Escape from Elba
Exiles of the New York Times
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Author Topic: Creative Writing  (Read 27053 times)
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chauncey.g
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« Reply #30 on: May 07, 2007, 03:21:42 PM »

during the Mumbai Rib Fest where we find a Ms. G. Jones chewing on a water buffalo rib. Ms. Jones casually strolls through the row of tents occupied by the traveling artisans in search of Mufsteeka Kordilla, world renowned silversmith and...
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whiskeypriest
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« Reply #31 on: May 07, 2007, 03:24:43 PM »

part-time prostitute....
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« Reply #32 on: May 07, 2007, 03:32:55 PM »

...who fathered her long deceased daughter...
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"I hate listening to peoples dreams. It's like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I'm not in any of them and nobody's having sex, I just don't care."
whiskeypriest
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« Reply #33 on: May 07, 2007, 03:37:51 PM »

As the result of an unusual expirement involving three rubber bands, a Chevy Nova, and a bucket of elephant semen.
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« Reply #34 on: May 07, 2007, 03:47:28 PM »

As she wandered by several merchants, she noticed a dark, handsome lad that stirred....
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"I hate listening to peoples dreams. It's like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I'm not in any of them and nobody's having sex, I just don't care."
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« Reply #35 on: May 07, 2007, 03:49:52 PM »

both a bucket of elephant semen and something within her loins....
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liquidsilver
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« Reply #36 on: May 07, 2007, 03:54:09 PM »

...she could barely contain her excitement as she approached the man.  Suddenly, the man bolted, the bucket splashing gallons of warm goo all over....
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"I hate listening to peoples dreams. It's like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I'm not in any of them and nobody's having sex, I just don't care."
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« Reply #37 on: May 07, 2007, 03:57:26 PM »

her Prada pumps.  Damn, she said as she slipped on the...
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« Reply #38 on: May 07, 2007, 03:59:47 PM »

viscous fluid splattering the....
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"I hate listening to peoples dreams. It's like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I'm not in any of them and nobody's having sex, I just don't care."
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« Reply #39 on: May 07, 2007, 04:15:26 PM »

elephant semen on a female elepahnt standing nearby.  Now look what you've done, said the elephant as....
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« Reply #40 on: May 07, 2007, 05:11:15 PM »

"tying back my unruly curls.. by the way whats an elephant doing with rubberbands and a human voice?"  Ms. Jones could always tell when she was about to the victim of some prank. "Gloria? Is that you?"
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« Reply #41 on: May 07, 2007, 05:40:29 PM »

her Jumbo Mumbai Dumbo...
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« Reply #42 on: May 07, 2007, 10:21:58 PM »

...it had been the jewel of the dig, and the treasure they dared not yield to the locals, on prayer (thank god), and not reveal to the thus-cooperative University that had been waiting for much less...but this figure, this thing that the Professor immediately had hidden under his coat and which had interestingly enough brought on a bout of asthma that might get him past the usual shakedown upon leaving the dig, was exquisite even with the soil and tarnish, and we steadied ourselves with Scotch at the hotel soon thereafter, both out of excitement and perhaps even distrust, though I was not as scared of him as I should have been at the time, I suppose the avarice and greed that I saw in his yellow eyes told me we were of the same cut, for, and not against the value of priceless artifacts in as few as possible hands...

"You don't mind if I pull directly from the bottle, Harold?"

"No, I..."

"I'm afraid the glasses here are poorly cleansed..."

"...yeah, hand me the bottle and let's get a look at her..."
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« Reply #43 on: May 08, 2007, 10:18:40 AM »

"Stop! I can't take it anymore." I said as I slammed the book shut, "This book is full of nonsense, the prose absolutely absurd!"   And so I tossed that miserable piece of what I hesitate to call literature into the fireplace and watched its contents burn asunder.  As the flame devoured.... 
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"I hate listening to peoples dreams. It's like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I'm not in any of them and nobody's having sex, I just don't care."
whiskeypriest
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« Reply #44 on: May 08, 2007, 10:20:08 AM »

In Watermelon Sugar, the worst book ever written, I returned to the strange dream I'd had when the book had bored me to sleep.  It was trying to tell me something, something to do with elephants.  Or semen.  Or....
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