The Matt Horan Fanfic Depository

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A place to share fictional stories involving Matt Horan in everyday life.

Matt Horan and Parking Horror

"What the hell!" Exclaimed Matt Horan.

Matt Horan's exclamation sounded loudly in the car as he exclaimed in frustration. After circling the neighborhood of his good friend and guy who has short hair and is shorter than Matt Horan he exclaimed again seeing no good parking spots.

"How am I going to be able to park if there are no parking spots? Then when I park my car, there will be no place to park it!" Matt Horan exclaimed.

A pedestrian slowly crossed the street, and Matt Horan, being a good and careful driver stopped to allow him to get across the street. But while he was waiting, Matt Horan made fun of the guy who was crossing the street from inside of his car, whose windows were rolled up so that the guy who was crossing the street could not hear him!

Matt Horan switched on his award-winning XM Satellite radio station to blaze some dope-ass techno beats, and zoomed off. His guy who was a friend with short hair and was shorter than him could WAIT if his parking was this much of horror! Matt Horan found the closest bridge that was too low for his car because there are other shorter cars and it's a special bridge for short cars but he went under anyway! Then the bridge made Matt Horan's car a convertible, and Matt lowered the roof and his windows, checking his rims to make sure they were still OK, so that everyone could hear his blast techno.

"Hey are you blast techno!?" Asked a girl with some cool doods who turned out to be gay.

"Yes." Replied Matt Horan calmly.

Putting on his sunglasses, Matt Horan had other people other than him jump into his convertible car, and the sped off away from the parking horror for a night of blast techno and fun!

"I'm glad I escaped that parking....... HORROR!" exclaimed Matt Horan, putting on his sunglasses.

Matt Horan and the Awning

Matt Horan, Dickfore, and MBurns sat on a patio across from their favorite venue. The sun shone brightly overhead, making their meal, which was suspiciously close to dinner but still referred to as lunch, only mildly inconvenient.

"I can't take this sun anymore!" exclaimed Matt Horan.
"I have so many dates, how could I possibly ever find trooloove when women are just throwing themselves at me?" mused Dickfore with an irritating, hipster gleam in his eye.

MBurns ignored both of his friends and looked across the street to the patio of their favorite venue. They had decided to go to this other place for lunch because, even though it seemed to hold no promise of good service or food, it was new. Why not try a new place? MBurns saw that their favorite venue had an awning over the patio.

"Hey, why don't we go over there, they have an awning," suggested MBurns to Matt Horan, who was complaining about the gentle sunshine which was characteristic of the season.
"But we already have a tab here!" said Matt Horan loudly and with great passion.
"So. many.. fucking.... WOMEN!" shouted Dickfore over the casual conversation, eagerly vying for attention.
"We could eat, then go across the street and enjoy cool drinks on this mild day... under that awning!?" mused MBurns, who decided to also take this opportunity to muse, considering how little he did on a usual day.

No one replied, eying their drinks uncomfortably and resisting the urge to talk to each other. Dickfore finally broke the silence which a question about their other friend who was supposed to meet them there.

"I don't think he's coming, he complained about the place we were going, complained about the time we were going, and then threatened to kill us..." replied MBurns.
"At least he doesn't have to sit here in this terrible fucking sunshine!" shouted Matt Horan.
After another moment of silence, Dickfore suggested, "Why don't we sit inside then?"
MBurns and Matt Horan turned to Dickfore with a quizical look in their eyes. Matt Horan explained, "Why would we want to sit inside? We asked to be seated outside because it's such a nice day."
"But, you were just complaining about..." began Dickfore, but he was cut off as Matt Horan said, in a raised tone and making a face at Dickfore, "Duhhhhhghghgghhhh!!!"

After eating, Dickfore convinced Matt Horan and MBurns to go across the street to their favorite venue for drinks underneath the awning.

"Wait, where are you going?" Matt Horan asked Dickfore as he changed his trajectory from following them across the street to going to his car.
"Women, and dogs, and stuff..." replied Dickfore vaguely. "I'll be right back, save me a seat."
"What a DICKfore." said MBurns smugly.

MBurns and Matt Horan seated themselves underneath the awning. Matt Horan had an increasingly irritated look on his face the longer he sat at their new table underneath the awning. Jared‽ approached, spotting them despite their being underneath the awning.

"O hai. Why did you guys pick such a shitty table, there aren't enough fucking chairs." commented Jared‽, refusing to sit down.
"This sucks, it's too cold. Let's go." said Matt Horan.

Matt Horan and MBurns got up and left.

Matt Horan 'n Friends

As the door to Penguin opened, the warm air rushed out to meet Matt Horan. It was chilly for an August night in New England, and the warmth of the bar was a welcome change to the biting cold he had not thought to dress for. He instinctively headed to the back corner of the seating area. It was the only place Penguin ever had that was large enough to accommodate everyone who showed up. As he rounded the corner an uproar came from the back tables as the patrons seated there noticed him.

"HEYYY!!!!!!!!" everyone shouted at once. The sound increased as it spurred others to join in. Matt Horan couldn't help but smiling. "Hey!" he responded in kind. In the corner of the booth was Ted Bowman with a commanding view of the table. Next to him sat his roommate Richard, the dim bar lights reflecting brightly in his glasses. Sitting in a chair against the wall was his old friend MBurns, accompanied by Rebecca on his right. Across from the two of them, turned in their chairs to see him, were Jared and, closest to Richard, Dickie. Fred sat at the head of the table opposite Ted.

As Matt Horan looked around the table for an open seat, Dickie got up and crammed himself next to Richard.
"Sit here Matt!" said Dickie, thumping his palm down at the place he just moved from.
"Oh, thanks! We're going to have to make room anyway though, Rachel is on her way here right now."
"Yeah, Claire said she's on her way too, so we're gonna have to make a few extra places anyway." chimed in Burns, matter-of-factly.
"Well, we can pull that other table over when they get here."

A few empty and half-full (half-empty?) glasses were already already scattered around the table, and two metal pedestals contained a few loose slices of pizza. After Matt Horan's drink arrived at the table, Richard raised his glass;
"You missed the toast, Matt! Cheers!"
Matt Horan raised his glass, but inquired as he did so. "What's the occasion?"
"Why don't you get this one, Dickie?"
"My car was broken into."
"AGAIN." Emphasized Ted, speaking directly to Matt Horan for the first time since he arrived.
"Oh man!" exclaimed Matt Horan. "That sucks!"
Dickie's cars were frequently vandalized, owning mostly to his apathy at locking his doors when he exited the vehicle.
Ted turned to Dickie to impart his unique brand of advice to him.
"You know what they have now? They have spiked vaginas. Women can buy these vagina inserts, and they're, like, barbed and spiked and everything. You need to make your car so you have to fuck it to drive it, but then put a spiked vagina in it. Then when someones tries to steal your car, they get their penis shredded into a million pieces."

Burns laughed the hardest. Dickie responded by highlighting the many problems inherent in his advice.
"They didn't steal it, Ted, they took things out of it. And how would anyone be able to tell they had to have sex with my car before they could drive it? Wouldn't they just give up and leave it?"
"No, you have to market you car first. It can be the first car you can have sex with ever. Then everyone will know how to steal it. But they won't! Instead, they just get dick-shred! DICK SHRED! Listen to those two words together, Dickie. Dick. Shred. Can you even listen to that without feeling pain? If someone steals with your stuff, they should have their dick shredded. That's why people keep stealing your shit. Shred one dick, I guarantee no one with ever steal your shit again."
Dickie abandoned his rebuttal. It was hard to argue with someone when you couldn't stop laughing.

Matt Horan took the opportunity to talk to his friend Jared.
"How's the job search going?"
"Ehh... I still don't have a job, so I'm gonna say poorly."
"Don't worry, you'll find something, Jared!"
"Aww, thanks Matt!"
"No you won't! You'll die poor and alone! No one will ever love you!" offered Ted.
"Yeah, and you're ugly!" added Burns.
"Fredo! You made it!" said Matt Horan turning to Fred.
"Yeah, well, it's not every day Dickie has his car broken into. Oh wait, it IS every day Dickie has his car broken into!"
"Dickie, you need to start locking your car!" said Rebecca, joining the conversation. "Hi Matt, how are you?" She added, formally greeting Matt Horan.
"I like how you're the only person who asks how I'm doing, Rebecca. I'm good!"
Burns countered with, "Oh Matt. You know we don't ask how you are because we don't care. How are you?"

Before Matt Horan could answer, Claire and Rachel arrived. The server saw them pushing yet another another table over and came to get the drink orders of the newcomers. Matt Horan also ordered another drink. he had a feeling they were going to be there for a while.


Penguin Pizza operated in a state of halves. The waitress lazily milled about the half-empty restaurant as patrons bashfully partook of half-finished plates of food and nursed half-empty drinks. Fred looked down into his glass, slowly rotating it in his hands as lights twinkled along the inside, glinting off of all but evaporated suds and teardrops of amber liquid. Dickie sat across from him on the other side of the the table, flanked by Carolyn. The seat next to Fred, once occupied by John Resig, now lay dormant; it's potential unfulfilled.

Fred searched his mind to see if he could remember asking about Burns, but since he could not, he ventured a quandary anyway.

"What the gay is Burns up to anyway?"

Dickie looked up from his phone, intrigued by the potential for engagement.

"He's out of the country again. He's been really busy lately. Which is normal for Burns I guess."
"Maybe he's visiting Resig in Japan?"
"Resig was just here," answered Dickie, smirking.
"Speaking of Burns, what's Matto been up to?"

The smirk widened into a smile at the mention of his old friend, although he looked down at the table, avoiding eye contact with Fred as he answered.

"Still living it up in NYC I guess. Although I guess he hates his job now."
"Haha, yeah..."

A silence settled over the table again, like a coat of fresh paint. As the seconds passed, it dried and hardened, becoming even more difficult to wipe away. Dickie picked up a straw-wrapper from the table and began to fold it idly in his hands. At his side, Carolyn yawned and placed her head on his shoulder. Withdrawing his phone from his pocket he clicked the power button restlessly, checking the time as, in the background, Fred looked out over the bar at the other patrons.

Suddenly smiling, he looked across at Dicking, breaking the silence once again.

"I wonder what Ted's up to. Haven't heard much from him lately, eh?"
"Yeah. Probably trying to find ways to distance himself from his illegitimate, Swedish children. Or you know, seeing if cocaine is paleo."
"Haha. I bet it totally is. That's probably how he copes with the pressure of working for Klarna."
Dickie took a thoughtful pull of beer from his glass before continuing.
"Fred, I have to say, I'm surprised you're still here. Richard even left before you."
"Hey, I go to things. Why did Richard leave again?"
"He had some thing for his class in the morning."
"Being all 'responsible' and bettering himself? What a huge bag of douche."

Dickie's phone was still in his hand. Despite having just checked the time, he checked it again. As the screen illuminated, he re-read the numbers and allowed it to fade back into darkness.

"I'm going to go out for a smoke real quick."
"It's getting kind of late, I'm probably just going to head out."
"Alright then."

Sitting up in his seat, he seized his glass and raised it to Fred, who clinked his own glass against it.

"Cheers. To not waisting beer. And to getting the waitress to bring us our check."
"Well, cheers to not waisting beer at least. I'll believe the rest of it when I see it."

They both downed what was left of their glasses in a single gulp, then Fred cast his eyes out into the bar again, looking for the waitress. As Dickie waited, he gripped the empty glass in his hands and turned it over and over, watching as the light twinkled off of all but evaporated suds and teardrops of amber liquid.

mhoran and the truth about Douglas Park

It was a Saturday. Dickie awoke from his slumber by the sounds of Jared, his terrible roommate, coughing and retching in the adjoined bathroom.

“I hate living with Jared, he’s the worst,” Dickie cried out, removing his sunglasses.

Jared emerged from the bathroom a moment later.

“I’m so mad,” he screamed. “Fairness and whatnot! Living space!”

Dickie remained calmly annoyed. He attempted to break the ice and sooth his savage living partner.

“Hey, I have been playing this game that I think is really fun and that I think you’d enjoy too. I’m planning on going out to lunch with several girls today, how would you like to play it on my HD display with maximum-quality graphics by yourself?”
“Ugh, you ruin everything!”
“What are you two doing,” asked mhoran and Burns from the doorway.

Their silk robes somehow impeccable despite the large plates of homemade waffles they carrier and the large glasses of smoothies, mixed from scratch.

“I mixed pure platinum into my smoothie because I don’t give a shit and I’m a clever and wealthy freelance programmer. I have a feeling that one day not giving a shit will get me places in life,” added Burns.

“Cheers,” they said to each other in unison, clinking their glasses together.
“I’m so happy about this roommate situation, I’m making a friendship that will probably be meaningful and fulfilling my entire life and enjoying every second of sharing my room,” commented mhoran.

Dickie quietly bristled with misery from his deluxe-sized bed which he had gotten for free. Burns and mhoran went to the living room to finish their breakfast and have enjoyable conversation with one another. Collecting himself again, he calmly and logically tried to reason with Jared.

“I watched that movie you recommended the other night with some extremely attractive college girls who I later turned down for sex. You were absolutely right, it was a great movie and you have fantastic taste in films.”
“I hate you so much! I’m buying a knife,” declared Jared, his voice cracking every other word.
“While I respect your personal choices and would never seek to tell you what to do, I feel that having a weapon in the apartment could be a potentially dangerous choice. Perhaps we could all discuss this together at a time that’s convenient for you, as it’s a decision that affects everyone who lives here?”
“UGH,” Jared grunted without answering and went back into the bathroom to shower without at least asking his roommate first as a courtesy.

From his bed, Dickie began to openly weep. The sounds of joy and merriment from the other room as Burns and mhoran genuinely enjoyed each other’s company was a sickening juxtaposition. Sitting at his desk, Dickie tried to feel better by accomplishing some important school work which would lay a foundation for success later in his life and deleting several nude photos he had received in his email from supermodels.

Jared emerged some time later and put on his finest party dress.

“I’ve been working a lot, but I have tonight off and my school work is all complete. I’m going to treat myself to a night out on the town,” he said.
“Oh, great. I hope you have a good time! Maybe I can call up some of the excess cute, smart, and nerdy girls I know and they can meet up with you. Wouldn’t that just be the icing on the cake?”
“SHUT UP,” Jared wailed, whipping his Nokia N-Gage carelessly at Dickie.

He had finally had enough.

“I’ve finally had enough,” Dickie yelled back, and sprinted into the living room. “I’m going to turn on the central air, this place is unbearable and it’s the only thing that will ease my pain!”

Burns and mhoran bolted upright from sitting down to their champagne and caviar.

“Don’t you fucking touch that central air,” they hissed.

Dickie looked over to see that Jared’s head was also poking out from their room with the same look of rage on his face.

“I…,” Dickie sputtered.
As the others approached, intent on keeping him from the thermostat with violence, he blurted out in a panic, “I DOWNLOADED A NEW SHOW, LET’S WATCH IT!?
“Oh yes, you do download things and it takes me no effort to watch them,” Burns and mhoran said excitedly.
“What did you download?”
“Arrested Development! I heard it’s a great show for smart, sophisticated people without anger management issues!”
“Great, let’s put it in!”

As they prepared to put on the show, Jared walked by, noting that he had plans, but no one was listening. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, just as Jared was about to leave. He opened the door only to see that Chessie had stopped by.

“Hey guys, it’s me, Chessie!”
“CHESSIE,” they all cried endearingly in unison.
“You’re the number one housewife,” Dickie, Burns, and mhoran all agreed aloud.
They dropped everything to raise Chessie up on their shoulders while chanting “NUM-BER-ONE!”
“Well, I mean sure, but to be fair, I did help scrub down all the counters last night and degrease those pans. I’m a pretty good housewife too,” Jared tried to interject, but his voice was lost over the cacophony of cheers.

mhoran spoke up,and everyone immediately quieted down to listen respectfully.

“I wanted to date you and you said no! But we’re great friends now!”
“Oh, mhoran, you’re the best,” she replied.

Chessie, Burns, and Dickie all stopped to hug mhoran and reaffirm how smart, and most importantly, sexually potent he was.

“Now that Chessie’s here, let’s watch that show, which again is only appealing to those who are smart and not repressing tons of anger for no reason!”

As Jared turned to finally leave, he glanced into the kitchen, spying the mound of dirty dishes from the waffles and smoothies that morning.

“Hey Jared,” mhoran said, turning in one suave motion to flip a coin to Jared that he had dug out of the pocket of his freshly-pressed and impeccably tailored tuxedo.
“You’re under no obligation to do any other those dishes. Enjoy your night out on the town.”

And with a wink he was gone into the living room. Jared immediately set to work, scrubbing dishes which seemed to keep piling up from snacks and delicious beverages which were enjoyed during the show and complaining to himself. As another round of laughter and applause, as well as a barely audible “you’re the best mhoran!” filtered in from the living room, Jared looked down as his dress. The pleats, once perfect and white, now encrusted with the grime of one-thousand good times enjoyed by others.

“I am mad about everything for no reason,” Jared announced to the empty kitchen.


mhoran and the horanettes

Tduds sauntered into his bedroom wearing his finest bathrobe (and nothing else) and slathered in his finest oils to see mhoran easing his penis into tduds’ girlfriend’s vagina.

“Matt Horan,” tduds exclaimed joyfully.
“Tim Dudley,” mhoran shouted back, removing his sunglasses. “I… hope you don’t mind.”
“Are you kidding? I’m going to stream this,” tduds responded with gusto, grabbing his phone and loading up the periscope app.
“After I leak this video, I’m going to kill myself, as this is the definitive high point in my life,” added tduds’ girlfriend.
“Wait, no, don’t do that,” said tduds, lowering his phone with a look of sobering concern on this face.
“Keep filming, scrub,” she screeched at him.

tduds jerked the phone back up in surprise.

“So, did you fly here,” inquired tduds.
“Yeah. But NOT IN A PLANE,” mhoran responded looking at tduds wide-eyes and shaking his beard. “I rode a dragon. Planes are so last day ago right before I got my dragon that I now own right now.”
“Oh cool. You should give me a ride on your dragon later.”
“GAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY,” said, making a face at tduds and flipping his sunglasses up and down on his face. “Oh, I’m kicking off the tour of my new solo project ‘mhoran and the horanettes’ later. You should come.”
“Solo proj… wow I don’t even know where to start with that one. And did you say hornets?”
“Oh… OK… Sure, I’ll go!”
“OK, let’s go! Wooooooosh!”

mhoran and tduds left the apartment to head over to the venue where mhoran and the horanettes would play. Leaving behind them was Fred, who spied them and ran to catch up.

“Wow, Fred, in a Jared Stander fanfic! I wonder what kinds of crazy adventures ol’ spicy Fred is going to get up to with mhoran and tduds,” Fred said to himself as the plummeting body of tduds’ girlfriend struck him, killing him instantly.

Later, at the venue, located in Portland’s lower east side central market financial district, by the river, in a cloud fortress protected by the deadly hydra from greek mythology and at least 20 sexy mermaids who also had six-shooters and were all somehow each sheriffs of Portland with equal authority, mhoran and tduds nervously took the stage.

“Wait, why am I up here with you?”
“It’s necessary for the plot.”

mhoran and tduds both looked squarely at the camera.

mhoran grabbed the mic and yelled, “What a bunch of fucking tools!”

The crowd let out a mighty cheer. And as the show started tduds watched and didn’t really do a lot as mhoran screamed into the mic and said random things about the problem with rails, when burns was coming to visit, his dragon, how lame planes now are, and his favorite Onion articles.

But the crowd started to grow restless. “Hornets! Hornets! Hornets,” They shouted in unison.

“Tim, are they saying ‘horanettes’ or ‘hornets’?”
“Umm… hor...anettes…?”
“It’s not hornets! It’s horanettes,” mhoran retorted angrily to the crowd.

However, they just kept chanting. Some were now clapping and stomping their feet in time with the chanting.

“Fine! You want hornets!?”

mhoran signaled to someone off-stage and large containers affixed to the scaffolding high above the venue opened to reveal millions of angry hornets, who descended in a stinging cloud onto the concert-goers.

At the back of the venue, the doors burst open and Fred appeared clutching a wound on his shoulder.

“Guys, I’m not dead afterall! An off-duty EMT managed to revive me at the scene, so I rushed over here to be part of your crazy adventure! I got shot by a mermaid! I UUUGGGGGHHHHH,” Fred had enough time to say before hornets attacked him mercilessly. Later, when paramedics cut Fred’s corpse open, searching for treasure, they would find he had swallowed several hornets during the attack.

As the venue calmed, mhoran, untouched by hornets, surveyed the scene. tduds, by virtue of being close to mhoran, much like being close to god, was unharmed as well.

“That was fun. Drinks,” asked mhoran casually, removing as many pairs of sunglasses as he could.
“Sure mhoran,” tduds said smiling. “Sure.”


Matt Horan and the Wedding Terror

"You may now kiss the bride."

Jared lifted up Lauren's veil and kissed her. The crowd didn't really go wild. Dickie yelled "Jared‽" and Fred mumbled "Gay" under his breath. Jared then scooped Lauren up and carried her ever so carefully to the waiting Orange Mini, so as to avoid the many barking dogs at the wedding. "Oh, dogs! Get closer," begged Lauren. "Not now, sweetness," replied Jared through gritted teeth.

As he braced against the side of the Mini to open the passenger's side door, Lauren protested. "No way, it's my wedding, I want to drive." He then carried her to the opposite side of the car and let out a sigh as he deposited her behind the wheel. "Don't forget my skirt!" A long, trailing skirt flowed behind her, and Jared carefully gathered it up and packed it into the seat behind her. Finally, collapsing into the passengers seat, Jared was about to remove his tight dress shoes as they sped off when mhoran popped up from the back seat.

"Hey guys, where are we going for the honeymoon?"
"mhoran," Jared cried with a smile.
Lauren: "You better not be sitting on my skirt."
mhoran: "Why did you marry her?"
Jared: "Hey!"
Lauren: "Hey!"

Both Lauren and Jared protested in unison, but mhoran sat in the backseat staring expectantly at Jared. He turned in the seat to face mhoran.

"Because she's nice."
mhoran: "There are other nice girls too."
Jared: "I mean there are and there aren't. Sometimes I think you guys forget that."
mhoran: "ORLY?"
Jared: "Yeah. I mean sure we all have our idealized partners, but why, for example, are you with Rachel."
mhoran: "Well, because she's cute enough. And we're willing to date each other."
Jared: "But it's not perfect?"
mhoran: "I guess not, but what is?"
Jared: "Exactly. Lauren's not perfect, but she's cute enough. She sends me Orange things sometimes, and we get along OK."
Lauren: "Thanks!"
mhoran: "Yeah, but no more sex."
Jared: "Like I was having all the sex before... Besides, Lauren said I could jerk off while I watch her sleep."
Lauren: "Umm, I did not say that."

They passed by a Starbucks and Lauren slammed on the breaks, hurling them all forward in their seats. "Lauren, what's wrong," Jared asked in between panicked gasps. "Someone left a dog tied up outside. That's so mean. I'm going to shoot them when they come back out. mhoran, hand me that tommygun back there." "I'm from New Hampshire, guns are always OK," replied mhoran, handing over the large firearm with it's signature drum clip. "Sugar cube, can I get a coffee real quick, I'm thirsty." "Umm, no, because what if he comes out while you're still ordering and we have to speed off. Or what if he comes out at the same time you go in and I accidentally shoot you. You should just stay here." "OK..."

mhoran: "She might accidentally shoot you Jared, better watch out!"
Jared: "She wouldn't shoot me."
Lauren: "I probably wouldn't. It depends."
mhoran: "See? This is what you get for settling."
Lauren: "Hey!"
Jared: "I did not settle. I like Lauren."
mhoran: "But she only married you so she could get married."
Jared: "AND as a favor for a friend. So what, why does it matter? You guys are all so stuck up about relationships. In reality, mhoran, it's a fucking lottery. If you happen to look good because of genetics, be suave and charismatic because of your upbringing, and get all of that shit nailed down in adolescence so you can find a great girl before they're in relationships with other guys, than DING DING DING! You win!"
Lauren: "I agree with Jared. I mean I dress like a girl now, so I like won the first lottery, but it is more hard and complicated. Like if you want a certain job, you can study and go to school for it. If you want a certain person, you could get rejected because they don't like dogs or something."

At this, Lauren turned for a moment to glare at Jared, then went back to scoping around for the mystery dog abuser, pushing the brim of her fedora down to help hide her face. For a long time, they sat in Silence, mhoran downloading ice cream apps to his smartphone while Jared worried and Lauren continued to wait idling by the curb, looking fierce and beautiful. After a moment, Jared continued, his puzzling rage unabated.

"I am kind of sick of it. Even beyond all that, there are so many variations of what people want, that when I say I can't get a girl, people always assume the thing I can't get is the thing they want. Sex must not be hard for me, because they can get what they want easily. But what they want is almost by definition not what I want."
mhoran: "You don't have to be a bitch about it just because you can't get laid."
Jared: "And for once you could just say 'Hey that sucks, I acknowledge this part of your life is a challenge for you' instead of just bragging about how easy a mostly different thing is for you. Is that really too much? Just a simple 'I understand'?"
mhoran: "So you want us to pity you?"
Jared: "No, I just want you to act like you're my friends."

mhoran looked introspective for a moment and licked the ice cream on his phone. "I am your friend Jared," he finally replied supportively, almost softly. "I'm sorry relationships are tough for you, that sucks." "Thanks mhoran." "Guys, shut up for a second!"

A man was walking towards the tied up dog, and Lauren was sighting him up with the tommygun. It was go time. "Die you dog-abusing ass," she screamed. The man threw his coffee to the ground. "Oh my Blarney Stone, I'm going to die with the animal I love so far from my native land of Ireland! Also I'm rich!" Lauren turned to Jared. "I want a divorce! Both of you get out!"

As Lauren drove away, mhoran put a comforting hand on Jared's shoulder. "Well, you never had sex. You can probably get it annulled. And now, I think it's time for some ice cream." "Sweet. Mind if I tag along," asked Jared with a smile. "Actually yes, I do, please don't follow me."


mhoran owns a house

The gangster looked around the outside of the house furtively... Very furtively.

"I'm a gangster, and whoever, whatever person lives, the person who owns this house I'm going to shake him down for money 'cause this racket is in our neighborhood, and he has to pay for our racket," shouted the gangster out loud to no one.

The gangster crept over to the bushes, looked into the window furtively, before leaping from the bushes and knocking on the door, and then also ringing the bell and shouting, "Pizza probably delivery, and not gangster!" A young women answered the door and looked furtively at the gangster.

"Well, I'm a gangster you see, and this is a shakedown! You have to give me shakedown money!"

On the sidewalk a passing officer commended the gangster; "That's some nice shakedown there, gangster!" The young women seemed unfazed by this, however.

"Oh, you'll have to talk to the master of the house about this I'm afraid," she said, stepping gingerly aside.

The gangster stepped into the yawning foyer of the house and instantly felt a chill move through him. The apartment was impeccably kept, but also as cold as a freezer. As the woman closed the door, the gangster was startled by the plumes of cold breath that hung in the air after each exhalation. As she led him up the winding marble staircase, he eyed the luxurious crystal chandelier and had a creeping sensation rush to the fore of his mind. Something was wrong. None of this felt like a routine shakedown.

They reached the top of the stairs, footsteps echoing endlessly into the labyrinthine depths, and the gangster followed along to what appeared to be a large set of oak doors. Without saying a word, she threw open the doors and stepped inside. At the far end of a gorgeous study was the most expensive ice cream bar the gangster had ever seen. A man, his back turned to the gangster, was busying himself adding various, priceless ice creams from ornate jars into a cocktail mixer, his bald head bobbing gaily to a rhythm no one else seemed to be able to hear.

"A man is here to see you. About a... shakedown?"

On the last word, she cocked her head inquisitively at the gangster who shrank back nervously in spite of himself.

"Oh, I mean, I... I don't know about... You see," the gangster began in a shaky voice.

The man raised a single finger, not bothering to turn to face his guest and the gangster stopped mid-stutter. "Thanks Rachel," came the reply. At that, she walked calmly back to the door and shut it soundlessly, isolating the the two men inside. A lump formed in the gangster's throat, and he shifted uneasily on his feet in silence. A creeping feeling of dread slowly began to overtake the gangster. This was a mistake. The man, adding his last ice cream to the mixer, began shaking the mixer, again to the strange rhythm only he could hear. He poured the ice cream out into a brandy glass and slowly turned to address his guest.

"Now... what's this about a shakedown?"

The gangster froze (and not just from the cold), pairs of sunglasses tumbling from his hands in shock. Standing in front of his was mhoran. The gangster leapt to the floor and began blubbering to himself.

"Oh Jesus! Oh fuck me! Oh Jesus, no please God NO! Oh fuck me! Fuck me, it's mhoran! Dear baby Jesus please God no!"
"You've disturbed me... during my ice cream time," replied mhoran, licking his lips as he glanced down at the open ice cream app on his phone.

The gangster began creeping toward the door on his knees, still babbling hysterically. But mhoran only took a gulp of ice cream from his glass and narrowed his eyes angrily.

"During. My. ICE. CREAM. TIME."
"I am so sorry, it will never happen again! Please, I had no idea! I never..."
"No one fucks with mhoran," said mhoran quietly, cutting him off.

The gangster inhaled sharply and held his breath at this, afraid to make a single sound. His heart was racing.

"You need a reminder apparently," mhoran stated, removing a large box of crackers from his suit coat pocket.

mhoran walked up to him and supplied himself with a fistful of crackers from the box.

"You're a duck," said mhoran cheerfully, stuffing the crackers into the gangster's mouth. "You're a duck!"

The gangster nearly choked on the crackers, spitting flecks of the snack food into the air as he tried to scream in terror and gasp for breath all at once.

"Quack quack," screamed mhoran, cackling merrily as he shoved another bunch of crackers into the gangsters mouth.
Right on cue, as he managed to clear most of the last fistful from his throat, mhoran grabbed another handful. "QUACK QUACK," mhoran shrieked, terrifyingly full of glee, stuffing more crackers down the gangster's throat.


mhoran and the Turpin Garrow Swick

mhoran catapulted down the popcorn in a sickly swill next to boots of narrow garage. Swick tripped up the opal cortex of the incredible currant.

"Another epitome sweeper. Marry cocoa retched from?"

And the balloons felt like lime and a blinder started to wave into the frosty icicle. mhoran bat a grey thorn against the following whisker with a kiss of old chaff and a chafing smile.

Dickie Banana bumped past the thunderous light in the branch of seedy waitress and all of the birds cut the dry hedge like an ice tooth bathed in silky moon milk. Against the treble of the cough was a plump glass with a beak wet with tears. The Horses croaked. The barn whispered her black story. mhoran plot up to rain a mouse into the dry lamp of the kitchen jar.

"My name is Dickie."

"Oh, so platypus jargon oaken eye? Rager perch cheaply dildo!"

"mhoran, maybe crackly banker sing sew sing? Afterall, real newts sit into a waste basket of butter lives."

But the thread of the mashing wave just dreamt a tome away from the rising coffee of the lawn yard. mhoran chucked a cylinder sleigh far into the bushel cracks of ocean forests. While the cylinder turned the wheelbarrow across the drenched peak, the oblong tiara crested a regal show. Dickie wedding photo.

"Well a prime time window raid my shopping pedal. Wish?

mhoran and Dickie maybe a the fort cuss into a scallop of lonely dice. "Clink!"

Burns and Laurent wipe a stuttering rainbow of the worst day ever. The bars of each house lept like their own basket back home in the poison basement. Laurent rickety porch tailspin.

"Mmmmm halo stuffy tangerine willow! Papa papa read it bellow food!"

Burns sawed off one chicken dance in the small window floating by the van. He peep up like so many snaked crossed the river without biting twice.

"Ah ha, root brush felt able tray. Stone lake flowerpot!"

Inside the perennial feature was a solid burn while the flotsam invaded. Yellow peaches dressed the ordinary. So few were their lips. But cardinal jack trembled East tendency riddle, or chewy garden wrecked oil. Sideways, vomit broach. A few of the clocks wreck a pretty dress apple fritter overtime the second canary. Wick sheets plus up drum bottle capped like mint green forest ticket blushing enemonie. Ordinary comp laddle truck us? Soiled ticking open door frame racks? Bottle dropped into oil painting class. Wrecker, flooder, great rate.

"Eleven eleven eleven," shred Laurent. "This one time fee freeze the turncoat bottom, clasp needle grease more!?"

mhoran smarted with the old, thready latch key of maybe faces. A corpulent farce fitted onto cutting sheers yesterday and more yesterday. With the pump bottle ringing so ply, the aircraft wrote its own sonnet after my sister jay.

"More cars booked!"

The area melted and a tone deaf pilgrim crept into belly. Those hell were open mic bra. The rattle guardian some great noise plaza.


Matt Horan is a Flying Robot

Burns approached Mhoran Airport with an air of excitement. On the runway, his friend lay waiting, fuelled up and ready to go.

"Oh man, mhoran, you look just like an airplane!"

"WHOOOOOOOSH," replied mhoran.

"So.. how exactly does this work? You're a plane, like inside as well?"
"Yes, so, I have a passenger compartment, and you can ride in that. You get to sit in 1st class, but I have a coach area too just for people to sit in to piss them off. Even though the flight is free, I won't allow them to upgrade, it's so expensive."
"Excellent! Do you have wi-fi?"
"Uhhh no, that actually increases the chances I'll get cancer pretty significantly."
"Flying robot cancer?"
"It's an uncontrolled dividing of the materials that make up my inner fuselage, I mean if you're going to be a dickie about it..."

Just then a disheveled-looking Richard crawled out from behind some boarding equipment, breaking up the exchange. Richard stumbled over to mhoran and Burns, clutching a carry-on, his eyes wildly flickering about in cautious panic.

"Richard," cried mhoran and Burns in unison.
"OK I'm here, let me on!"
"What happened to you," questioned Burns.
"I arrived a week early by mistake, so I figured I'd stay here and just wait it out. But the mhoran airport is full of wild dogs! Aggressive wild digs! What the fuck mhoran!?"
"It's true," replied mhoran gleefully.
"The dogs tore my tires apart while I was checking my itinerary! I've had to hide outside in the boarding equipment! Eating garbage to survive! Moving every night to keep one step ahead of the dogs!"
"Where's Zoey," asked Burns.
"I don't know, wasn't she like a computer or something in this canon? These fanfics suck anyway, just let me on the plane!"

In the background, a faint trilling of wild dog calls could be heard and Richard scrambled up the stairs into mhoran's cabin. Over the next few minutes, others began to arrive and load into the plane as well.

"Jared!?," shouted Burns. Jared had just arrived, looking angry for no reason.
"Hey, great to see you guys!
"What are you doing here?"
"Well, I—
"No, I mean what the fuck are you doing here, you weren't invited! Neither were you," finished Burns, who was eyeing Lauren.

Lauren had just arrived dressed in some kind of slutty pilot attire. "It's fine, I'm just glad to see all of my great friends. Plus I'm pretty sure Jared is going to get torn apart by sharks," interrupted mhoran. Burns nodded in approval. "All aboard," announced mhoran. "Next stop, Wedgemere," agreed Fred. But after they were all boarded, everyone began to wonder aloud where they should fly to, and there were some arguments as suggestions began to float around. "I got a great deal on Amazon Prime," shouted Dickie above the din.

"I want to go to Ireland. We can fly over the Irish Sea," offered Lauren enthusiastically.
"Well actually," began Robert, "it's technically the Celtic Sea, and based on our trajectory from the United States, we'd probably mostly be flying over—"

Lauren removed a small capsule from her handbag and swallowed it. She promptly collapsed to the floor and began to convulse, dying within minutes. "Hey, I don't think I got one of those," Jared trailed off as he sifted through the contents of his european carry-all, looking down at Lauren and then back up at his bag intermittently. "I don't understand sarcasm.. was she being sarcastic," inquired a melancholie Robert, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Hey, let's go visit Resig in Japan," offered Hoydis. They all readily agreed. "Yes, Resign who should come back to IRC and hang out with us again, and engage us in witty banter," said mhoran, looking directly at the camera.

With a WHOOOOOOOOSH the plane took off for Japan. The flight was smooth flying through and through, and the wonders of the boundless skyscape dazzled the passengers and mhoran alike. Sky-whales, pods of sky-dolphins, a flying but poorly-written city called Columbia which imploded under it's own flawed premise as mhoran flew by.

But then mhoran and his crew spied something that they had never seen before in all their collective days cruising the skies. A majestic cloud city revealed itself to the plane, and sitting atop it's lush, cloudy landscape, seductive looking cloud sprites beckoned mhoran closer. As he approached, the passengers looked out in wonder.

"mhoran," announced one of the sprites. "We have heard tell of the physical majesty which is mhoran... 'rivals the gods on earth' they say. Now seeing you in person," her eyes trace a path along mhoran's fuselage, "I can see that they were most modest in their accounts."
"Cool, thanks," replied mhoran.
"We would like to invite you into our utopia of carnal pleasures, usually hidden from the eyes of mortals, to live among us forever as an object of pure, unadulterated worship. We would like to show you our many pleasures..."
"Oooo, how many pleasures," asked mhoran.
"Many," replied the could sprite, smiling an enchanting smile.
"Three? More than three?"
"More than three," she replied, with a slight frown. "It's a lot, is what I'm getting at. I'm implying that there would be so many pleasures, you would have trouble making a concrete list of them, both because you would find one or more new pleasures each day, but also for the secondary reason that the pleasures would be so intense as to disorient you. So keeping your faculties in such a state that you would have the attention for mundane tasks such as counting would be a difficult proposition. Does this answer your question?"
"Yes. OK I'm in, sign me up," answered mhoran excitedly, removing his sunglasses.
"GAY," shouted Burns from first class.
"OK. Before we can accommodate you, I'm afraid you must free yourself of your passengers, as they every one of them are a blemish upon you."
"Time to go guys!" mhoran popped open the cabin door and tilted himself to the side, shaking in an effort to dislodge his passengers.

The passengers all tumbled from the plane. However, as they fell, they felt no ill will towards mhoran.

"I hope I have time to leave a 5-star review before my body impacts with the sea, instantly killing me!"
"Thanks for the ride mhoran! Brunch in the next few minutes?"
"Knowing mhoran has increased my net worth! I'll leave a great legacy for my loved ones!"
"Wait, is this sarcasm? I don't understand sarcasm!"
"My grandmother's ample bosom thanks you!"




As Jared fell, he was beside himself when his skirt eventually caught the wind just right, filling with air and acting as a parachute to slow his fall. "Oh man, I... I think I'm going to make it! Sure, I'll be adrift at sea, but maybe a passing ship will see me and pick me up! There's at least a chance that I'm getting out of this alive, and I've got to stay positive!"

After a few minutes of falling and silent contemplation, he continued to himself, "If I get out of this safely, I swear I'm going to turn my life around! I'm going to become a writer like I always wanted, take up yoga again, get my passport and see the world! And I'm going to find someone wonderful to share my life with! Watch out world, there's a new Jared coming, and he's going to be awesome!" As soon as Jared gently touched down into the water, he was torn apart by sharks.