Miniature Manuscripts

Stories are a way of delving into an unknown world of mystery and magic. Funny tales of wholesome characters forming memories or even the inspiring sacrifice of a main protagonist. Stories are so different yet so alike. 

We have a few different genres filled with mystical legends from personal experience and pinched from the nightmares of our visitors. We hope you can read these aloud and proud.

May we warn the younger viewers about the obscene stories that are contained within. Some will impress onto your brain and melt you into a plasmatic soup. Others curate bone structure causing you to become a raging spider monkey with talons longer that a Toblerone box.

Please respect that the following stories are for entertainment purposes only, insults thrown and accusations given are all for the benefit of laughs. All these stories are true to the fullest extend and we have eye witnesses for each and everyone of them. watch out - there truly are some scary things out there.

In contrast, if you do enjoy, continue about your splendid and swell day.

Humorous

   Freaky Fizzics    

Thine self can read the uttermost extravagant stories by a man greater than god. Defying Physics using physics.

Mr Cronical. My beloved. He has chest hair the length of his posterior, 14 inches. When he uses this organ, his chest hair tethers to the victim, pulling them closer and sucking the energy out of their body. It was horrendous. It was beautiful. Just like him.

To our reprimand this sovereign fellow has been lost within the fabric of space. The hero emits photons when he walks. You will know upon his triumphant return.

The bike and truck experiment

When one thinks to exercise would you say it is foolish to bike? Cycle away, the man did. Faster, faster, faster. Wouldn't the feeling enthral you for acceleration. It fills with glee and spikes you computational spine. Could one reach speeds that defy physics? All that is needed is the will of a truck, behind one, one must travel. Exceeding 43.99Km/Hr was too much. The man crashed and slid over the ground. Effectively being cheese grated by the rough road. All that was left could only be described as a shit-stained skid mark in the centre of the road. Gisbey was dead.

The Straight A Student

On a cold winters eve the teachers gathered. Unknown to them a force was about to be inflicted within their sacred school walls that wasn't to be reckoned with. Packages were continuing to be left across the school - brown, cardboard coloured packages. Someone was delivering a service that nobody was asking for. these packages appeared at random times on random days through the week, but there was always at least 3 during a week, 4 on a good week. The teachers became stricter with their search and began trimming down the crop of student they were picking from. It couldn't be poor old bert - he ate more glue sticks than fruit. Tim - our lovely straight A student, he is our star, of course it isn't him! It is most likely one of our worse pupils, like the class clown.

The straight A students façade had worked. He was the cereal urinal shitter. All those brown packages were him. Never would he ever be caught.

The Pirate Penetrator

Indubitably, to amass an income of protoplasmic proportions, one must produce moolah. Doubloons are so finite that not many people have them (We have lots). To create a steady cash flow a man with a dream needed to rob pirates! It only makes sense. So off he went, to embark on a journey. The man sailed for days to rob but none, he was a land lover at heart so he sailed home. However, his crew of one was in for a surprise! 

The mother load of all was upon this man. He had embarked on a mission too great for himself. He was met by a ship with a crew of 18. The man swung his sword slicing threw the men like a scalawag (rapscallion in native Jamaican). He had killed; one, three, ten, sixteen. Twas but only two left. He pushed one off the side but he was to live to tell the tale. All but one left, he punctured him through the heart and released a massive methane explosion from his anus. And alas all the doubloons were in his curséd hands. 

The last man was never to been seen, did he live or drown in his own faeces (from an unfortunate byproduct of his prolapsing anal cavity)? no one knows, but for one unfortunate soul. His name was Juicy McGoosey and he had witnessed (and smelled) the whole act in 4k resolution 120hz from amongst his submarine.

The Automobile Accident

I soiled myself. So fast my car couldn't keep up. I crashed. Unfortunate. But wait? Perhaps I didn't? Perhaps it was all a dream? It wasn't. I soiled my self and it hurt deeply. I had shat myself and I was upset. A poor individual left shit-stained in a ditch.

Let There Be Light-ning

(The true origin of Doctor Proctor)


For Bingelton Coochiesmith staying at home was a comfort he didn't regularly have. Sitting and shitting with nothing to be done. When suddenly in a single flash of blindingly brown light, an extreme surge of electricity ran through right through his home. The blast snaked through the room and the man could do nothing but hold his anus tight. Before the man could react, the electricity entered his gastric bypass like nothing he had ever experienced before. The hair instantly shed from his head, his eyes began to glow a bright red. He shrieked in agony as the voltage consumed his anal tract, and turned his waste into a toxic cesspool of unkempt Shitspearian power.

The man was transformed, no longer a regular everyday Joe Schmoe, he was now Doctor Proctor. And he was back for revenge; colourful, semen flavoured, shit caked revenge. And oh boy, it was good. Almost too good? Perhaps not. Though one thing was certain, he needed to teach pupils at Dingle town academy, science. And he was desperate. Initially he felt stronger and smellier than ever, but as the days turned into months he discovered the belittled truth. He needed to feed on a blood meal every 3 days to survive. So disappearances began occurring around his neighbourhood. First Big momma went, then Goofy Gertrude, her dog.

Grug Moment

(Sequal to American Psycho)

Grug walked into work one day, in a cave not far from his. The hot sand burned beneath his feet, and he felt an impending slap of anger. He entered by breaking down the stone door that stood in his path so menacingly. How dare it? How dare it not step it’s horrid being aside? The rock crumbled into dust in his hands, and he looked down, staring into the cracks and wrinkles of his sausage fingers. He regretted nothing.



The other workers were scared of Grug. Grug hadn’t ever been noticed by them, until he decided to take Andrew tate’s course on ‘how to be a sigma male part 37’ he thought Andrew was an amazing teacher. The way he moved so softly, the way his lips curved slightly to a smile when he mentioned how much he wants to kill all women. He aspired to be like Tate, so much so that he had killed every woman in the building with care last week. He felt like he was in that one movie called fight club which he likes to pretend he’s seen.

‘How are you doing today Grug?’ The boss asked, sharing a splendid alpha smile with his homie. (Not gay)

‘Not. Too. Good.’ He said in-between grunts, (he’s a cave man he won’t have perfect English so don’t judge him please)

‘Had another Grug moment? Yea, me too. My wife told me to put down the toilet seat, so I strangled her while my son watched. It’s sad really, she never got to know about my multi-million dollar methamphetamine lab situated underneath a restaurant that only sells fried chicken.’

The two alphas high five, sharing kind words, such as ‘Grug moment!’ And some meaningful grunts and strange noises. (Not gay)

And at the end of the day, all is well because there are no women.

The Expensive Bike Man

I was abandoned in the desolate, endless, vast acres of sand and dirt in west Afghanistan by my father figure. I can't exactly recall how old I was, maybe 3 months old. I spent the first few hours laying in a straw basket, then something just snapped, something inside of me, my survival instincts clocked in and then I built a grand colonial mansion out of what was introduced in my surroundings. A giant snake crawled up my posterior and I got a shot of adrenaline so powerful I paralysed my left arm and my 6th toe on my right foot. 

I farted the python out of my behind and it got significantly lodged in the ground. I was hungry so I called an Uber eats, I hitched a ride back to civilisation and got employed at a corner shop. With my first paycheck I bought an private aircraft and decided to aquire knowledge of other countries. I now live a peaceful and harmonic life in the hebridies dislocating children's knee.

Coloured Shinanigans


Coloured Shinanigans is an oversight of three REAL stories.



Where! Where! Over There!,

The finger ends up in her mouth, she chews that finger like a lolly. Mmmmmm. "Aaalriiighttt, giggity!" she splutters.

Baugette bashers!

In the enchanting French countryside, a group of eccentric Frenchmen known as the Baguette Basher's thrilled the locals with their extraordinary skills in baguette duelling. They were renowned for their impeccable taste, wielding 10-foot long baguettes while riding monkeys instead of horses. And amidst their spirited battles, they entertained the crowd with their hilarious exchange of silly French insults.

On a sunny day, the Baguette Bashers gathered at their designated duelling grounds, adorned in their finest attire. Two of the most skilled combatants, Henri and Jacques, faced each other, ready to engage in a lively bout of baguette duelling. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as they mounted their nimble monkeys and grasped their elongated weapons.

Henri, a charismatic and quick-witted Baguette Basher, smiled mischievously at Jacques. "Ah, Jacques, your monkey has more charm than you! I bet it could deliver a more eloquent insult."

Jacques, known for his lightning-fast reflexes, responded with a grin, "Henri, your baguette is as stale as yesterday's croissant! It couldn't even knock over a glass of wine."

The crowd erupted in spontaneous laughter, thoroughly enjoying their exchange. As the duel commenced, their baguettes clashed with an echoing thud. Their monkeys leaped and danced, showcasing their agility alongside their masters. Amidst the intense battle, their banter continued.

Henri parried Jacques' attack with finesse and countered, "Jacques, your baguette is so thin, it could pass for a toothpick! I'm surprised it hasn't snapped under the weight of your mediocrity."

Jacques deftly dodged and riposted, "Ah, Henri, your insults are as bland as day-old bread! Your words lack the zest of a true Baguette Basher."

Their banter infused the arena with an atmosphere of joy and amusement, as they deftly maneuvered and traded blows. The Baguette Bashers and the crowd eagerly awaited the next round of jabs and parries.

As the duel reached a crescendo, Henri launched an attack with a flourish, grinning mischievously. "Jacques, your stance is so awkward, you resemble a drunken snail! No wonder your baguette strikes with the force of a gentle breeze."

Jacques, undeterred, countered swiftly, "Henri, your technique is as delicate as a butterfly with a broken wing! Your baguette is a mere prop for your lacklustre performance."

Their baguettes clashed and twirled in a dazzling display of skill, each strike accompanied by their sharp-tongued exchanges. The audience roared with laughter and applause, fully immersed in the spectacle of the Baguette Masters' unique duelling style.

As the duel drew to a close, Henri and Jacques locked eyes, their faces flushed with exhilaration and respect for each other's prowess. With a final clash of their baguettes, they halted the combat, acknowledging the end of their spirited bout.

Breathing heavily, Henri extended his hand to Jacques, a warm smile on his face. "Jacques, my friend, your wit and skill never cease to amaze me. It has been an honour to duel with you."

Jacques grasped Henri's hand firmly, returning the smile. "And you, Henri, are a worthy opponent. The pleasure has been all mine. Until our baguettes cross paths again!"

The crowd erupted into applause, acknowledging the camaraderie and artistry of the Baguette Bashers. With their monkeys by their sides, Henri and Jacques bowed to the spectators, bidding them adieu until their next encounter.

And so, the Baguette Bashers' legacy continued to flourish, their duels filled with acrobatic displays, 10-foot long baguettes, and their delightful repertoire of silly French insults. Their unique combination of skill, humour, and flair became a cherished part of French culture, a testament to the country's love for the extraordinary and the joy found in a good-natured exchange of words.

Boys rool!

 - By a young and mysoginistc Samuel

To follow the handbook to boys rule you must fill out these three simple tasks to effectively "scare the girls" here they are:

Following these simple rules you should have any girl in fear around you. Newer methods to scare girls could include the classic case of having the sudden urge to do cardio down alleyways towards girls that are alone (preferably at night). I love seeing and encouraging others, normally as i start sprinting the girls almost instantly think "Wow, I think i'll join this guy in his cardio". This warrants me to follow the route she is taking seeing as she probably knows a better path. For some reason despite joining in they always let out screams of laughter while shouting "Help!", Probably just me mishearing "Thanks"

Mystery

Matemáticas

When the disappearances first began, nobody thought much of it. After all, weren’t the younger years a plague on society to begin with? Surely a slight reduction in their numbers could do no real harm…

It was a fateful afternoon in December, the term drawing to a close. A group of students walked into F15. Little did they know the bell had broken that day and they were five minutes early. How unprepared they were for the sight that they would behold.

Corpses everywhere. Some with their heads smashed by basketballs thrown at deadly velocity. Others stabbed with rulers and protractors. One young lad had been perpendicularly bisected with a trundle wheel in a practical demonstration. Another had even been integrated. The students looked up in horror and saw Mr Waggy standing at his desk, brandishing a sharpened compass.

‘Look geece, the school banned these things I wonder why’ he said, and the students were never to be seen again.

Science  Fiction  / Fact

Those Space Apes

Dear Diary,

'tis the year 0 of the universe version 1. We don't know what we are doing. We need to get this project soon otherwise father is going to bring out his whippin' device. My group has decided to work on a "universe". This is a new idea by us. We have spent just under thirteen gigamentals (13,000 earth years) working and perfecting it, i think it is time for the big explosion! We need to form a huge compression of energy and after so delete all traces of our tampering. This will leave any supposed life that forms to have no idea of how there feeble home came to existence. Of course they will never amount to much but they will look cool on my CV.

The detonation was a success. Many of the rules we implemented are working, there was a slight problem with subject DF45 - déjà vu. Probably won't become a problem down the line. Most of the start looked really cool but nothing much as happening so we had to speed up a further 460,000 gigamentals. We had seen many "Planets" of suitable habitation, but non looked better than this acid ocean, browny green coloured one. Luckily we did get some life but it was a bit boring, dinosaurs grew too big and too high on the food chain. 

You see, where i live you are morally not allowed to interfere with a new creation on its first run. Due to some stupid laws. However i'm not the most abiding person ever, so i fudged the results by crashing a hunk of rock into the planet. We got lucky as then much better apes started to dilly dally with fire! This lead them on to making cool looking towns and then farming. There were a few slip ups when they started to force different colours to do things and then there was this guy who managed to convince a whole lotta people to kill the people who were praising us! 

We got B, not as well as i hope. Oh well. I guess this can go in my box of junk and i might check back on it in a few million gigamentals. I cannot believe this was such a waste of time. I probably shouldn't have even created this.

Signing off, Samuel

Them Space Apes

Once upon a time, in the far future, monkeys had advanced so much that they were able to travel to space. They had built their own spaceships and set out to explore the universe. However, even in space, they could not escape their natural instincts. They still had a love for bananas and would often fight over who got the greater portion. These fights could become quite heated, with each monkey convinced that they deserved more than the others. To settle these disputes, they developed a unique system of duelling. The monkeys would face each other, armed with bananas as their weapons. They would speak in medieval language, as if they were knights in a jousting tournament.


"Thou shall not lay a finger on mine bananas!" the first monkey shouted, gripping his banana tightly in one hand and gesturing with the other.

"Ha! Thou art a fool to think thou can best me in battle!" the second monkey replied, brandishing his own banana with equal vigor.

The two monkeys circled each other warily, eyes locked on their opponent's fruit. The tension was palpable as they waited for the perfect moment to strike.

"Thou art no match for me, knave!" the first monkey taunted, taking a step forward and lunging at his opponent with his banana.

But the second monkey was quick to react, dodging out of the way and retaliating with a fierce swing of his own banana.

"Thou should not underestimate my skills, sire!" he retorted, grinning wickedly as he landed a glancing blow on his opponent's arm.

The first monkey scowled, his grip on his banana tightening even more. "Thou art a slippery one, but I shall not be defeated so easily!"

"I'm on the upper level and class of you and your ape brain! Don't attempt such shenanigans" Monkey two warns monkey one with confidence.

Monkey one charged forward again, hurling and twirling in the air, this time with more force, but the second monkey was ready for him. With a swift move, he sidestepped his opponent's attack and struck back with a powerful swing that sent the first monkey reeling.

"Aha! Thou hath fallen for my trap, fool!" the second monkey crowed, his victory assured. "Get up comrade, we shan't dilly dally any longer! A banquet we must have and feast on them glorious bananas!"5

And with that, the two monkeys sheathed their bananas and set off on their space journey once more, united in their love for bananas and their shared spirit of adventure. Despite their quirky ways, the monkeys continued to explore the depths of space, always searching for new worlds and, of course, more bananas.

Horror and Gore

The Archived Case Of The Faecal Phantom

(Extended)

It hath come to my attention that we have a monster within' our nits. I have been informed of what can only be described as a, "Faecal Phantom" being let loose inside our own school walls.


The Details of this phantom are yet unknown, however what we do know is that there has been upwards of 12 cases of "student browning", within our halls this last week! The, "student browning" is of course in refrence to when a child suddenly experiences a "shitsplosion" of unimaginable force within their underoos.

Unfortunately this, of course, is fatal to the children.

And with that knowledge I hope you realise the severity of the situation and that your help is dearly needed. This is The Tooty Fruity News saying goodbye munchkins, have a terrific day!


I'm doing what i can to survive but who knows how long I have. I will continue to write in this journal through, updating when necessary. 

The school in in lockdown. We cannot leave under the possible risk of a world wide spead of this phantom may replicate and dominate as an apex predator. It is confirmed 21 dead and 3 missing now. Only 3 hours after the first email.


At this point i begin to wish for my mum, the conversations have grown stale between classmates. I wouldn't care if the phantom took them, we would probably be better off with the weakest links far gone from us. The remaining teachers have us all gathered in the P.E hall. Honestly the smell of sweaty shorts and half rung out towels saturated in urine comes to mind every time you step in here. Luckily im getting used to it by now.


Update, we think this phantom is a demon sent by the devil, widespread prayers between religions have formed. Unfortunatly a group of "strong", "teachers", went out to fight back at the phantom. They stated they would go up the main stairwell and block it off somehow. I just knew it was going to become the chocolate river of charlie's factory down those steps. The echoes of shit-splosions are heard far down the corridor. An ajar door blows the smell throughout the big hall. How the hell could things get worse?


There are too many heros and dumb tag alongs in this school. A school of nearly 500 has been whittled down to 80. My favourite teacher Mrs Terr propelled like a rocket up the side of the P.E hall leaving an unimaginable trail of orangy brown. Awful. Her cheeks were unfortunately spread so wide to account for the liquidation that she tore into two. I think i could still smell her Coco chanel scent through the waves of bleary brown.


We are in a bird box situation. It turns out, once you see the phantom, it comes for you. however only you can see it happen. Explains all the random party poopers. I'm yet to see it. 


The power has gone out and we have scattered from the P.E hall. We are panicking and we don't know what to do. If I live i'm definitely gonna get a hooker for tonight.


This must be it for me, as i write this i'm in a bathroom stall, i saw it and ran from the hall. Its brown eyes stare you down and the smell reaches into your nose and pulls on your hairs. I'm starting to feel a sensation. 

I don't think I have long. I can hear it. I can feel an urge. I, uuuhhhhhhh...... uuhhhhh

*shitsplosion sound effect*

The Kool-Aids Man


Twas the year o' 1974. It shall be stated that but a great man was inventing a great jug. This jug could hold agreat however finite amount of liquids. This liquid was to be harvested and spread out to as many on goeras possible. This liquid was of red colouration. It was slightly goopy and had a tendency to make others scream!


The harvesting of it was something else... Well you would think that it could be grown, however the liquid could only be manufactured in the biological machines known as humans. It was viscous and clotted up. The thing was he could only take from specific people as not everyone had the correct dose. He chose people such as your mother to take and "harvest".


A harvest was a despicable process, first out came the spine then the intestines. Then came all the organs. He could ring you out like a towel and collect all the wonderful juices that splattered out. This of course is how he has so much liquid, your mother is a large size meaning she had lots of liquid in her. The Kool-aids man planned to spread this. He created a brand and people all over the world began to drink it. Giving us all the wonderful nutrition and health suppliments! A simple diluting juice brand has managed to spead a pandemic right under our 13 toes.

Janitor in Crime

I was born in the lands of Scotland.

I came to be after my mother and father did the bang bang.

I like cleaning because I am a janitor. So I clean. I mannage to get away with more that you would know. I swap the Gatorade with Windex. I take the change i can that lies on the school floors. I even once took one of the new teachers home, I told her that I was a collector, but not the "of people" part...

I am yet to be caught for consecutively taking a dump in the urinals 12 days in a row! Crazy. I fear i will lose my job soon due to the lack of teachers now... The kids just sit in their classes wondering where Miss Parker is. She sure has been in better places. 

If someone finds this journal this is not an omission of guilt. It is all just for "fun". I would never wish to hurt anyone. My guests, especially the male ones, are a pain in the ass. They shout at me, try to threaten me. I have taken things too far, I cannot undo what I have done. So i must dive deeper.

All I wish you know it that if you need your plumbing done, call me.

Signing off, Sabastion 

The Triplets

It is difficult to stand out as an identical twin, most wear different clothes, get different hair do's and tailor their personality to differentiate from each other. Having an identical sibling or worse siblings encourages this behaviour at a young age as when you are young, your independence is what matters most.

The Wiggins were unique in this regard. The three girls were indistinguishable. Unfortunately with an early passing mother and a fleeing father figure, they were soulless. As their bodies aged their minds grew weak and irrational. By the age of 24 they thought only in unison. Their minds were one. The half scuffed together orphanage they grew into was nothing more that some tax benefits scheme set up to excuse less money spent on homeless individuals.

Despite their difficult upbringing, the Wiggins sisters had always found comfort in their unity. They moved through life like a single organism, each thought and action perfectly synchronised with the others'. It wasn't until they left the orphanage and ventured out into the world on their own that they began to realise just how strange their existence was.

People would stare at them in confusion as they spoke in perfect unison, their movements choreographed down to the smallest detail. It was as if they were all just one person, split into three bodies. But the sisters didn't care about the looks they received. They had each other, and that was all they needed.

However, things began to change when they moved into a dilapidated old house on the outskirts of town. Strange noises would keep them up at night, and they could feel a presence lurking just beyond the shadows. But the sisters were not afraid. They had each other, and that was all they needed.

It wasn't until the night of the full moon that things took a dark turn. The sisters felt a strange energy coursing through their bodies, and they knew that something was awakening within them. As they looked at each other, their eyes began to glow with an otherworldly light, and their bodies contorted and twisted into grotesque shapes.

In that moment, the sisters knew that they were no longer alone in their bodies. A malevolent force had taken hold, and it hungered for blood. From that night on, the sisters roamed the streets, searching for unsuspecting victims to satiate their newfound thirst.

And as they moved through the darkness, their once identical forms twisted and mutated into something monstrous, a silent reminder of the horrors that can emerge when the mind is stripped of all individuality.

Obscene

The Howling of the Roommate's Door


It was a night of peace in Houston, Texas. I drove back to the flat where I used to stay from a long shift at where I used to work, Hooters.

I remembered being very exhausted that night as I was tipped to help out the customers in the oral methodical way to release their tension. Despite how tired I was, I felt an ominous presence in the air..

I walked up the stairs and the pressure of the air felt heavier as I closed in to my flat door but the thought of being in my bed was the only thing that made me ignore the pressure was the holy cloud of comfort which was my bed. I opened the door and there were signs of my roommates here, so I calmed down.

I was trekking to my room to see empty cans of beans and a bottle of horse constipation pills as I was too tired to care, so I carried on to my room.

I fell onto my bed and was met with heaven.

A couple of minutes later, I heard my roommate in his usual heavy southern accent, ‘Farting on my roommate’s door’ and I was met with the sounds of horror, terror and the thundering rumbling vibrations of farts with my roommate saying ‘Oh yeah’ and ‘aw huh’ as the farting would carry on for what it seems like forever…

Lanky American


There once was man who had 2 arms and 2 legs. Using those arms and legs he went to a bar and sat next to a lanky American. The American man then said to the Og man “why did the chicken cross the road”? The Og man then took out his 8 inch hog and dry humped the big black guy behind the bar screaming “why did the chicken cross the road”? The lanky American then said “to get to the other side of course” as he gets a face full of cum as the Og has blew his load all over the bar, repainting the walls in his unborn children. 

It’s now 9 months later and a couple is walking past the abandoned bar when they hear crying so they open the door and see millions of little baby lees all over the place covered in each other’s tears. It’s now the next day and they burned the fucking building to the floor. The end