prooker

As I said, hobbies will be up to the respective writers.


After all escapades are done and hijinks ensue, how does he deal with not being able to anything but rule the world?

Poe the Great

Beautiful painting by Adolf Hitler!


You know, Hitler pursued a career as painter, but he was turned down by Jew teachers or something.

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You don't know jack about OoT. Think you do? Come and prove it in my edition of OoT Jeopardy.

prooker

I actually did know, what a baby

RUFFUZZIVIA

I think I heard about that too. It's kind of funny in a sort of.. non-funny way

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Tom

Oh man I know exactly what I'm going to do for mine it's going to be great

And by great I mean sickeningly mediocre

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Muffin Mage

You want mediocrity? You can't handle mediocrity!

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Current mood: Slaying your children, stealing your women and cattle, and setting fire to your miserable collection of huts.

prooker

We still need an ending

The Teej

I'd also like to take part in this.

As for the ending, I'll let others decide that. Unless of course you're okay with Hitler sitting down playing "It's a hard knock life" on the harmonica in the street.

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Poe the Great

He becomes depressed and lets the Third Reich fall apart, and commits suicide in his bunker beneath Berlin.

I mean, seeing as we're not actually going for a fictional premise anyway.

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You don't know jack about OoT. Think you do? Come and prove it in my edition of OoT Jeopardy.

Poe the Great

Wow, I actually succesfully killed this?

You people are saps.

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You don't know jack about OoT. Think you do? Come and prove it in my edition of OoT Jeopardy.

RUFFUZZIVIA

I've been too busy with school to do this, actually. And I have no idea where Linko's gone, so I have to find him.

But if I find free time I might pick up on this again lol

Also, I forgot this was happening.

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ifm2181

member awards might be better
that's also partially linko's fault

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Tom

I'm gonna write mine RIGHT NOW just sit tight

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Tom

I don't know how it turned into this I was just gonna have him play Warhammer for a bit but whatever

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Adolf "Hitler" Mercedes gazed out of his office's large, panoramic window with nothing short of longing. The barren and bone-littered hills of Germany rolled on as far as they eye could see, and the supernaturally glowing clouds he knew so well were, like thirty five percent of the current population of his nation's pregnant women, bloated with foul oily liquid. The massive stone towers of Berlin poked just over the horizon, perpetually oozing gypsy blood, as they should.

"My great land," he mused, leaning back in his over stuffed leather chair. "I have spent ze past eight epochs reigning over das world from jour Fatherly bosom, and yet..." he sighed. "What is left for das Fuhrer to do?"

"You could let me out of this cage, for one."

Hitler looked over at where the voice had come from. "Ze more times jou ask that," he said, raising an eyebrow, "ze more I vill torture you, ja, WILL SMITH?"

Will Smith was laying in his own filth, which pooled the bottom of the cramped cage hanging from the office's ceiling. "Understandable. How about you send one of your little Nazi robots to at least CLEAN OUT MY DOOKIE?!"

Hitler loved the way Will Smith shouted in that exaggerated, sarcastic way he always does. "Oh, Will Smith, jou never cease to amuse mein. In all the years jou and jour silly little 'Resistance' tried to fight back, I knew I just had to get jou in a cage! Like my own little canary!"

"He does have a point though, sah," said Hitler's personal Butler, Hans, whose accent was inexplicably British. "You have been quite bored recently, and perhaps letting Mr. Smith go would help bring that spark of life back."

"Vat do you mean? Zere is novhere vor him to run! He vill juzt echnd up in ze chorrible chwastelanderstheins to be eaten by ze daf weidershleppen!"

"Uh..."

"Unless..." Hitler began stroking his chin as a devilish grin spread across his boyish features. "Unless ve have somethink in mind vor him... Show him a," he chuckled, "good time!"

Hans' eyebrows shot up, and off his face, and around the room in a deadly ricochet. "Sah, no! Surely the mutual respect forged between you and Mr. Smith during the War would..."

The Fuhrer raised his hand and Hans silenced immediately. Will Smith poked his freakishly square head through the bars of his cage and frowned down at his captors. "What? What's going on? Are you going to clean my cage? I've got a rash so bad my balls have melded with my dick into one grocery-bag like genital." He pursed his lips and cocked his head to one side comically. "IT'S STRAIGHT UP UNCOOL, YO!"

Hitler laughed as he pressed a button under his elephant-skin desk. "Hans, leave ze room, please. I vish to have Mr. Smith all to meinself."

As Hans did as he was told, the bird cage lowered to the floor. Will Smith started to panic, in that exaggerated, sarcastic way he always does. "Wait, whatchoo doin'? WHATCHO DOIN' HITLER? WHY IS MY CAGE LOWERIN'? WE... WE GONNA GO OUT SOMEWHERE? WE GOIN' FOR A WALK? HITLER WHATCHO DOIN?!"

It hit the oak floor with a metallic *blarp,* Will Smith's waste slurry sloshing over the rim. The cage door swung open automatically, but the ebony hero was paralyzed with fear despite his sudden chance at freedom. He didn't know why, but something in the back of his mind told him that things were about to go from bad... TO REALLY BAD!

Hitler's smirk never left his face as he slowly rounded his desk. "And zo, it zeems zat zings zare zabout zo zome zo zan zend."

"Uh..."

"Silence! I've vaited a long time for zis, mein friend." He rose his hand to his collar and let a single slender finger slide down the length of his blouse, the buttons popping off as if by Nazi magic--which it was exactly that. Nazi Magic was undressing Hitler.

"OH SNAP!" crooned Will Smith, "Hitler, man, you're cool and all but I don't exactly play for that team, yaw mean?" he said while bobbing his head in that exaggerated sarcastic way he always does. "At least, not on the first date aahahahAUGH OH MY GOD"

It was at that moment that Hitler's bare chest separated like the jaws of a Hercules beetle, revealing a moist cavity host to thousands of tiny puckered mouths, each one jittering and filled with pus. His eyes rolled into the back of his "head" as his legs broke down into a mass of sinewy tentacles, writhing and reaching for Will Smith's rashy junk.

The Will Smith in question began to hoot in that exaggerated sarcastic way he always does. "AW NO! AW NO! HOOOOOO! HOOOOOOO! OOOOOOOH! MOMMA NO! HOOOOOO! HOOOOOO!"

"Z'NK JES AL KRUY MO TAG," moaned Hitler from the depths of his black consciousness. "YOU ARE OURS NOW, WILL SMITH."

The Fuhrer then turned to the camera and smiled broadly. "I think I found my new hobby!"


FIN

EPILOGUE

Will Smith shot up from under his bed covers, sweat giving his fabulous muscles a mystic sheen. "Oh man," he said, "it was just a dream."

The Hitler-thing placed a gentle tentacle on Will Smith's shoulder. "WHAT'S WRONG HO-NEY? COME BACK TO BED RAAAGH"

Will Smith grinned and leaned forward to tongue one of the Hitler-thing's many orifices. It moaned in pleasure. "It was nothin', baby. I just had a nightmare that I got a rash on my junk. That would mean I couldn't please you just the way you like it."

"GIVE IT TO ME HARD WILL SMITH RAAGGHHHGHHGH"

"With gusto." And he did


FINx2

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symuun

This forum will never be the same again.

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Poe the Great

I was sorely disappointed that Hitler didn't say Vill Smiss.

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You don't know jack about OoT. Think you do? Come and prove it in my edition of OoT Jeopardy.

Tom

Shit me too now D:

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ifm2181

My word!

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