|Reviews for Sly Cooper Goes back To High School|
| BlackNBoom chapter 3 . 9/21/2016
reminds me of junior year
| Jayden Jackson chapter 3 . 9/3/2014
| Guest chapter 1 . 4/8/2013
you have no GOD DAWM busins wrighting you are tafnatley retared
| NerdyAndre10 chapter 3 . 3/2/2013
| Theresahellbelievemeiveseenit chapter 3 . 12/5/2009
| 31111 chapter 3 . 5/27/2008
What the fuck...that was weird.
| daverezi chapter 1 . 10/27/2007
I hate you. I'm writing a story just like that! GRR GO DIE DIE DIE
| Evil Riggs chapter 1 . 7/16/2007
A vast, flat alkali desert. Heat pulses from the packed white sand in rippling waves. Overhead, the naked sun stares down in baleful judgement. The liquid horizon shimmers like molten glass. A two-lane highway, cracked and pitted with age, splits the desert in twain.
On the highway's shoulder is a single sagging cardboard box. On the box is a single perfect watermelon. On the watermelon are drops and streamers of cool moisture.
Out of the distance, a throaty roar! A thundrous clunk-a-clunk cacophony shudders from the horizon! A shape emerges triumphant from the wavering mirage!
A beatass white panel van tears down the broken highway. Its paint is peeling; its windshield is cracked; its tires are bald; its undercarriage is spotted with salt-licked patches of rust. The vehicle screams toward the watermelon and then skids to a howling stop beside it. The chugging engine cuts out with a wheezey mechanical sigh. Along the van's side door are words, spray-painted in red, looping script:
The side door - and P.O.R.N. S.T.A.N.K. with it - slides open. Out of the darkness hops a gigantic man in faded jeans and a sweat-soaked tank top. His bald head glistens. His shirt bulges uncomfortably against the 'roid rage hilltops of his muscles. His tiny eyes dart to the watermelon.
The man reaches a treetrunk arm back into the van, revealing a shoulder tatto - MASTIFF. It returns with a heavy machine gun, dangling a glittering belt of sharp ammunition. The big man grins as he levels the weapon at the watermelon.
A moment passes. The air smells of salt and hot ashes.
He pulls the trigger. A cannonade of sound! A brilliant explosion of green and red and black!
"Ah-hahahaha! HAHAHAHAHA!" His laughter roars over the gunfire.
Disintegration! Frappe! The watermelon splatters into mush on mush, coating the blacktop and soaking into the dry hardpan. The big man continues to fire until the ammunition is gone and the highway is littered with casings. His grin twitches, he spins back around, and disappears into the hot dark of the van's belly. P.O.R.N. S.T.A.N.K. slides back into place.
The van speeds off into the distance.
~This is a rough approximation of my opinion of this story~
| Rojirna chapter 2 . 7/9/2007
Ahahahahahah This is great! Its so weirdly funny!