I also believe Mollsome to a being of pure imagination, if a creeped-out one. At first it was funny, but if she truly does exist just to post viscious little messages at [i]exacly[/i] the right time, and just sits there, waiting, well, [i]that's scary[/i].

[quote="Ice Cream Jonsey"]53 meters tall and weighs 600 tons.[/quote]

This is the exact specification of the robot. These are the measurements we had discussed... and this is the robot we have lovingly built for you.

As we have yet to photograph your order, we will try to represent the robot in a hodgepodge of characters:

>0C-IIXI>==O

Why do you ignore our phone calls?

Say Gerrit!

How's that new car coming?

[quote="Worm"][quote="ChainGangGuy"]What Worm is to corny and unfunny, you are to creepy and psychopathic.[/quote]
Ouch. I'd like to think I'm just as if not more creepy than Mrs. Muffsweet. Fatalism is gay.[/quote]

Worm could crush your head like a grape. That's not an insult, that's the [i]truth[/i], I've seen him do it to someone [b]EXACTLY[/b] like you.

[quote="ChainGangGuy"]What Worm is to corny and unfunny, you are to creepy and psychopathic.[/quote]
Ouch. I'd like to think I'm just as if not more creepy than Mrs. Muffsweet. Fatalism is gay.

I'm still of the oppinion that she's some body's gimmic.

[quote="Molly Muffsweet"]And sometimes, well, you don't have to insult someone because they're [b]ALL OF THOSE THINGS[/b] in one pathetic package. So thanks, Gerrit, for bein' just that.[/quote]

Molly.

You constantly hound me with emails. You constantly hound RobB with emails. You have said to me that if you WERE truly crazy I'd be dead by now. You have faked your own death on a web board before. You're a creepy little girl and Sysop [b]Sherwin[/b], please, for the love of God, ban her. She creeps me the fuck out.

What Worm is to corny and unfunny, you are to creepy and psychopathic. Which means one thing---

This is my last response to you ever.

Take care of yourself, doll. You need help.

Glad that you got out fine. What disturbed me the most about that story, though, was that the headlight thing totally brings up that Wallflowers song in my head.

Who cares if that old lady knows what she's talking about. Go do something that you wouldn't have done before. Be your own purpose.

Maybe you should add some humor.

Sometimes, you don't have to insult someone because you [b]want[/b] people to click on their post so they can see how bad it is for themselves.

Sometimes, you don't have to insult someone because they're just sad.

Sometimes, you don't have to insult someone because their insults are so unfunny that they pretty much make fun of themselves.

Sometimes, you don't have to insult someone because they've said really awfully boring things on the bbs before and you pretty much know everyone skips right over them anyway.

And sometimes, well, you don't have to insult someone because they're [b]ALL OF THOSE THINGS[/b] in one pathetic package. So thanks, Gerrit, for bein' just that.


Only the Sweetest,

Molly Muffsweet

I read this mesage last night when I was pretty drunk, and the way in which you wrote it really creeped me out. It was like living a scary crash dream. Maybe the purpose was to amuse me. You could do worse.

*starts a stopwatch*

Last night, after work I was driving home, and was struck by a drunk driver. She ran her red light, and slammed into my car. I’m fine, with a bruised knee, and a gash on my arm, but nothing a band-aid or two wouldn’t fix.

My car is completely destroyed.

I keep re-living it in my mind. I didn’t see her car, she came out of nowhere. I couldn’t stop it. It happened so fast. I cannot believe neither of us got hurt. I ran to her car to see if she was ok. I helped her out, and she got down on the ground and said her foot hurt, but then she said it was fine.

They arrested her for driving while intoxicated. I didn’t really see my whole life flash before my eyes. I really just remember her headlight. And I remember saying “No.” And then I closed my eyes. When I opened them I would either be alive or dead, and I’m alive. I had my seatbelt on. My airbags worked. Everything happened exactly like it needed to for me to live. And, I did.

I can’t figure out what I’m feeling. At first it was all mixed up. My car was crushed, and I walked out of it, and I’m not crushed. I’m not even broken. An old woman eavesdropping on my story during lunch said it’s because I [i]have a purpose[/i].

Maybe it was my purpose to hit her car - to stop her from getting hurt somewhere else - to stop her from killing someone else. Maybe I just got lucky.

Or maybe it was my purpose to give some old woman someone to pester during their lunch break.

I haven’t been able to think clearly all day. The one thing I keep seeing is her headlight.