Escape from Elba
Exiles of the New York Times
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Author Topic: Creative Writing  (Read 27037 times)
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liquidsilver
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« Reply #45 on: May 08, 2007, 10:28:05 AM »

prostitutes.  Filthy, hairy prostitutes.....
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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 #46 on: May 08, 2007, 10:30:50 AM »

...or...  Glenfiddich!  That was it!  The bottle of Glenfiddich that Nathan G. Cromartie had left!  I ran to the liquor cabinet and opened the bottle.  I took a long swig and tasted it.  there was no question that it was not Glenfiddich, but....
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liquidsilver
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« Reply #47 on: May 08, 2007, 10:33:36 AM »

a protein shake? 
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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 #48 on: May 08, 2007, 10:39:21 AM »

Suddenly, it all made sense!  Cromartie's friendship with the ballooning baseball players Ovid Dartiz and Giani Jason, the furtive late night trips to the ballpark, his nervousness about the feds.  But why did he leave the bottle with me?  There had to be something else.  Suddenly, the phone rang...
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liquidsilver
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« Reply #49 on: May 08, 2007, 11:29:01 AM »

"Hello, Pronk." the caller said.
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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."
Beppo
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« Reply #50 on: May 08, 2007, 12:29:21 PM »

"...Professor Knopfler has informed me that you can no longer be trusted...
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whiskeypriest
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« Reply #51 on: May 08, 2007, 12:36:55 PM »

since you do not and never have used performance enhancing drugs....
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whiskeypriest
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« Reply #52 on: May 08, 2007, 01:00:05 PM »

candy bars."  I laughed at the joke; Prof. knew me well.  "So what am I to do with...
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whiskeypriest
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« Reply #53 on: May 08, 2007, 01:40:18 PM »

Margaret Thatcher's naughty bits.  We call the black bird....
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liquidsilver
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« Reply #54 on: May 08, 2007, 01:42:12 PM »

'Jose Mesa' after the single greatest....
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whiskeypriest
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« Reply #55 on: May 08, 2007, 01:46:31 PM »

Useless Pile of Horse Excrement....
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« Reply #56 on: May 08, 2007, 01:50:35 PM »

ever.  Not to be confused with the 20th century baseball player who went by the same name.  Curious how the brain works.  Names like objects float across the mind when recollected even when the context is different.  Harold's youth had been a misfortune waste of time ingesting baseball statistical minutia.  As a school boy the other young lads called him...
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You know when, like, you're little, your dad, you think he's Superman. Then when you grow up and realize he's just a regular guy who wears a cape.
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whiskeypriest
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« Reply #57 on: May 08, 2007, 01:52:57 PM »

Jim Northrup, after his favorite baseball player, a....
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liquidsilver
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« Reply #58 on: May 08, 2007, 02:00:12 PM »

a magnificent shrub that grew to astounding heights until it was...
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« Reply #59 on: May 08, 2007, 02:23:00 PM »

the very same land of Jose Mesa's ancestral tribe.
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You know when, like, you're little, your dad, you think he's Superman. Then when you grow up and realize he's just a regular guy who wears a cape.
-Dave Attell
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