ever ramble, were writing an introduction story. Does this make any sense at all? Hell no it does not. Why
are we doing it?*
*...were strapped for ideas, OK?*
*Ahem*
*So, without further ado, we bring to you... Ramble #0- the introduction Ramble!*
*Tigers apartment. It isn’t big, and it wouldn’t be considered small if he didn’t often have to cram a half
dozen people or more into the confining walls. He has the basics... a poorly stocked kitchen, a small TV, a
couch, and a table. He also has three sheets and a pillow, and a mattress on the floor. This is more than a
little odd considering he has an actual bed frame in one of the room, but apparently the closer he sleeps to
where the rats and the pestilence live, and happier he is.*
Tiger: I moved in right after high school. Between college, writing, and walking around with anyone who’s
willing to be seen with me for the day, I hang out here, staring at stuff.
Tini: You mean you do that on purpose? I thought you were epileptic
Tiger: Nope. Just vacant.
Tini: Ah... well, seriously, you need to get some more furniture in here. Like a love seat-
Pac: -or a better TV-
Woody: -or chairs-
Royce: -or carpeting-
Falcon: -or a fully stocked mini bar.
Tiger: ...you through?
Griffon: Hm... no. Woody still has yet to talk, and you set up this ramble format so we all give our
comments on what’s currently happening, ‘member?
Tiger: ...*sighs* Are you deaf or do you just enjoy breaking the third wall like you broke Falcons nose that
one time? Woody said we needed chairs
Griffon: Oh... then yes, were through.
*Pac- AKA Joseph Lucia, Pac is the sports fanatic atheist horn dog who appears in these rambles mainly
because Tiger needed someone with a big mouth but not so many assets to back it up with, which excluded
Falcon. Pacs two leading drives are baseball and sex, and his most frequent fantasy is getting a hummer
while watching the braves win the World Series over the Yankees shattered carcass*
Pac: *Is basically dressed in a jersey, a pair of jean shorts, a pair of sunglasses and a backwards baseball cap.
Flashes peace sign. There is a metal rimmed circle of paper set up he is supposed to dive through to get into
the room. Instead, he plows into it full force, rebounds, and falls on his ass* Ow... what up?
Tiger: The best word to describe Pac is...
Tini: Pervert.
Royce: Pervert.
Woody: Pervert.
Griffon: Pervert.
Falcon: Perverted smart ass.
Pac: HEY! I am *not* a smart ass!
Tiger: ...dude, yes you are...
Pac: Oh. Right. Carry on.
Tini: ...add the word pathetic to my list.
*Tiger. Word tha fuck up. Adorned always in a pair of khaki shorts, a tank top, and a vest, Tiger is here
because Tiger is... well, the one who writes these. While he struggles damned hard to stop this from
becoming a Mary Sue ramble that is just a collection of him trying to look like Jesus, sometimes hell slip
up... such as the following*
Tiger: *Tiger takes a diving leap through the circle of paper, does a forward roll on the floor, and comes up
gracefully into a crouching position on the balls of his feet. Stretches and flexes at the same time, causing his
muscles to suddenly pop and strain his clothes to the ripping point, and seams begin to burst*
Royce: ....
Tiger: *Leans down and grabs the bottom of a fridge, and strains once again, lifting the metric ton food
container clean into the air and tossing it away*
Pac: ...come on man, that’s not even close to believable
Tiger: *Does the Hulk downward flex, causing his shirt to unravel in several million threads, revealing a very
Arnold like physique* HOAH yeah...
Tini: ...oh come on now. You have a normal stomach. You aren’t fat, you aren’t ripped. Your a typical
slacker.
Griffon: I mean, Jesus, what’s the big appeal of being strong anyway? *Is currently wearing a belly shirt that
reveals an eight pack stomach*
Falcon: Yeah... *innocently shrugs his shoulders, causing his treps to hulk up like baseballs*...
Tiger: ...I hate you guys... *walks off dejectedly*...
Woody: Hehe. Look at him go, all sad-like. Hehe.
*Woody. The only member of the group who’s still actually in an organized sport, Woody is a varsity
lineman and shows it. He’s big, he built big, he acts big, and he talks big. Roughly on the same level of Pac
at the low level for tolerance of things he doesn’t understand, Woodson switches the love of baseball with a
love of pot. A serious, serious, love of pot. We have yet to see Woodson when he wasn’t baked out of his
mind, but we hear he’s so weird when he’s straight you cant tell either way*
Woody: *Ambles through the paper like it isn’t even there* ...sup?
Tini: Oh honestly, pot?
Woody: Well what? You should try it some time.
Tini: What? The forgetting stuff, the being smelly, or the breaking the law part?
Woody: ...you are obviously focusing too much on the negative aspects of this.
Tini: Can you name a positive one?
Woody: ...I dislike you heavily
Pac: Wow... and I thought pot was supposed to make people calm and nice
Woody: ...shut up you arm chair jock
Pac: Arm chair? Arm chair!? I watch sports on a god damned COUCH Ill have you know!
Tiger: ...*my* god damned couch...
*Next up we have Tini. Wed call her an alternative girl, but then shell smack us good for trying to label her.
Short hair, a nose ring, a belly button piercing and some kick ass red sneakers that are used both for walking
and for teaching a loud mouth or two not to spit out too many cat calls when the most useful part of his
anatomy dangles in an easy to reach pouch somewhere around his waist*
Tini: ...*stares for a moment at the paper filled ring she’s suppose dot jump through, and walks around it*
Hey.
Pac: Tini scares me.
Tiger: Ditto.
Pac: But she’s hot.
Tiger: Yes, she is hot...
Griffon: But scary.
Pac: Mm-hm...
Griffon: But hot.
Pac: Oh yeah.
Royce: ....I hate you guys. Really. I’m never letting Tiger put me in a ramble again.
Pac: Wed say the same thing about you, but...
Royce: I’m not scary?
Pac: No, you scare the hell outta me. After all, you put me through a door. But its hard to fawn over
someone who you heard muttering the names of the Smurfs during sex.
Royce: ...can we just pretend that was my introduction? It was humiliating enough.
Falcon: Yes please... Pac just made me relive that little audio memory.
Tini: ...bitch steals my introduction...
*Griffon. For reasons that amuse- and only amuse, most likely- our writer, the paper circle he’s supposed to
dive through is purple. Seeing this, Griffon promptly snatches up the circle, and chucks it out a window* Hi
everybody.
Pac: Griffon is...
Griffon: Oh shut up. Were all know your going to say gay
Tiger: -
Griffon: -and so are you!
Tiger: ...
Falcon: Well I was gonna say that your-
Griffon: Gay! You were gonna say I was gay! You just phrased the first half of your sentence to pretend that
you weren’t gonna say gay!
Tini: ...that’s pretty-
Griffon: -cool.
Tini: Er, yes, cool. Can you guess what I’m gonna call you?
Griffon: Yes. Muffin. And you! *Points at Royce* Your mixing up your homophobic slanders. There’s no
such term as a ‘Carpet Packer’.
Royce: ...oh...
Woody: Well how about me?
Griffon: You weren’t going to say anything. You were going to stand there idly, wondering where you
could find a bag of Fritos.
Woody: ...oh you’re good. You are very, very good.
Griffon: Thank you. And the rest of this ramble is going to go as such... were going to introduce Falcon,
make a few ex con jokes about him, he’s going to light something on fire because he’s a psychotic fucking
pyro. All of this is going to be done in a lukewarm humorous fashion.
Tini: ...well if we already know that, why don’t we just-
Griffon: Leave? That’s exactly what were going to do, because Tiger needed to write an introduction
ramble, but didn’t have anything funny to work with, because he’s not that talented, and he needs to cut this
short. Then he’s going to apologize for having to write an introduction ramble. Then Pac is going to try to
say something, and will be cut off as we fade to black.
Pac: I liked you better when you weren’t psychic you crazy son of a-
*Fade to black*