/lit/ - Literature

I'm back from the day of bureaucratic nightmares I call my job.


Please give me some BurgerPunk writing prompts.

>>17734175
An earlier one I did. I didn't really like using assets that might need licenses though.

>>16460398
>>16460366
>>16460341
>>16460274
Aww. Thanks anons.

Here's something I photoshoped together when I first started writing it back when burgerpunk threads were poppin'. Didn't use it because even though the images were CC, still felt a little weird, I'd prefer to use my own photography or hire someone to draw it or something.

“Order up, bitch boy!” said BeBop into his portable communication device. Pomade was already almost back from his delivery. Pizza max always had to keep him on the grind.

“Ten Four sicko!” Pomade exited the off ramp and pulled into the bay of the parking lot. “Ko Konga, Rwanda. Lets get this show on the road!” The drone was already waiting with the fresh pies. His ride got loaded up and he was out before he was even in.

Fuel pumped into the skies as he kicked back and let the audi mati take this one. He popped up his InterTuber account and pulled up a recommended video as his car drove along at twenty miles per hour. A fat man appeared on screen after an introductory clip. He began to speak.

“Hey Robbie Robert Family! Remember to like and subscribe! You can buy this cool new merch shirt we just put up on our store, or you can provide a monthly donation to keep this channel going!” A picture of a skull appeared next to him.

“But now to todays topic. Have you looked outside recently? I have. There are scrum on the streets. Homeless immigrants wanting to steal your jobs. Wanting to take your opportunity away from you. Can you believe that? I know it’s hard to hear but its true. Facts don’t care about your feelings, bucko.”

Pomade got bored of this and skipped to the next video. It was of a woman wearing nothing but feathers with elongated features. Purple lights flashed on her face.

“Babies, have you ever felt the need to rage against the machine? Darling I always feel this way! But you may ask, “Gabby, you profit off the machine! How can you sit here any complain about it?” Well in response I ask you this, how did we get our rights to adopt dogs after The King passed a bill to ban it? We used our cellphones and InterTuber! That’s how, babies. We use the tools at hand, even if they were created under this machine.”

Boring. He flipped to the next one.

>>13364591
My favorite book series.

>>13358124
Jerry Pomade swiped his micro tablet into work. It was to deliver pizza. People loved pizza, and people loved not leaving the house for pizza. Jungle.co could deliver anything you wanted these days straight to your door, but Pizza Max stayed in business across the National United Corporation Country because of people’s desire for pizza. People love pizza.

He was the best delivery driver at his location. Admiral Crunch’s Northern ex-TexanTerritory of the NUCC, known a decade ago as Dallas, was one of the lower ranked hubs for entrepreneurs and despots. Who knew that the programmer kid and the homeless man shared such a love for pizza.

“BeBop, who the fucko needs a gosh’n pizza?”

“Fuckin’a Pomade, down on the bulovard, the kickin’ bitchin’ workspace is havin’ a shiggy diggy pip party.” Shouted BeBop over the post radio silence of the Pizza Max #12228 location. “Twelve pies ready to be loaded and pooped off broski.”

“Shit fuck you old cougar bear, I don’t even get a minute to myself!” Pomade said sarcastically. He was at work. Pizza Max demanded every minute be accounted for, otherwise his NUCC credits would be covered in loan shark trackers, and he didn’t want any of those privatefag bounty hunters sent out by the courts. He flipped from his tablet the Micro Pizza employment app and got the drone to pick up the pizza. People love pizza. The three heating bags, each with four pies in them were picked up by the Jungle.co drone and put into his self-driving car.

Pomade was a driver, his father had taught him at a young age how to use an automatic, and how to drive by himself. He was proud of this, but since the advent of self-driving cars by corps like Jungle.co and PDF, driving your own car has become a misdemeanor, an accident caused by someone driving a car themselves is a first-degree felony.

Pomade’s 1992 Civic was modded out with two modes. Self-Drive, how he got to work, and Auti-Mati, for when he felt the need for the thrills of control in chaos. He loved driving against the AI of the other cars, they attempted to predict him with logic, and he gave them a heaping handful of incompetent and selfish driving tactics.

“Fuck-a-roo, lets go!” he shouted as he flipped on the Auti-Mati mode of his baby. His newly installed panel screen projected directions onto his windshield. His engine revved and he peeled out of the massive 10-acre parking lot of Pizza Max.