In October 2012, Haoma started an SA Forums thread in hopes of keeping up with the hottest National Novel Writing Month creations from the next generation of fiercely independent e-authors. He posted humorous excerpts from their book summaries and also wrote parodies in the style of those excerpts; other FYAD posters started doing the same; and eventually it became fairly fucking impossible to tell the two apart! Note: The (non-italicized) blurbs are fake, but those covers are real!
A dead moon.
A mysterious girl with purple eyes.
This isn't a safety school.
His seventeenth year on earth went out with a whimper and anxious incoming freshman Hilary Litwack is headed up - straight up - to college on the moon and into a crucible that will burn away his past. Meeting up with his aggressively thuggish cousin Vladimir, he's thrust into a new life filled with new friends, violence and treasure, the girl of his dreams, and ultimately the secrets of the moon and the people around him.
When an American Airlines Silver FlyerTM Rewards passenger gets called Hilary, his name, for the ten-millionth time in his life, Nothing is Cool. But would boy people have girl people names on the Moon? Or would it be crawling with a space mimic that took the form of Hilary's aggressively thuggish cousin Vladimir? Somehow, he knew the girl with the purple eyes might have the answer. But she was busy with her Normal runes. And Hilary didn't like Normal.
FLAMERS IN CAHOOTS
"I'm Hilary," I said. "Hillary Litwack, a male boy."
"Any relation to the famous dystopian science-fiction self published goon author Georffey Litwack?" he asked. I could feel his eyes moving over my marshmallow face. He wanted me, sexually, in a very gay way. I sucked on my cigarette.
"No. No," I said. I was suddenly conscious of my space-diaper. "Not yet. But anything can happen at Moon College."
The room was square like a box. Its cubal walls were 4, plus a top and a floor. The floor was brown and covered with a material that was soft like very tightly cropped horse fur. The top was far away. Several object occupied the room, like the Soviets did Berlin at the end of the Second World War, before the wall was torn down. None of these walls would tear down, though. They were built by scientists.
The room was a spaceship, and its walls and its top and its floor were connected together at the edges very tightly. Not even the Moon's lack of air could suck inside. In front of me, there were the controls of the spaceship, headed to the moon. I was its pilot. Even though I was going to college there, it was just because I wanted to learn more about History. I already knew how to fly space ships and work advanced Rune computers. Directly below me was a seat. It was made out of some kind of foam material, like a volcanic emission made squishy through extreme gravity and then let expand very quickly under enormous heat. It was black like my friend Darius. He was in the other room, doing the trajectory things. But that was behind me, in space. In time, technically, too.
The girl with the purple eyes was straight ahead, on the Moon. At Moon College. She is studying Art which makes her extremely hard to get and also beautiful. Her eyes were two, equally distant from each other like two black holes that were purple as an expensive nebula. Her hair was wavy and laid down on her shoulders real nice. If there was a God out there, he was the one who made her hair so amazing. It was like pearls of spun brown gold. Her mouth was small and perfect for me to kiss, later. The rest of her body was absolutely stunning in exactly the way a girl has to be, soft but dangerous. Her breasts could probably heave an entire galaxy off course.
FLAMERS IN CAHOOTS
I looked down at the floor. It was foam. I chortled on the Moon.
"This foam... You know, I had sex on foam once." Then, quieter, just to myself, "With a beautiful Japanese wife."
My mind suddenly flashed back to the sex I had on foam once with a beautiful Japanese wife.Her skin was like origami paper. Her lips were like Japanese fish you see in old paintings and woodcuts, etc. Her breasts were like two moons.
"I was just sixteen, but it was cool instead of creepy, because I'm a boy." I lit a Moon Light, the moon cigarette, with a flick of my runes. "A boy named hilary."
"That's what this foam reminds me of," I finished, pulling myself back to the conversation at hand. I couldn't spend all of my time lost in my head, imagining something far from reality. Not when there was moon treasure to find.
That's it. You people have stood in my way long enough. I'm going to moon college.
Did Louis C.K. jerk off in front of two female comics? And why are these ladies squandering an opportunity to learn from a comedy legend?
Elliot said my breakup must have been due to the sweater curse, an unexplained phenomenon where anyone who gives their significant other a hand-knit sweater gets dumped. The only way to break the curse, Elliot said, was to destroy the sweater.
The Comedy Goldmine examines the funniest and most creative threads from the Something Awful Forums. Although the Comedy Goldmine has changed authors many times over the years, its focus on the Something Awful Forums is still the same. Includes hilarious Photoshops, amusing work stories, parodies, and other types of oddball humor.