Upload
Create a Worthless Super Hero
So the basic idea is to create a worthless super hero with a name and ability ie:
Name- Silent But Deadly Man
Power- Clear your office with the lift of a single butt cheek
Uh--“Penis Man,” he is useless now that the Japanese peeps have stuff under control?
Clara Voyant
Her super power is you know when the phone or doorbell rings and you can sometimes guess who it is? Yeah she#s correct, 73% of the time
Hilary Clinton
Well I dont really know if it’s a power but I hear she has a penis down to her knee
I am the Green Thumb, I lurk in the dark alleyways under empty trash cans by day, but at night I run through out megatropolis fertilizing everyones shrubbery.
The Useless-Whisperer
He has the power to communicate with elves, unicorns, leprechauns, and Paula Abdul’s brain cells.
Cock Block (Super Villian)
Always interrupts you while you’re having a conversation with a potential mate and ruins what could have been the best sex of your life.
Name: Corpse man
Power: He is really good at doing nothing, not being able to move, and being completely useless
Name: Uri Nal
Power: He has the ability to dispose of piss no matter what the situation
The sky had become gray as the plumes froze out the sunlight. He watched as the shadow cast by the arches upon the tiled floor faded from left to right and finally disappeared. His nostrils flared as his sense of smell increased and the all too familiar smell of burnt wood filled his passageway and finally his lungs. He raised his head and looked out to the sky and tore off his visor. Hi coworkers stopped and cleared a path, for they knew what was to happen. “FIRE” he screamed, and with that shrill he threw the uncompleted happy meal to the floor and raced towards the counter. With the intent of a gazelle he attempted to slide over the counter only to be slowed by his polyester uniform and bulging belly weighing him down. The quick handed shift manager reacted swiftly and caught him just before his head hot the floor but not in time to save the ketchup packets. Undaunted he rose to his feet, pointed towards the red sky and belted out ” fire ” again and headed for the door. Once outside he breathed in the air, analyzing its contents. He struggled to recall such a smell and his inability to do so frustrated him. He started walking briskly towards his truck, his pace slowed by asthma and the rubbing of his thighs. He could hear the sirens and his conviction strengthened: he must get to the truck. The unassuming 1987 Chevy Blazer was given to him by his grandfather shortly after his third failed attempt to join the firehouse. His Grandfather looked at him sternly and with a cracked mucous hardened voice said ” Son, you are too fat and slow to be a fireman, but you can have the truck” “The Truck” was more than just a former postal route cast off. It was famous around town for its flamboyant fire red color and 12 foot whip antennas. Though the air had been cruel to the metals luster finish, the axe and ladder decal on the doors remained bright and uncurled. He had installed three tow hitches on the back bumper and rusty rack across the roof. The rack served as a base for the 6 floodlights mounted on the top which faced in alternating opposite directions. Numerous Civil Service decals peppered the read window, side windows and front bumper which also held a winch. Although he never had to opportunity to use any of the equipment , aside from using the winch to hang a tire swing that met a quick and unfortunate demise, he was securing in knowing that if called upon he would be well prepared.
Once in the truck he fumbled for the nebulizer and the keys at the same time. Once the engine turned the bearcat scanner lit up and the loud sound of the radios squelch was music to his ears. ” we have a leaf fire at elm and freemont, we are going to need traffic control, over!” That was the signal. In the real world there are not red phones, or lights which cast symbols into the sky. In the real world there is the call: we need traffic control. There is only one person who can handle this. Only one individual with the stamina to brave the elements with only a flare, a flag and a neon parka and he is: FIREPOLICE MAN!!!!!!
He had practiced the prepration hundreds of times. He was able to remove his visor in the same stroke that he pulled off his vested uniform. With one hand on the wheel and the other reaching back into his mounted footlocker, he pulled the Bright yellow vest from behind him and in one quick motion had both arms though and was able to flick the switch on the flashing dashboard light. The blue swirling light lit up his face and bounceed off the reflectors on his vest, As he then turned on the siren he stepped on the gas, for traffic was waiting for him, and he was coming alright….he was coming.
As he approached his assigned destination he weaved around a bicyclist, and honked his horn. As he neared the empty intersection he locked up the brakes and slid sideways, coming to rest against a curb. Once the bicyclist had passed he knew he had to move quickly and contain the area. He pulled to the middle of the intersection, exited the vehicle and ran to its rear door. He could hear the sirens a few blocks away but before he was able to pinpoint their direction he saw a reflection in the glass: Traffic was coming from his rear. He quickly reaching into the truck and with the speed and dexterity of a canasat player he uncapped a flare and grabbed the caution tape before spining around to face his enemy. The imposing volvo station wagon was 100 yards away and closing in. Like a seasoned soldier he reacted to the situation by throwing the caution tape as high as he could and watched it unfurl on its decent. He struck the flare on its cap and the flame shot from the base. With one hand he thrust the flare towards the afternoon sun and with the other he clutched the loose end of the still rolling caution tape. Raising both to the heavens hs stood in the middle of the intersection and as if it were a scene from Braveheart yelled ” FFFFFFIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEE”
The black volvo crawled to a stop. The glare upon the windshield prevented the indentification of its owner. In the middle of the intersection stood the hero, panting and sweating with his hand up making a stop motion. Mustering inhuman strenth, he snarled his lips and proudly proclaimed ” Firepolice man!!!!1, this road is closed”
And with that the volvo backed up slowly, entangling the caution tape in its wheels, and drove away
Another calamity thwarted by FIREPOLICE MAN
The Undresser.
Gets naked at any function where alcohol may be served. Makes for a memorable family function … or funeral.
The Interpreter
He has the ability to understand mexicans on the fast food drive in speaker no matter how hard they try to mess up his order
Sir. Lame Poster
Is able to scar threads with lame racially slanted posts… further fueling the side of the debate that says racial jokes aren’t funny, and proving to every man, woman, and child that when it comes to “race laughs” you either win big or lose big…. ( Besides we all know black people work the drive thru windows, XcuseMeFlo, and they don’t mean to mess up the orders… they’re just dumb)
Clearly you are not from southern California becasue beleive me they are all mexicans…but well played it was not my best post
The Keyboard Warrior – Ever vigilant the Keyboard Warrior stalks message boards waiting for an innocent poster to make a faux pas and he pounces, by day he’s a mild mannered teachers assistant, his main power is his overwhelming self righteousness and he works from his own fortress of solitude or as it is more commonly known, his mothers attic…beware lame wads he’s trolling for you!!!!
RandomWhiteGuy said:
Sir. Lame Poster
Is able to scar threads with lame racially slanted posts… further fueling the side of the debate that says racial jokes aren’t funny, and proving to every man, woman, and child that when it comes to “race laughs” you either win big or lose big…. ( Besides we all know black people work the drive thru windows, XcuseMeFlo, and they don’t mean to mess up the orders… they’re just dumb)
Neon: The Totally Maligned Superchick/Nazi: She can’t do much of anything since her ass got whipped after she told that racial joke at the ‘hood partay. She now has to type with her toes. (will y’all just quit this bickering. dang it).
Totally Dumb Blonde Chick: Tries to avoid hitting trees while driving only to find out it is her Air Freshener thingy.
The Paper Dancer
Can walk through walls….that are only made of paper.
cell phone reception man. right when you need him the most he disappears
Wimpy Man—-Able to dodge bullets because he shoves his GF in front of him at the last minute….
The Crossing Guard
Puts his fingers in the shape of a cross to ward off pseudo-vampires
Merging Lane Man
It was a daily ritual among the locals traveling on the stretch of road known simply as ” fucking shitty road”. To watch it from above would surely be entertaining of not magical as the motorists jockeyed for position. The merge signs were plentiful and bright, reminding the operators of the requirements ahead. Everyone knew the rules: you don’t let anyone ahead of you who is a different race, gender or has a more expensive car than you. Tonight was no different. The Maxima edged out the mercedes who squeezed into the vacant spot created by the woman smacking her kids in the minivan. This caused the man in the jetta to become irate as he saw precious seconds tacked on to his voyage. He swerved to outflank the astrovan, but only served to wedge himself in between a 1996 monte carlo with its thundering blown out bass and an f-350 sporting yosemite sam mud flaps. The humidity was fogging the glass as the temperatures were rising. The logjam duplicated itself well beyond the merging of the lanes, alerting others of the impending crisis. Approaching at equal speeds but differing intents were three vehicles all determined to be the first to sit in the stalled traffic. As the left lane started to appear narrower, the driver of the Yukon accelerated but was matched by the tenacity of the woman in the Accord. Not to be outdone, the korean in the accura downshifted, causing him to lurch forward and he kept pace with is rivals. The adreneline of the race was at a fever pitch when Warren , moving at a snails pace but moving nonetheless , looked up into his rear view mirror and realized what was happening. Warren was near the end of the gridlock and had been stout in obeying the laws of the merge. He had merged early, leaving some 50 yards of left lane exposed and untapped. the cars ahead of him had created space, yet he was frozen by fear and rage. He could not let any of these three beside him, to the left, for this would negate his acceptance of road rules. Any encroachment into the free lane would be a blow to the civility he had come to dream of. He could not have it. As the three cars raced each other, the median drifted right, choking off the yukons path but not its drivers determination, in a cockblock game of chicken, he was aimed straightforward and as his competitors slowed in responce to the stalled traffic, the mighty yukon was steadfast in h=its persistence. Warren Looked into the side mirror, then quickly to the rearview, and across to the passenger side mirror. He swung his caviler out to the left , alerting the yukon that its path was unwelcome. With 3 car lenghts of free space in front of him and an anxious neighbor to the right, Warren then steered his front end into the middle lane, thereby choking off any chance of either lanes exploitation. As he wiped the sweat off his brow, he looked back to the sounds of the yukons horns, which were joined by the chorus of the other drivers. The battle of the lanes had become a slow agonizing chess match. Warren had 2 of the lanes in his control Check-mate-motherfucker
Those who dare to pass, dare to sit Thanks to Merge Man!
Please or Join Funny or Die to post a reply
