98. 99. boom! version 10
98. 99. boom! version 10
by jos » Mon May 26, 2025 9:17 am
98. 99. boom! version 10 official thread
the rules are very simple- we have to count to 100; when we get there, instead of saying 100, there is an explosion
if it is your turn to be the lucky hundredth post, you get to add whatever "explosion" you'd like! (example below)
[it can be a gif, large letters, some sort of special effect, or really anything you desire- be kind and creativeeee]
if it is your turn to be the lucky hundredth post, you get to add whatever "explosion" you'd like! (example below)
[it can be a gif, large letters, some sort of special effect, or really anything you desire- be kind and creativeeee]
for example
user one says:
98
user two says:
99!
user 3 says:
user four says:
1!
user five says:
two (:
& so on and so forth
as shown above, after reaching the explosion, we start back at one to repeat over and over
and over and overrrr. this thread may be remade by any user as long as it has reached 900 pages
and over and overrrr. this thread may be remade by any user as long as it has reached 900 pages
without further ado...
version 9 left off on 44
Last edited by jos on Sat Nov 15, 2025 1:32 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"i saw my life branching out before me like the green fig from the story. from
the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned
and winked. one fig was a husband, and a happy home and children; another
fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig
was europe and africa and south america, and another was constantin and
socrates and attila and a pack of other lovers with offbeat professions. beyond
and above these figs were many more figs i couldn't quite make out. i saw myself
sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because i couldn't
make up my mind which of the figs i would choose. i wanted each and every one
of them, but choosing one meant losing the rest, and, as i sat there, unable to
decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, began to plop to
the ground at my feet." written by my favorite melancholic, sylvia plath
the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned
and winked. one fig was a husband, and a happy home and children; another
fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig
was europe and africa and south america, and another was constantin and
socrates and attila and a pack of other lovers with offbeat professions. beyond
and above these figs were many more figs i couldn't quite make out. i saw myself
sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because i couldn't
make up my mind which of the figs i would choose. i wanted each and every one
of them, but choosing one meant losing the rest, and, as i sat there, unable to
decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, began to plop to
the ground at my feet." written by my favorite melancholic, sylvia plath
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Re: 98. 99. boom! -version 10
by jos » Mon May 26, 2025 10:46 am
47
"i saw my life branching out before me like the green fig from the story. from
the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned
and winked. one fig was a husband, and a happy home and children; another
fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig
was europe and africa and south america, and another was constantin and
socrates and attila and a pack of other lovers with offbeat professions. beyond
and above these figs were many more figs i couldn't quite make out. i saw myself
sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because i couldn't
make up my mind which of the figs i would choose. i wanted each and every one
of them, but choosing one meant losing the rest, and, as i sat there, unable to
decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, began to plop to
the ground at my feet." written by my favorite melancholic, sylvia plath
the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned
and winked. one fig was a husband, and a happy home and children; another
fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig
was europe and africa and south america, and another was constantin and
socrates and attila and a pack of other lovers with offbeat professions. beyond
and above these figs were many more figs i couldn't quite make out. i saw myself
sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because i couldn't
make up my mind which of the figs i would choose. i wanted each and every one
of them, but choosing one meant losing the rest, and, as i sat there, unable to
decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, began to plop to
the ground at my feet." written by my favorite melancholic, sylvia plath
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jos - Posts: 3156
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Re: 98. 99. boom! -v10
by jos » Mon May 26, 2025 1:21 pm
50
"i saw my life branching out before me like the green fig from the story. from
the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned
and winked. one fig was a husband, and a happy home and children; another
fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig
was europe and africa and south america, and another was constantin and
socrates and attila and a pack of other lovers with offbeat professions. beyond
and above these figs were many more figs i couldn't quite make out. i saw myself
sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because i couldn't
make up my mind which of the figs i would choose. i wanted each and every one
of them, but choosing one meant losing the rest, and, as i sat there, unable to
decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, began to plop to
the ground at my feet." written by my favorite melancholic, sylvia plath
the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned
and winked. one fig was a husband, and a happy home and children; another
fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig
was europe and africa and south america, and another was constantin and
socrates and attila and a pack of other lovers with offbeat professions. beyond
and above these figs were many more figs i couldn't quite make out. i saw myself
sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because i couldn't
make up my mind which of the figs i would choose. i wanted each and every one
of them, but choosing one meant losing the rest, and, as i sat there, unable to
decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, began to plop to
the ground at my feet." written by my favorite melancholic, sylvia plath
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