«

[Fubb]

Yes Yes...

"Fubb makes art?" You ask?

Actually more people would be asking "Who the Hell is Fubb?"



Yes, i make Art, not good art though, just random, seemingly enjoyable pictures that can be created in little to no time at all!

What were you expecting Halinder or something? Screw off!

So sit back, and wait for me to post things......I am bad a MS Paint so dont expect special things.....

I shall use my scanner, providing it doesn't explode when I turn...

So prepare to WAIT to be ASTONISHED!!


....
Yes...it is a Zombie



Yayyyyy.....

I can't seem to get the picture to load....either that or its not showing for me...

instead, go here, thats the picture i want you to see

http://bp0.blogger.com/_oAywFlAJHp0/...-h/teshirt.jpg

[Halindir]

Originally Posted by Fubb

What were you expecting Halinder or something? Screw off!

D: *Halinder screws off*


8D the zombies pretty sweet

[Dave]

But that's nice Fubb!

[Fubb]

KeeeYIAAAAAAAH!!



Gosh it's kinda big, how can i make it smaller? Man, i dont like the resolution. Im pround this was completed in paint, even though it seems quiet somple.

This is one of the characters for my Comic-in-Progress called "Urban Something"

If the picture doesn't appear, go here

http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oAywFlAJHp...h/CROWFubb.bmp

[_r.u.s.s.]

your crow is surrealistic

[Fubb]

As i am at school i can't risk being caught on Abandonia, but heres a quick pic i made....quickly! Shara laughed....

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oAywFlAJHp...fatpotatoe.jpg


Until i learn how to actually insert a picture without it being a little square with red 'x' in it, then you'll have to keep clicking the links to my images...

I also put some of thems on Deviant Art, though i dont like it as much

[Fubb]

Fubb ish back, with new art, but this time, the art is...

LITERATURE!!!

I had to write a short story for school about '3 wishes', but went through an un-creative block (and ironically, im the best in the class :\ ) and made this.

Well i suppose it is 'creative' in an un-creative sort of way...if you write, then you konw what i mean.

Meh. Whatever.
.
..
Here:

(it's 10 pages long)

Red wishes for Red
By Zac

Red peered through the window of the cell, staring down at the central courtyard below where some of the prisoners were exercising. From here, they looked small, innocent and weak. Up-close however, they were strong, huge, well built serial killers, psychopaths, rapists, pedophiles and maniacs. Red himself was a killer.
If he had known he wouldn’t have gotten away with the killing of the police man, and detective, without the leader of his gang getting caught and ratting him out, he’d still be in Longbeach, California. Those weren’t the only two he’d killed; only the ones he got caught for.
The year was 1995. Two years ago in 1993, racism sparked up in Longbeach, and he, being Lebanese, joined a gang of other Arabic people from the regions of Syria, Jordon, Lebanon, and Egypt. They didn’t allow Jews in though. Palestinians and Jews didn’t have a friendly history with each other, especially since the Jews took the Palestinian homeland after the Second World War.
It was a hot day, in Longbeach those two years ago. Their gang, one they never really got around too naming, had built their ‘turf’ on two city blocks in downtown Long beach. In one of the alleys they found a closed down Café from the 50s that couldn’t be accessed from the front unless one wanted to break down a lot of wood and metal. They made this their head quarters, and from the café ran a small drug dealing and prostitution ring. Just a month after they made their headquarters, a Jewish café was opened a couple of blocks away, on ‘turf’, which belonged to another small gang (ironically enough, a gang heavily populated from either people from Israel, or Jews).
Of course the racism and hatred was large, and the Palestinian gang just had to scare the Jews, so, Red, whose real name was actually Abdul Gyrate, tagged along in the station wagon as his gang members opened up on the shop with pistols and sub-machine guns. three people in the shop, none of them Jewish, were killed, and four injured. Only one of the injured people was actually Jewish.
After the attack, the FBI waltzed into the picture, trying to solve this ‘Whodunit’ case.
In no time at all, the FBI was hot on the trail of the gang. The detective in charge of the whole operation, an Italian named Vicktor Contello, had a forensics scientist working nonstop, and cops cracking down on the drug dealers and pimps of the gang. Within a month after the café drive by, half the gang was in custody, and the other half, Red being one of them, were in danger of being found out. The boss decided one day that Vicktor had to be dealt with.
Red tagged along with another gang member and instead of killing Viktor like they hoped, Red and his counter part ended up opening fire on the one they assumed as Viktor and his wife, only finding they actually killed a middle aged couple, nurturing one child in college and two in the city here. The mother was the one Red killed.
The second hit which Red also took part in was not on the detective, but on the forensics man. It was to be a simple drive-by, had it been that they actually hit him and not his teenaged son and wife.
Red had hit the son.
By the time they actually did get the correct hit in, there were only three gang members left: Red, the Boss, and a guy named Mold. The Boss had had all of them stay at his cousins house, whom he was house sitting for. Little did he know, the police followed him there, Vicktor had them move in, and what Viktor had hoped to be a valiant last stand turned out to be a flop, that had Red killed Viktor and a cop as they raced into the building with a SWAT team, the boss getting captured, and Mold and Red performing a successful ‘Run like hell from the cops’.
Both Mold and Red were in custody before the end of the week.
Mold, before appearing for trial, hanged himself in his cell using a belt and a chair.
Red thought he could get away with it, before finding out it was his boss that ratted on him. He was charged for the murders of Vicktor Contello and Martin Harley, as well as being under suspicion for the murders of 16-year-old Aaron Keenes and 43-year-old Angela Jacobson.
His boss got him good.
40 years to life, he ended up in some state prison somewhere in California, waiting until he was in his 60s before he could get out.
“Stop staring out there.” whined his cell mate, a guy known only as ‘Creeper’ for his amazing skills in being able to creep around unnoticed, which had also made him one of the most notorious killers Canada had ever known, as well as California when he somehow got over the border, “You’re blocking all the light.”
“Sorry,” mumbled Red as he turned away from the window and began to walk back to the bunk-bed.
“What time is it?” asked Creeper turning to the clock on their wall, “Mum never taught me how to tell time.”
Red sighed. He sometimes wished the notoriously named man didn’t have a notoriously bad intelligence. “Just after 2:30, in the afternoon.”
“Two!” cried Creeper, “I’m starving! Not that the grub they feed us here is any good anyways.”
“No kidding…” Red sighed as he acknowledged the high pitched squeaking coming from under the bunk bed, “Oh no, another mouse.”
“Every friggin’ day, every day!” whined Creeper, “Why don’t the guards just kill the mice?”
“They probably hope we’ll get pneumonia and drop dead, so they don’t need to do it themselves.”
“Don’t we have insurance to cover this?”
“I doubt we get coverage for making others get money from the same insurance company we have.” Red sighed, looking under his bed for the mouse, “Not to mention- Ah!”
Red pulled back, swinging his feet wildly as the mouse, a little snow-white one with bright red eyes, went flying through the air of the cell, bounced off the wall and landed on the floor. It ran out of the cell, dodging Creeper’s shoes as he chucked them at it.
“Stupid damn mice!” shrieked Red, ignoring the curses and moans of other prison mates as they awoke from their afternoon naps, “I hate them!”
“What we needs is a mouse trap and some cheese!” replied Creeper.
“What ‘we needs’ is a club and the cell door to open!” moaned Red, “I wish the door was open.”
His speaking was greeted by the loud squeaking of rust on greased metal, as the cell door clanged open. All the prison mates were at their doors as well, staring out at them, obliviously wondering how the door had opened when the only guard patrolling the block wasn’t near the console that opened cell doors.
Creeper stared at the door with a queer expression on his face, before finally speaking, “Guess the guards want one of us?”
“No…it doesn’t seem like it…” Red replied as he crept through the open doorway, watching as the patrolman banged his nightstick against a different cell. “The only blue on the block doesn’t even know what we’re doing…”
“Well, we’re out aren’t we?” questioned Creeper as he simply waltzed out of the cell into.
In no time, all the other prisoners began to yell at Red and Creeper, screaming curses and insults as the guard turned around and noticed the two.
A loud, high pitched squeal came from the guard whistle as he raced to the alarm, which, evidently was near Red and Creeper.
“No!” cried Red, “Stop him!”
As smooth as a machine, Creeper jumped into action, racing along the causeway that connected the block together with every cell, and in no time, reached the guard and threw himself at him. The guard hit the wall with a ‘thump’ and slid to the floor unconscious.
In not time Creeper had the M9 Beretta removed from the guards holster and in his hands, taking a spare clip from its belt.
Just when Red gave a sigh of relief and thought they were safe, three guards appeared with Beretta’s drawn, pointing towards Creeper and Red. One of the guards, a new one with an itchy trigger finger, opened fire, unloading an entire clip of 15 bullets towards the pair.
Both Red and Creeper hit the floor with hands above their heads as bullets pinged off the metal and engraved themselves into the walls all around them. In the time it took the guard that fired the shots to reload, Creeper had retaliated with five shots. Two missed, one found its way into one of the guard’s hips, and the other two drove themselves into the new guards chest, dropping him instantly.
The last guard looked at his dead comrade, then back at the wounded one, then turned the other way and ran out of the block, leaving the wounded officer to fend for himself.
He fended quiet well; he unloaded a clip towards the pair of escapees, narrowly missing Creeper and grazing Red in the hip. As he continued to shoot after he reloaded, Creeper made his way towards the downed cop. As he was reloading his third clip, Creeper put one right in the back of his head, ceasing his radical shooting
“Damn it!” cried Red as he stared at the two dead cops, then back at the unconscious one. Course, the formerly unconscious one had now successfully reached the alarm, and before Red could inform Creeper, a cacophony of sound exploded all around the block.
Red lights flared from the emergency systems, and guards began to pour towards Creeper and Red, some with gas masks on, obviously meaning they were going to launch canisters of tear gas towards the escape artists.
Diving behind a board, Creeper stared at Red, shocked. “We can’t fight them!”
“No, I know!” replied Red as he darted back to his cell, to use the corner as cover, “We gotta do something. I wish we had a way to kill all these guards!”
Suddenly, a chill seemed to run through the entire block. All the prisoners faces turned white for a second, then twisted in a swirl of fear, astonishment, and shock.
The pistols, the ones from the two dead guards, suddenly flew up into the air, guided by an unseen force…
…and began to fire, fire at the guards. Red couldn’t believe what he saw. It was like something out of a dream, no, a nightmare, guns guided by unseen, possibly ghostly beings doing exactly what he had wished for a moment before.
“Wished…” he muttered to himself as he watched as 3 guards dropped to the floor. A clicking was now coming from the guns, symbolizing they were out of ammo. It didn’t last long. Spare clips attached to the belts of downed officers floated up ominously to the pair of floating guns, and they reloaded.
To the guards’ further dismay, all the other guns from dropped officers began to lift too! Even new arrivals at the scene of the crime were horrified as the guns they wielded lifted out of their hands with little to no effort at all, flying away from them only to turn in the air and fire at them. The last things the guards knew was confusion, and fear as they were downed by an invisible, unstoppable force.
Red almost thought it was funny, watching as all the guards ran about trying to stop the inevitable. Actually, he thought it was hilarious, the slaughter they were furthering to themselves. He couldn’t contain himself. Soon, the prison was filled with his wild cackling, rebounding off the stone floors of the lower quarters, the metal quarters of the formal prison, and any other material the prison was made of as it continued to make its way into the deep crevices of the prison.
The guards began to retreat as Red continued his sickening laughter, watching them run and fall, as the walls were painted red with thick blood. Deep pools were created as the blood poured in from every which way from the downed guards’.
Prison Warden Mikial Verenove watched uneasily as his prison guards retreated down the hall, staying at corners to shoot at the floating firearms. Of course, he was unaware of it. He just thought it was an out-of-control prison riot.
Punching a number nervously into his phone, he breathed a sigh of relief as the Police Chief came on the line. After arguing about the situation for what seemed like ages, he finally sold the idea to the chief when he lifted the phone to the hallway, letting the sound of distant laughter, gunshots, curses, and screaming fill the receiver. With a satisfied, “thank you,” Mikial placed the phone down, and unholstered his fire arm, staring out the door as his men continued to be pushed back…
At the same time, the gunshots began to become more distant and less frequent as the guns floated away throughout the prison. Only three remained floating above Reds head as Creeper watched them wide-eyed, bobbing up and down, guarding the hallways leading to the block.
Suddenly, from one of the hallways, Red could hear screaming and the sound of running coming closer. A guard emerged from the hallway, before veering sharply towards the left, sadly, to slow. He was cut down in a barrage of bullets
In the barrage of bullets, the Computer Console that controlled the prison cells doors on the block was hit. Sparks flew out of it as it fizzed and smoked, and the smell of burnt rubber wafted into the air.
Then, with a loud screeching, all the doors of the block opened, as the prisoners raced out. Red barely dodged a fist racing towards his face at high speed, as Creeper fired off the remainder of his clip into a small crowd.
Why the prisoners were attacking them was beyond Red. He just assumed they were angry at the fact that he and Creeper would have probably escaped without them.
The bullets seemed to do little at making the crowd smaller, even though three of the prisoners dropped to the ground, writhing in pain. With satisfaction, Creeper reloaded as he ran to Reds side.
“We gotta get outta here man!” he said as he began to fire at the prisoners, shooting five shots. “There’s too many of them!”
Red barely heard a word. He was too busy pondering about an epiphany he had just experienced. Recalling the happenings of the day, he tried to notice anything unusual, or out of order that put him into this situation that had coincidental outcomes to whatever he had…
…Wished for.
No…wishes aren’t real Red thought to himself as he stared around him at the dead bodies, floating fire arms and Creeper looking around for a new clip of ammo, as he was now out. The prisoners were closing in on them.
“Wishes…Hm…” he began to think out loud as he continued to ponder, “Had breakfast…exercised…sat in the cell…touched that…mouse…” he stopped. “No…a magic mouse? No. Well this certainly cannot be blamed on coincidence, can it? Floating guns for Gods sake!” the prisoners were now getting ready to pounce on the two. “Well…I wished the door open…it opened…wished the cops would die…and poltergeists snuck into here…” he finished as he stared around at the floating guns. The prisoners were now running towards Red and Creeper.
“Lets hope this works!” He shouted, “I wish the guns would kill everyone!”
For a moment, nothing happened. He felt let down as Creeper seemed to give him what someone would call, a “last” puzzling look.
And then, something happened.
The guns swiveled around and began to fire at the prisoners, cutting them down as they gave off the pungent smell of gunfire and blood. This was Red and Creepers cue. Both of them bolted down a nearby hallway. The walls quickly changed from metal to rough red bricks, showing how old the prison really was.
The smell of gunpowder disappeared, and a new smell, that of dust and mold, crept into their nostrils as they hopped over dead bodies and raced past a sign, not noticing the large red words, “GENERATOR ROOM.”
They raced down a flight of steps, and emerged into a spacious room, full of fuel barrels and the smell of oil. A large electric generator lit it with a pale blue light. It was extremely noisy, and they had to yell to hear each other.
“Where are we?” screamed Red at the top of his lungs.
“You tell me!” came the shrill reply from Creeper.
“Must be some sort of engine room or something, the thing that powers the prison, you know?”
“Sure…” said Creeper as he walked over to the doorway. Suddenly, he screamed as he stood clearly in front of it, bullets shredding his body into red strings as his blood and innards were plastered onto the walls and floor.
As the ominous floating firearms of terror floated into the room, Red instantly realized his mistake of only moments ago.
When he and Creeper were being surrounded, and he made his wish to get rid of the prisoners, he didn’t say, “I wish the prisoners”; he had said, “I wish everyone.”
The mistake was realized too late. Shrieking, he backed up against the power generator as the guns floated closer to him. so close he could clearly smell smoke and gunpowder wafting from the warm barrels. He could only imagine his unseen adversaries to be smiling notoriously at his literal mistake.
Suddenly, he heard squeaking; of a mouse. Looking around the room as he neared the generator, he had to keep his balance from the spilled liquids on the floor. There! He saw a streak of white!
Wide eyed, he watched as the mouse emerged from behind some oil barrels, white, with red eyes. That was the same mouse! If he could catch it…
One of the guns cocked. He had no time. With as much power as he could muster from his shaky legs, he dived at the mouse. A moment later, shots rang out
Most of them hit Red as he flew through the air, but some missed and hit the generator, sending sparks flying through the air, landing on the spilt liquids on the floor and igniting a fast and raging fire. He began to scream like a madman as the fire engulfed him, and the guns floated away, rather their target died a painful and humiliating death rather then a quick one.
The fire continued to engulf the room as it neared the oil cans, and then…

By the time the SWAT team had arrived, they had found only half of the prison still partially intact. The explosion had been so great that it rocked the helicopters and trucks as they raced along the highway to respond to the calls for help.
No one was alive in the remains of the prison, it seemed. Any body that had survived the immediate prison riot had obviously died in the explosion. As news crews arrived on the scene, no one noticed a little white mouse, with red eyes, crawling out from underneath some rubble, not even the down-in-his-luck cameraman as it brushed against his skin…

[Fubb]

It appears my indents didn't..well...indent on here liek they were on word. Meh, ohwell.

Once again, not exactly 'art' persay, but go look anyways

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYu-CUO7lcA

[Fubb]

[IMG]URL=http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oAywFlAJHp0/SQctlF5csNI/AAAAAAAAANA/ViYy8n01H1I/s1600-h/DEEDREdbit.png[/url]

Hope that works, if not, go here: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oAywFlAJHp...DEEDREdbit.png

All meh stuff i put on ablog that i havn't used since i was like 10 but started using it again; http://snaged909.blogspot.com/

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oAywFlAJHp.../dedrabbit.png

The big Dead Rabbit one looks nice on an LCD moniter with a black background

[_r.u.s.s.]

Originally Posted by Fubb

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oAywFlAJHp...DEEDREdbit.png

you did that? that's awesome. do you have that pen?

Originally Posted by Fubb

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYu-CUO7lcA

communism never existed, it was fall of socialism

Originally Posted by Fubb

moniter

lool