read my story but i had fun either way.
Randomly chosen winners... by Nemo_Brewster	Sep 13th, 2006 07:37:48 AM
Wow. I wouldn't have worked quite as hard on my story had I known the winners would be chosen with a randomly thrown dart. How's this: As the wind blew, Nemo said "So do you", As he looked at Merrick, who smelled of poo, "You never even read our tales", "You randomly chose from our emails", "You can lick my............................ ...................balls."
Screw it, here's mine... by Nemo_Brewster	Sep 13th, 2006 09:31:28 AM
Act 1: Electric Boogaloo The theater was old and dusty, much to the displeasure of Lord Bowler, who stifled a sneeze as he crept stealthily between velvet theater seats. He peered over the seats to see Brisco motion for them to move closer to the stage. Brisco County Jr. had been tracking the Harry Knowles Gang for several weeks, always on their heels, yet always a mere shadow behind. And now, finally, after the long and perilous pursuit, he had tracked the nefarious group to an abandoned playhouse, once a center of cultural enlightenment where, coincidentally, Brisco had attended a showing of Romeo and Juliet five years prior. Horrible performance……the hulking redhead that played Juliet still sent chills down his spine. The voice of Juliet still haunted Brisco in his deepest nightmares….what light through that winder over yonder breaks…..Brisco shuddered. The supporting cast had been just as horrid; Romeo had worn pink bunny slippers. The horror……….the horror. This was more than just another bounty to Brisco. It was personal. For the past five years the Harry Knowles Gang had engaged in a series of personal attacks on him. It began small enough, mostly obscene graffiti painted on the sides of buildings, describing Brisco’s undying affection for his fellow bounty hunter, Lord Bowler. Later, it evolved into bank and train robberies. The robbers introduced themselves as none other than Brisco County Jr. Of course, the fact that all six of the robbers had introduced themselves as Brisco caused a bit of confusion. The final assault occurred when Brisco, having just left a saloon, found his trusty horse and constant companion Comet being mounted by the wily Harry Knowles himself. “We’ll meet again, County!”, Knowles had bellowed, running into the night, zipping his trousers. “Bowler,” Brisco whispered. “Listen…..you smell that?” “Smell what? I heard nothin’! Brisco, are you sure that we’re…” Bowler was cut off, startled by the blinding light that shown down on them from the balcony. “I told you we’d meet again, bounty hunter.” Harry Knowles stood on the stage, bathed in another spotlight. He wore a long, brown overcoat and a wide brimmed hat. “How’s your horse?” Brisco glared at him. “No, really,” Knowles said, “how is he? I mean, he hasn’t returned my calls….look, I don’t mean to sound clingy or anything, but..” “Harry! We ain’t got time for this!” The evil Moriarty, Knowles right hand man, held Brisco and Bowler at gun point. He had crept up on them, along with the rest of the Harry Knowles Gang. The bounty hunters found themselves surrounded and grudgingly raised their arms. “What now, Knowles?” Brisco growled. “What now? I’ll tell you what now, County. It’s showtime! Tie them!!” Act 2: The Wrath of Khan Brisco and Bowler sat in the darkness, bound to the moldy theater seats. Brisco heard shuffling noises from the stage, and strained his eyes, peering through the pitch black theater. “What’s their beef with you, anyhow, Brisco?” Bowler asked. “Beats me,” Brisco replied. “They just came out of nowhere. Say, why did you agree to come on this hunt, anyway?” “I saw the graffiti they left,” he said, scowling. “I had to clear my good name. I could do much better than you.” The bright spotlight returned to the stage, with Harry Knowles standing in its center. Behind him stood the rest of the Harry Knowles Gang: the evil and cunning Moriarty, the nefarious Merrick, the dastardly Capone, the mysterious Massawyrm, and the scallywag Quint. All were grinning maniacally. “As I said, County,” Knowles grinned, “it’s showtime!” He tore the long brown overcoat off and threw it to the ground. The wide brimmed hat followed. Harry Knowles, the fearsome leader of the Harry Knowles Gang, stood in the spotlight in a long, medieval gown and sparkling tiara. “No,” Brisco whispered. “It can’t be….” “Oh, but it can, County! On this night, you shall be treated to an encore presentation of the masterpiece that you so cruelly maligned all those years ago!” “Waitaminit! You mean to tell me that all of the crap you’ve caused me over the past five years is a result of me not liking your performance in a play?!” Brisco said, incredulously. “Brisco, what the hell is he talkin’ about?!” Bowler yelled. “Oh, he never told you? He never told you how he destroyed the artistic careers of the most imaginative performers of our time, by spewing his venomous criticism to the most influential theater critic in the country?!” “Come again?” Brisco said. “Think back, County! You fled the theater, stopping only to vomit in the nearby bushes. Behind those bushes, madly deficating…” “Eew.” “…was none other than Leonard Mothballs himself! He had ingested three plates of the blue plate special at the local saloon. He was on the way to our presentation of Romeo and Juliet, when he paid the intestinal price for his gluttony. He never made it to the show. While he was frantically shitting in the theater greenery…” “Ewwww, stop it, wouldja?” “….along came Brisco County Jr., puking up his tacky and tasteless innards! The entire review for our presentation came from County’s hateful description of our performance! My Juliet would’ve brought me worldwide fanfare, had it not been for you!” Knowles hissed, pointing a finger at Brisco. “And now……on with the show!!” “Noooooo!!!” wailed Brisco. Act 3: Season of the Witch A drop of blood slowly oozed from the nose of Lord Bowler, while Brisco slumped weakly in his seat, looking pale. “….it’s horrible……..” Bowler moaned, quietly. “It gets worse. That was only the first act. We’ve got to get out of here soon. I think I’ve got my hands almost free…” “Hurry…..” “Got it!” Brisco freed his hands and began to untie Bowler’s. The performance came to a stop. Harry Knowles glared at Quint. “I thought you were a sailor! How did those Cretins free themselves?!” “I can’t tie a sheepshank! There! I said it!” Quint wailed. Harry reached under his billowing skirts. All in attendance collectively winced. He withdrew a large pistol and promptly fired a round through the skull of his seafaring henchman. “Well, if I can’t have a captive audience, then I suppose I’ll have to settle for a dead one. Minions!” Harry said menacingly. The rest of the Harry Knowles Gang drew their sidearms and all took aim at the bounty hunters. “Goodnight, sweet prince,” Knowles hissed. Suddenly, in front of the stage, the air seemed to rip and a bizarre, haggard figure fell through the surreal, smoking hole. A clawed arm followed, slashing and grasping for the strange, battered man. The doorway closed, severing the hideous arm. The man looked around him. “Well, what are you screwheads lookin’ at?” he growled. In his left hand he held a shotgun. On the stump of what remained of his right arm was a metal saw-like device, spattered with blood. Harry Knowles looked from the stranger to Brisco. He looked from Brisco to the stranger. The newcomer seemed to be a doppelganger of the bounty hunter. Knowles motioned to his henchmen. “Kill them all!” Knowles bellowed. Brisco and Bowler dove for the floor. The stranger swung the shotgun toward the stage and fired. Massawrym’s head seemed to vanish in a gory red and grey cloud. “Don’t just sit there lookin’ pretty, cupcake,” the stranger said, tossing the saw-like apparatus to Brisco. “Time to get it on!” Brisco noted the handle on the device and pulled it. The machine roared to life, and the jagged blade spun, slinging small bits of gore. “It’s like a….chained saw…” Brisco observed. “Quit yer jawin’ and get to sawin’, pretty boy!” Lord Bowler found their guns in the orchestra pit of the stage. He joined Brisco and his strange mirror image in the battle. A bullet from Capone’s gun whizzed past Bowler’s face. Bowler returned fire, hitting Capone in the chest. Brisco swung the roaring saw, separating Merrick’s head from his body. The shotgun thundered again, taking down Moriarty. Harry Knowles stood alone. The two bounty hunters and the otherworldly stranger surrounded him. “It’s over, Knowles. Let’s go.” Brisco said. “It’s over when I say it’s over,” Harry said. Again, he reached under his skirt. The bounty hunters and the stranger winced. From under his dress, Harry Knowles pulled out a large, shiny metal object. “Brisco!” Bowler gasped. “It’s..” “The orb,” Brisco finished. “Orb, shmorb. Let’s finish this so I can split!” the stranger said, aiming the shotgun at Harry’s head. He pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. Knowles didn’t even blink. “Shit,” the stranger griped. “It’s been real, gentlemen,” Harry said, removing a blue, glowing rod from the orb, “but I really must be going.” A rift opened in the air before them. “We’ll meet again…um…again, County!” he said, stepping through the doorway. “Tell Comet I said hi!” The rift closed, leaving the bounty hunters and the stranger alone on the stage. Brisco and the stranger eyed each other warily. “Who are you?” Brisco asked. “Ash…..housewares. I’ll be needing that chainsaw.” Brisco handed the stranger the bloodied saw. The stranger put the shotgun in a holster on his back, and placed the saw back on the stump of his right hand. “See ya.” “Wait,” Brisco said. “I’d like to ask you a few things…do you really have to hit the road so soon?” “Road?” the stranger said, pulling a ghastly book from the pouch on his belt. “Where I’m going, they don’t need roads.” He held the book out before him. It seemed to squirm. The stranger took a deep breath. “Klaatu, barada…..Nickleback….nippl e rings…..nicotine……aha! Nicto!!” The air split before him, and a doorway appeared. He stepped through, looking back at the bounty hunters. “Shop smart….shop S Mart,” he growled. And then he was gone. “Damn,” Bowler said. Brisco County Jr. stared at the spot where the stranger had vanished. “Let’s go, Bowler”, he said. “Don’t you want to know who the hell he was?” Bowler asked, as they exited the theater. “Sure I do. Maybe he’s a descendant of mine from the future….hell, maybe he’s me from another reality, who knows? I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him, though. All I know is Harry Knowles is still out there, and he has the orb. God help us.” Brisco County Jr. and Lord Bowler walked away from the theater into a crimson sunset, silently pondering their next adventure. Act 4: Pinocchio In Outer Space The sky opened twenty feet above the rocky ground, and a lone figure fell through the doorway. He thudded to the earth, shaken and stunned. A shining metal orb soon followed, landing not far from him. He stood unsteadily, brushing dirt from his long gown. A sparkling tiara hung askew on his head. In the distance, he heard the hoofs of many horses racing toward him. As the horses came closer, he saw that they were ridden by men in armor, wielding swords. As they closed on him, Harry Knowles turned his face skyward and wailed. “Nooooooooooo!!!!”
Sure... why not? by Agent Blue	Sep 13th, 2006 02:21:53 PM
Brisco held Merrick’s gaze, but from the corner of eye Brisco spotted the volcano spewing fire and ash into the sky. He was close enough to feel the heat. “Time to die, Brisco.” “I don’t know about that. You broke my watch.” Brisco thumbed back the hammer on his pistol, keeping it low, but ready, by his side. “Believe me. In moments, you’ll be plummeting to a fiery grave.” Merrick shifted his weight to the right and curled in his fingers. Brisco snapped up his gun to match the movement. “Then you’d better grow wings and fly in the next few seconds or we’ll both be two cooked birds... in case you haven’t noticed.” “Oh, how little you know.” “Everyone here who didn’t attend Harvard raise their hand. Merrick, go ahead and throw one high.” “Your time is up, Brisco, and mine is just beginning!” Brisco saw Merrick’s finger tips flicker with electricity. Brisco shot. Merrick jerked up his left hand sending forth a trail of blue sparks. The color caught the bullet and ripped it into a hundred dead pieces. Brisco fired again, but the bullet exploded in the light. “Very fancy,” muttered Brisco. The blue streak vanished. Merrick revealed his palm and hurled a sizzling green bolt at Brisco. On instinct, Brisco dove to the side, but the bolt caught the tip of his hat, sending it into the wind. Brisco launched himself up and grabbed the hat by the string. Merrick fired again. Brisco ducked, slammed on his hat, and fired twice. This time the bullets connected. The first bullet collided with Merrick’s medallion, turning it into bits of flying shrapnel. The second bullet exploded the back of Merrick’s head. Without working muscles, the wind swept up his body and threw it over the train. Brisco watched it tumble and disappear down the slopes of the mountain. “Simple physics. I win, you lose... Whoops!” Brisco rolled to his right as a chunk of molten lava splattered on the roof of the train. In momentary despair, he watched the lava eat through the metal roof, drip down, and reduce the train’s control panel into a melted pile of useless gadgets. “Oh! For the love of...” Brisco felt the train begin to speed up beneath his feet. Time to go, he told himself, but his own thoughts worked to catch up with his body as he was already running towards the rear of the train. He jumped down between cars and threw open the door. “Gentlemen,” he said, jumping over the two corpses on the floor. Brisco sprinted through the room and burst through the next door, avoiding two more corpses while trying to come up with a plan. So far all he’d come up with was to die with dignity. He decided to call dying Plan B. The next room was the dinning car, and past that was the kitchen car. Through the windows Brisco saw the mountain side gaining a familiar red tint as the windows became too hot too touch. He could hear the destructive lava tearing through the front of the train. He burst through the two passenger compartments and continued on through the large bedroom car. Brisco knew he was out of cars and out of time. Brisco came to a halt at the rear of the train. Where the train previously ended, there stood a red door leading to one more room. Brisco wanted to stop and ponder the intricacies of magic doors, but a voice inside told him to hurry. He saw no handle. He placed his hand on the door, and for a moment, the roar of the grinding metal tracks and the pop of fiery explosions fell away, and the bellowing of a great horn flooded his world. The notes came soft and low, yet they had power enough to fall great walls. If the voice had not brought him back to reality, prodding him to get a move on, Brisco believed he would’ve stayed there, listening, as the train soared down into hell. The outside noises returned, but the sound of horn did not fade. Brisco pushed open the door, and sitting on a wooden crate in the middle of the room, was the Orb. “Oh... you!” Brisco considered destroying the Orb. The damn thing had caused more trouble than its worth, but as he stepped forward, the horn became louder. The Orb was calling. Suddenly, the sound of grinding metal stopped like before, only now the roaring flames shook the train. Brisco’s world was thrown off balance. His body smashed against the far wall. He jerked his hand away from the doorway as the door slammed shut. The train was off the tracks. Time’s up, he thought to himself, time to move or die. Brisco quickly decided on Plan B and using all his strength, he planted his legs against the wall and lunged forward, trying to grab onto the orb. The horn now was deafening. The train turned on its side and began to fall. It twisted and turned through the air like a tiny piece of string. It slammed into the growing pool of molten lava, bending over itself and collapsing all the sides. Showering sparks of lava and flame burst forth around the sinking edges, signaling its doom, as the volcano finally engulfed the train. Brisco watched this from a distance. The Orb had ripped him from the train and sent him flying through air. He felt like he being pulled upwards by a giant lasso, only with no end in sight. He was gone from the volcano, gone from the island. Brisco was being ripped away from his world to somewhere else, only he didn’t think he could assign a label of where, even if he wanted to. He was frozen as images of worlds he’d never seen were thrust at him. His vision became a blur; the colors and noises and smells, beautiful, memorizing and horrible, flew by him. The worlds whipped by faster and faster. In the distance his eye caught a solid structure. All the colors flowed around it. Brisco was being thrown towards it at infinite speeds. The structure shone like a full moon in a black sky. A tower, tall and strong, surrounded by red roses. Brisco felt his heart leap and his soul quiver. He wanted to reach out and grab it, yet cower in fear from its obvious power, but in the same instant the tower shot by him. The worlds’ colors began to spin, and the moment before it turned black, Brisco hit land. **** Brisco felt cool waves licking his feet and the sand beneath his back. He closed his fist around a handful of sand and enjoyed the cool grains running through his fingers. He wanted to be sure he was alive before opening his eyes. “Whoa!” It was a monster with two raging, giant claws, moving towards him gnashing at his throat. Brisco tried jumping to his feet, but his legs thought differently and threw him back to the sand, so he rolled away. He was fifty feet away when his eyes came into focus, and Brisco realized his pursuer hadn’t moved an inch due to three broken legs and death. A giant crack ran down the length of its shell, and what Brisco assumed was its innards had spilled out on the beach. The thing was nearly in two pieces. “No worries, friend. It’s dead and gone,” said a voice from behind. Brisco’s hand shot to his holster, only he found his gun and holster were missing. Brisco cursed the Orb again, which even among the confusion, he realized was gone. Brisco quickly jumped to his knees ready to fight, but when Brisco saw his enemy, he lowered his fists. The voice had come from a man no older than Brisco himself, squatting down and smiling. By looking at the man Brisco could tell he meant him no harm. “Wait... what?” Brisco didn’t know what else to say. “Easy, friend. Things may not be what they seem, but believe me when I say I am a friend. My name is Jack Sawyer.” Brisco caught his breath and looked past Jack and saw the flicker of a campfire. Five shadows were sitting round the flame. “Jacky Boy, you mind telling me on what planet I landed? And more importantly, where are my guns?” “That explanation’s quite a tall order. Right now, in short, you’re on a beach, at night, and somewhere close by there are more crab monsters, only unlike deadite over here, they’re alive and moving and very dangerous.” Crazy always managed to give Brisco strength, and while listening to Jack, Brisco managed to work his way to his feet. Jack stood up at the same time, each man keeping his distance from the other. “Right,” Brisco said. “I don’t speak crazy, so you mind telling me, in English, who those folks are over there?” Without looking back, Jack nodded his head. “They are family. If we go over by the fire, what can be explained to you, will.” Brisco’s thoughts fought against his instincts to fight; any other time Brisco would’ve been ready to knock the looney to his back, but something about the man felt different. The whole situation was different. It was dark, he was lost, and the beach was full of giant man-eating crabs. “Ok, Jacky Boy, but no funny stuff.” Jack nodded and led Brisco to the fire. Jack took a seat, but Brisco continued standing. He wanted to check out the people around the fire. Next to him were two men, their faces still young but their eyes looked old. Each wore shirts made of leather with the symbol of a flying dragon burnt into the center. One of the men sat with a large bow resting at his feet and a quiver of arrows at his back, and the other man was sharpening a large silver blade on a whetstone. Next to the young men was a woman without legs who watched the dancing flames, lost in her thoughts. Laying next to her, a man who looked rougher then all of the others shivered in a cold sweat despite the night heat. All color was lost from his face turning it a pale white. Brisco had seen many men in need of drugs that looked like the man in alleyways on the streets. Jack sat next to the sickly fellow, but it was the man who took seat beside Jack that stole Brisco’s attention. The man’s posture alone informed Brisco he lead the group. The man looked as if he walked the world three times barefoot, and was beginning his forth, yet his scars were earned. The man looked like one tough bastard. By the man’s side hung a horn. Somehow Brisco knew it was the horn that had called him on the train. He took a seat next to the man. “I like your hat.” “Our time on this beach is over.” The man spoke with deep intent. “Not one for small talk. No problem. Name’s Brisco. You are?” “I am Roland Deschain of Gilead, last of the line of Arthur Eld.” “Well there, Roland, you mind filling me in on, well, everything?” “You were brought here, as the rest of us were, by the winds.” “The winds? What winds?” “Ka. The winds of ka.” Brisco listened, as the moon sunk and the sun rose, as Roland talked.
All of theses suck... by P33KA	Sep 26th, 2006 09:57:49 AM
Including the ones in the talkback.
I wonder how long by Monkeybrains	Nov 1st, 2006 01:12:15 AM
this is going to stay up? I wonder
A looonnnnggg time by 0rcus	Jan 19th, 2007 01:03:38 PM

So.. by 0rcus	Jan 24th, 2007 01:36:26 PM
This is the last post on the old servers before the upgrade, huh
last by BigTexas42	Jan 29th, 2008 10:28:11 AM
for now...

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