Comments on: FIRST EVER HTMLGIANT LITERARY CONTEST (NO ENTRY FEE) http://htmlgiant.com/contests/first-ever-htmlgiant-literary-contest-no-entry-fee/ the internet literature magazine blog of the future Thu, 24 May 2012 04:23:00 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 By: <HTMLGIANT> » Blog Archive » OUR CONTEST HAS A WINNER! CONGRATULATIONS TO MARK http://htmlgiant.com/contests/first-ever-htmlgiant-literary-contest-no-entry-fee/comment-page-1/#comment-1976 <HTMLGIANT> » Blog Archive » OUR CONTEST HAS A WINNER! CONGRATULATIONS TO MARK Thu, 20 Nov 2008 04:21:44 +0000 http://htmlgiant.com/?p=1475#comment-1976 [...] November 18th, 2008 at 3:05 amCome in and eat something. It’s all free for me. It’s all free from me. Do the dodododo. [...] [...] November 18th, 2008 at 3:05 amCome in and eat something. It’s all free for me. It’s all free from me. Do the dodododo. [...]

]]> By: Blake Butler http://htmlgiant.com/contests/first-ever-htmlgiant-literary-contest-no-entry-fee/comment-page-1/#comment-1971 Blake Butler Thu, 20 Nov 2008 03:48:38 +0000 http://htmlgiant.com/?p=1475#comment-1971 there is good and bad in art there is good and bad in art

]]> By: Blake Butler http://htmlgiant.com/contests/first-ever-htmlgiant-literary-contest-no-entry-fee/comment-page-1/#comment-96282 Blake Butler Thu, 20 Nov 2008 03:48:00 +0000 http://htmlgiant.com/?p=1475#comment-96282 there is good and bad in art there is good and bad in art

]]> By: ryan manning http://htmlgiant.com/contests/first-ever-htmlgiant-literary-contest-no-entry-fee/comment-page-1/#comment-1912 ryan manning Wed, 19 Nov 2008 22:39:22 +0000 http://htmlgiant.com/?p=1475#comment-1912 there is no good or bad in art there is no good or bad in art

]]> By: ryan manning http://htmlgiant.com/contests/first-ever-htmlgiant-literary-contest-no-entry-fee/comment-page-1/#comment-96281 ryan manning Wed, 19 Nov 2008 22:39:00 +0000 http://htmlgiant.com/?p=1475#comment-96281 there is no good or bad in art there is no good or bad in art

]]> By: Socrates Adams-Florou http://htmlgiant.com/contests/first-ever-htmlgiant-literary-contest-no-entry-fee/comment-page-1/#comment-1888 Socrates Adams-Florou Wed, 19 Nov 2008 20:07:54 +0000 http://htmlgiant.com/?p=1475#comment-1888 It was a normal sunday evening and then suddenly my wife came out with that one sentence, that sentence that would change our lives forever and a day, that sentence that would once and for all make our little daughter, who is only 16 years old, forever a woman in my eyes and the eyes of also someone who wasn't me but was, in fact, my wife of 20 years. "Honey, I think we should talk to Elizabeth about sex." A grim look passed between the two of us, the sort of look that two enraged snails might cast each other before a fist fight, or a panda might flash its misbehaving cub before dashing it's brains out on a rock, or that the proud bee might give to the rump of an invading oxen before that fatal sting. "Ok. I'll go upstairs." I went upstairs and knocked on the door to my daughter's room - no longer the door of a girl, now a fully grown lady. "Not now dear father." I knew something was up. With all my might I destroyed the door with a flurry of blows from my hands, feet and penis. There she was, having a fucking party with her friends, in a pink dress, bouncing up and down like a lunatic on her bed, laughing, laughing and laughing. I went berserk. I ripped my clothes of and started weeping. I had failed as a father. It was a normal sunday evening and then suddenly my wife came out with that one sentence, that sentence that would change our lives forever and a day, that sentence that would once and for all make our little daughter, who is only 16 years old, forever a woman in my eyes and the eyes of also someone who wasn’t me but was, in fact, my wife of 20 years.

“Honey, I think we should talk to Elizabeth about sex.”

A grim look passed between the two of us, the sort of look that two enraged snails might cast each other before a fist fight, or a panda might flash its misbehaving cub before dashing it’s brains out on a rock, or that the proud bee might give to the rump of an invading oxen before that fatal sting.

“Ok. I’ll go upstairs.”

I went upstairs and knocked on the door to my daughter’s room – no longer the door of a girl, now a fully grown lady.

“Not now dear father.”

I knew something was up. With all my might I destroyed the door with a flurry of blows from my hands, feet and penis. There she was, having a fucking party with her friends, in a pink dress, bouncing up and down like a lunatic on her bed, laughing, laughing and laughing. I went berserk. I ripped my clothes of and started weeping.

I had failed as a father.

]]> By: Socrates Adams-Florou http://htmlgiant.com/contests/first-ever-htmlgiant-literary-contest-no-entry-fee/comment-page-1/#comment-96280 Socrates Adams-Florou Wed, 19 Nov 2008 20:07:00 +0000 http://htmlgiant.com/?p=1475#comment-96280 It was a normal sunday evening and then suddenly my wife came out with that one sentence, that sentence that would change our lives forever and a day, that sentence that would once and for all make our little daughter, who is only 16 years old, forever a woman in my eyes and the eyes of also someone who wasn't me but was, in fact, my wife of 20 years. "Honey, I think we should talk to Elizabeth about sex." A grim look passed between the two of us, the sort of look that two enraged snails might cast each other before a fist fight, or a panda might flash its misbehaving cub before dashing it's brains out on a rock, or that the proud bee might give to the rump of an invading oxen before that fatal sting. "Ok. I'll go upstairs." I went upstairs and knocked on the door to my daughter's room - no longer the door of a girl, now a fully grown lady. "Not now dear father." I knew something was up. With all my might I destroyed the door with a flurry of blows from my hands, feet and penis. There she was, having a fucking party with her friends, in a pink dress, bouncing up and down like a lunatic on her bed, laughing, laughing and laughing. I went berserk. I ripped my clothes of and started weeping. I had failed as a father. It was a normal sunday evening and then suddenly my wife came out with that one sentence, that sentence that would change our lives forever and a day, that sentence that would once and for all make our little daughter, who is only 16 years old, forever a woman in my eyes and the eyes of also someone who wasn’t me but was, in fact, my wife of 20 years.

“Honey, I think we should talk to Elizabeth about sex.”

A grim look passed between the two of us, the sort of look that two enraged snails might cast each other before a fist fight, or a panda might flash its misbehaving cub before dashing it’s brains out on a rock, or that the proud bee might give to the rump of an invading oxen before that fatal sting.

“Ok. I’ll go upstairs.”

I went upstairs and knocked on the door to my daughter’s room – no longer the door of a girl, now a fully grown lady.

“Not now dear father.”

I knew something was up. With all my might I destroyed the door with a flurry of blows from my hands, feet and penis. There she was, having a fucking party with her friends, in a pink dress, bouncing up and down like a lunatic on her bed, laughing, laughing and laughing. I went berserk. I ripped my clothes of and started weeping.

I had failed as a father.

]]> By: j. a. tyler http://htmlgiant.com/contests/first-ever-htmlgiant-literary-contest-no-entry-fee/comment-page-1/#comment-1780 j. a. tyler Tue, 18 Nov 2008 20:03:17 +0000 http://htmlgiant.com/?p=1475#comment-1780 I think that is me. There. In that picture. I think that is my hair slicked, my lip biting. In that picture. Next to those women. The one in pink. Her hair. Her friend in a dress made from scrambled checkerboards. And the moon, quadrupled and bouncing instead of outside the window. In the black. Where I think it is Las Vegas. Where I have never existed. I have never been to Las Vegas. I have never arrived in its darkness. I have never seen its artificial moons. I have never walked its jumping bedsprings. This picture is a fragment of something I was thinking, I think. Something about me, that blackened hair burnt and smiling, us gesturing with our hands, caught mid-jump next to the moons. Smiling. This is not a photograph. I think this is me. There. In that picture. I think that is me. There. In that picture. I think that is my hair slicked, my lip biting. In that picture. Next to those women. The one in pink. Her hair. Her friend in a dress made from scrambled checkerboards. And the moon, quadrupled and bouncing instead of outside the window. In the black. Where I think it is Las Vegas. Where I have never existed. I have never been to Las Vegas. I have never arrived in its darkness. I have never seen its artificial moons. I have never walked its jumping bedsprings. This picture is a fragment of something I was thinking, I think. Something about me, that blackened hair burnt and smiling, us gesturing with our hands, caught mid-jump next to the moons. Smiling. This is not a photograph. I think this is me. There. In that picture.

]]> By: j. a. tyler http://htmlgiant.com/contests/first-ever-htmlgiant-literary-contest-no-entry-fee/comment-page-1/#comment-96279 j. a. tyler Tue, 18 Nov 2008 20:03:00 +0000 http://htmlgiant.com/?p=1475#comment-96279 I think that is me. There. In that picture. I think that is my hair slicked, my lip biting. In that picture. Next to those women. The one in pink. Her hair. Her friend in a dress made from scrambled checkerboards. And the moon, quadrupled and bouncing instead of outside the window. In the black. Where I think it is Las Vegas. Where I have never existed. I have never been to Las Vegas. I have never arrived in its darkness. I have never seen its artificial moons. I have never walked its jumping bedsprings. This picture is a fragment of something I was thinking, I think. Something about me, that blackened hair burnt and smiling, us gesturing with our hands, caught mid-jump next to the moons. Smiling. This is not a photograph. I think this is me. There. In that picture. I think that is me. There. In that picture. I think that is my hair slicked, my lip biting. In that picture. Next to those women. The one in pink. Her hair. Her friend in a dress made from scrambled checkerboards. And the moon, quadrupled and bouncing instead of outside the window. In the black. Where I think it is Las Vegas. Where I have never existed. I have never been to Las Vegas. I have never arrived in its darkness. I have never seen its artificial moons. I have never walked its jumping bedsprings. This picture is a fragment of something I was thinking, I think. Something about me, that blackened hair burnt and smiling, us gesturing with our hands, caught mid-jump next to the moons. Smiling. This is not a photograph. I think this is me. There. In that picture.

]]> By: matthew http://htmlgiant.com/contests/first-ever-htmlgiant-literary-contest-no-entry-fee/comment-page-1/#comment-1749 matthew Tue, 18 Nov 2008 17:21:16 +0000 http://htmlgiant.com/?p=1475#comment-1749 Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in shit. Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in shit.

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