KingLouisXVIII's forum posts

#1 Posted by KingLouisXVIII (78 posts) -

Hey, I live in Manchester too!

And to be honest I don't think Oasis are that good, either. My mate is pretty much obsessed with them, thinks every song is awesome, but I think they're all the same, one or two good ones though.

 

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#2 Posted by KingLouisXVIII (78 posts) -

everone in the class is over 18 were all grown men and women.LegitGamer3212

well its an immature rule......were all like ages 25 plusLegitGamer3212

were like all 30 years plus old in there. LegitGamer3212

Wow, your class seems to be getting progressively older with each new post. Next thing, it'll turn out you're all in a retirement home and your 'Professor' is John McCain giving a speech.

"We're all like, at least ninety years old in here, and we're being treated like eighty year olds...

#3 Posted by KingLouisXVIII (78 posts) -

A dead man as President?Genetic_Code

Well, McCain got pretty close...

#4 Posted by KingLouisXVIII (78 posts) -

Sorry but the new update looks absolutely appauling. XBL was fine the way it was, I think the new dashboard with it's stupid avatars with their bloated heads is a pathetic attempt to rip off both Sony and Ninendo in one big move. 8-person private chat looks OK, but I feel sad that Micro$oft are appealing more and more to the bunch of spoilt 8 year olds that make up their fan base.

It might turn out good, but I dunno...

#5 Posted by KingLouisXVIII (78 posts) -

Yes, the ps3 is definitely growing up at last. It got released at a time of harsh competition but we are seeing some games now that are looking good, better than their 360 equivalents in some cases. A lot of my friends are getting ps3s now, when just a few months ago the 360 was the console to own.

Not sure whether to trade in my old 360 this christmas, it's on it's second hard drive and the only real reason I can see to keep it is the fact that XBL is supposedly better and Fable 2, which doesn't look that amazing to be honest. If Gears 2 is good maybe I'll give it a chance, but I agree that the Ps3 is looking more and more appealing.

#6 Posted by KingLouisXVIII (78 posts) -
Well this is a welcome surprise. I was under the impression that all fast food restaurants used the leftovers from failed liposuction operations to make their drinks.
#7 Posted by KingLouisXVIII (78 posts) -

Beat that!!

Wolf-avatar

Ok!











Beat THAT!
#8 Posted by KingLouisXVIII (78 posts) -

Some good stories on here, keep it up. Here's one I wrote myself:

The Statue

I step out of the car and look around. So this is the place. Its certainly scenic, beautiful even. Icy mountains rise up into the highest clouds, the peaks barely visible among the wisps of thinning water vapour. At the foot of them lies a lake, still and tranquil, riveting tendrils of mist rising up and curling gently around inches above the motionless water. Somewhere high in one of the massive cedar trees, a bird calls, and flees the branches, the beats of its wings echoing around the eerie silence of the valley. Below the trees, and at the edge of the lake, is the house. Large, and crafted from pale blue wood, it seems to welcome me in. So I heft my luggage onto my back and begin the walk. The dew-laced grass crunches beneath my feet with each step I take toward to the house. I reach the door, fumbling around in my pocket for the key. Suddenly, a cry echoes around the valley, bouncing off the mountains and ringing out across the surface of the lake. It's unlike the bird's cry, there is something sinister about it, something that makes me the tiniest bit uneasy, and makes me wonder, just for a second, if there might be a grain of truth in the stories the villagers told me. I locate the correct key and slide it into the keyhole without further ado. I let the door swing shut behind me as I ascend the wooden stairs to the bedroom.

The four-poster bed dominates the room, next to the window, which provides a panoramic view of the lake and surrounded scenery. I shut the door and turn to the left. I jump with fear as I notice the statue. I hadn't seen that before. Sheesh! They could have warned me... My heartbeat gradually slowing, I approach the statue. It is very, very realistic. A man, dressed in old clothes, with leather hunting trousers and thick leather boots. Clutching, in one hand, a skinning knife. My God, it looks real... The eyes are the oddest part. I could swear they were real eyeballs. A faint shiver runs down the skin of my back. I almost touch it, then stop. Something holds me back. I don't know why, but I just don't want to be in any kind of contact with the thing. Sighing, I dump my bags on the floor and begin to unpack, my eyes never straying far from that statue and it's oddly intense gaze.

A week later. Late in the evening, my last evening here. In the morning I'll be going home. The place is perfect, a great means of escape from the stress and pressure of everyday life. The only thing is the statue. Many times in the past week I awoke in the night, to see the thing staring at me. I thought, once or twice, about moving it, but it looks far too heavy, and I'm not just reluctant to touch it, I am downright repulsed by even the thought of it. Strange. The phone rings, it must be my Uncle Bill, the legal owner of this place. I pick up the phone and answer. Bill wants to know if I liked the place, if there is anything I was unhappy with. Nothing, I said, the place was amazing.

Then, on an impulse I add, half-jokingly, "That statue didn't half freak me out though!"

There is a pause. I can sense a hint of what could be confusion emnating from the end of the line. The pause lasts for a good five seconds.

"Bill" I ask, worried. "You OK?"

"T-There is no statue..." he replied, sounding confused. "Are you yanking my chain?"

"No" I laugh, ever so slightly uneasy now. "In the bedroom, quite tall, dressed in, well, hunting clothes, I think. Surely you know the one I mean."

"Brad." comes the reply, urgency in the tone, as well as an undercurrent of what could be fear. "Brad, listen to me, get out of the house now, do you understand me? Get out. Now."

"But...why?" I am scared now.

I look up, into the blackened window, And then I see it, the reflection staring back at me, only a few feet behind. I drop the phone and scream.

#9 Posted by KingLouisXVIII (78 posts) -

Get over it, it got 9.0, a good score, and an even better overall critic score. It wasn't a 'major phail' and even if it did get 7.5 or 8.0, that's still a good score.

Oh, and don't lecture people on how to spell 'dying' until you learn how to spell 'fail'.

#10 Posted by KingLouisXVIII (78 posts) -

This injury isn't good.

I'm looking down at my hand, my heart is pumping, I'm feeling hot all over, like I want to vomit everything I have ever eaten. I don't know whether this is because of the injury, or because of the mind-crippling fear that has assaulted my mind. Not much pain, surprisingly. Just a cold, numb feeling, slowly edging it's way along the hairs of my arm, matted with blood and glistening with perspiration. The injury isn't life threatening, just a gash stretching from the base of my longest finger to my wrist. But that isn't why I am worried.

To tell you that, I have to go back three days, to the old dump near my home. Being the school holidays, most of my friends had jobs, and, wanting to make some money, I went down and had a word with Jack, the owner of the rubbish dump. He agreed to give me a job cleaning it, at a fair wage, and said anything of value I found was mine to keep, providing it wasn't protected by certain laws. I got started straight away. The dump is in the middle of an expanse of scrubland, not much vegetation, just clumps of yellowing grass and lots of sandy dirt. It is surrounded by a short fence, which serves no purpose other than to hinder anyone trying to drive in. Someone, many years back, tried to lay a path, but now it's ageing, and weeds are plentiful through the numerous cracks in the cement. I headed onto the dump, marvelling at how hot it was. I remember thinking then about global warming, how it was maybe becoming a real problem after all. My job was basically to sort the crap out, into piles so that it could be dealt with in the correct way.

After an hour or two of dragging chairs around and tossing mattresses over my head, I was tired and out of breath. That's when it happened.The fly landed on my hand. It was large, I thought, about an inch or two long, and black, jet black. I stared at it, for some reason worried. Then it stung me. The pain as the sting slid into my flesh wasn't too great. Then the bleeding began. I was shocked by the sheer amount of it. How was so much blood coming from a simple sting. I left it alone for a while, hoping the bleeding would ease, but it didn't, if anything it got worse, so I was forced to tell Jack I was going home. He was equally shocked by my injury, and said he didn't blame me. I went straight home and ran it under a cold tap before wrapping it in tissue to stem the bleeding. I told nobody in my home. No need to cause unnecessary worry.

Three days later it is still bleeding. So, half an hour ago, I googled: "Severe bleeding from fly sting". The results I got were from medical sites and the like, but one was not. I clicked i, and what I read made what remained of my blood run cold. It said:

"Severe bleeding and a numb feeling, along with perspiration and increased heart rate. These are just the beginning stages of an attack by the Blanius fly. Blanius Crystillinius is found only in very hot climates, around bodies of plentiful water. But now, increasing global temperatures have meant that the Blanius Fly can survive in places where, previously, it could not. For example, the USA. It survives on the blood of mammals.

The Blanius Fly is unique in it's method of reproducing. It will sting a large mammal, usually a primate of some kind, and certain toxins released in the sting prevent blood clots from forming. This enables the creature to lay eggs in the cut, which will survive on the blood. They will then follow the bloodstream to the heart, the largest source of blood in the body. Once there, the offspring will feast until they are large enough to survive independantly, a process which can take between 72 and 100 hours. Then, the grubs are strong enough to eat through the heart, tissue and skin. They number between five hundred and seven hundred at this time."

I clicked off the page at that point, heart pounding. But even as it beats, I can feel it, slowly but surely, breaking apart...