God From The Machine

This is inspired by a comment from someone, an old Donald Duck cartoon, and Spike Jones. Insanity lies ahead.

P.S. This story is a product of asshattery. (Thanks @VearyNope for the wording! =D)

Btw, there iz no characterization or plot/ conflict cuz u don’t need that stuffs to write a storee. It iz just 2 hard 2 think of gud stuffs like that. Spelling iz hard 2 u kno. :rolleyes:

There should probably be a trigger warning here too somewhere. So, Trigger Warning: product may or may not contain nuts. And gluten. Lots of gluten in here. Maybe some glurge. And pickles. And sarcasm. Yeah, lots of sarcasm cuz we were out of whipped cream.

[/B]Deus Ex Machina

by C.K. aka Cute Kitten

Josef yawned in boredom, staring out the window at the green grass and green trees while his history teacher droned on and on about the glorious beginnings of their glorious Reich. The red flag snapping in the wind caught his eye, the white circle and black swastika on proud display. Was school this boring a thousand years ago when the Reich was founded?

Okay so do u likes it? Shuld I writez moore?:cool:

Re: God From The Machine

Sounds awesum. Plz continue.

Re: God From The Machine

I will do my best 2 keep it up. But writing iz hard u kno. Tanks u for de encoruagements. it meanz awot 2 me. :wink:

(Damn, that was painful to write. My brain hurts.)

He snuck a glance at his teacher, Mistress Dominique. The students all called her Miss Dom. She paced the front of the room like an agitated lion, smacking her riding crop in her palm as she lectured. He sat up a little straighter in his hard chair and tried his best to look like he was paying attention. He’d been on the receiving end of that switch so many times just watching it lazily swish through the air made his bottom tingle with memories of its painful bite.

It’s a shame Miss Dom was so mean because she was so pretty. She wasn’t all that old, either, for a teacher. Her skin fascinated him. Instead of the usual creamy peach or ivory, it was a deep dark chocolate. He told himself the attraction was because it was such a rare color since non-Aryans were scarce. Miss Dom kept her hair dyed the proper shade of blonde; she was religious about her root touchups. She’d even had her eyes spliced, a corrective surgery to make them the ideal Aryan blue.

Josef thought they looked better brown. At seventeen, it was perfectly natural for him to think his teacher was pretty. He thought girls in his class were pretty too, but they never seemed to notice him.

Miss Dom turned to the huge screen behind her and started tapping on the touch sensitive screen to bring up notes. He remembered learning about when the Reich was founded in the 1940’s, the touch screens were weird rectangles of slate called black boards and they were green or black in color. Teachers had to write on them by hand with an erasable substance called chalk. Such a primitive way to learn, but that was centuries ago…

His gaze strayed back out the window when a bright yellow ball bounced by. A group of elementary students were outside for recess. They laughed and squealed as they kicked the ball around. He sighed deeply, wishing he could be that young again. How he envied their simple happiness and carefree joy. He wanted to feel the warm sunshine on his head and the cool breeze caressing his skin as he enjoyed the simplicity of chasing a ball with his friends. Life was so uncomplicated at that age…

He’d be eighteen in eight months and graduating highschool. Then it was off to an electrical school then an apprenticeship with an electrical engineer. His future, determined by his results of the Aptitude Test. He wasn’t looking forward to his future. He’d rather have gone to college for botany. Maybe opened up his own florist shop. He’d always liked plants, particularly flowers. But the Aptitude Tests were never wrong. They used science and stuff to determine what career a person was best suited for. That’s what everyone in authority told him when he asked. So he kept his opinion to himself.

At least electrical engineering was better than some jobs. Like the Death Head section of the Schutzstaffel. He wasn’t sure what they did. No one ever talked about it. But everyone feared their very name. People who attracted their attention disappeared into thin air. One day they were there, the next, poof. Gone without a trace. Like they never existed in the first place. He’d learned at a young age to never ask questions about the Death Heads.

Re: God From The Machine

No diapers; no good.

Re: God From The Machine

I wantz 2 C da nazi diperz!

Re: God From The Machine

I sorry. Diaperz will cum up soon. I hope u iz not 2 disapointed. :frowning:

Re: God From The Machine

Yus! Diapees iz cuming up soons and everyonez will b happee!

Re: God From The Machine

Josef slid a glance at his best friend, Hans, who sat next to him. Hans sat with his back straight, paying attention and typing away on his laptop as he took notes. He was the perfect Reicht boy. Tall, strong, blonde haired and blue eyed. Aryan purity at its finest. He was also destined for the Totenkopfverbande. The Death Heads. Position in that lofty branch was hereditary. Hans came from a long, glorious line of selectively bred Death Heads. He’d already been initiated and trained as a Junior Death Head Scout since he was fifteen. He bore the Death Head insignia tattooed on his left bicep. A glorious future lay before him; he could even end up as bodyguard to the glorious Fuhrer.

Josef’s gaze drifted from Hans to Miss Dom’s deliciously rounded backside, then up above the big touch screen to a black and white framed photograph of the first Fuhrer. Hitler was the most glorious Founding Father of the Reich. He was to the Reich what Julius Caesar was to the ancient Romans. Next to Hitler was another photo, this one in color, of the current Fuhrer. A scowling, rotund Aryan woman with tight blonde curls and a blonde Hitler mustache above her puckered red lips scowled at the viewer. All previous Fuhrers claimed descent from Hitler. This Fuhrer claimed to have Himmler in her lineage as well. A few centuries ago, there had been a black Fuhrer, and he’d claimed Hitler as an ancestor, too. Josef never voiced his doubts about that out loud. You NEVER questioned a Fuhrer, past or present. The glorious Fuhrers knew all.

Jenny had questioned it. Pretty, blonde haired, blue eyed and full of piss and vinegar. Josef used to have a huge crush on her. She questioned a lot of things. Vociferously. Had the now extinct Jews truly been descended from Neanderthals? Did they truly cannibalize innocent Aryans? Jenny showed old photographs of what she said were Jews. But they looked just like ordinary people, not the hairy half-apes Reich teachers said they’d been. The Reich maintained Jews went extinct from fatal diseases cropping up in the 1940s and decimating the Jewish population. Nazi doctors of course put forth their best effort into saving them, but could find no cures. Tragically, the Jews died out. Jenny also brought up evidence of the Reich being founded on lies and propaganda. She brought up evidence for the Night of the Long Knives, when Hitler slaughtered his opponents in rivers of blood.

The teachers and authority figures insisted Night of the Long Knives and Kristallnacht were just fiction cooked up by the Reich’s enemies to make the glorious Founding Fuhrer look bad. The teacher then pointed out their peaceful, modern society never could have been built on such bloodshed. So of course everything Jenny brought up was lies and conspiracy theories.

Jenny continued to dig and question up until junior year, eleventh grade. It came to light she was getting her information from underground Anti-Nazi terrorist cells. Shortly after that, she just vanished one day.

Re: God From The Machine

You almost lost me at the description of the current Fuhrer.
More specifically, I lost it at that.

But seriously, shenanigans and silliness aside. This is certainly a scary possibility. “History is written by the victors” would read well, below what you’ve posted so far.

(still waiting for them diapers tho’ :stuck_out_tongue: )

Re: God From The Machine

Dis iz gud. moar plz. Wantz dem dipars nwo. Stamps foot

Re: God From The Machine

Blond mustash fyurer lady? Do she where diperz?

Re: God From The Machine

If blackboards and chalk is an old-fashioned way of learning, I want to know how Josef’s school does it. You know: For science.

Re: God From The Machine

Me thinked me seen it says ginormes tuchscreeens.

Re: God From The Machine

I jest hopp dat Cute Kitty still haz tim 2 werk on her udder stuf.

Re: God From The Machine

Udder stuf? Cute-Kitten is riting lactasion pron?

Re: God From The Machine

sence wen doo kats hav udders?

Re: God From The Machine

its ben 1000 yrz mabe thayv evolvd?

Re: God From The Machine

Mabe der blonde furein luks lik dis:
or moar likly dis:

but lukin lik dis:

wit a mustash.



Re: God From The Machine

(Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.)

Re: God From The Machine

I…can’t tell if the story is serious or not. You set up some interesting things but all the comments are so weird. I feel like I missed an inside joke.

Wai u live me out of dis. I no lik. Wan me yuri rock.