Movie Here's a Novel Idea (game)

nukes

nukes

I Eat Buttholes Raw
Apr 15, 2016
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Let's play a game. We're going to write a novel by committee. Each player writes between one and four paragraphs. Each player gets to introduce one character (please do so in a manner which flows with the story). I'll start:

Charles was having a truly terrible day. Dumped by his fiancee and layed off from his stockbroker job both in the same day. "Bartender, scotch... neat. Just line them up please. I intend to do some serious.drinking tonight..."
 
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After regaining consciousness from the slap from the burly prostitute, Charles glanced towards the car and found that the fire had died to nothing more than a few embers. Charles got a closer inspection of the car and decided that the damage to the vehicle wasn't as bad as he first thought. He walked around to the drivers side of the accordioned Accord and put every ounce of strength into opening the door. Charles didn't need to put that much effort into opening the door, and as such he found himself stumbling backwards as the door swung open. His momentum carried him backwards to the curb which he tripped over and fell backwards landing violently on the sidewalk, smacking his intoxicated skull on the pavement.
 
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Our hero, who calls himself the Sexpert, dates only models and carries around a large bag filled with various lubricants, ben-wa balls, vibrating clitoral stimulators and about a dozen strings of anal beads. Every girl he meets he makes wet with excitement. He has the cute habit of licking their faces in public and fingering them beneath tables at Balthazar while drugging their gimlets with OxyContin. He f**ks one girl so hard that he breaks her pelvic bone. He f**ks a semifamous TV actress in the greenroom minutes before she’s supposed to appear on Live with Regis and Kelly. He flashes his biceps and shows off his washboard abs (“Michael didn’t have a six-pack—he had a twenty-four-pack; a case!”) to anyone who might look. Women keep pleading with him to be more open and emotional, and they indignantly throw out lines like “I am not a slut!” and “You never want to talk about anything!” and “We should have gotten a room!” and “That was rude!” and “No—I will not have sex with that homeless man while you watch!” as well as my two favorites: “You tricked me!” and “I’m calling the police!” His usual answers: “Swallowing is about communication, baby” and “Okay, I’m sorry, but can I still come on your face?” A lot of his bad behavior is excused because in many respects Mike is an innocent, though it’s far more likely that forgiveness is always extended because he makes every girl he f**ks multiorgasmic. But many women become so upset by his behavior that they have to be tranquilized before returning to their “lesbian pasts,” and then there’s the scandal involving videos Mike had made while having sex with various older married women that “suspiciously” started surfacing on the Internet. “What? You’re gonna f**k your way through life?” one of these older women (the wife of a wealthy industrialist) shouts at him. He stares at her as if she’s a ditz, then forces a gas mask onto her head. He also invents a variety of cocktails, including the Bareback, the Crotchless Pantie, the Raging Boner, the Weenus, the Double Penetration, the Shag Man and the Jizzbag.

His most recent conquest is—hence the title—a particularly vapid sixteen-year-old who thinks you can get pregnant from o**l s*x and contract AIDS from drinking a Snapple. She also talks to birds and has a pet squirrel named Corky, as well as a problem with silverware; at restaurants, when a waiter recites the specials, she always has to interrupt by asking oh so slowly: “Do you have to use a fork to eat that?” But Mike finds her innocence alluring and soon initiates her into his world, a place where he makes her wear flimsy clothes (transparent lace thongs are high on his list) and has her say, “Throw me a bone” before they have sex and “Who’s my daddy?” once he’s penetrated her. He applies cocaine to her clitoris. He forces her to read Milan Kundera paperbacks and makes her watch Jeopardy! They fly to L.A. for an orgy at the Chateau Marmont and buy sex toys at the Hustler Boutique on Sunset Boulevard and pile them into the trunk of his rented black Cadillac Escalade SUV while she giggles “amply.” He even charms her father—who had threatened to personally kick our hero’s nicely shaped ass if he didn’t stop dating his underage daughter. In a very tender moment, Mike buys her a fake ID. “She doesn’t mean to be that stupid,” he always apologizes to his aggravated friends, other bachelors living in the same lost world as Mike’s. One night he gets her so high on mushrooms that she is unable to locate her own vagina.
 
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Brandy sat at the kitchen table, rolling cigarettes, and cursing and swearing at the never ending racket of nails being pounded into the roof above her head. Suddenly she heard a stumbling sound, and from the corner of her eye saw what looked like a denim sack of potatoes fall past the kitchen window, landing on the ground with a dull thud.

She rushed to the door, frantically fighting to unhook the bungee cord holding the storm door open, the latch holding the door broken since that time that fucking bitch Katie came over. Finally the door yielded, and she rushed outside. "OH MY GOD!" cried Brandy. Her exasperated scream echoed across the trailer park, and the beagle down the street howled in return. "ARE YOU OK?!"

Darth lay collapsed on the driveway in front of her, with a big grin on his face. "Don't worry hottie", he stammered. "I've been drinking since 7am, and I don't feel a goddamn thing."
 
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gee said:
Brandy sat at the kitchen table, rolling cigarettes, and cursing and swearing at the never ending racket of nails being pounded into the roof above her head. Suddenly she heard a stumbling sound, and from the corner of her eye saw what looked like a denim sack of potatoes fall past the kitchen window, landing on the ground with a dull thud.

She rushed to the door, frantically fighting to unhook the bungee cord holding the storm door open, the latch holding the door broken since that time that fucking bitch Katie came over. Finally the door yielded, and she rushed outside. "OH MY GOD!" cried Brandy. Her exasperated scream echoed across the trailer park, and the beagle down the street howled in return. "ARE YOU OK?!"

Darth lay collapsed on the driveway in front of her, with a big grin on his face. "Don't worry hottie", he stammered. "I've been drinking since 7am, and I don't feel a goddamn thing."
Click to expand...

Great opening lines
 
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nukes said:
Charles woke in Brandy's apartment being straddled by Darth.
"What kind of protagonist do you think I am!?" barked Charles angrily.
Click to expand...
Darth's only reply was to put his index finger over Charles' mouth, "shhhhhhhh". But that wasn't Charles' biggest problem. Darth's other index finger started roaming down his boxers.

Charles was torn. He usually liked his men more manly, but he hadn't been laid in weeks. And he was hoping that someone would eventually find the toy lodged deep in his rectum.
 
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