Title:           The Trial of Omar Du'Quan - Dirty Shed Timeline
Author:          NIEGeneral
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/RH26taTk
First Edit:      Monday 6th of January 2014 08:09:43 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Monday 6th of January 2014 08:09:43 PM CDT

ORIGINALLY POSTED BY: Anonymous
CONTINUED BY: SecureTripcodeJerk!!X08v3TCEmkn
 
READ THIS TIMELINE FIRST, APPLEJACK RAPE SECOND.
 
>You step in to the hallway to claim your PUSS-A when you trip over a lead chain.
"I got the black'un girls! Now let's bring im' to the shed before my sister sees me." The small orange pony says.
"AW HELL NAW! I AIN' GOIN' TA NO SHED!" The nigger screams
>You fight with the chain holding your body still as a garden how is thrown at your head.
"You aren't going anywhere!" A pure white pony screamed.
 
 
>You wake up in a dark shed smelling of dank and downtown Detroit.
 
>Your head is bleeding and those bastards shoved a pole up your ass to keep you from squirming.
>But you've been in worse.
>I mean, downtown Brooklyn after dark.
 
"Fuuuuuuugggggg..." you groan.
>"Hey, Applebloom! He's waking up!" says cracka pone.
>"AH! AHBOUT TAHME!"
>"DO YALL' KNOW HOW LAWNG WE'VE BEEN'A SITTIN HERE WAITIN' FER YA TA WAKE UP?!"
>"WE NEED'TA GIVE YALL YER FINAL RITES!"
 
>Fucking honkies and their fucking beliefs.
>At least you'll go to ACTUAL HEAVEN when you die this time.
 
>"Scootaloo, fetch me mah' Celestial bahble!"
>"Ahem, now... Accordin' ta this here ticket, good for one free admission to ah' tour of castle Canterlot..."
 
>God damn it.
 
>"...Creatures ahv' white are under Celestia's domaine..." states Applebloom.
>"...while creatures ahv' black are property ahv' Luna."
>"Well... We don' take KINDLY' to Luna round' these parts......"
 
>"Domain"
>"Property"
>Gee, what racist fuck wrote this book.
>You mean, "admit one - bigot"
"Fuckin' ponies gun' always be tryin' keep'a nigga down."
 
>"HUSH UP, YOU... UH.." stammers the yellow pony.
 
>*wha'did he jus' callim' self?*
>*uhh.... a... a n-nigga?* replies a purple haired horse.
>...
 
>"HUSH UP, YEW NIGRA!" she shouts.
 
"Ey' man... look."
"Lemme' go, see? I really gotta' thang fo yo' kin n'shit."
"I swea' I'll care for er', man."
"But rite now? I gotta' get some remedy.."
"I gots'ta hit up sum'ya sista's sweet ass. Dig?"
 
>"...YALL........what?"
>"I...uh.. I think he said he's going to hit your sister." interjects cracka pone.
>*GASP* "YEW MOWNSTA!"
>"HOW DAYRE YEW THREATEN MAH' FAHMILY?"
 
>"SCOOTS! BRING OUT THA' ROPE!"
>Oh, shit.
>It's actually happening.
>They're gonna' lynch you!
>You're going to die!
>Again!
 
"FUGG, NO!"
"I CAIN' DIE!"
"NAWT AGAIN, DAWG."
"I NEEDS YO SISTA, AN' ER' FIRM CHEEKS!"
 
>"THE ONLY FIRM THING YOU'RE GETTING IS A TAUT ROPE AROUND YOUR NECK!" shouts the cracka pone.
 
"FUGG'YA!"
 
>You sit up, the pole in your anus lodges itself deeper in your colon.
>You could get used to being gay.
>...
>Why did you just think that?
 
>"GRAB IM'!" demands Applebloom.
 
>The purple haired horse lunges at you.
>She lands on your back, and begins pounding at your spine.
>You run backwards and slam her against the tool rack.
>Ouch, she stopped hitting you at least.
>She stopped screaming too...
>Not your problem.
 
>Summoning the power of greasy chicken, you command your internal organs to coat themselves in undigested olive oil.
>You bend over and position your black ass towards Applebloom's face.
 
>Baked beans, activate!
 
>You fart, propelling the pole in your ass out at near the speed of light.
>It strikes Applebloom through the mouth and exits through the back of her throat.
 
"HA! GATCHYA', BITCH!"
 
>You turn and face cracka pone.
>She's already begun to piss herself.
 
>You fart once more, launching yourself towards her, and the door behind her.
>Unfortunately, you failed to account for the fact she has a horn.
>As you pass over her, your collar bone catches on her horn, snapping her neck with your velocity, and splitting you in half from neck to crotch.
 
>You have broken through the door, and can see the sun.
>It is blindingly bright, blisteringly hot, and you can feel yourself fading.
>Your entrails are scattered over several yards.
 
>Just then, a golden twinkle catches your eye....
>It's a wing...
>A CHICKEN WING!
>UNDIGESTED CHICKEN, STRAIGHT FROM YOUR SMALL STOMACH!
 
>You pick it up and raise it to your mouth.
>You bite into it and savor the taste,
>The taste of bitter victory..
 
>It's time
>The pain has stopped.
>There are no more sounds.
>You can no longer taste the chicken.
 
>You see a bright light.
>Not the sun.
>It's for real this time.
 
>...
 
>*grab me that scapel*
>*Yes sir.*
>"Nurse? Blood type,"
>"AB Positive, sir."
>"Get me a bag!"
 
"Aughhhhh... fugg..."
 
>"Woah, man. Lay still."
>"Don't move a muscle, you're in terrible condition."
 
"Wha? I be... Conditioner?"
"Shiieeeeet... Do I gots' tha' flakes again?"
 
>Then the pain hits you
 
"aaaaaAAAAAARUGHHHHH! SHII'MAN!"
 
>"NURSE, ANESTHETIC!"
 
>The pain quickly subsides and you pass out.
 
>Weeks pass before you're able to walk again.
>Hordes of lawyers line up at the hospital doors, begging you for a white on black vehicular negligence case.
>Of course, you win the suit.
 
>The money is more than enough to purchase several large crack rocks, and a dozen new Nike shoes.
>Most you use to purchase deep fried chicken for the whole hood' at Kwanza later that year.
>And, just a little you set aside for a 60" plasma screen, with a lifetime Comcast subscription to the Hub.
>You tune in every Saturday and jerk off to your favorite pony.
>There was never another CMC episode for as long as you lived.
>Everything turned out perfect.
>Until Ron Paul was elected president and took away your government money.
 
End.