ticattack ticattack is offline

Great Wyrm

About Me

  • About ticattack
    Terra Australis
    IT tech/network admin/web designer/programmer/backup receptionist
    When I was a young warthog, I found my aroma lacked a certain appeal - I could clear the savannah after every meal. And oh, the shame. I thought of changing my name. I got downhearted every time that I- Hey kids!

    But, I turned it to my advantage. I made a deal with some local poachers. In the mad rush to flee my odiferous bottom burps, they shot half a dozen critters each day, and gave me twenty percent. It was all good, until those mongrels tried to double-cross me, stiff me my money! Well, I got angry. And people don't like me when I'm angry. I opened up a can of hog-fu whooparse that would feed three Ethiopian families, assuming they liked eating hog-fu whooparse.

    As I lay there, chest heaving in a puddle of sweat and congealing poacher-blood, I knew what I had to do. My mission was clear - all poachers must pay for their misdeeds. I enlisted the help of Uma Thurman, a katana-wielding woman on a similar quest for vengeance, and together we travelled the States, leaving terror and dismembered body parts in our wake.

    Eventually, we hit Canada, and came across a wandering patrol of mounties, who warned us away. We ignored them and travelled on - the scene was hideous. Dudley Doright had gone mad, infused with gamma radiation, and possessing superhuman strength and stamina. The grueling battle lasted five days, with only occasional breaks for gruel, but we emerged victorious - Dudley Doright was dead. Canada thanked us, and the Wizard of Oz granted us each a wish.

    "I want Bill's head on a pike!" Uma said, then screamed as a giant fish with Bill Cosby's head fell from the sky, flopped about for a moment, then died. I knew then that I would have to choose carefully. "I want five million dollars." I said. The Wizard grinned at me, a smile devoid of mirth, and I met it with my own. As I was expecting, five million dollars in 5 cent coins rained down from the sky as I leapt to the safety of the Batcave. The Wizard, Uma and Bill Cosby-pike were all killed.

    With a big case of survivor's guilt, and a bigger case of beer, I travelled North, and through various rips in the time/space continuom, ended up in Tasmania, 1224 AD. There wasn't much to do there then, either, though I did propose a solution to the Jalu tribe's problem of low population - the last two members, Chazza and his sister Mercedes were very nice people, once you got over their wearing sandals and socks together.

    Back in my own time, I travelled back in time and then to my own time again, creating a space/time rip that brought Adolf Hitler and myself into a small room three hours and forty-two seconds before the end of the universe. For three hours and forty-one seconds, the fuhrer and I talked. We discussed many things - art, French champagne, and the effect of the Internet on post WWXVII Bladivostok. We agreed that the three were daft, overpriced, and of great importance, paving the way for Bladivostok to usurp the role of World Power from Turkmenistan.

    Then, Betty said to me "Hey, let's have dinner!". I stared at her, jaw hanging open, not because I was flabbergasted at the idea of eating with her, but because it was 2 am, the morning after the apocalypse. Jesus arrived at that moment, diverting a potentially ugly scene, but bringing an even uglier one.

    Jesus and I had not gotten along since we first laid eyes upon one another. He stood there with his cronies, Buddha, the Holy Spirit, and his girl, the legendary 41st virgin of Islam (by now the title was something of a misnomer). We stared each other down for a long moment, then he spat in my face, and all Hell broke loose.

    "This is God!" boomed Heaven's PA system. "We are under attack, repeat, we are under attack! All units man your battlestations!" Jesus threw me one last look. "This ain't over, punk." he said. "Nowhere near." I replied as we rushed to grab our weapons.

    Seeing as God was omiscient, he had us equipped with weaponry that would have been invented three thousand years later, had the end of existence not stopped it - slightly smaller guns that fired slightly bigger bullets. Also, when the bullets hit something, they turn into blue whales.

    We stood outside the walls of Eden and waited as the legions of the damned approached. The evil was palpable as they came at us with cries of "braiins", "Mwahaha!" and "tubby custard! Yay!".

    Me and Jesus were the first over the walls, charging at the enemy and firing whales into their midst. By the time the thirty-sixth whale had landed, ninety-eight percent of their forces were destroyed, but since they were infinite, that wasn't that useful.

    Then, I had a brainwave. "Run away!" I cried, and fled to my computer.

    Now, quick, I need a way to defeat the legions of Hell. C'mon, hurry up!
    World creation, drawing, scheming to overthrow the world's governments and establish my own international dictatorship, computer-y gear, cooking.
  • Signature
    There's no sig here.


Total Posts
General Information
  • Last Activity: Feb 20 '16 3:12am
  • Join Date: Mar 5 '06
  • Referrals: 16


Showing Friends 1 to 10 of 17

Contact Info

Instant Messaging
Send an Instant Message to ticattack Using...
Home Page
This Page
Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.8
Copyright ©2000 - 2016, vBulletin Solutions, Inc.
Myth-Weavers Status