Make up an outrageous lie about the previous poster, part II

Robbert

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JoBird has written many children's books, including the series How to Stab Your Grannies with a Crayon.
 

JoBird

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Robbert used to be a shepherd. He was sailing across the sea with his flock and his sheep dog when he encountered a nasty storm. The ship was tossed about in the rough waters before a giant wave finally capsized it. Unfortunately, most of his sheep drowned that night.

But all wasn't lost. Robbert managed to swim to the shore of a deserted island, along with one of his sheep and his sheep dog.

Time passed, and though Robbert had the necessities--fresh water, coconuts, fish--he still found himself growing lonely. A man had certain needs.

Well, it occurred to Robbert that he was alone, and that no one was likely to come save him anytime soon. He knew he had to make the best out of his situation, and he'd heard more than one story about shepherd's and their sheep. As even more time passed, the idea of getting together with his sheep didn't seem so outrageous. After all, who would know?

One night, a particularly lonely night, he made up his mind. He shimmied his pants down to his ankles and crept up behind the sheep.

Ruff! Ruff ruff ruff!! His sheep dog went crazy, barking mad. The guard dog apparently took its job serious. Robbert pulled his pants up and scurried back to his lean-to.

The next night, the same thing happened. Robbert slipped his pants down again, and tiptoed up to the back of the sheep.

Ruff! Ruff ruff ruff!! Robbert pulled his pants up and stumbled away from the sheep. That rotten dog, he thought.

On the third night, Robbert saw a ship sailing by on the horizon. The clouds were thick and dark. Thunder rumbled, and the waves grew frothy and violent. The ship tossed about and finally sank. Just like Robbert's had so many months before.

That night, by the moonlight, Robbert saw a lone survivor swimming to shore. She had long, blonde hair, and she came out of the ocean with water dripping like tiny diamonds from her body. Her white shirt was soaked and clinging to her ample chest.

Robbert thanked all that was good and ran down to the shore. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here," he said.

The woman, being somewhat in shock, replied, "Why?"

Robbert pointed. "Could you please hold that dog for a second so I can get to that sheep?"
 

Robbert

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Arguably, this is the best piece of flash fiction on the Cooler!

(JoBird, pls feel free to answer my burning question in a PM: Where and how did you obtain all that sheepish knowledge??)
 

Nymtoc

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When no one is around, iLion sits back and listens to his 45-rpm collection of the Supremes, the Shirelles, the Rag Dolls, the Orlons, the Crystals, the Tammys, the Chiffons, the Marvelettes, the Shangri-Las, the Raindrops, the Ronettes, and Martha and the Vandellas.

Ah, those were the days...
 

JoBird

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And by "it" Drachen doesn't mean Miss Piggy. Drachen means . . . you know, his other horn.
 

Robbert

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JoBird does not need to see--he knows instantly. The proper term, me thinks, is called female intuition.
 

JoBird

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Robbert's real name is Samy Bouzaglo, and his wife Amy is a jewel in the desert.
 

Lavern08

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JoBird is afraid of the color pink. He thinks it's just waaaaaay to girly-girl. He avoids it at all costs.
 

Drachen Jager

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iLion is dredging through old outrageous lies, stripping out all the good bits and re-posting them.
 

Drachen Jager

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Defos's handle is actually the name of the church he founded.

"Deification for our salvation" - The First Church of Scatology

So far he doesn't have any members, but he's hopeful, and every day, during his morning prayer session on the toilet he prays for people to hear his voice.
 

Drachen Jager

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iLion is a regular. So far, holding his feet against the monitor while he visits the blog hasn't helped one bit.
 

JoBird

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That's only because Julianne moved away. Sales of panties are now big in Louisville, KY.
 

Drachen Jager

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JoBird orders panties delivered to JQJ's house by the truckload.

Nobody knows why.
 

JoBird

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Drachen Jager needs a lover with a slow hand. That's mostly why he prefers himself. "It's tight everytime," Drachen says.