MERGED ---> The dangers of playing (or anything really) with Frank the Monkey

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Kieran McConville

ONE love, blood, life
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Hi, Violet
The dangers of playing Nintendo Wii (or anything, really) with Frank the Monkey

Oh how shall I count the ways? Let me ennumerate them.

For one thing, it's not Nintendo Wii when Frank is around, it's Nintendo Wee. As in, you won't stop pissing. And being pissed upon.

Frank the Monkey is getting me a colostomy bag for Christmas.

It would seem an odd gift except that after he's finished making shit sausages out of approximately 30 metres of my large intestine, it will be sort of essential. That is, if I don't want to shit into my stomach. Hard choice, I know, I'm still deliberating to be honest.

Anyway, Nintendo Wee. It's not much fun I can tell you. You won't stop screaming either.

There are no rules, there is no object. There is just Frank, and pissing. Pissing.

Pus-filled balloons, guys.:wink:
 
what does he actually DO with the shit sausages?

does he force you to eat them, or does he host a bbq for the neighbours, effectively conning them into thinking he's just a regular friendly monkey?
 
I'm just gonna go ahead and RSS Feed™ myself all the birthday threads from Lemonade Stand. How can people starve in a world with such an abundance of on-demand birthday threads?

They have no bread?! Well then, let them eat thread cake!

That's right, Frank.

It's Feeding™ time again.

~Marie Internette
 
I'm over you, COBL_4.

Bring back Jick? 'J, the King of POP' as we knew him back in the glorious days of the whatever board?

Why? What? When?

How?

Where am I?
 
Pinball Wizard said:
I'm just gonna go ahead and RSS Feed™ myself all the birthday threads from Lemonade Stand. How can people starve in a world with such an abundance of on-demand birthday threads?

They have no bread?! Well then, let them eat thread cake!

That's right, Frank.

It's Feeding™ time again.

~Marie Internette

are you saying there aren't enough birthday threads, cujo (guys)?
 
It's time for another Frank the Monkey thread, guys

Frank teaches us that we have nothing to fear but fear itself, guys.

Unfortunately, guys, fear is a rapacious, gnawing, merciless beast that will hollow out your insides with the vicious relentlessness of battery acid.

Fear can and will literally turn you to stone on the spot, guys.

I shat my pants this morning, rather than have to venture into the bathroom where I knew perfectly damn well that Frank was hanging out for the night/morning.

I would honestly rather piss in the kitchen sink than have to deal with Frank, in the bathroom. And I did.

The trouble is, one of Frank's fingers is now poking out of the kitchen plughole. Now I have to go to the thai takeaway down the road if I want to use the 'toilete'.

Since Frank replaced my bowels with the hose from a gas station petrol bowser, life has gotten kind of messy for me.

I've lost the ability to feel fear, except when Frank is around. I only feel rage, except when Frank is around, and then I feel fear.

Stone cold fear.
 
Kieran teaches us that we have nothing to fear but boredom, guys.

Unfortunately, guys, boredom is a rapacious, gnawing, merciless beast that will hollow out your insides with the vicious relentlessness of battery acid.

Boredom can and will literally turn you to stone on the spot, guys.

Stone cold boredom.
 
kieran teaches me that we have nothing to fear but 99 per cent of posters on internets teh.
 
honestly, with some of the names being congratulated for another year on earth, i couldn't tell you if they were real or fake.
 
Help! Frank the Monkey's finger is poking out of my mouth!

I woke up this morning guys, and Frank the Monkey's finger is poking out of my mouth. It's alive!

Where's the rest of him? Is he inside me? NO! He's standing at the door!

But his finger is poking out of my mouth!

ARRRGGHHH!!!!!!
 
Is Frank my bad dream... or am I his?

As the evening dusk settles over the city, my apartment is in deep shadow from the rubber factory next door. I know Frank is still hunched in the shadows somewhere nearby. His finger is poking out of my mouth and I can taste lightning.

The electricity won't work, but I know that only because it never works. To be honest I haven't moved from the bed all day, because I would rather shit my pants right here, thankyou very much, than have to find out exactly where Frank is lurking.

I'd rather just defecate in peace here, than chance passing Frank in the hallway, or (God help me) in the laundry.
 
i'm not sure i understand... is it just his finger? can you tell if it's attached to something?

how much of it's sticking out?
 
Kieran, it sounds like you and Frank were experimenting with the doors of perception. The shit-covered walls and Frankomorphic spaces that you describe only point to the architecture of an Aldous Huxley inspired mescalin trip. Navigate your way back to us someday... the (powder!)finger protruding from your mouth knows the way.
 
guys, the finger is attached to nothing.

I mean, it would make a sick kind of sense to say that my tongue has morphed into Frank's finger... but no, my tongue is still there.

Frank's finger is poking out of my mouth, guys. It won't go away. It has twenty joints at last count, making it over a foot long.
 
then how do you know it's frank's??

look at frank right now... is he missing a finger?? which one is it? has it grown back?
 
I don't WANT to look at Frank, caisenma.

I'm pretty sure he IS missing a finger, however. The one that's 3 feet long, to be specific.

It has lots of joints and it's sort of just, there... poking out of my mouth.

Guys... I have to sleep, but there is Frank's finger poking out of my mouth.
 
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