18 Works by Pipamonium
Listing Works
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Just a silly blurb written in memory of the plethora of times I've unthinkingly picked my grappling hook back up after climbing up/down while a teammate was trying to follow.
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Newkirk is only allowed to dress as an old lady for a reason.
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The boys get bored. Silliness ensues.
I can't think of a good summary without giving everything away! Come read and, if I've done my job right, have a good laugh.
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They say war never changes, and maybe they’re right.
Perhaps it’s not so much the war that doesn't change but the warriors themselves that stay the same.
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She’d take what she got and instead of mourning the loss she’d build herself up again - a stronger, faster, better, deadlier version of her. One forged in the Mojave.
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Written for a teen poetry reading event that my school was holding. Written for my boyfriend who'd signed up to do a reading but an hour before he was supposed to perform he realised he still hadn't found a poem he liked in any of his books and he kept hitting a brick wall when he tried to write a poem. So I took five minutes to whip up a little something as a joke to help him feel better.
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Poetry about the one and only Severus Snape.
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I am not afraid. I am not sad. I am not excited. I am not nervous. I am not. I am empty.
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A spy has succeeded in forcing Papa’s Bears hand and forcing the closure of one of the undergrounds best units.
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A poetry challenge I gave myself.
The challenge: every line is two words, each word is an 'ing' word, both words in each line start with the same letter/sound (one line is 'k' and 'c') - the poem must still tell a story even with the restrictions
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A woman remembers the days events as she comes to terms with her lovers death.
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The last sunrise.
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He vomits, she vomits, everyone vomits... A hilariously disgusting story revolving around blowing chunks that starts in a High School chemistry classroom.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,503
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 1
- Hits:
- 128
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I wrote this 9 years ago as I worked through some issues I was having following a car accident.
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Was it just a dream?
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A post-war letter from Hogan to Klink. In poem style.
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She'd teach him the real way to fuck someone over - and it's not to fuck up an assassination, with a shallow grave chaser.
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The casual observer sees little and comprehends even less. He is not a casual observer.