Escape from Elba
Exiles of the New York Times
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Author Topic: Creative Writing  (Read 28731 times)
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BorisBartenov
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« Reply #900 on: June 08, 2007, 12:15:17 PM »

which isn't that hot, given that an iguana is a reptile and therefore cold-blooded.

Pug removed one of the papers from his clipboard, used it for a personal purpose, and then continued to ponder the mystery of marble tile tortoise design.   There was a certain tacky quality to the image that teased at his mind....

"Aha," he cried, joining the vast legions of great minds in history who had made that exclamation, or similar, while seated on a commode.  "It's the most insidious conspiracy of our time!  Wal-Mart!"

Pug knew there was only one way to stop such a sinister and inhuman enemy....



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"History doesn't repeat itself, but it often rhymes."
kitinkaboodle
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« Reply #901 on: June 08, 2007, 12:18:04 PM »

beat 'em to the punch with a Dunkin Donuts...
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whiskeypriest
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« Reply #902 on: June 08, 2007, 12:21:45 PM »

or better yet, make them pay benefits and treat their employees in a fair and equitable manner....
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desdemona222b
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« Reply #903 on: June 08, 2007, 01:45:30 PM »

given way to cheap mass marketing in hell holes full of bizarre freaks.

"So obviously the perpetrator got this tile at Walmart," thought Puglover as he shifted himself back slightly because the toilet seat was cutting into his keester.  "That rules out several hundred people, but it is a clue nevertheless."
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desdemona222b
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« Reply #904 on: June 08, 2007, 01:53:24 PM »

He took out his makeshift prison magnifying glass and peered closely at the logo, squinting to take in every detail.   He notice tiny printing just underneath the tortoise's anti-social head.
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desdemona222b
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« Reply #905 on: June 08, 2007, 01:55:25 PM »

He couldn't quite make out the first letter, but he could read the rest clearly. "_ ANUS" it read.

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kitinkaboodle
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« Reply #906 on: June 08, 2007, 01:56:53 PM »

"J" silly wabbit...
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desdemona222b
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« Reply #907 on: June 08, 2007, 02:36:16 PM »

said a voice from a dark corner in the room.

Puglover was so started that his magnifying glass and clipboard rattled to the floor.  "Who's there?" he asked, trying not to sound like the candyass he was.

"I really must apologize for my badder half," said the voice.  Pug could just make out a lumpen figure in the shadows. 

"I/we am/are a good tortoise," it continued to drone.  "I/we are patient in supermarket lines, and I/we do kind things for little old ladies."
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pugetopolis
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« Reply #908 on: June 08, 2007, 03:01:15 PM »

"Ah ha!!!" ejaculated Puglover. "That rings a bell!"

But what kind of "bell?" however was Puglette's next pecularly paranoid question, his conspiracy-consumed mind already starting to go Quaismodo on him, like it always did around beautiful gypsy women like Maria Ouspenskaya, hearing bells again in his belfry, sitting there on his throne, his bellbotoms down around his ankles, bells on his toes...
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“Other people's obsessions
are more often funny than tragic.”
—Vincent Canby, The New York Times
whiskeypriest
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« Reply #909 on: June 08, 2007, 03:02:27 PM »

iron spikes through his scrotum
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pugetopolis
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« Reply #910 on: June 08, 2007, 03:28:20 PM »

"Oh whiskeypeter, you're such a s/m queen. Nevertheless I shall always be one of your most admiring minions," scribbled puglover on a piece of magnolia-scented toilet paper getting ready for Ace in the Hole...
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“Other people's obsessions
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—Vincent Canby, The New York Times
desdemona222b
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« Reply #911 on: June 08, 2007, 04:29:04 PM »

The ill-defined shape finally emerged from the dark corner.  Puglover screamed in horror at the sight of Janus.

"Please, please," tutted the friendly head.  "I/we have no intentions of doing you any harm.  You see, my anti-social head has been sedated now.  I/we didn't know it/he/I was potentially dangerous.  I/we merely thought it/he/I was a loner.  Turns out, the brain neurons are fried through no fault of its/his/my own, but the problem has been remedied."
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desdemona222b
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« Reply #912 on: June 08, 2007, 04:32:28 PM »

"But why on earth would you/ya'll do something so nefarious as to drop a ceiling tile on the head of dear Chlotilde, who is possibly the wonderful woman on this planet?" shouted Puglover, outraged by the tortoise's non-chalant tone.  "Why, if I didn't love pugs so much, I'd ask her to be my wife!  And what were you/ya'll thinking when you endangered the life of that poor old creature floating in the pool?"
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pugetopolis
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« Reply #913 on: June 08, 2007, 04:50:42 PM »

SKANKY HEADLINES—SKANKY HEADLINES—SKANKY HEADLINES—SKANKY HEADLINES—SKANKY HEADLINES—SKANKY HEADLINES—SKANKY HEADLINES—SKANKY HEADLINES
Talk to the Newsroom:
National Editor Suzanne Blot


Published: June 4, 2007

Suzanne Blot, The Times's national editor, is answering reader questions June 4 through 8, 2007.

The New York Times and Urban Haiku

Do you miss the urban haiku forum in the NYC section? I do.
                                                                                       —Denise Dumbowsky, Seattle

Dearest Denise,

Naturally, we here at the NYTimes have always enjoyed your pithy poetry and way-out haiku, but really my dear, there comes a time to flush the toilet to all that. After all, that was then and this is now, honey.

Get your trip together, pug-poet and get in the groove baby. Maybe even some day we’ve invite you uptown for a podcast cubicle interview like we did with Lifelineschmuck and Ezekielschmiel!!!

Mickie is just dying to meet you.

The truth of the matter is that the NYTimes isn’t in the zazen business like the British and Japanese press—we don’t go for all that Basho stuff in the Big Apple. The Beltway whackos are bad enough.

So wake up and smell the coffee, asshole.

Have you thought about Opera or Crosswords perhaps?


« Last Edit: June 08, 2007, 04:57:05 PM by pugetopolis » Logged

“Other people's obsessions
are more often funny than tragic.”
—Vincent Canby, The New York Times
kitinkaboodle
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« Reply #914 on: June 08, 2007, 05:08:25 PM »

"Where were we"?  Gordon was lost, somehow confused by all the Wal-Mart schtuff that seemed to be accumulating, cluttering his space (where ever it is that he is).  So many unanswered questions!   Had Chlo recovered from her near-death experience?  Which of the two-tortoise heads made the wine choice for dinner?  Did anyone really love pugs? And can basenjis ever find their true voice?  And if they do, who shuts them up?
Once again Gordo turned to
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