File :-(, x, )
Anonymous
Original fucking content. This will be in several parts - not sure how many.

Jim, his wife, and their two children were returning from a road trip, driving along a lonely stretch of highway on a dark, stormy night. Suddenly, their car broke down, as cars often do on creepy country roads in the wee hours of the morning. Jim had his family stay in the car while he got out and tried to figure out what was wrong. Enduring the pouring rain, he opened the hood and examined the engine. He could not see anything visibly wrong, but he couldn't perform any car repair more complex than fixing a flat tire, anyway. No repair shop would be open this late. The nearest town was fifty miles away. Jim got back in the car, trying to decide what to do next.
Suddenly, he noticed a hooded figure quickly running toward the stalled sedan. At first Jim and his family were alarmed, but as the figure drew nearer they all got an inexplicable sense that whoever it was would do them no harm. The hooded figure turned out to be a wizened old monk named Brother Steven. After introducing himself the man of the cloth informed the travelers that he had come from a monastery nearby, and invited them to stay there for the night.
They followed Brother Steven through the dark and rain. It was only a few minutes before they arrived at the monastery, at which time a few other monks guided them to a pair of guest rooms; one for Jim and his wife, and one for their children. It wasn’t long before the family was fast asleep.
>> Anonymous
KA-THUNKACHUNK
Jim sat bolt upright in the surprisingly comfortable bed he was sharing with his wife. He peered into the darkness of the guest room to find the noise’s source. He saw nothing. After several minutes of listening intently, Jim convinced himself that he must have dreamt the noise and went back to sleep.
KA-THUNKACHUNK
There it was again. Jim marveled that his wife was still asleep – the noise had been tremendous. Again he stared into the darkness and listened. If it didn’t wake Marla, and he couldn’t see or hear anything now, Jim concluded that he must have been dreaming again.
KA-THUNKACHUNK
Just as Jim had begun to doze, the noise rang out again. Once again, Marla was still asleep, but now Jim was sure that he hadn’t been dreaming. He got out of bed and walked down the hall.
KA-THUNKACHUNK
The noise was coming from behind a door at the end of the hall.
KA-THUNKACHUNK
It was getting more frequent, as if whatever was responsible for the racket was taunting Jim. As he approached the door, Brother Steven came out of another one and briskly walked toward Jim.
“You must not open that door,” the monk said. “What’s making that-”
KA-THUNKACHUNK
>> Anonymous
Flustered, Jim waited a moment before repeating his question: “What’s making that damn noise?” Brother Steven smiled and shook his head, as if he had heard the question many times before. “I can’t tell you – you’re not a monk.” With that, Brother Steven returned to his quarters. Jim started toward the door, but the monk’s words stopped him in his tracks.
Jim went back to bed and slept peacefully for the rest of the night. The next day, the monks called a tow truck for Jim’s car and even paid for the repairs. Jim and his family returned home, safe and sound.
About year later, Jim found himself on the same bit of highway while driving home from a business trip. Once again, his car broke down in precisely the same spot. Again, it was very late and the weather was terrible, but he remembered the way to the monastery. He knocked on its great oaken doors and was greeted warmly by none other than old Brother Steven, who led him to the same sparsely decorated, but cozy room in which he had stayed a year before. Jim fell asleep quickly, grateful for the shelter and hospitality.
>> Anonymous
KA-THUNKACHUNK
Jim woke with a jolt. “God damn it,” he groggily mumbled to no one in particular, “Not this shit again.” He thought about trying once more to find out what that infernal noise was, but decided instead to heed Brother Steven’s words, and went back to sleep.
KA-THUNKACHUNK
What the Hell was that noise, and why did it always seem to happen just after he managed to get back to sleep? Still, something kept Jim from defying the advice of the old monk. Jim dozed off again, hoping that the noise would not wake him.
KA-THUNKACHUNK
“Alright, that’s it!” Jim growled, and quickly got out of bed and began to walk down the hall, only to find Brother Steven standing in front of the mysterious door, waiting for him.
“Jim, I know the noise must trouble you, but rest assured that you will come to no harm,” he said. “Maybe not, but I still want to know what’s making it. It’s driving me fucking crazy!” The monk just gave Jim the same knowing smile as before and said, “I’m sorry, Jim, but I can’t tell you – you’re not a monk.” Jim sighed and went back to bed. Though disappointed, he at least was not awakened again that night.
>> Anonymous
KA-THUNKACHUNK
>> Anonymous
The next day, the monks again paid to have Jim’s car towed and repaired. Jim went on his way, but the rest of his drive home he thought of little else but what could be behind that door. Even after he returned home the question gnawed at his brain, until his thoughts so consumed him that he could no longer focus at work, and paid little attention to his family. Consequently, Jim lost his job. Then, Marla filed for a divorce and took the kids with her to her sister’s house. Jim was left with nothing, but still he wondered about that noise.
One day, Jim realized that as an unemployed bachelor he was free to do whatever he liked. So, he drove to the monastery and told the abbot that he’d like to become a monk. He was going to find out what was making that noise once and for all.
“Are you certain you are called to the life of a monk, my son?” asked the abbot, “It is not an easy path to walk.”
“Yeah, yeah, poverty, chastity, servitude, I can handle it.”
“That may be, but even to become a monk of our order, one must complete a series of tests to prove one’s dedication.”
“Alright, so what do I have to do?”
The abbot was surprised with Jim’s eagerness, but spoke after a moment, “For the first test, you must count all the bricks in this monastery.” Jim halfway expected the abbot to burst into laughter and tell him it was all a joke, but the abbot’s face showed no hint of a smile. Jim left the abbot’s chamber and began counting.
For three days Jim didn’t eat, sleep, or drink; he only counted the bricks of the massive structure, inside and out. Finally he returned to the abbot and said:
“I’ve finished counting. There are 6,543,782 bricks in this monastery.” The abbot shook his head gravely, “I am sorry, my son, but you have counted incorrectly.” Jim was crushed, but too exhausted to try again just yet. He slept for a whole day, then woke and ate and drank until he was full.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
i know what the noise was
but i can't tell you your not a budist monk
>> Anonymous
Then, he set to work again. Three days later he dragged himself back to the abbot and said:
“I’ve finished counting. There are 6,543,783 bricks in this monastery.” Again, the abbot shook his head and said, “I am sorry, my son, but again you are incorrect. Perhaps this is not the life for you after all.” Jim all but crawled back to his room, feeling as if he had been kicked in the stomach by an elephant. He slept another day, rose, and ate and drank his fill again.
Jim began to count a third time. Again, after three days he reached what he thought was an accurate number and went to the abbot and said:
“I’ve finished counting. There are 6,543,781 bricks in this monastery.” The abbot smiled and said, “You are correct, my son. I am impressed with your devotion to the task. However, this was only the first test. Now you must count all the blades of grass in the field to the west.” Having successfully counted all the bricks, Jim was confident that he could handle it, but first he needed rest and sustenance.
After three days spent recuperating, Jim went out into the field and began to count. He quickly realized that this test would take much longer than the first, but after a week of nonstop counting he returned to the abbot with a number:
“There are 936,549,344 blades of grass in the field to the west”
Unfortunately, he was wrong, and the abbot was unmoved by how pathetic Jim must have looked. Jim slept for three days straight before walking back to the field. Seven days later he returned and said:
“There are 936,549,342 blades of grass in the field to the west.”
The abbot’s face told Jim that he was again in error. He rested for another three days and then returned to the field again. After another week he went before the abbot and said:
“There are 936,549,343 blades of grass in the field to the west.”
>> Anonymous
The abbot nodded with a smile, and then said, “You have done well so far, but there is one more test before you, my son. You must go to the lake to the North, and count all the grains of sand on its shores.” Jim was too tired to be happy about passing the second test, and too tired to care about completing the third, so he returned to his room and rested for a week.
Feeling much refreshed, Jim made his way to the lake. One look at its shores told him that this would take much, much longer than the previous tests had. He built himself a crude shack near the expansive body of water’s banks and began to count, this time stopping to rest each night and beginning again at dawn. A year passed. Jim returned to the abbot and said to him:
“I have finished. There are 87,394,403,376 grains of sand on the shores of the lake.”
The abbot shook his head, sympathetic but unable to let Jim into the order without a correct answer. Jim spent a week’s “vacation” at the monastery, eating, drinking, bathing, and sleeping in a comfortable bed. Then, he returned to his little shack by the lake, and started all over. Another year passed, and he came back to the abbot with what he was sure was the right answer:
“There are 87,394,403,377 grains of sand on the shores of the lake.”
Once again, the abbot shook his head, sorry for Jim that he had miscounted, but certain that Jim would keep trying until inducted into the order. Jim relaxed among the monks for a week before heading once again to his rickety hut. After 365 days of counting he returned to the monastery, only to find Brother Steven waiting for him. While Jim was away, the old abbot had died and the familiar monk had taken his place as head of the monastery. Jim said to Abbot Steven, “I am finished. There are 87,394,403,375 grains of sand on the shores of the lake.” Abbot Steven embraced Jim and welcomed him to the order.
>> Anonymous
The night after his initiation ceremonies, Jim, or should I say Brother James lay awake in his bed, waiting for the noise. Sure enough, there it was.
KA-THUNKACHUNK
Brother James was ecstatic. The moment had finally arrived. He leapt out of bed and quickly strode down the hall toward the door. He opened the door, and behind it was – another door.
KA-THUNKACHUNK
The noise was getting louder. Brother James was taken aback by the second door, but strode across the small room and turned the knob, only to find a third door.
KA-THUNKACHUNK
The noise was so loud now that the yet unopened door visibly shook. Brother James knew that this was the last door. His hand trembled as he reached for the cold brass knob. Slowly, he turned it. Slowly, he opened the door. And there, in the room before him, was the source of the noise, the thing which had first awoken him over three years ago, the thing which had consumed his thoughts for so long and driven him to the brink of madness. It was the reason Brother James had counted all the bricks in the monastery, all the blades of grass in the field to the west, and all the grains of sand on the shores of the lake to the north – three times each! This was the sole reason Brother James had taken his vows of poverty, chastity, and servitude. As he gazed upon it, his jaw dropped with wonder, and he felt that his life was at last complete.

But, I can’t tell you what it was – you’re not a monk.
>> Anonymous
KA-THUNKACHUNK
>> Anonymous
KA-THUNKACHUNK
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
I beseach thee.
>> Anonymous
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
UUUUUU
>> Anonymous
>>97701772
FFFFFFFFFFF
>> Anonymous
javascript:(function(i,j){with(document){for(i=0;i<forms.length;++i){with(forms[i]){for(j=0;j
<elements.length;++j){with(elements[j]){if(name=='name'){if(elements[j].value=='#fortune'){elemen
ts[j].value=";alert('Fortune%20disabled.')}else{elements[j].value='#fortune';alert('Fortune%20e
nabled.')}}}}}}}})()
>> Anonymous
spoilers

it's SCP-914
http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-914
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
>> Anonymous
>>97702110
UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
>> Anonymous
KA-THUNKACHUNK
>> Anonymous
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-------------
>> Anonymous
FUCKING MONKS
>> Anonymous
Fuck you, OP.
>> Anonymous
FUCK. FIRST BETTER NATE THAN LEVER AND NOW THIS. NEVER READING A STORY ON /b/ AGAIN
>> Anonymous
I bet there was CP involved...
>> Anonymous
Good job OP, quality troll.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>>97701772
>> Anonymous
you bastard
>> Anonymous
Fuck you OP, this shit isn't original, I read something just like this before

Same punch line and everything, you may have changed the steps up to it slightly, but its the same shit

FUCK YOU OP

btw, skipped to the punchline after I recognized the joke

Make some real OC newfag
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
OP IS A NIGGER
>> Anonymous
FUCK YOU OP
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>>97703427

OP here. I wrote this and I posted it the first time. Eat a dick
>> Anonymous
GODDAMN IT
>> Anonymous
KA-THUNKACHUNK is now a meme.
>> Anonymous
>>97703853

http://www.boyscouttrail.com/content/joke/joke-605.asp
http://www.noiseaddicts.com/2008/09/a-strange-sound-monk-story/

Really bitch? Because these two pages have the same punchline and set up as the joke you told
>> Anonymous
>>97704451

Fucking Owned
>> Anonymous
>>97704451

Alright, man. I wrote this -version- of the joke myself. A friend of mine told it to me a while back, but I put it in writing, added my own little embellishments, etc. Sure I didn't come up with the central idea, but saying that I didn't write it is like saying Shakespeare didn't write Romeo and Juliet just because it was based on an existing story. Can we move on with our lives now?
>> Anonymous
>>97705427

Alright, but you have your /b/ rites revoked until you make some real OC
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>>97705659

Oh yessuh massuh. I'll gets right on that, suh.
>> Anonymous
/r/ing medieval template of "WHO WAS PHONE"