Escape from Elba

Books => Creative Writing => Topic started by: Admin on April 16, 2007, 08:50:46 PM



Title: Creative Writing
Post by: Admin on April 16, 2007, 08:50:46 PM
Post your own writing to be critiqued by your peers.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on April 28, 2007, 12:36:26 AM
I only knew Harold because the break of his pants was a little too long for the shoe, and tended to drag dirt behind.  He was here for the funeral, naturally, but I didn't want to look at him in the face:  He was my...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on April 30, 2007, 02:18:47 PM
... only direct link to Professor Russell whose death-bed grin turned up a bit at the corners the moment after I recognized the once familiar dirt dragging...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 02, 2007, 12:22:41 AM
...gait, as he dipped right, lurched abruptly upward left; teetered thus, stone sober, into the church with ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 02, 2007, 10:35:18 AM
...gait, as he dipped right, lurched abruptly upward left; teetered thus, stone sober, into the church with ..
..out his pants.  What the hell? he muttered, as the preacher reached down and grabbed his...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 02, 2007, 01:22:54 PM
... thigh scratching lavender robe.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 02, 2007, 02:45:22 PM
"Help a brother out, Father.", he cried.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 03, 2007, 12:47:29 AM
... That was when the preacher, gathering his robes, so as to move more quickly to the embarrassment at the door, nodded me to continue my studious meditation over the smiling dead man, leaving the two of us, at the casket, alone …


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 03, 2007, 10:15:47 AM
with a twelve pack of beer and somw sweet, sweet Columbian blow....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 03, 2007, 11:52:55 AM
yet utterly helpless, as our old friend, clearly deranged, pulled from his person ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 03, 2007, 01:15:45 PM
coffin.  We were surprised at the action of our friend, seeing as he was dead, but...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 03, 2007, 01:36:38 PM
sons of no one; bastards of young....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 03, 2007, 01:42:58 PM
virgins openly weeping over unrequited....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 03, 2007, 10:52:31 PM
... "So," said Professor Russell, interrupting my thoughts, "are you going to open it?  Or talk to yourself all day?" ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 04, 2007, 06:27:49 AM
"You think I would open it in your presence, sir?  What, pray tell, do you expect?"

"NO ONE expects a kind of....
Spanish Inquisition," Russell quoted, and grabbed the blow from my right hand and did whatever it is blow users do to use blow...*



*Note to self.  Ask someone about this.  Also confirm that blow is what I think it is before sending in man uscript.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 04, 2007, 08:07:19 AM
"You can expect major delays on the southbound freeway this morning...", Harold awoke in a foggy stupor and looked around the darkened room as the unfamiliar voice from the clock radio continued to report on the congestion and lane closures of various highways and streets the names of which he did not recognize.

He slowly climbed out of the bed and gingerly reached for the lavender drapes...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 04, 2007, 09:37:45 PM
... , knocking over ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 05, 2007, 09:24:06 AM
15 year old Glenfiddich ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 05, 2007, 05:46:39 PM
..., muttered a prayer ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 06, 2007, 03:58:17 PM
scrape some fresh spit from the hummingbird feeder.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 06, 2007, 04:39:38 PM
Russel, his old college professor, had died over two years ago, yet Harold could not stop the dreams from coming to him at night.  It was as if his guilt were telling him ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 06, 2007, 05:13:15 PM
that informing Russell's assistant about the missing artifacts from the Mumbai dig was more than simply a breach of confidence. He has since regretted his naivety, his lack of sophistication, but he trusted her judgement back then.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 06, 2007, 08:11:11 PM
... Sighing, Harold opened the Glenfiddich, saluted and sipped his morning once, imagining the small, still missing statue from that collection - Unrequited Virgin.   For Professor Russell and himself, ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 07, 2007, 08:38:14 AM
but he stopped short of removing the letter from the envelope and turned back to look at the return address again.

"Oh, God!" he suddenly blurted.

He recalled his last visit to the Red Swan. Professor Russell had sent Harold a cryptic message that led Harold to believe that his mentor-to-be was in dire straits. When he arrived at the hotel he found the door to Russell's room open but it was dark and empty inside. Harold heard a voice behind him...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 07, 2007, 12:22:40 PM
it was Mark Knopfler...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 07, 2007, 12:24:39 PM
it was Mark Knopfler...
Oh god, he thought, I am trulky in dire straights...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 07, 2007, 01:30:42 PM
Turned out Harold wrongly encrypted Russell's message and had appeared at the Red Swan a week early. Knopfler was quite understanding about the whole thing even offering Harold some free tickets for the band's next performance...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 07, 2007, 01:33:12 PM
...which, due to a lack of anything like any interest in the band in the last, oh, twenty years, was the third slot on Thursday afternoon at the Akron (Ohio) Rib Fest the weekend before Independence Day...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 07, 2007, 02:42:40 PM
Harold departed just as Knopfler was removing the bandana from his head and offering to sign it saying they still paid good money for this kind of stuff...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 07, 2007, 03:04:09 PM
in Mumbai...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g 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...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 07, 2007, 03:24:43 PM
part-time prostitute....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 07, 2007, 03:32:55 PM
...who fathered her long deceased daughter...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest 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.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 07, 2007, 03:47:28 PM
As she wandered by several merchants, she noticed a dark, handsome lad that stirred....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 07, 2007, 03:49:52 PM
both a bucket of elephant semen and something within her loins....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver 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....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 07, 2007, 03:57:26 PM
her Prada pumps.  Damn, she said as she slipped on the...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 07, 2007, 03:59:47 PM
viscous fluid splattering the....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest 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....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam 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?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 07, 2007, 05:40:29 PM
her Jumbo Mumbai Dumbo...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle 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..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver 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.... 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest 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....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 08, 2007, 10:28:05 AM
prostitutes.  Filthy, hairy prostitutes.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest 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....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 08, 2007, 10:33:36 AM
a protein shake? 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest 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...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 08, 2007, 11:29:01 AM
"Hello, Pronk." the caller said.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 08, 2007, 12:29:21 PM
"...Professor Knopfler has informed me that you can no longer be trusted...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 08, 2007, 12:36:55 PM
since you do not and never have used performance enhancing drugs....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest 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...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 08, 2007, 01:40:18 PM
Margaret Thatcher's naughty bits.  We call the black bird....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 08, 2007, 01:42:12 PM
'Jose Mesa' after the single greatest....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 08, 2007, 01:46:31 PM
Useless Pile of Horse Excrement....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam 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...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 08, 2007, 01:52:57 PM
Jim Northrup, after his favorite baseball player, a....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 08, 2007, 02:00:12 PM
a magnificent shrub that grew to astounding heights until it was...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 08, 2007, 02:23:00 PM
the very same land of Jose Mesa's ancestral tribe.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 08, 2007, 02:24:04 PM
....where Bush worship was simply one Useless Pile of Horse Excrement worshiping another.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 08, 2007, 02:28:33 PM
That was before the liberals came and....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 08, 2007, 03:35:52 PM
the dreaded second term, and the dark lord, appropriately nicknamed "Vice."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 08, 2007, 06:08:26 PM
They drank deeply at that complicit moment, trembling, admiring the black stone virgin, deftly crafted by Mumbai artist hands. Legend told of an object falling from the sky, as far back as the beginning of creation, pieces scattering everywhere over the sun god’s earth. Rumored to be white, the stones turned black, absorbing the people’s sins.  Some folklore revolved around rare souls finding, keeping bits or fragments, and, with strange consequences.. That a devaki idol had been sculpted from some lost piece of her meteroritic arrival was .. well, an astonishing anthropological find.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 08, 2007, 06:26:41 PM
'Hands', that is 'Mufsteeka Kordilla', or if you prefer, 'The Baron of Morangie' ... 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 08, 2007, 06:37:12 PM
.. was not a man you wanted to do business with.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 08, 2007, 06:53:57 PM
but nonetheless, there could be no doubting that his forgery would allow Russell ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 08, 2007, 06:59:15 PM
easy border crossing in India, Mecca, and Vatican City.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 08, 2007, 07:07:17 PM
And after Harold had naively informed Russell's assistant, there was talk of an Orthodox contact in Saint Petersburg.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 09, 2007, 06:01:45 AM
.. Mount Entoto, he too searching for the virgin who fell and scattered from the sky - on the Eucalyptus forest floor, at the peak of Ras Dejen, in the Blue Nile gorge.  A monk at Debre Libanos monastery had further information.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 09, 2007, 03:20:54 PM
massive elephant phallus.  Decoding it would prove....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 09, 2007, 03:26:18 PM
whet their whistle?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 09, 2007, 03:44:58 PM
Randy pachyderms and pious skeeters - Russell had had enough of them all. He pulled his credit card and two disco biscuits from his inside pocket. Gulp - that takes care of the boogying later on. Hipflask - Glug, glug, glug. Gone. He crashed it off the floor. Left trouser pocket for the showbiz sherbet and two lines later he was up for the next part of his plan. Poor Harold thought he'd done well with a half of viagra and a couple of joints of Moroccan hashish. Russell was disturbed by the trick he'd played on his buddy...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 10, 2007, 12:40:20 PM
the only place his mind would allow him access. He began cursing the
very essential and very recent circumcision he'd had to undergo in St Michael's. As he feared
his physical paranoia had trebled what with nowhere for the essential pulsations
to reside at and it became apparent rapidly that he was about to discover
not only his limitations as an archaeologist but more importantly his limitations as...
             


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 10, 2007, 01:07:26 PM
..a proctologist.  


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 10, 2007, 01:07:46 PM
ach, you beat me, nytempsperdu!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 10, 2007, 02:02:12 PM
nicked his catheter...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 10, 2007, 02:58:24 PM
ridiculed his tourniquet...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 10, 2007, 09:19:23 PM
...snatch the proctoscope, a rare 20th Century antique, from the wizened little doctor's hands.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 11, 2007, 06:14:39 AM
and call Downing Street to arrange an appointment with the soon to be Prime Minister Brown. Meanwhile Rector Polyps...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 11, 2007, 07:21:57 AM
Rector?  Damned near killed 'er!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 11, 2007, 07:34:01 AM
Mean John While was not a man you wanted to do business with...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 11, 2007, 08:36:50 AM
...and, although that could be said about most dealers in elephant semen, John was cut from an entirely different, and more menacing....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 11, 2007, 09:27:17 AM
bit of Salvation Army chintz...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 11, 2007, 11:42:44 AM
He bore a menacing scar under his left eye, his visage disfigured as a result of a.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 11, 2007, 11:44:29 AM
sword duel with Allen Swann, the noted...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 11, 2007, 11:49:46 AM
cosmetologist, who said that anyone who believes that 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder' is a......


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 11, 2007, 01:50:30 PM
part-time pugilist, full-time...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 11, 2007, 02:38:53 PM
grammar school janitor, his frustration with his lot in life often resulted in ....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 11, 2007, 02:42:52 PM
his spending days making meat loafs with a peculiar pungent tang, which came from the secret ingrediant of....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 11, 2007, 03:01:38 PM
the school cafeteria chefs in America.  Gubment cheese, it had been discovered in the early sixties, acts as both a binder and a powerful laxative.  


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 11, 2007, 03:02:49 PM
[note: it was supposed to be parrot.  "They put up some squawk!" - Rookie Carroca.]


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 11, 2007, 03:03:36 PM
You see the janitor was not just any old janitor, he was famous once, a regular....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 11, 2007, 03:03:48 PM
As it turns out, the part-time pugilist had befriended a pug-loving loser who


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 11, 2007, 03:04:45 PM
had spent five years in prison, for loving pugs, if you catch my drift...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 11, 2007, 03:21:54 PM
...fisticuffs taking on a whole new meaning in Sing Sing, where...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 11, 2007, 03:22:44 PM
prison was not kind to our pug loving friend.  When other inmates heard of his crime....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 11, 2007, 03:26:49 PM
and a butch Latinist read between the lines...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 11, 2007, 03:31:33 PM
he found himself the proverbial pug in a game of.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 11, 2007, 03:32:31 PM
Stick a rubber fist up a prisoner's anus....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 11, 2007, 03:39:58 PM
It is a common misconception...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 11, 2007, 03:46:35 PM
that prison is all about violence and abusive sex.  In fact, most inmates love to knit and....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 11, 2007, 03:50:31 PM
and make things with pipe cleaners to their hearts' content...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 11, 2007, 04:03:12 PM
And that is where our story begins.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 11, 2007, 04:05:16 PM
in the library at Sing Sing...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 11, 2007, 04:07:07 PM
where Puglover and his new friend Bruiser were contently holding hands as they...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 11, 2007, 04:16:36 PM
read 'A Midsummer Night’s Wet Dream'.  The prose moved Puglover to tears.  Bruiser tenderly wiped the tears from Puglover's eyes and whispered sweet..... 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 11, 2007, 04:19:58 PM
potato casserole recipies into the ear of his corpulent companion, who...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 11, 2007, 04:21:11 PM
simultaneously drooled and sweated......


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 11, 2007, 04:34:27 PM
a prison concoction playfully called "punkzbane" by certain wags who


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 11, 2007, 04:35:57 PM
spotted a gap in the state correctional rehydration market...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 11, 2007, 04:37:00 PM
It was distilled in prison cell toilets.  Not a particularly tasty beverage and it wasn't for the faint of heart but it did deliver a.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 11, 2007, 04:43:57 PM
free toilet roll with every litre purchased, plus...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 11, 2007, 04:44:30 PM
a powerful dose of e coli and stapholococcus.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 11, 2007, 04:47:47 PM
It was rumored that the warden was responsible for filtering the original recipe down through his guards as a means of keeping the prison population weak and.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 11, 2007, 06:51:04 PM
Meanwhile, the marketing geniuses who gave the prison world Punksbane faced a dilemma...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 11, 2007, 08:35:00 PM
BJs


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 12, 2007, 12:33:18 AM
Tinkle, pet rat and dear friend of Gordon, one of the quieter inmates who lovingly tended ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 12, 2007, 02:23:37 PM
...the Sing-Sing library vermin collection.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 12, 2007, 02:32:25 PM
Gordon had a certain air of pathos about him.  He was considered to be weird by the rest of the prison population, and of course he was completely innocent.  "Why me?" he thought to himself as he diligently swept up droppings in the library basement.  "Someday I'll find a way to break out of this hell hole!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 12, 2007, 10:15:36 PM
"Framed -- oh, yeah, I've been framed--" - Gordon snarled in the general direction of his last remaining rat and friend -- Tinkle's brother, Jet.

"All because a filthy little assistant knew that I knew where her precious professor boss hid a worthless statue .."

"Oh, yeah -- I'll break out of this hell hole, if it takes a riot or ..."





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 13, 2007, 01:05:13 AM
nasal sniffles.  Waiting' snot a problem, he punned.  At which point....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 13, 2007, 11:38:28 AM
he attempted to lift Jet from the table to enphlegm his fur (Tinkle swore by it) but there was something...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 13, 2007, 01:02:58 PM
...amiss.  Gordon couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the room had suddenly grown a shade darker and there was a sinister air about the place along with the stench of ,,,


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 13, 2007, 01:19:18 PM
punkzbane .. or was it .. no .. could it be ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 13, 2007, 01:22:59 PM
Getting a little jumpy, Gordon took a long, hard...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 13, 2007, 01:41:26 PM
Getting a little jumpy, Gordon took a long, hard...

swig of the punkzbane he had hidden in the toilet bowl, and clutched his head.

"Sometimes I feel I and Jet are mere pawns in the hands of some cruel author who considers himself God and has no qualms about toying with his characters in a heartless, meaningless way ..."  "Oh, God"  "Through some dim haze, I sense someone watching, is it the cruel God or gods?  Is it my cousin, poor old Harold, that dreamer and schemer .."





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 13, 2007, 01:42:36 PM
Gordon's jail cell grew darker still, and the stench increased, until ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 13, 2007, 01:48:13 PM
out of fear that he could smell a rat he began stroking Jet's furry head. "Who's a nice little rat...What's a decent little rat like you...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 13, 2007, 01:53:15 PM
out of fear that he could smell a rat he began stroking Jet's furry head. "Who's a nice little rat...What's a decent little rat like you...
\

spinning around in that little wheel I built for you at a time like this.  Listen up Jet -- you've got to help me come up with a plan -- we've got to get out of here but fast ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 13, 2007, 02:04:49 PM
...if only Aunt Gloria was here - she'd know what to do...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 13, 2007, 02:10:39 PM
...if only Aunt Gloria was here - she'd know what to do...

She used to scatter pearls of wisdom to Harold (who used to be the narrator) and me when he was a teen and I a child, mused Gordon, scratching his head, as if attempting to revive a couple of those pearls, the two of us eagerly awaiting the golden loaves of bread whose aroma filled the warm and cosy kitchen -- nothing like the aroma in here --.  "What are you doing Jet?"  "Whaaaa?"  Jet had bolted out of the wheel as if on fire and scampered using his tiny claws to the top corner of the jail cell ceiling, whereupon he began to gnaw in an apparent frenzy ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 13, 2007, 02:40:13 PM
Jet had spotted Bruiser sheepishly crawling out from under Gordon's bed. "What the hell...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 13, 2007, 03:09:50 PM
do you think you're doing here," shrieked Gordan, terrified.  "Why, you have no business stinking up my cell like this, and as for hiding under my bed!  What are you thinking?"

"I have a cunning plan,"  giggled Bruiser.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 13, 2007, 09:33:06 PM
do you think you're doing here," shrieked Gordan, terrified.  "Why, you have no business stinking up my cell like this, and as for hiding under my bed!  What are you thinking?"

"I have a cunning plan,"  giggled Bruiser.

"Oh?" said Gordon, with arched eyebrow.  (Jet continued his digging above ...)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 14, 2007, 09:13:42 AM
"We can get out of thith plathe,"  giggled Bruiser.  "I justh KNOW we can.  We need to create a diverthion, and I think I know justh how to it."  Bruiser's simpering mannerisms oddly mismatched his 500-lb., lavendar chiffon-clad bulk.  Gordan felt strangely alienated, but he knew he must force himself to consider any idea about escaping.

"Go on," he choked, trying to keep from gagging.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 14, 2007, 08:18:24 PM
but then, I never met a fiction I didn't like....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 14, 2007, 10:02:09 PM
.. or couldn't hope ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 14, 2007, 10:38:14 PM
Bruiser smiled, then lurched suddenly towards Gordon ("yeth" .. he whispered "thith ith the betht way ..") who slumped against the cell wall with a dead stare -- when suddenly, from above, a screech penetrated the sickly haze ... a peculiar screech that sounded almost as if a rodent had cried  "Eureeeka!" ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 15, 2007, 09:21:42 AM
,turned them out, danced the hokey cokey and shook 'em all about, with maximum confidence. But no Devaki. Shakes was held in such high regard that Professor Russell and Harold actually bailed out the evening prior to the discovery, realising that if the venerable Shakes was on the gates of the dig... 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 15, 2007, 12:56:45 PM
then so was his alterego, Alfred P. Hunchkin.  And that my friends is.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 15, 2007, 01:04:15 PM
is an intersting conundrum since many people thought that Shakes was himself the alter ego of Edward "The Ox" Devere, a sodomite and opium adict who....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 15, 2007, 01:05:19 PM
believed he once shaved Queen Elizabeth's back while.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 15, 2007, 01:08:30 PM
having a servant whom he was displeased with "commit suicide" by running into the point of hsi sword.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 15, 2007, 01:09:44 PM
Opium does crazy things to the brain, but so does....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 15, 2007, 01:11:27 PM
punkzbane, as well as elephant...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 15, 2007, 01:13:29 PM
itis.  You see "Shakes" was cursed with a debilitating case of this disease.  While some would call it a blessing, he felt burdened by his.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 15, 2007, 01:16:48 PM
engorged alabaster meatpole, which...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 15, 2007, 01:18:21 PM
surprisingly was the only part of him that never shook.   It seems that....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 15, 2007, 02:45:32 PM
doctor but his HMO wouldn't cover the medical expenses because .....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 15, 2007, 02:49:23 PM
HMOs are all heartless bastard assholes, every man jack of them


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 15, 2007, 04:04:36 PM
so instead he had to rely on home remedies and the Internet.  Among the more exotic treatments was....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 15, 2007, 04:27:20 PM
doing the chicken dance, with a live chicken and six...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 15, 2007, 04:29:12 PM
boys at a Bar Mitzvah.  The ramifications of which led to a serious case of.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on May 15, 2007, 05:42:20 PM
decrepid old women paid big bucks for one last look before


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 15, 2007, 06:14:09 PM
Shakes was led off in handcuffs and taken to ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 15, 2007, 07:24:23 PM
a surprise 50th birthday party where..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 15, 2007, 07:48:54 PM
gathered round were a bevy of ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on May 15, 2007, 08:45:56 PM
" Bo Didley, Bo Didley, How you can love! Bo Didley, Bo Didley, Stars up a above! You make my poor heart jump for ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 15, 2007, 09:29:41 PM
... jump for .. jump for .. jump for …

An old phonograph in the corner started skipping, and the gnomes and friend tweek revealed for the lip sync act they really were. 

But ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 16, 2007, 07:10:23 AM
Kingsolver having to appeal for calm via YouTube, seated majestically on the Ghanaian tribal stool...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 16, 2007, 07:32:58 AM
which made her distinctly more uncomfortable than she thought she would be, before they informed her that she had misunderstood the intended meaning of "stool" and, of course, the stench....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 16, 2007, 10:23:09 AM
which she post-polyp-op had missed, meant curtains for Treacle, her pet canary...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 16, 2007, 10:24:36 AM
who had keeled over, mine-shaft style, after mere minutes in the room with the Ghanian stool.  Meanwile, in a cave across town....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 16, 2007, 12:08:32 PM
a really lost pygmy set up camp for the night.  "Where am I?" he wondered.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 16, 2007, 12:19:14 PM
"If you build it, he will..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 16, 2007, 12:32:50 PM
come." said a voice from inside the cave.  The lost pygmy nearly fainted from fright but then thought to himself  "Wasn't that the line from that famous porno movie, 'Field of Creams'?" 

"Build what?" the Pygmy finally shouted aloud.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 16, 2007, 12:52:52 PM
"I want you to build an Ark."  the voice stated.

"Right!" said the pygmy.  "Whats an Ark?"

Unfazed, the voice replied, "Get some gopherwood build it 300 cubits by 80 cubits by 40 cubits."

"Right!  Whats a cubit?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 16, 2007, 12:56:56 PM
The Voice was not amused. 

After slaying the infidel, the Voice moved on to find a more suitable subject to do his bidding.... 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 16, 2007, 01:05:47 PM
But suddenly, four and a half miles away, in the apartment of a woman with nothing whatsoever to do with the story so far, a telephone rang.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 16, 2007, 01:14:04 PM
"I want you to build an Ark." the voice stated.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 16, 2007, 01:30:19 PM
"&^% prank callers," Yvegedev muttered as he hung up the phone, and turning, nearly tripped over a pair of gila lizards with a small pile of luggage.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 16, 2007, 01:32:38 PM
Yvagedev it seems was a woman one moment and a man the next -- an interesting conondrum or....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 16, 2007, 01:34:23 PM
a talking anus, communicating through its... 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 16, 2007, 01:38:59 PM
But in reality, he was merely answering the telephone in his girlfriend Magda's house.

"Excuse us" the Lizards said.  "We were told the cruise departs from hereabouts...."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 16, 2007, 02:08:57 PM
"It was merely answering the telephone goddamnit" the lizards thought on their way through customs but nonetheless where was the Russian Iguana? That contraption had a lot to answer for but the lizards were out of time. The boat to Mumbai...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 16, 2007, 02:11:15 PM
was about to sail, and the lizards were looking forward to their first visit to the scrupmtuous fly and gnat buffett that the brochures had raved about...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 16, 2007, 02:18:18 PM
The Lizards were shocked that the brochures were so badly misspelled, but they were captivated by the vivid imagery, including....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 16, 2007, 02:22:54 PM
...a huge ballroom with red velvet furnishings and faux-gold fixtures.

Once they began to board, however, Zippy had a tizzy when she saw there were a great many geckos on the voyage as well.  "Hoi-paloi", she muttered as Scales struggled with their suitcases.  "You're liable to see any sort on ships these days.  Thank God we have a cabin in first class."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 16, 2007, 02:33:57 PM
Oh god, it's our insurance agent!  Scales whispered sotto voce as a particularly vile gecko slithered by.  Hide or he'll try to sell us...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 16, 2007, 02:39:32 PM
another policy from Geico! 

Unfortunately, chameleons they were not, and the object of their disdain spotted them attempting to hide behind.....



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 16, 2007, 03:40:56 PM
cannibalistic iguana in the corner. 

"Well, hello there!" said Miles, "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Oh, hi," replied Zippy in an attempt to be courteous, "What brings you here?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 16, 2007, 03:46:55 PM
"I'm going on the cruise, idjit."  Dusty's mood softened.  "It's good to see you.  Perhaps during the cruise I could have the two of you over for lunch.  With fava beans and a nice chianti."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on May 16, 2007, 10:00:55 PM
out came Dusty's handy laptop, and on the screen popped up a


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 16, 2007, 10:34:59 PM
...screen saver with floating black stone Hindu figurines.

“Hey, what’s that,” said …


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 16, 2007, 10:35:19 PM
vivid picture of Gordon, with Jet on his shoulder, crawling through the fresh hole in the cell ceiling ..

He gasped .. "but ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 16, 2007, 10:36:59 PM
"Pay no attention to the Hindu figurines" the voice intoned ..



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 16, 2007, 10:42:10 PM
"Listen", said Dusty -- "one of those figurines might be THE figurine ..."

But then ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: incadove0 on May 16, 2007, 10:51:32 PM
... there was a loud shattering noise outside and the room began to vibrate as a blinding haze ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 16, 2007, 11:44:32 PM
thought back to a time of better days, when on the set of "Little Big Man", for a prank, he ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 17, 2007, 12:12:57 AM
...he pretended to be a surly bus driver.  What a laugh everyone had!  Ah!  Those were better times indeed.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 17, 2007, 12:29:47 AM
..  "better times" .. thought Dusty, with a sad smile, .. "but then everything had to change, didn't it, when..." ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 17, 2007, 05:54:41 AM
that bastard Bush got elected, or rather, fraudulently appointed....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 17, 2007, 01:02:30 PM
and then if that British narcissistic chihuahua hadn't got his balls all mixed up...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 17, 2007, 01:11:32 PM
that the radio dj play "Misty" for them...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 17, 2007, 03:53:45 PM
you now get to feel Lucky...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 17, 2007, 04:44:21 PM
pulling Lucky over the coals...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on May 17, 2007, 06:57:05 PM
the next episode of Enterprise where he was so smitten by Topall that he ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 18, 2007, 06:37:38 AM
inadvertently blurted out the real truth behind the Devaki figurine. "In the 6th century BC a small comet hit our planet at Mumbai. It was from the previous universe."

"He said this with a straight face?", asked his fellow inmate.

"Yes. That's what he said."

"Buster, be very still. Can you hear that?"

It was the unmistakable sound of rubblegnaw.

"There it is again."

Both inmates turned towards the lower corner of the cell where Buster's latrine stood guard.

"It's coming from over there."

Cut to the exercise yard

"And out popped a small sharp pair of teeth attached to the unmistakable pink gums of a river rat. There's a big hole down there now and a lavender clad chiffon hulk with an exit strategy..."

They all looked at Buster in stunned disbelief.

But it wasn't long before...









Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 18, 2007, 04:21:32 PM
"Praise be the sharp teethed vermin that delivereth us from our shackles!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 18, 2007, 04:29:11 PM
Suddenly, a high-pitched, lisping voice intoned, "Listen to Bruither and you thins sthall be cleanthed and you sthall ethcape!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 18, 2007, 04:33:39 PM
Buster spun around and saw a black duck of indeterminant breed wearing the type of striped prison clothing that only existed in 1930 Jimmy Cagney movies....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 18, 2007, 05:01:55 PM
"Yes," the evil Lord Luvaduck snarled, "it is I."  The room appeared to darken, as if through some really cheap lighting effect in a bad regional theater.  "You have fallen into my trap!  Prepare to..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 18, 2007, 05:52:25 PM
Paris Hilton, which...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 20, 2007, 09:52:05 AM
"Phew - that was close!" an inmate cried. "The gnome is close at hand!" shouted another. And sure enough...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 21, 2007, 01:54:51 PM
...the chain gang at Sing-Sing heard of the miracle.  "If only we could convince the Hiltons to drop a structure on this dump," cried Puglover, slapping his hand with his fist in futile frustration.  "I have a new lady waiting for me on the outside - she's a beautiful color and I adore her soft brown eyes...."

"But the structure descent will kill us all, you fool!"  shouted Gordan, stroking his newest pet, Nasty.  "Please give us all a break and refrain from sharing your perverted fantasy life with us!"

"Look who's talking, rat-sniffer!  I'll teach you to call me a pervert!" growled Puglover.

"Boyth!  Boyth!  Thtop thith foolith nonthense!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 21, 2007, 03:59:16 PM
"Who's fooling around? This is serious business. Thirty days in the hole ain't my idea of foolish nonsense!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 21, 2007, 04:32:56 PM
A cry of "Dead man walking!" stopped the argument.  Puglover peered through the bars of his cell.

"Guess it's Aruthnot's time," he said.  "Wonder if they know he's..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 21, 2007, 06:22:04 PM
finishing other people's trains of thought for them.  'When did they start to think of doing that' he wondered in his zombie brain.  Then he wondered if zombies had brains.  And if he had a brain, then was he not


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 21, 2007, 07:31:58 PM
 alive and human and in some sense, A.O.K.?  But meanwhile, Puglover moved towards Gordon, snarling, and raised his knife menacingly in the latter's face.   Nasty, a red-eyed albino ferret, (known to Gordon as "Felicity" - but to the others as "Nasty"), lept from his master's shoulder directly onto Puglover's face and attached himself to Puglover's nose with his small fangs.

Just then, the silence (and several sets of eardrums) was shattered by a ...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 21, 2007, 09:28:54 PM
while Gottfried proceeded to do what he does best ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 21, 2007, 10:33:52 PM
...annoy the pee-doodley punk out of anything that can hear or feel vibrations in the known universe.

But I digress, Dear Reader.  There they all were, man and beast alike, desperate beyond measure and...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 22, 2007, 12:18:09 AM
dropping his trousers and plainly displaying his inadequacies to all.  Gordon cuckled, "It looks like a penis, only...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 22, 2007, 10:28:41 AM
impetigo in infants and small rats....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 22, 2007, 11:14:42 AM
and a powerful sexual attraction to wooden decoys, though some physicians have derided this as a medical myth promulated by quacks who are out to...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 22, 2007, 11:16:28 AM
use junk science and wishful thinking to deny the link between greenhouse gases and global warming and...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 22, 2007, 11:19:25 AM
Rush Limbaugh's ass. 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 22, 2007, 11:23:16 AM
Gordon suddenly found himself wishing he had an ass cyst like Limbaugh did and could have gotten out of Nam too.  It would have saved him the recurring nightmares involving....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 22, 2007, 12:18:22 PM
...an encounter with a surly bus driver in Hanoi who


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 22, 2007, 12:20:55 PM
would visit him regularly in the "Hanoi Hilton" where the North Vietnamese kept him after he was....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 22, 2007, 12:38:39 PM
...caught running a large rat ranch near a Viet Cong camp for adolescent girls.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 22, 2007, 01:26:28 PM
"Oh God, will the nightmares ever cease?" wondered Gordon as he woke from a particularly frightening dream in which he relived what he like to refer to as "The Great Tragedy".  The Viet Cong has ruthlessly set out a fossil-fuel perimeter around the rat ranch (or El Rancho Ratso, as Gordon liked to call it) and set it afire.  The squeals of his beloved burning rats had traumatized Gordon for life.

Eventually, the anger and the hurt had built up in Gordon and surfaced when he ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 22, 2007, 01:30:53 PM
was visiting friends in southern Louisiana and came across Cajun Bill's House of Nutria....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 22, 2007, 01:47:29 PM
Rat.

Now Cajun Bill was a hard old bugger - born and raised in the epicenter of the Atchatafalaya Basin and meaner than a spitting cobra.  He had carved out a niche for himself in the nutria industry making beautiful fur coats from them and donating the meat to Clothide Boudreaux, local proprietor of Clothide's Bar and Cafe, where a free meal of nutria meat with rice and gravy was there for the asking every Wednesday night.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 22, 2007, 01:56:13 PM
It seemed that Gordon had innocently walked into Clothide's one Wednesday night after having seen the "Free Meal Tonite" sign.  The gamey smell didn't deter him - he had always heard that cajuns had a special way with culinary delights.

But when the waitress placed the steaming plate in front of him, the meat looked a bit strange.  It was dome-shaped with a ridge running down the middle.  Nevertheless, he was very hungry so he commenced to shoveling it in his mouth as fast as he could. 

"MMMMMMMM!"  he said.  "A gastronomical delight, Madame!  Pray tell what species of animals is this I'm eating right now?"

"POO-yi-YI!" cried Clothide.  "Dat ain't nuttin but some of dat nutria rat with a little bit of rice...."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 22, 2007, 02:06:18 PM
Suddenly, that rain-drenched June day in '68 was back on him; the smell of his beloved rats burning as the VC lit their fossil fuel perimeter; the ratcries that Gordon knew were pleas to him, him alone....  without thinking, Gordon went to gorund and pulled his knife, vowing to take at least one VC with him.  Unfortunately, there was no VC, only Clothide....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 22, 2007, 03:37:55 PM
whining, as usual, about her inability to pass the bar exam (third try).  Now, turning to me she pursed her bow-shaped mouth and asked for


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 22, 2007, 03:57:11 PM
at LSUwhen she and a gay friend of hers had taken turns at her boy friend, the captain of the crew team....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 22, 2007, 04:01:20 PM
even though there is no crew team at LSU.  Ah!  Those halcion days of sweltering heat and knee-deep water among the beautiful live oaks and spanish moss!  If only she could go back - back to the life she once loved...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 22, 2007, 04:08:35 PM
missed hula-hooping nude while singing karaoke in front of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 22, 2007, 04:14:39 PM
the crowd of drunken freaks at the local watering hole.

One terrible night, she found herself at an orgy with an overweight lesbian named Smokey, a "friend" by the name of Elaine, and three of the sorriest excuses for men she had ever seen.  She had innocently thought that the seemingly innocuous group had meant they wanted to smoke a doobie or two when they said they were ready to "party".  "Oh, me too!  Me too!" she cried enthusiastically.  "I love to party!!!  Do you live close to campus?"

"Ummmm, yeah, I do," said Smokey.  "Here, just get in the car with my roommate, Slick."

Now Slick looked peculiarly like a pimp in his rust-colored leisure suit and fake-fur fedora, but Clothilde was a naive girl.  "He prolly inspired by Shaft," she thought to herself as she climbed into the back seat of his Sedan Deville.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 22, 2007, 04:24:15 PM
"So, Clothilde" Slick said, "Do you like watersports?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 22, 2007, 04:29:52 PM
Slick shook his head, and even in her condition Clothide could sense his awe; his fear.  She looked to her right.

Ensconced in the back seat next to her was a fourth man, grey and black hair tumbling out over his collar and from under his low slung fedora.  "Are you a friend of Slicks?" Clo asked.

"Friend?  I wouldn't put it that way."  He pushed his hat back with a shaggy paw, and Clothide found herself face to face with the cutest cairn terrier she had ever seen.  "My name is Boswell.  Those who fear me call me Boz.  Learn to call me Boz."  The smile was charming, but there was clear menace behind it.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 22, 2007, 04:37:15 PM
She had heard of this "Boz" , read about him.  Seems that years ago he was involved with


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 22, 2007, 04:38:52 PM
...a slick lawyer-type from somewhere up Ohi-yuh way.

"Okay, Boz.  But tell me, does Smokey live within walking distance of campus?  Because I if I need to bail for some reason...."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 22, 2007, 04:46:31 PM
"There will be no bail.  There can be no jail." Boz growled menacingly.  "In for the fight, in for the funeral."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 22, 2007, 04:52:05 PM
"So are you sayin' our Smokey is just a lil' ol' pussycat, Boswell?" laughed Clothilde a laugh which quickly turned to awe when from underneath...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 22, 2007, 05:19:27 PM
the bright neon sign flashing overhead, a flaming bag-of-poo suddenly


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on May 22, 2007, 05:23:54 PM
flew in the car window and landed on Boz's lap. Immediate, the suave dog ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 22, 2007, 05:27:45 PM
hurled all of the chunky Alpo he had been sneaking (special diet be damned!)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 22, 2007, 05:32:21 PM
at a jogging iguana, who, it could be said...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 22, 2007, 05:34:37 PM
in preparation for her wedding had been desperately trying to lose those last 50 pounds or so


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 22, 2007, 05:36:50 PM
but who was she...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 22, 2007, 05:39:39 PM
still lovely, somehow familiar...what was it that stirred his memory?  Possibly...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 22, 2007, 06:02:15 PM
last year's Iguanarama in Tijuana, where his winklepickers...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 22, 2007, 06:10:58 PM
had overwhelmingly been trounced by the opposing


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 22, 2007, 06:29:23 PM
how does one trounce winklepickers?

The hit of the event, the Battle of the Bands, featured several talented groups:  The Lilly-Livered Lizards, Scaled One, and Flyeaters among the stand-outs...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 22, 2007, 06:33:41 PM
(A) gorilla in a wet suit with cravat and stilettos?
(A) jackal in a poncho plus codpiece and clogs?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 22, 2007, 06:36:10 PM
Two gnats, who witnessed the event, proclaimed it as quite simply...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 22, 2007, 06:40:13 PM
gobsmacking wonderous!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 22, 2007, 07:03:02 PM
"Boz was surprised at how well iguana sing," Elaine chuckled. "But his pinkowinkers - or whatever they're called - they ain't never seein' the light of day, never again, not even if...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 22, 2007, 09:50:04 PM
Aphrodite herself tries to winkle them out of him ..."

"Pssst!" -- Boz spun his head from the mess in his lap, twisting it to gaze in the direction of the region of his left shoulder where he'd detected a small hot blast of breath upon his neck.  "I busted out of Sing Sing" a black rodent with yellow eyes hissed -- "and I'm looking for Gordon -- "

Clothilde, meanwhile, had begun to squirm in anticipation of the evening's activities ...






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 23, 2007, 02:08:06 AM
...please, Madupont, more Vaseline...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 23, 2007, 10:30:32 AM
Clothilde said to her maid, as she applied petroleum jelly - she never used lipstick - to her lips.  Meanwhile, back in prison, Gordon....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 23, 2007, 10:36:01 AM
woke with a start from his nightmare of rats in a burning perimeter of fossil fuel.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 23, 2007, 10:37:17 AM
Covered in sweat and drool, Gordon said to himself....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 10:42:24 AM
"that was zen, this is Tao...?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 23, 2007, 11:01:45 AM
In his heart, he knew the answer to his own questions, hearing the quiet voice of the Eternal Hot Dog Vendor within his suffering soul.  He cried out to him, "Make me one with everything!"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 23, 2007, 11:07:50 AM
To which the quiet voice replied, "Who the hell are talking to?" 

And then the quiet voice gave him a swift kick in the groin.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 23, 2007, 11:20:53 AM
Who knew voices could kick, Gordon gasped out as he craddled his balls, now rapidly changing hue, and looked around for ice....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 11:23:59 AM
Within moments a knock sounded.  "Room service"!  Slowly opening the ratty door Gordon found


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 11:30:01 AM
that he couldn't, forgetting for the moment that he was STILL  imprisoned ...trapped...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 23, 2007, 11:31:15 AM
...like a rat in a burning fossil fuel perimeter.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 11:33:09 AM
Waiting for Zen and Tao (newest pirchers for the Sox) to


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 11:35:10 AM
...pitchers for the sox...yes, Gordon was having a moment.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 23, 2007, 11:51:47 AM
I didn't order any room service were the words he wanted to form but his brain was uncooperative.  Instead the only utterance he could afford was


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 23, 2007, 11:56:27 AM
Gort! Klaatu barada nikto!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 12:08:28 PM
This is Yak, which simply translated means


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 23, 2007, 12:53:20 PM
"Jose Mesa rocks!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 23, 2007, 01:06:44 PM
Good friend?  Gordon scoffed.  Jose Mesa is a Useless Pile of Horse Excrement.  In fact, his middle name is "Uselsspileofhorseexcrement."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 01:07:33 PM
Hosey may suck rocks, but he's still an ok guy....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 01:09:36 PM
Most good friends are the bestuselesspilesofdoo


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 23, 2007, 01:10:38 PM
hosey???????


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 01:15:08 PM
You know HOE SAY just about anything to score...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 01:29:52 PM
...a halfway decent pedicure?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 23, 2007, 02:47:18 PM
"I'm shocked!!! Simply shocked!!!" she said, looking around the room...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 23, 2007, 02:59:02 PM
“Surely there must be a horrible mistake! One minute I was in bed with lifeline and msussman—and the next here I am in the same sack with madupont and manure-face from Texas!” he gasped. And then the most awful thing in the world happened… 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 23, 2007, 03:07:50 PM
Mitt Romney was elected President....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 23, 2007, 03:56:53 PM
...and appointed George W. Bush Secretary of State.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 23, 2007, 04:02:48 PM
Meanwhile, back at Iguanarama, the recumbent Lounge Lizards lolled about in their silk pajamas and snidely critiqued every single lizard they saw.

"My Gawd, Maude!  Did you see that chameleon's vest?  Uh....excuse me, but have I gone through a time warp back to Woodstock?"

"He must think he's Roger Daltrey incarnate or something, the poor thing," she chortled with a supercilious air.

"Holy F. Scott Fitzgerald!" exclaimed Daphne.  "Look who's coming!!!!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 23, 2007, 04:08:01 PM
Oh dear me! Much worse than that!

You’ll never believe this—but today I saw JERRY FARTWELL at the local 7-Eleven sucking down a Slurpy and scarfing down a couple of stale Twinkies!!!

It was just awful. It made my skin crawl and gave me the heebie-jeebies! Seeing an obese Elvis hanging around there is bad enough—but a ugly smirky Fartwell is downright obscene!

And then, my Gawd!

Who walks through the door—none other than…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 23, 2007, 05:07:20 PM
Ramiro Mendoza.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 23, 2007, 05:30:33 PM
Famed for his third...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 05:40:44 PM
no, no, no...For one thing, he's the third major rat-fink ballplayer to play for both the Yanks and the Sox.  But, that's another matter.  Gordon and Clothilde are still in the wings (so to speak) waiting for


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 23, 2007, 05:41:22 PM
Close—but not cute enough, baby.

Cheech Marin—that’s who it was.

That’s who came sliding in through the door.

You know, Cheech Marin playing “Border Guard/Chet Pussy/Carlos”—like in From Dusk Till Dawn (1996).

Although Marco Leonardi as Johnny Madrid in From Dusk Till Dawn 3: The Hangman’s Daughter (200)—he’d do in a pinch dontchaknow.

A nice long pinch, baby!!!

 :)  :)  :)  :) :) :) :)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 05:49:22 PM
Yes,that's it!  Chlo and Gordo are waiting for a pinch...just a smidgen of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 23, 2007, 05:56:35 PM
the exotic liquer derived from hummingbird spit known as Aveugle Oiseau Cracher, but somehow, a junior member...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 23, 2007, 06:37:30 PM
Did you perhaps mean Aigle Oiseau Cracker?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 07:26:45 PM
Quasimodo?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 23, 2007, 07:35:29 PM
No, wait...Quasi was Italiano...like Sinatra...and Guiliano ("French Women Don't Get Fat "~HA!~).  Someone French here...  A champagne snob?  Yeah, old Gord and Chlo could


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 23, 2007, 07:46:34 PM
...just go straight to blazes as far as Puglover was concerned.  He was just downright sick of Gordon regaling him with tales of Clothilde as tails of rats squiggled after their owners in Gordon's secret "rat stash heaven" deep within the bowels of ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 23, 2007, 08:20:44 PM
…speaking of “bowels” I just had a nice bowel-movement—saying fond adieu to cute Mick Sussman—saying crummy goodbye to poor Lifeline—saying slimy goodbye to the NYTimes—saying louche goodbye to Lizard lounge and all that—yeah baby that part of my life is done and over now—but please forgive me—I didn’t mean to interrupt—c’mon now Desdemona—give me a thousand lashes with that wet noodle baby—while you sing that song I love to hear in my ears, girl…you know the one........


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 09:03:09 AM
..."You Doiry Rat, You Doiry, Doiry Rat"...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 09:21:15 AM
Gordon, of course, got the message right away, "doiry" being Zemblan for "tasty."  He grinned maliciously....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 09:37:02 AM
Of course, the trick was to capture and off the critter(s) by the most efficient means...
Briefly hesitating he took out his secret


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 24, 2007, 09:42:21 AM
hemorrhoid cream and began liberally applying it


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 10:41:31 AM
all over the floor of his cell.  "That'll get 'em", Gordo slyly thinking that the slippery surface would render the varmits helpless and ready for him to ever so delicately...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 10:45:30 AM
grab them with tongs and brain them with the iron pole...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 24, 2007, 10:47:06 AM
of righteousness...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 10:47:47 AM
if only he could get Chlo away from that pole...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 10:48:28 AM
Andrzej Kowalski...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 10:51:01 AM
Andi to his slavic friends...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 10:52:20 AM
The Vistula boy to those who only knew him by reputation...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 10:52:54 AM
whose prodigious height caused people to refer to him as the "seven foot Pole you wouldn't want to touch anything with" and whose English was limited to two phrase: "Please drink" and "You die now."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 24, 2007, 10:59:39 AM
Before his stroke, his English had been fluent and he was given to uttering palindromes while he sipped vodka as he watched the sun set in his long underwear.  "Warsaw was raw," he would mumble, and his eyes would fill with manly tears.  The memories would come unbidden, and the underwear chafed terribly.  His only solace lay in...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 11:04:41 AM
Gold Bonds, not the powder.  Gold Bonds.  If only his broker could reach him...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 24, 2007, 11:07:45 AM
and smuggle some of those Gold Bonds in his rectum...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 11:16:22 AM
which was unfortunately currently filled with elephant semen....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 24, 2007, 11:18:01 AM
and an autographed Jose Mesa collector's edition.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 11:31:03 AM
bought from ebay just last week for a bargain price and a promise of...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 11:32:45 AM
securing a rare interview with the reclusive Curt Schilling....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 11:46:00 AM
whose dalliance with a bat in a ballgown over a pitcher of Stella caused


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 11:48:03 AM
such a stink at the Fenway (that and his sock) that the grounds crew is still...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 12:03:15 PM
saying "Field of Dreams" wrecked him, "Waterworld" wiped him out, but even still, stiller than a camouflaged iguana moving into slurp-mode


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 12:06:49 PM
they were unable to get the red paint off his sock....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 12:09:12 PM
which turned up in Cap Ferrat, in a Glenfiddich bottle, with a note saying...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 12:22:53 PM
not for lack of trying...but back to you know who...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 12:25:49 PM
oops!  Yep, oops, that's what it said (missed note in a bottle signed Bep) but some totally took this to mean...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 12:32:52 PM
that Mr Costner, was asking Aunt Maude in Cap Ferrat, via Sting in Antibes, to...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 12:36:03 PM
hook up over at Depp's and Vanessa's place for a Memorial Day cookout?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 12:40:17 PM
...and naturally the entree will be sent via 'ol Gord...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 12:49:31 PM
who would crap it out, in the kitchen, out of sight, to avoid annoying the...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 24, 2007, 12:54:45 PM
common man, who has so little tolerance for running jokes regarding the rectum or the Red Sox or ranches that raise rats.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 24, 2007, 01:13:53 PM
As the rats slipped and slid on the hemorrhoid cream, Gordon thought to himself....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 01:34:01 PM
Whatever happened to things like plot and character development as elements of fiction?  Is what is happening to me now merely the influence of the random/monkey at the keyboard style that is the ouevre of Richard Brautigan, or....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 24, 2007, 02:18:01 PM
...possibly creative writing is no more than an outlet for the most common of men (and women).

One can choose to define "common" however it suits them.  This looks to be a great romp and I'm ready to


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 24, 2007, 02:18:51 PM
figure out how to use the icons above, for starters...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 24, 2007, 02:19:47 PM
..."stream of what?"

...zither music playing in the background, Alida not in love with me, not even her little black cat, Harry and me in the Ferris Wheel, stopped way up there at the top, looking down on bombed-out noir Vienna, all the crummy creeps moiling about down there, what's a Western hack pulp fiction writer like me, author of The Oklahoma Kid, supposed to say other than...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 02:21:36 PM
...Holy Crap!"  My chain of thought was interrupted by my seeing one of those supermarket tabloids.  "Rachael Ray's getting DIVORCED!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 24, 2007, 02:24:59 PM
WORD!  Next thing you know it'll be breasts implants, blonde hair and a rockstar on her


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 24, 2007, 02:26:02 PM
...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 02:31:42 PM
um, arm?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 02:33:28 PM
Wonder just what Rache would do with all those slippery varmints, maybe...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on May 24, 2007, 02:39:25 PM
fricasee with carrot peels


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 24, 2007, 02:41:04 PM
or just eat em raw with hot sauce and biscuits, washed down with a nice cold...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 02:42:15 PM
Glass of beer.  Either way, she'd be done in less than 30 minutes, and for under 40 dollars.  How cool is that?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 02:44:46 PM
Yeah, but pulling Cox out at dawn like that just because someone had forgotten to...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 02:48:25 PM
tell him about the en masse trip to the whore house, where the suprised madam asked how many soldiers there were.  When Gordon had replied, "15, without Cox," she had answered, "Well, come on in and use your thumbs" causing...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 24, 2007, 02:49:44 PM
a tremendous slowdown in the latest babyboom which now has resulted in...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 02:52:48 PM
too many god danged clones which are now recognizable by their


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 24, 2007, 02:54:40 PM
Cox?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 02:57:57 PM
Well, I was going to say their extra digits, so that works, as well as...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 24, 2007, 03:15:00 PM
…well, I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, after Rachel Ray’s last visit to Seattle, when I got her in my kitchen sink, just to suck her little toes like Humbert did with Lolita dontchaknow—except of course Humbert having more class than me knowing when to give up but not me, baby—I’m still in love with Baby Doll Ray, I can’t help it—she’s the only chef I’d rather eat out than her exquisite cuisine—bending down in front of the TV camera—tossing that green salad with her nice perky breasts slipping and sliding around so nicely—even though her banana cream surprise was kinda nice in Chicago that time—but yeah I knew sooner or later she’d get a divorce—and come back to me—the only true lover who really loved her—every inch of her—getting her in my sink and whispering in her ear…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 03:58:31 PM
..."Once out of nature, you shall never partake...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 24, 2007, 04:24:40 PM
..."of all the cheesy fast-food joints and two-bit restaurants..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 04:26:15 PM
"Of all the exploding baked potatoes..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 24, 2007, 04:27:00 PM
She walks into...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 04:29:10 PM
King Edward III, whom it must be noted...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 04:30:40 PM
Would usually ask:
"A franc for your thoughts (hold the mustard)..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 04:32:45 PM
"One potato, two potato, three potato four..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 24, 2007, 04:35:06 PM
five potato six potato seven potato more and I'll weigh as much as the jogging iguana...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 04:37:55 PM
"They wanted me in M.A.S.H but that bastard..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 04:39:49 PM
is a much better product than preparation H for...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 04:42:07 PM
- he pointed to an iguana in a boiler suit -


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 24, 2007, 04:46:45 PM
Like an angel in the know—
Here in my dumpy bungalow

Rachel oh Rachel Ray—
Shoot me with your x-ray gun

Turn me into a casserole—
With your smoldering eyes

Dump me in the garbage, girl—
When you’re done with me…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 04:47:31 PM
Zowie!  Crossed posts, deleted replys!  This is just like...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 04:48:56 PM
M.A.S.H thought King Edward; maybe...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 04:53:19 PM
Silence of the Lambs?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 04:54:38 PM
No, that cooking show's been done...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 04:56:17 PM
Julia Child & Rach together, now that would have been...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 04:57:22 PM
man enough for any...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 24, 2007, 04:59:40 PM
iguana...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 05:10:00 PM
"Busty," thought Dusty, "is lacking on this cruise," but he had yet to bump into...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 24, 2007, 05:14:28 PM
all those other mega-babes, how he missed was a mystery, with all that...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 24, 2007, 05:33:47 PM
Holmes turned to Watson and grimaced: "There is nothing more endearing..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 24, 2007, 06:10:48 PM
"...than an unsolved mystery. Unless it's you dear Watson -- in my arms."

Watson nodded knowingly, taking a puff from his pipe and saying...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 06:14:55 PM
"Drop your pants, Sherlock.  I cannot wait until lunchtime."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 06:16:18 PM
"Bollocks!"  Holmes replied.  "Don't toy with my affection.  You are merely saying this so that whiskeypriest can become a Hero Member!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 24, 2007, 06:16:36 PM
"Yessssss!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 24, 2007, 08:59:46 PM
i cry foul


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 24, 2007, 10:48:20 PM
…yes, I cried fowl too. Each night Rachel Ray walked into the room and said “Tonight, baby, we’re having chicken. How about Chicken à la Queen of Houdan?" The previous night we had Coq à Vin de Pomerol. And the night before that she fixed Fricassee à la Ancienne. It was getting so I was crying fowl every night. Down on my hands and knees… The more I cried fowl—the more chicken I got. Until finally one night, she said…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 24, 2007, 11:24:49 PM
…yes, I cried fowl too. Each night Rachel Ray walked into the room and said “Tonight, baby, we’re having chicken. How about Chicken à la Queen of Houdan?" The previous night we had Coq à Vin de Pomerol. And the night before that she fixed Fricassee à la Ancienne. It was getting so I was crying fowl every night. Down on my hands and knees… The more I cried fowl—the more chicken I got. Until finally one night, she said…

Ribs...!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 25, 2007, 12:08:57 AM
Meanwhile, Gordon clutched his head again, and thought "...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 25, 2007, 01:33:51 AM
“Well, chicken is nice and ribs are tasty. But what I really want now is some nice pierogi, golabki and flaki—done the traditional way.”

Suddenly through the door came none other than…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 25, 2007, 02:52:02 AM
…Holly Martins, the famous Western writer of cowboy novels—who was giving us all a lecture on “stream of consciousness". It was his usual short brilliant little Viennese lecture—the one he gave in Graham Greene’s The Third Man. You know, the one where he answers a question by asking another question instead. The ultimate world-shaking question—at least for both Joyce critics and postmodernist writers—being “Stream of what?” And so there I sat in the audience—excited like all the smart Viennese young intelligentsia for this lucky chance to hear Holly Martins utter that famous question and reveal the secret of the known universe. Everybody was simply shocked when Holly Martins said instead…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 25, 2007, 09:16:38 AM
"It's not a question of where he grips it! It's a simple question of weight ratios! A five ounce bird could not carry a one pound coconut."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 25, 2007, 09:29:33 AM
Maybe two of them could carry it.  They'd have to have it on a line of course, held under the dorsal guiding feathers....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 25, 2007, 09:34:47 AM
Which reminded Rachel Ray of her favorite desert island meal of South African swallow and coconut surprise.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 25, 2007, 10:37:44 AM
A South African swallow seemed to have more phlegm than Bart, her visiting cousin from Nebraska, was accustomed to, even during pollen season, so he was compelled to beg her for more beer, hoping that its astringent effects would clear his glottal stoppages and allow him to continue his quirky and perhaps meaningless pursuit of Junior Members status and even, perhaps, some day catch up with


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 25, 2007, 10:57:54 AM
the hero, the legend, the mythical...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 25, 2007, 11:05:57 AM
Barry Manilow?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 25, 2007, 11:22:48 AM
And his cousin, Mandy, who was visiting from Moscow, Idaho.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 25, 2007, 12:31:37 PM
Why, Rachel wondered, as she inspected between her toes for unexfoliated areas, had Mandy decided to be the sort of person who would be from Moscow, Idaho?  Though Mandy had come and given, without taking, she had still witheld some deep inner part of herself, some existential stain that had perhaps risen unbidden, like soil nematodes on a muggy day, from the festering plains and Hemingway-blood-soaked hills of Idaho, and besmirched the once luminous and moire-patterned wells of her unconscious....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 25, 2007, 12:33:20 PM
desire for the sexual favors of overweight, balding, middle aged attorneys from Ohio, one of whom...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 25, 2007, 12:38:55 PM
suffered from too many adjectives and had been driven to commit


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 25, 2007, 12:40:34 PM
contemptuous court dealings making his bones while Pete Rose was still dating cheerleaders.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 25, 2007, 12:42:58 PM
"There must be some way out of here," said Rachael Ray, ever the joker, to Gordon, a convicted thief....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 25, 2007, 12:47:31 PM
who had received a presidential pardon, due to his...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 25, 2007, 12:51:00 PM
contemptuous court dealings with overweight, balding, middle aged attorneys from Ohio...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 25, 2007, 12:55:18 PM
whose sexual attentions Rachael Ray secretly craved.  "This digression appears to have come full circle!" Ray chipperly noted.  "How cool is thaaat!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 25, 2007, 12:59:22 PM
whose sexual attentions Rachael Ray secretly craved.  "This digression appears to have come full circle!" Ray chipperly noted.  "How cool is thaaat!"

Well, I'd tell you how cool if I wasn't busy cleaning spewed coffee off of my monitor!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 25, 2007, 02:26:00 PM
Meanwhile back at the dumpy ranch in Moscow, Idaho, Mandy paused just long enough to ask herself "Where did I put that "Extra-Virgin Olive Oil?"

And then out of the blue...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on May 25, 2007, 03:59:54 PM
The desired golden liquid began to drop from the sky into slightly oil puddles all over


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 25, 2007, 04:10:24 PM
an overweight, balding, middle aged attorney from Ohio who was already soaked in elephant semen....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 25, 2007, 05:49:29 PM
thick brown envelopes from his inside pockets until he


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 25, 2007, 06:13:30 PM
hula hooped nude while singing karaoke, but not just any song , it had to be...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 25, 2007, 06:19:16 PM
you was a no-no because feeling blue wasn't his strongpoint, but anything involving


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 25, 2007, 06:21:11 PM
"STOP!!! In the Name of L-O-V-E!!!" by The Supremes who...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 25, 2007, 06:35:44 PM
Heard a symphony, a tender melody...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 25, 2007, 06:49:57 PM
but then, he stopped... to think it o-o-ver, to think it o-o-ver...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 25, 2007, 06:52:15 PM
Did he really need that suit anymore?  He'd had plenty of suits...too many to mention.  There was that one in particular...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 25, 2007, 06:56:14 PM
the one he was wearing, back in high school, listening to The Cars...

i never had a dream that looked so much like you
i'd do anything that you want me to
think it over think it over


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 25, 2007, 07:02:48 PM
don't be nervous, that one looks good on you.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 25, 2007, 08:53:16 PM
Although... "I don't think there are two "M"s in Armani." Rachael said, glancing at the tag as she removed his jacket with glistening yellow hands.  "Where did you buy that suit, anyway?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 25, 2007, 09:02:49 PM
"I didn't buy it. It was handed down to me by my Dad. You may have heard of him, Professor Elsworth Russell. He was, er... is, uh... I'm not sure if he is still alive and I'm too lazy to scroll back."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 25, 2007, 11:32:25 PM
"Dead -- you brainless idiot!" said the lawyer smacking himself on the side of his head.  "But not before letting me in on a small secret that only one other knows, one other with a penchant for migraines, one other who .."

His train of thought, such as it was, was interrupted by the not unwelcome sensation of Rachel Ray feeling underneath his suit jacket.  Suddenly, she pulled a rotton applecore from an inside pocket and cried -- "Dee-lish!" in the unmistakable voice of one beloved flying squirrel ..




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 26, 2007, 02:06:17 AM
(http://www.eco-action.org/defend/gifs/squirrel.jpeg)

which by the way, actually glide rather than fly as their name would seem to dictate.  At any rate, she shouldn't have taken the apple core. It too was soaked in the same fluids his suit had weathered.  Should he tell her?  Would she believe him?  Ahh what the hell he mused... whats the worst she could do if i told her about the suit, the elephant, and the


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 26, 2007, 09:05:33 AM
chihuahua.  Better to leave the details of his night with Jumbo Mumbai Dumbo until later  (he still couldn't tango like he once had).  Of course, Rachael was...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 26, 2007, 11:16:27 AM
still recuperating from her last tango in Paris.

"Better to stick to that extra virgin olive oil from now on." she sighed.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 26, 2007, 11:39:16 AM
"Butter can be too ... painful."  Wistfully, she let her hands run down to the zipper of the balding, middle aged, attorney from Ohio's pants.  She suddenly discovered, to her great surprise...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 26, 2007, 11:55:29 AM
that she had missed the first seven minutes of "Jeopardy" and thus needed to set aside her magnifying glass and adjust her rabbit ears so that...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 26, 2007, 11:56:54 AM
she would be ready for her spread in the up-coming "Playboy" as Miss June...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 26, 2007, 11:59:44 AM
that she had missed the first seven minutes of "Jeopardy" and thus needed to set aside her magnifying glass and adjust her rabbit ears so that...

she could tune in to the "Micropedia" theme (which brought a smile to her face, upon reflecting) ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 26, 2007, 12:26:34 PM
on her choice to go for the 42 triple D implants instead of something less discreet.  Either way, those Dunkin Dounut commercials simply weren't going to cover those monthly bills for EVOO...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 26, 2007, 12:36:19 PM
...lution lessons at the Charles Darwin Institute, so she feared that her trailer park past might continue to haunt her if she could not get a better handle on the principles of natural selection and...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 26, 2007, 12:54:10 PM
... and now a word from our sponsors...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZ9yVi9FM6g&NR=1


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 26, 2007, 12:56:24 PM
Well, now you know these gals know what to do with EVOO*



*extra virgin olive oil....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 26, 2007, 01:11:15 PM
"I'll take acronyms for 500, Alex."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 26, 2007, 01:38:45 PM
she said, momentarily forgetting that Jeopardy questions all paid in even-numbered multiples of one hundred.  Startled by the bizarre mental lapse, Rachel wondered if this was yet another disturbing effect of the sudden reversal of the Earth's magnetic poles which had begun the previous Wednesday and had led to global chaos and....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 26, 2007, 01:50:31 PM
the inexplicable return to disco...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 26, 2007, 02:21:14 PM
Which, Rachael suddenly thought, might explain the suit she had just...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on May 26, 2007, 05:29:48 PM
of polyester that she was irresistably drawn to buy two of, and wear every time she went out to


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 26, 2007, 05:47:34 PM
Sing-Sing



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 26, 2007, 06:04:02 PM
to visit Gordo, her real true...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 26, 2007, 06:08:15 PM
ok...he's her real true friend with "benefits" which simply translates to...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 26, 2007, 06:22:32 PM
the grapes of wrath, which Rachael had lovingly


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 26, 2007, 06:38:29 PM
memorized word for word with the hope that Gordon would no longer muzzle...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 26, 2007, 06:42:11 PM
Nasty's snout, thinking it better to


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 26, 2007, 06:44:33 PM
allow him to schnozzle for bits of...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 26, 2007, 06:59:30 PM
schnitzel from the warden's miniature schnauzer, who she'd been bribing


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 26, 2007, 07:27:03 PM
with her nice long simply wunderbau schlong...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 26, 2007, 09:35:52 PM
aka her wonderbra and thong...
Certainly senor pugo merely struck the wrong key, here and there, either that or we are re-visiting the "Crying Game"  and have been mislead as to Rachael's true nature!?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 27, 2007, 03:14:51 AM
…actually Rachel’s “strap-on dildo”—popular with the collegiate crowd these days when young undergraduate males are curious about how their girlfriends feel when they make love (totally hetero tho since it’s boy and girl)—with Rachel more than ready to stir any martini and toss any Caesar’s salad to her heart’s content…so that when Eva got one and tried it out on her cute boyfriend, he was heard to say breathlessly… 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on May 27, 2007, 07:32:18 AM
"Oh, how wonderful, so big, so strong, so manly! It's better than the real thing!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 27, 2007, 11:19:16 AM
At this, she was mildly abashed.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 27, 2007, 02:47:31 PM
Suddenly, a breeze stirred the curtains....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 27, 2007, 02:54:28 PM
while Rachael stirred her pot of cabbage soup and, simultaneously, the loins of...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 27, 2007, 02:58:30 PM
Pope Benedict XVI.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 27, 2007, 03:06:57 PM
which, given his advanced age and extreme piety spoke volumes of the voluptuous charms of Ms. Ray, who began to delicately strip...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on May 27, 2007, 03:52:28 PM
the skins from the onions, chop them fine, and add them to the cabbage soup along with some fines herbes


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 27, 2007, 04:02:33 PM
to wit, Herb Score, Herb Tarlick, and Herb Washington.  Few had been aware of Rasy's canabalistic tendencies, except for....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 27, 2007, 05:55:21 PM
Ricky Williams, who in spite of himself and the likelihood that he could be in more of a stew than he was already, simply had to join in with all that herb...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 27, 2007, 11:52:21 PM
“Forget it,” Rachel said.

She yawned and leaned back against the sink. She had that sullen “Jan Sterling” look again—like she was sick of men. She had that pouty “Lorraine Minosa” look—like she was sick and tired of fixing TV dinners for creeps who were only interested in desert.

She needed to get out of Albuquerque—really bad.

The phone rang. “It’s that lawyer from Ohio again,” Chuck said.

Rachel raised her eyebrow—fingering the run in her nylons. “Tell him to call back in an hour,” she said.

“But he wants to talk to you now,” Chuck said. “The guy wants to know if…”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 28, 2007, 06:01:40 AM
what he read on the front page of the National Enquirer while standing in line at Marc's was true and if so, why you didn't call him."

Meanwhile, Sterling had decided that her current surroundings were pretty Albuquerque, even for Albuquerque.  She quietly picked up her bag and crept out of the store, on the way to the bus stop.  If her luck held, in three hours she would leave Leo behind and be in the arms of Cuck Tatum, a....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 28, 2007, 06:47:37 AM
para-legal from Ohio who had been spreading rumors about the hapless, misinformed, disillusioned, misinterpreted, misty-eyed Leo who by now had given up most hope that his record would ever be expunged.

"I'll just sit back and twist one up and go down to the video store. Haven't seen Goin' South in some time."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 28, 2007, 04:51:05 PM
Instead she picked up a copy of The Third Man—a movie she hadn’t seen in a long time. Were there any Holly Martins left in this cruel old film noir world? Any naive innocent cowboy types—who could just fall foolishly in love again? At the drop of a cowboy hat? Hmmmmm?   


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 28, 2007, 11:35:16 PM
"That's Delish!" she said.

That’s after I told her I was in love with her.

I told her I was definitely a Food Network Queen.

I had all her books in my kitchen—30 Minute Meals, $40 a Day, Inside Dish, Tasty Travels.

The only thing I lacked was her in my kitchen sink.

“Oh baby,” I said. “I gots da EVOO ready, girl!!!”

"Yum-O!" she ejaculated.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 29, 2007, 11:09:45 AM
Until that moment, her hermaphroditism had been a mystery to her.  Now, looking down in puzzlement for a point of origin for this unexpected string of pearls....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 29, 2007, 11:17:32 AM
she was momentarily nonplussed; but she immediately realized that, as an advantage, when someone told her to go fuck herself, she could do it.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 29, 2007, 12:36:13 PM
Just then a strange voice sounded from behind the sofa : "I am your postman...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 29, 2007, 12:37:22 PM
" uttered the overweight, balding, middle aged attorney from Ohio


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 29, 2007, 12:42:14 PM
Leo froze.

"Do not be alarmed....I come


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 29, 2007, 12:43:52 PM
bearing gifts...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 29, 2007, 12:44:37 PM
or rather, baring gifts...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 29, 2007, 12:52:18 PM
dazzling everyone with his new implants...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 29, 2007, 12:58:04 PM
"I am your postman: DO NOT be afraid. It has been a long time...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 29, 2007, 01:09:16 PM
since I rocked and rolled...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 29, 2007, 01:13:06 PM
because I caught a horrible case of the clap from....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 29, 2007, 01:20:11 PM
Hannity and Colmes


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 29, 2007, 01:20:45 PM
two circus elephants


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 29, 2007, 01:24:45 PM
who caught it from Ann Coulter


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 29, 2007, 01:27:24 PM
during the shooting of the 1990's film, "Operation Dumbo Drop,"

and here, the vagina lapsed into silence and resumed reading its favorite Virginia Woolf novel, "A Womb With a View."

Meanwhile, the vestigial penis piped up:



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 29, 2007, 01:28:52 PM
"That was an E.M Forster novel, you stupid....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 29, 2007, 01:46:17 PM
man. Now why are you here?!?! And what's in that thick brown envelope?

Ka boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom!!

A mischevious gnome was seen escaping the scene...

long story short...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/derbyshire/6702017.stm (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/derbyshire/6702017.stm)
   


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 29, 2007, 03:04:42 PM
“Well, all I can say is that I’m the intellectual type of strap-on dildo dontchaknow. It certainly takes lots of work being a smart “Lady Bookchatterly’s Lover” around here!!!”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 29, 2007, 04:15:21 PM
Gordon felt himself being shaken and slapped silly.  "Whuh?"

"It's Nasty", growled Nasty.  "Snap out of it! Puglover and Bruiser are about to make a break for it!!!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 29, 2007, 04:15:54 PM
Gordon jumped up and sent Nasty...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 29, 2007, 05:08:33 PM
into a nasty tailspin but since this was a 'Nasty' tailspin the landing was perfect. A little gang of cockroaches applauded ever so silently keeping shtoom lest the gymnastic Nasty spot their packed bags and miner helmets. Meanwhile Puglover and Bruiser...   


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 29, 2007, 05:43:14 PM
were airing out their funky, vintage disco duds, and flossing in anticipation of...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 29, 2007, 05:45:18 PM
the one and only...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 29, 2007, 06:01:22 PM
... Elwood P. Dowd.

"Wouldn't that get a little monotonous, just Akron, cold beer and "poor, poor thing" for two weeks?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 29, 2007, 06:03:09 PM
"Don't be funny Pugmeithter - you know whoth heading our way tonight. The inthinthible, the indestwuctible, the one and only...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 29, 2007, 06:10:29 PM
pale bachelor, well groomed and full of melancholy
his round mouth open...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 29, 2007, 06:13:22 PM
The moon?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 29, 2007, 06:15:31 PM
YES!  Actually, nightfall!  Then the scofflaws could then...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 29, 2007, 06:17:13 PM
mostly take you by surprise pug don't you think; look up there through the bars isn't that just...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 29, 2007, 06:18:10 PM
Batman?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 29, 2007, 06:19:23 PM
Honky Dory?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 29, 2007, 06:25:31 PM
some honky's dory.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 29, 2007, 06:27:32 PM
;D ;D ::)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 29, 2007, 06:28:44 PM
Moe! Larry! Curly Sue?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 29, 2007, 06:30:18 PM
The sound of suing awoke Hunchkin.

"Who's suing in there?"

"It is I...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 29, 2007, 06:35:11 PM
the train kept a-rollin'... all night long.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 29, 2007, 06:37:21 PM
Choo! Choo!

A puff of smoke and there it was. Harold couldn't believe his eyes. It couldn't be...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 29, 2007, 06:43:26 PM
the same damn nightmare all over again.

"Somebody, please! Wake me up. Beam me up."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 29, 2007, 06:47:26 PM
Scottie wasn't the kind of pug that would just allow you to...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 29, 2007, 06:50:04 PM
"Stir it u-u-u-p..." chimed the clock radio.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 29, 2007, 07:43:14 PM
last night's leftovers... Rachael Ray's South African swallow 'n coconut surprise with lime infusion.

"This is a damn sticky business I've got myself into." Harold quipped.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 29, 2007, 08:03:06 PM
"Stream of what?" Holly said, looking out over the refined audience of astute online Viennese intellectuals...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 29, 2007, 08:10:50 PM
conga dancing the night away...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 29, 2007, 09:29:32 PM
Harold clutched his head.  (This was a family trait shared with his cousin Gordon, soon to finally break out of jail.)

He gloomily picked up the empty bottle of Glenfiddich.  "Oh, what a horrible dream ..." he said. 

"Now where was I before I drank myself into another stupour -- oh yes" he murmered "G. Jones ...the Red Swan Hotel ... the blasted figurine .. or ..."

Suddenly, the door burst open and none other than Tintin ran through the door, his blond quiff vibrating with enthusiasm -- "I have come to aid you in your quest .. " shouted the youngster, narrowly avoiding tripping over another bottle, but regaining his balance to land upright with a salute before slumped Harold..

Harold rubbed his eyes, looked at Tintin in dull but not displeased surprise and said ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 29, 2007, 11:59:51 PM
"I was expecting Peter Pan..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 30, 2007, 12:07:09 AM
"Sorry" said Tintin "not him -- or Peeweee -  it's me, boy reporter, and my dog, Snowy".  At this, a small white dog leapt through the doorway and skidded to a stop at Tintin's side, panting and smiling.  "Now", said Tintin, "where should we start ? ..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 06:58:35 AM
"Start at the begining," Gordon said, "It's a very good place to start.  When spelling you beging with A B C, when singing you begin with Do Re Mi."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 07:22:58 AM
with whiskey you start with a glass (on a good day)...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 07:31:21 AM
"Glass Hell!" Rachael said.  She picked up the bottle of Old Granddad and took a long slow pull.  The balding overweight middle aged attorney looked at the air bubbles percolating through the amber fluid as Ray continued to swallow, and fell even more in love, if such a thing is possible.  Outside of my mother, he thought, I've never seen a woman who could drink like that.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 30, 2007, 10:27:34 AM
The beginning?  Which beginning?  Gordon sat staring at his muckly crusted feet, expelled a rather foul odor and once again began a plan to detach himself...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 30, 2007, 10:33:22 AM
Getting fully plastered was now his daily compulsion.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 10:41:02 AM
At first, he was merely trying to help Michael "Angel" Oh learn sculpting.  But as time went on, he began to feel a sensual thrill every time another bucket of warm plaster was spread over his hnads, his feet, his...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 10:58:43 AM
special little spot right between his...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 11:00:59 AM
anus and vagina.

Wait, Gordon stopped dead in his tracks.  I have a VAGINA?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 11:02:57 AM
No, no, no...he just wishes he had one!  That special spot...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 11:06:03 AM
between his anus and vagina, I tell you.  See, "Rachael Ray" was merely Gordon's projection of his hermaphroditic feminine half, which he had surpressed because in an all male prison, if it was known that you actually had a vagina....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 11:08:59 AM
you'd never be lonely again.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 11:19:24 AM
Gordon cherished his lonliness, much the same way he cherished his penis and his vagina.  In fact, cherish...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 30, 2007, 11:22:31 AM
was what he named his vagina.  He named his penis...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 11:23:54 AM
Mariah.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 30, 2007, 11:25:53 AM
Mariah and Cherish were quite the duo, not quite Aura and Mystique, but probably more....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 11:29:33 AM
likely to be honored as most likely to...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 30, 2007, 11:50:08 AM
suck seed.

The yearbook photo was one never to be forgotten.





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 12:06:34 PM
They were voted the "cutest couple"...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 30, 2007, 12:07:32 PM
The caption read "Cherish is a word I use to des-cri-yibe......"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 12:29:55 PM
"You just don't know how many times I wish that I had told you to put on a tie on picture day."




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 12:40:32 PM
Because while Gordon's vagina looked quite fetching with a single diamond stud, the penis, sans tie, sans pants, sans everything, stood out like a...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 30, 2007, 12:58:07 PM
woodwind quintet in a Texas trailer park.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 01:13:29 PM
"Although during tornado season, finding a trailer in the parking lot of the concert hall is not such a strange occurence."

"Oh, Mariah. There you go again. It ain't strange if it happens once. That's just the unpredictable nature of nature. Dreaming about it as often as you do don't make it real!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 02:16:01 PM
"But I thought they called the wind Mariah"?  Totally confused and quite windy himself Boz had reappeared just to get some...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 02:26:37 PM
froaen poop out of the front yard - his favorite snack - and...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 30, 2007, 02:27:29 PM
that is where our story begins....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 02:30:23 PM
Once upon a time...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 02:30:54 PM
it was a dark and stormy night...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 02:31:31 PM
and his member was... full?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 02:32:35 PM
and his need to empty it dire...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 02:34:29 PM
"Californicate, here I come..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 02:37:20 PM
...bum, bum, bum here we come
"What's your trade"?
Sweet...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 02:38:51 PM
Sassy Molassey!

I'm a streamer of conscientiousness.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 02:40:40 PM
"Yes?"  Sassy said, spinning sharply on her stilleto heels - YOU try it - and fixing Boz with an icy stare.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 02:43:51 PM
"There aren't many of us left who can do the hokey pokey and...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 02:46:32 PM
twist and shout in stilletos. And live to tell about it."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 03:00:21 PM
Sassy and Gordon had quite the past.  Not many knew...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 03:05:52 PM
that they were twins, separated at birth. 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 30, 2007, 03:06:27 PM
And that they worked as a team selling bibles and hemorhoid cream door to door.  It was during one of these sales calls that Gordon got himself into trouble.  Ringing the doorbell on that fateful morning,


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: sgrobin on May 30, 2007, 03:18:53 PM
…Rosie O’Donnell answered, resplendent in hair curlers with a cigarette (and an attendant half-inch stick of ash) dangling from her mouth, and offered to buy some of the hemorrhoid cream, if Gordon would first apply a sample on the relevant part of her person.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 03:19:23 PM
After running from Rosie's in disgust, Gordon rang the next house down.

Gordon found himself admitted into a large, ornate parlor.  "Your late!" said a stranger, a turbaned woman with sunglasses and a cigarette on a long, unusual looking holder.  "He's in there, by the fire.  He always liked to play with the fire."  Gordon walked into the room, where a sheet lay over a body in front of the fire.  The woman lifted the sheet, and Gordon was face to face with a dead chimpanzee.  Must have been an important chimp, Gordon mused in a vocie over.  Son of King Kong maybe.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 30, 2007, 03:24:32 PM
"Hold up, Lady," said Gordon.  "I'm not your undertaker..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: sgrobin on May 30, 2007, 03:26:54 PM
"But you must help me with my monkey Juan, who has been shot".

Well, mused Gordon, absent-mindedly thinking of his golf game, that certainly is a hole in Juan.

Sorry.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 03:29:07 PM
I will not allow the admission of any pun that bad that I am not the author of.  So to supplant....

"I'm just a wandering songwriter, trying to sell a song."

"What!"  The woman screamed.  "Get out!"

Gordon turned to leave, but stopped.  He knew now why the woman looked familiar.  He turned back.  "I've seen you!  You're Britanny Spears!  You used to be in music.  You used to be big."

"I AM  big.  It's..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 30, 2007, 03:35:09 PM
"....the exposed crotches that got small!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 03:35:56 PM
Gordon was suddenly confused, as if listening to a multiplicity of voices....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 30, 2007, 03:37:19 PM
could somehow quell his urge for a skillet of hot sausages...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 30, 2007, 03:37:41 PM
That was when Sassy appeared...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 03:39:29 PM
on rollerblades, with all her belongings stuffed into a pillowcase.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 30, 2007, 03:41:30 PM
...reeking of cheap perfume, mascara smudged, a stain on the back of her...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 03:45:17 PM
t-shirt. Her hemorrhoidal cream having leaked through the pillowcase.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 30, 2007, 03:47:50 PM
"Max, fetch my Lepard-skin pill-box hat, pronto!" she shouted.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 30, 2007, 03:51:15 PM
"And don't forget my tweezers"!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 03:55:28 PM
"Well," said Gordon, "I see you got your brand new leopard skin pill box hat.  Well, you look so pretty in it, Honey, can I jump on it sometime?  Yes, I just wanna see if it's really that expensive kind.  You know it balances on your head just like a mattress balances on a bottle of wine."
 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 30, 2007, 04:13:30 PM
But poor sweet Sassy ignored Gordon's snide remark.  Before her now dead, deader than dead, was her hairy but wonderfully passionate Juan.  His death now had an entrance and an exit.  There he lay, white shirt and baggy trousers...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on May 30, 2007, 04:17:25 PM
She recalled his last words to her.  "I want the scissors to be sharp and the table to be perfectly level when I cut you out of my life and...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 04:22:21 PM
she busied herself sharpening up the scissors while whistling a happy tune.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 04:24:10 PM
and then it started to rain.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 30, 2007, 04:26:32 PM
Afterwards, Rachel yawned and confessed to me that I wasn’t exactly her “Number One” lover.

“There’s this guy over in “Opera” who really turns me on,” she said. “Those clarinet solos of his are real humdingers. Boy, does he know how to hum a girl crazy!”

“Yeah, I heard about him. What a snot, Rachel. You can do better than that...”     


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 04:32:28 PM
"You can have anybody you want."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 04:32:54 PM
"In fact, let me make a Thirty Minute Meal of you....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 04:34:48 PM
"Hey, half an hour is way more than I deserve. Shall I dice while you slice?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 04:47:02 PM
It did explain Juan's untimely death.  Overwrought with the realization that he had made jungle love with both Sassy and Rach (not to mention Boswell) the two both his mother and daughter...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 04:53:58 PM
he reached into the inside pocket of his lavender robe and pulled out the revolver.

"I am an illegitimate incestual primate of the lowest order!" He shouted.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 04:55:08 PM
He was a most articulate primate...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on May 30, 2007, 04:58:49 PM
and a good marksman. When he shot himself, the whole went right through ... the hole in Juan was pure perfection. Even Roseanne had to admire Juan's hole. And Rach, thought it was perfectly scrumptious!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 30, 2007, 05:00:49 PM
"Mmmm... monkey brains."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 05:04:44 PM
 ;D ;D Our favorite!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 30, 2007, 05:16:28 PM
Though a delicacy in Cantonese cuisine, are not often found in Washington D.C.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 30, 2007, 05:17:39 PM
where they prefer grilled bogey, but who knows...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 30, 2007, 05:20:54 PM
And you may ask yourself, "Well, how did I get here?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 30, 2007, 05:21:45 PM
And you may find yourself..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on May 30, 2007, 05:24:08 PM
grinning while shuckin' and jivvin' in tune to


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 30, 2007, 05:26:27 PM
"Old Dan Tucker"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 30, 2007, 05:34:43 PM
Old Dan Tucker

Now old Dan Tucker's fine old man
Washed his face in a fryin' pan
Combed his head with a wagon wheel
And died with a toothache in his heel

Get out of the way old Dan Tucker
Get out of the way old Dan Tucker
Get out of the way old Dan Tucker
You're too late to get your supper

Now old Dan Tucker is come to town
Riding a billy goat leading a hound
Hound dog bark and the billy goat jump
Landed Dan Tucker on top of the stump

Now old Dan Tucker he got drunk
Fell in the fire and kicked up a chunk
Red hot coal got in his shoe
And oh my lawd how the ashes flew

Now old Dan Tucker is come to town
Swinging the ladies round and round
First to the right and then to the left
Then to the girl that he loves best

* Refrain

The Deserick Sisters; The National Barn Dance

 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 30, 2007, 05:38:22 PM
or maybe, "Juan Got Plugged But Tu Got Glued To A Choo Choo Train" is more your thing, either way...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 30, 2007, 05:43:35 PM
Miss Lucy Long

Oh take your time Miss Lucy,
Take your time Miss Lucy Long.
Oh take your time Miss Lucy
Take your time Miss Lucy Long.

Miss Lucy she be handsome,
And Miss Lucy she be tall,
To see her dance Cachucha
Is death to bloggers all.

Oh! Miss Lucy's teeth is grinning
Just like an ear of corn,
And her eyes dey look so winning!
Oh I wish I’d never been born.

I axed her for to marry
Myself de other day,
She said she'd rather tarry
So I let her have her way.
  Pray &c.

If she makes a scolding wife
As sure as she was born
I'll tote her down to Georgia
And trade her off for Corn.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 05:46:38 PM
Yes,corn.  "Corn muffins, corn bread, corn porn, you name it..." Rach grinned...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 30, 2007, 05:51:42 PM
"God," she said...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 30, 2007, 05:54:07 PM
"sole colap its hands and sing" and as luck would have it...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 30, 2007, 05:56:43 PM
stow omp yer feet with gleeeeeeeeeeeeee


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 30, 2007, 06:02:09 PM
after dirty Harry...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on May 31, 2007, 08:04:10 AM
possibly have anticipated, the most frightening of them, involving a half a pack of...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 31, 2007, 08:15:02 AM
Lucky Strikes, a jar of moonshine, and an eye patch that he thought made him look really cool.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Shirley Marcus on May 31, 2007, 10:51:03 AM
possibly have anticipated, the most frightening of them, involving a half a pack of...



wolves, oh no probably cigs or beer maybe something even better Lucky you...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Shirley Marcus on May 31, 2007, 11:01:57 AM
possibly have anticipated, the most frightening of them, involving a half a pack of...



wolves, oh no probably cigs or beer maybe something even better Lucky you...


Nonsense...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 31, 2007, 11:16:25 AM
There are many voices, he thought to himself, but none without significance.  Except for....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 31, 2007, 11:21:31 AM
that of the woodchuck, who loved chess, and was apparently nothing but an image recycled from a Rozerem ad he'd seen on television.  Dreams, thought Gordon to himself, as there was no one else to think them to, are not the stuff that stuff is made of.

 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 31, 2007, 11:26:08 AM
Old Dan Tucker

Now old Dan Tucker's fine old man
Washed his face in a fryin' pan
Combed his head with a wagon wheel
And died with a toothache in his heel

Get out of the way old Dan Tucker
Get out of the way old Dan Tucker
Get out of the way old Dan Tucker
You're too late to get your supper

Now old Dan Tucker is come to town
Riding a billy goat leading a hound
Hound dog bark and the billy goat jump
Landed Dan Tucker on top of the stump

Now old Dan Tucker he got drunk
Fell in the fire and kicked up a chunk
Red hot coal got in his shoe
And oh my lawd how the ashes flew

Now old Dan Tucker is come to town
Swinging the ladies round and round
First to the right and then to the left
Then to the girl that he loves best

* Refrain

The Deserick Sisters; The National Barn Dance

 


I love the Boss' remake


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 31, 2007, 11:29:28 AM
Gordon depressed by such thoughts, opened a gun cabinet and pulled out a handgun.  He admired the piece, while it is not the kind that you hunt wild boar with as a prepubescent, it would do the job....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 31, 2007, 11:38:52 AM
But he hesitated. This wasn't the first time he had reached this point.

"Am I ready? Have I had enough? Seen enough? I'll never know if I go through with it. If I wait, just hang on for one more day...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 31, 2007, 11:43:43 AM
...A WalMart may yet appear in my neighborhood, and I will finally be able to afford some plastic patio furniture, not to mention...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 31, 2007, 11:49:47 AM
those sickly pale "solar powered"...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 31, 2007, 11:53:16 AM
windmills....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 31, 2007, 11:57:23 AM
and perhaps a shrubbery.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 31, 2007, 12:21:56 PM
A rubbery shrubbery...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 31, 2007, 12:24:10 PM
Then, when you have found the shrubbery, you must cut down the mightiest tree in the forest... with... a herring!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 31, 2007, 12:26:24 PM
Red,  of course...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 31, 2007, 12:28:18 PM
Which brings us back to that half pack of?  Abs!  Yep, half pack of abs.  Gordon once had a glorious set, a six-pack, until...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 31, 2007, 12:31:11 PM
he began fiddling with le violon rouge...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 31, 2007, 12:34:57 PM
which also had a negative impact on his once manly...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 31, 2007, 12:38:03 PM
KNEE!  KNEE!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 31, 2007, 12:39:20 PM
Gesundheit!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 31, 2007, 01:30:06 PM
"Thanks, but I am the one of the Knights who goes 'Knee!'" she replied, as she stared into the pitted and distorting mirror of the hubcap on her VW and wondered just who exactly...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 31, 2007, 01:35:49 PM
That grossly obese naked woman wsa who....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on May 31, 2007, 01:45:11 PM
...had so obviously made a poor choice of personal vehicle in selecting a cramped VW Beetle, and therefore would face censure for her suddenly popping into the virtual narrative that is the ontological foundation of our existence in this, the...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on May 31, 2007, 01:46:52 PM
material world.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 31, 2007, 02:40:25 PM
The very world in which Sassy Molassey would shake and bake and tease Alex Rodriguez into such a quiver that he would pluck a feather from his Yankee cap in exchange for...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 31, 2007, 03:06:41 PM
a really fine steak dinner, a win over the Red Sox, and for his wife to speak to him...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 31, 2007, 03:10:07 PM
sans legal representation.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Shirley Marcus on May 31, 2007, 03:47:35 PM
sans legal representation.

No no not a lawyer


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 31, 2007, 03:54:14 PM
Clasping the door shut behind him Gordon kicked the piled up newspapers aside and vowed to stay sober today.  All those dreams and crazy voices ... had they been real? What about Rachel Ray? The dead monkey too?  Did I actually go door to door in that fancy neighborhoo...  

It was then Gordon remembered leaving his wallet at home.  After retrieving it he noticed that it seemed messed with. It was as if all the business cards had been shuffled and moved out of their many slim pockets to one stuffed one.  His wallet had been perused.  He was sure a card had been taken. Thats when he realized the card Professor russel gave him was gone.  The figurine! Gordon realized... they were after it.  The same people who had probably killed Russel, were now stalking Gordon.  

I need a damn drink he said to himself...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 31, 2007, 04:06:32 PM
Himself answered, "How and when did we get out of Sing-Sing"?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on May 31, 2007, 04:07:09 PM
Himself replied, "It was a dream!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on May 31, 2007, 04:11:54 PM
Fuck me…talk about stream of what?”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 31, 2007, 04:12:23 PM
Strictly to himself he then turned to Himself and helped himself to a stiff...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 31, 2007, 04:27:39 PM
grossly obese naked woman who he helped pry out of her VW.

"I need a drink." she said.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 31, 2007, 04:36:30 PM
Everything in his life, since getting back, has been like this grossly obese women.  He had forgotten his true purpose.  Taking the vision before him as an omen on the dangers of excessive drinking, Gordon steadied his resolve.  I don't need a drink. I need to get on a plane and back to the original site where the figurine was buried.  I still have time, if they're only now getting around to snooping on me he thought, looking around his whereabouts with suspicion.  She could be one of them.  This taxi.  That man over there.  Suddenly he felt the woman he had just helped turn on him and push him into the cab. 

"Go Go GO!!" she yelled to the driver, slapping the big palms of her hands down on the roof of the caprise.  "This is the guy!"

The taxi jerked into motion...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 31, 2007, 04:39:59 PM
and stalled...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 31, 2007, 04:44:45 PM
Enough time for the fat lady to sing as she got in the car, squeezing poor Gordon between herself and her fellow henchman.  "Sergio fucking Drive!" she said with a howl.  "If you can't fucking do it then you're more worthless than i thought"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 31, 2007, 05:15:53 PM
"Pinche bruja!" Sergio screeched and managed to pull away from the curb.

The grossly obese woman removed a syringe from her bag and injected Gordon with a dose of chlorolhydrate and...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on May 31, 2007, 05:46:07 PM
ability to distinguish a Merlot from a Cabernet...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 31, 2007, 05:56:42 PM
"I am NOT drinking any fucking merlot!" Gordon managed to blurt out just before the drugs...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on May 31, 2007, 06:04:21 PM
swirled through his veins and into his brain as he turned to the grossly obese woman who wasn't lookin' too obese no mo'!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on May 31, 2007, 07:24:12 PM
subvert the electoral process in Florida and give the presidencey to her idiot twin brother, George...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on May 31, 2007, 10:49:28 PM
Ve vant ze figurine... you will take us to where you buried it you silly man, ze figurine...  the sweet nothings the formerly fat woman was now whispering into his ear as the car ambled into the night.  And ve can all be happy...Mr Gordon...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 31, 2007, 11:42:33 PM
Gordon, despairing, sinking, clutched at fragments of thought.  "I've seen this woman before  ... with Professor Russell ... Russ..  ... Russell's assistant ..."

Cousin Harold, his mentor, alcohol sodden, loomed up before him as if on a screen of some sort, and said "Don't give up, don't give in .. remember, it's not the figurine we must protect, but what's within .. "

There was a flurry, a confused blurr, and a boy with an oddly stiff quiff leapt into the screen and began to form his lips into words directed at Gordon but Gordon then faded to black ...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on May 31, 2007, 11:47:14 PM
... he awoke to the loud whirring of an air conditioner over the sound of a voice saying "I have at my place half a gallon of Calona Red.  I'm ready to share my favorite wine with my favorite ex-con.  We shall have for dinner a knackle of pecans, a large pineapple, and a bunch of plantains.."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 01, 2007, 09:32:59 AM
There in this strange hole, in a corner, wagging like the short tail of a perfectly obedient spaniel, Gordon suddenly...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 01, 2007, 09:43:28 AM
wondered what the spaniel was doing there, since he had no dog.  Just as he realized that he was merely dreaming being awake, he woke up again from uneasy dreams and found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. He was lying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little he could see his dome-like brown belly divided into stiff arched segments on top of which the bed quilt could hardly keep in position and was about to slide off completely. His numerous legs, which were pitifully thin compared to the rest of his bulk, waved helplessly before his eyes.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 01, 2007, 09:51:56 AM
With a start he attempted to replace his organs, slip back into his flesh (and clothes) and back his car out of the garage...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 09:57:27 AM
But it was no use. He looked beyond the edge of his bed. There they were, about 5 people in white coats and clipboards.
"It isn't a normal air conditioner. It belonged to a chap called The Fartiste," he overheard.
"And with good reason," said someone else.
Designed for experimentation it looked and sounded terrifying.
A Chinese fellow entered the fray: "Russian Iguana is cheaper and quicker than continous resuscitation of unconscious canary but all becoming very difficult to obtain."
The whirr came from one of the many fans used to deliver various levels, densities and brief liasons with the "substance".
"Scrape from badger rectum; mix with three teaspoon of powder... 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 01, 2007, 09:59:59 AM
ed milk and a liter of potato vodka....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 01, 2007, 10:04:33 AM
leave on the windowsill overnight...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 01, 2007, 10:09:37 AM
...then shake well in a wallaby's pocket, pour on corn bread, and pound on it until it registers happiness.

It seemed simple enough, but Gordon "Gregor" Samsa, had a harder shell than expected and it looked like a tabernacle full of Mormons might be required to...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 01, 2007, 10:36:35 AM
witness the sealing ceremony between Gordon and Nasty.

"Thank God for Moroni," sighed Gordon.  "Without those golden tablets, I wouldn't know what a sealing ceremony is.  But now I know that Nasty and I will forever be together on our very own planet."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 01, 2007, 10:49:27 AM
Just then, shots were fired in the natatorium...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 01, 2007, 10:54:27 AM
Oh great, Gordon mused.  Now I've been shot in my natatorium!  Jeez, it hurts!  "Medic!" he screamed, "I've been hit!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 01, 2007, 11:02:47 AM
Then Gordon looked himself over and realized that he lacked a natatorium and that the pain was only a phantom, a brief misfire of overwrought nerves triggered by the loud report that had emanated from the prison's swimming facility -- the natatorium was the happy result of a generous donation of a wealthy French papaya farmer who believed that the incarcerated were best...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 01, 2007, 11:15:05 AM
treated with sympathy and should be mandated to take synchronized swimming lessons a minimum of three to four times a week.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 01, 2007, 11:18:14 AM
in the nude, of course...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 01, 2007, 11:30:14 AM
The various synchronized swimming teams, differentiated only by a colorful ribbon tied around the left wrist, found the competitive events especially stimulating.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 01, 2007, 11:31:31 AM
Gordon much prefered it to his attempts at water polo, which had come acropper because his horses kept drowning....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 11:36:40 AM
Since Jet's escape Nasty had been left in charge of the escape tunnel. But our Nasty wasn't interested in escaping. Instead of putting to use all the gnawing training he'd been given he decided to make a quick buck from the hole, throwing to the wind, the compass, and all the plans Jet had had Gordon arrange to have drawn of Sing-Sing's interiors. A disaster was inevitable...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 01, 2007, 11:39:07 AM
"OH MY NASTY!!!!" cried Gordon, in disbelief!

But one must carry on....

Gordon was a proud member of the Pinks team.  A competition was on schedule for the upcoming weekend, and his team was determined to win this time, in spite of the fact that none of them were capable of floating on their backs.

"That shot!" he thought.  "I wonder if that's Beastie's doing?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 11:41:21 AM
All the rats looked on as swimmer after swimmer took to the water. On the diving dale...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 01, 2007, 11:45:56 AM
stood Cornhole, magnificently clad in a gold ribbon around his chubby left wrist, poised to do a back flip.  Cornhole weighed well over 300 lbs, and was so hoping to set a world record for fattest diver to do a back flip.  But suddenly...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 11:48:09 AM
without warning, he assumed the position of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 01, 2007, 11:52:34 AM
a huge ball of crisco and cannon-balled...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 01, 2007, 11:52:54 AM
Gordon was in some kind of prison.  But not one of great rows of cells with iron bars.  Something told him this wasn't a state-sponsored facility. They'd asked for his help in finding the statue.  They'd tortured him to get the infomation they needed.  Now apparently they had broken him.  He swam.. as if by remote control.  Nothing made sense anymore.  Had he told them the secret resting place during his interrogations.  Why could he not remember?  The only tell tale sign were the cigar burns on his chest, which made swimming terribly painful. Or should have, if not for the drugs...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 11:55:48 AM
the three inflatable pink rubber rings wrapped round his chest..and the possibility of full membership of the SSSST - he'd be experiencing


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 01, 2007, 12:12:48 PM
the utter disgrace of being demoted to Official Sing-Sing Poolboy.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 12:17:52 PM
who this week was none other than


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 01, 2007, 12:22:00 PM
Boswell, who had chosen a creative if highly inapporpriate method for filling the pool....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 12:28:18 PM
In his own words Boz summed it up nicely: "The demand for Punkzbane had diminished greatly after inmates realised it 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 12:59:26 PM
shrivelled your member, made you puke, sweatened your palms, tightened your testicles, made hairy your palms, affected your power to knit, upset your stool, wrinkled the complexion, took the curl out your eyelashes and in general made you as cross



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 01, 2007, 01:04:42 PM
as a one-armed man putting out a grassfire.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 01, 2007, 01:08:20 PM
That’s the problem waking up as a cockroach—too much “cock” and not enough “roach.” Or was it the other way around?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 01:18:22 PM
Rock coach Mark Knopfler stared out from the main stage at the Akron rib-festival taking stock of his surroundings. It wasn't good; even the younger kids he'd try to re-invent himself with baulked at his methods. "I can educate you.." etc. But there was too much of "This was us in..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 01, 2007, 01:20:16 PM
pink bunny slippers...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 01:20:59 PM
"And this was us in...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 01, 2007, 01:21:32 PM
ought six, when men were men, women were scarce and sheep were....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 01, 2007, 01:24:17 PM
good enuff.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 01, 2007, 01:25:25 PM
Besides... unlike women, the sheep


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 01, 2007, 01:27:12 PM
were sheared


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 01:28:15 PM
"The real problem," continued Knopfler, "began when the ethos of the band kicked in - 'Money for nuthin and your kicks for free'. Sheep don't take too kindly to


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 01, 2007, 01:51:15 PM
mutton stew...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 01, 2007, 01:57:05 PM
or muttons too, if you know what I mean....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 01, 2007, 02:53:01 PM
the nation of France, where you can get your money for nudgin' and your winks for free.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 01, 2007, 03:16:19 PM
"I want my French TV."  Gordon exclaimed.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 03:30:53 PM
Sing-Sing was awash with wet prisoners after Cornhole's mammoth splash from the diving board. The outdoor pool had never experienced anything like it. Before Boswell could work his magic refill he required the assistance of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 01, 2007, 03:32:40 PM
Tiny Tim, a most diabolical convict who once shanked an old man that brought him Christmas cheer


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 03:39:45 PM
an advanced fee scam artist from Nigeria known as Prince Ebenezer who promised him forty seven million dollars and marriage to one of his four beautiful daughters in return for the following:


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 01, 2007, 03:55:55 PM
the monkey's paw, a stiff upper lip, a shot of punkzbane (the French variety, thank you very much), a Colt 45 revolver, and 5 pounds of pickled herring.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 01, 2007, 03:59:34 PM
Tim (who at this point was not tiny) rejoiced, even going so far as to do the obligatory naked jog through his workplace, telling his boss


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 01, 2007, 05:43:44 PM
the ubiquitous iguana, still nude and jogging...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on June 01, 2007, 08:23:38 PM
.. to "tiptoe .. tumescent .. through the tulips .. with me .. tra la la .." ..

But then ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on June 01, 2007, 08:24:27 PM
Gordon murmered .. "I am not a cockroach .. I am a DUNG BEETLE.." and returned to his dream ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 01, 2007, 10:33:57 PM
"Look at this honey. It's my cockroach mouth."

http://www.circusfantasticus.com/news/06_01_07.html


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on June 02, 2007, 09:52:47 AM
Gordon bolted from his "bed" screaming ".. bugs in my mouth I've got bugs in my mouth .."  alarming Nasty who flew in the opposite direction and wrapped himself, shuddering, around one of the bars.  Unfortunately, the DT's continued to plague him three weeks into being "punkzbane free" ..



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 02, 2007, 10:26:31 AM
"Bugs? Mouth?" Nasty drew tremendous insight from his delirium tremens. "When did you have those enamel fillings replaced?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 02, 2007, 11:31:57 AM
At this terrible deluge of voices and hallucinations, Gordon realized he was in dire straits, and wondered if he had taken the wrong turn somewhere along the walk of life.  He knew he was not a cockroach, and he knew he was not merely a number --- he was a free man!  No matter what happened, he had to hang onto that one essential truth, even if a big angry balloon was chasing him around the natatorium, even if it pounced on him and had him twisting by the pool.  A man, when he came to the fork in the road, had to pick it up and use it to blow up big angry balloons.  And always, he must choose love over gold, even if it meant....



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 02, 2007, 12:18:18 PM
sacrificing his personal freedom in the hope of freeing his soul. He certainly had made many mistakes on his journey. He crossed the line once too often, relying on his concept of truth with little regard for social convention.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 02, 2007, 12:38:53 PM
"What I wouldn't give for a large sock with manure in it" he heard someone in front of him m utter.  Crap, Gordon thought, did I say that pretentious and meaningless bull shit out loud?  "Yes," the man in front of him said.  "And before you ask, you said that out loud too."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 02, 2007, 12:43:37 PM
"All the more reason to just shut up and accept my lot." Gordon thought to himself.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 02, 2007, 01:18:36 PM
"A social convention, maybe that's just what I need", mused Gordon as he contemplated just how far he was willing to go to find one...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 02, 2007, 01:25:02 PM
hmmm... St Louis, perhaps?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZfMqW3Avhk


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on June 02, 2007, 08:10:03 PM
.. I've always liked steel guitars, thought Gordon .. but first I need to nail down the facts.  I've done so much lucid dreaming, I don't know if I'm still in the fucking jail, plastered to the cell floor by some cruel fate and a red-eyed companion who claims to prefer to remain there,  or if I'm in fact a semi-free man now, kidnapped, however, by an obese  - then slender -- woman who looks like the lead singer of the Jefferson Airplane -- , and an eerily familiar sounding man,  -- to some place -- I'll hazard a guess here -- in the Adirondacks.  "I need to master my own space helmet so to speak", he said, gazing into Nasty's blinking red eyes as he tried to gain his bearings.  "I need to rid my mind of these odd Food Network related fantasies, and so on .."  "I need to pick up some thread of sense."  "I need to remember my cousin Harold, who is depending on me to prevent a catastrophe .." 

Rubbing his eyes, Gordon looked about him ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on June 02, 2007, 09:00:06 PM
.. he noted cedar beams, and breathed in a lovely piney smell.  A window near him was open, and the chatter of chickadees -- tweeting "chicka -dee-dee - dee " filtered in.  Then he noted a small black and white television set at some distance, in a corner of the room -- the room seemed to be quite large.  The television set was tuned to a hockey game.  A joyous crowd roared -- it seemed a certain team had scored -finally - one lousy goal - against the f***ing Ducks .


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 02, 2007, 10:44:51 PM
"One lousy goal indeed. That was all I could manage in the only game of my professional career. Got knocked silly later in the game. Concussion, broken collar bone, three teeth busted out... Dammit!"

Gordon tried to recall a converstion with Nasty.

"Something about bugs, or enamel fillings. A manure filled sock? Was it just another hallucination?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 02, 2007, 11:28:23 PM
Another mystery... and once more Gordon looks for answers.  Possibly he has simply been under the influence of too many steel-guitar melodies (Hawaiian one can only hope, near the north shore, with the turtles and that smarmy surf) and iguana phernomes.  His teeth?  They do look so very, very fine, as they grin at him from their nighty-night-time home (when alone) within his half empty/full glass of Glenfiddich.  Nasty?  Well, Nasty is as Nasty does.  Of course, that's what Rachael loves about him, or so she says.  For now he is mildly content, the sox beat the pants off the blasted  yanks...so what if it took a thigh to the head, or was it a head to the thigh?  Time to move on, time to...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on June 02, 2007, 11:33:42 PM
"..fillings, fillings -- it seems I used to communicate with Harold through my fillings" - thought Gordon, his head beginning to throb again -- though they were the silver metal mercury filled variety, prior to the enamel ..

"There was a manure filled sock" he recalled, "in Sing Sing, but ... social convention mandated its removal" ..

"Bugs.  Now that was a hallucination brought on by my delirium tremens.  The blood engorged bedbug scurrying over the edge of the bed as I ponder this, on the other hand, would appear to be real".

Suddenly there was a brisk tap at the door ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 02, 2007, 11:42:14 PM
It was Harold.  God!  Harold!  How he had changed!  Once a virile, athletic (yet small) although pimply, rather shy soul, now before him stood...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 03, 2007, 12:32:34 AM
a virulent, apathetic (yet still small) although blemish free, extremely shy soulful...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 03, 2007, 12:37:13 AM
man about town.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGN2aa3oQRM


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 03, 2007, 12:56:00 AM
Yes!  Perfect!  But, wait.  Which of the personifications is the true Harold...hmmmm?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 03, 2007, 01:18:46 AM
The man was a mystery. The key to unlocking his very nature could be found somewhere in the ruins of Mumbai. The ghosts he had uncovered there permeated his soul. It would take not a sleuth, but a determined digger. One who sought out not just artifacts, but the meanings behind their creation. Their conception.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on June 03, 2007, 09:54:24 AM
Harold looked at Nasty.  Gordon and Nasty started, staring at Harold, as he stood rather hang-dog before them, as he had changed so, yet still seemed so mysterious, so multi-faceted, even at a superficial glance.  (They wouldn't be surprised, for example, if he suddenly broke into a tapdance. ) "This will save us so much time" said Gordon quietly -- "we hadn't expected to meet up with you for months -- we need to talk ... "

Harold smiled grimly and settled into the  comfortable overstuffed chair by the fire (yes there was a fireplace in this marvelous room) and tried to sort out in his own mind where to begin, re the figurine, re Mumbai, re his own role here with the kidnappers.

Suddenly Harold lifted his head and said ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 03, 2007, 01:39:12 PM
"I'm a man about town, you know, but the town is not about me.  So I'm thinking we need to install a microwave oven and restore some sense of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 03, 2007, 04:57:23 PM
normality about here. Gordon watched as Harold bolted towards the roaring fire. He was pointing at something on the wall and began drawing large imaginary circles in the air all the while staring at a little black spot which on closer inspection turned out to be a fly.

"What you doing, Harold?" asked Gordon, with a perched Nasty looking rather woozy

"I'm hypnotising a fly Gordon, all the while inching closer in ever decreasing circles," 

There was barely an inch between Harold's circling finger and the little fly. Something had to give.

"Prepare to be astonished....voi-là!"

The fly, very much alive, was gently rested from the wall by the tip of Harold's index finger.

Sing-Sing hadn't diminshed Gordon's sense of humour. "Is this an iguana I see before me..."





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 03, 2007, 07:11:44 PM
Grinnin' Gorgeous Georgie (kiss the girls and make 'em however) Cloo's smokin' and jokin' jive joint.  Where the brightest and the not so bright...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 03, 2007, 09:11:07 PM
Ah yes, the “not so bright” ones—dems da ones she likes da best—dat way when she drains dem dry—her IQ doesn’t drop so much dontchaknow—especially those cute dumb youtube podcast types—hanging around the book temple—in the u-district jeez are they stupid—they’re so stupid that


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 12:26:13 AM
“Well, honey, I know just what you mean,” said Desdemona, shaking her head and smoking her cigarette. We were at the Kitty Kat Café having some coffee, commiserating over our stupid boyfriends. “I had this stupid boyfriend in college once,” she said. “How stupid?” I asked nonchalantly. “Well, he was more stupid than a strap-on dildo—that’s how stupid he was. I got so sick of him being so stupid and living with him in that dumpy apartment of his that finally one day I told him to do something useful with his life and at least paint the apartment living room. I got him the paint, the brushes, the ladder, the whole works—and told him, honey, paint the joint and surprise me when I get home tonight. That night when I got home, I could smell the distinctive smell of paint. I walks into the living room and finds my boyfriend lying on the floor in a pool of sweat. I notices that he’s wearing a ski jacket and a fur coat at the same time. I goes over and asks him if he’s OK. He replies yes. I asks what in the world is he doing? He replies that he wanted to prove to me that he wasn’t as dumb as I thought he was—and wanted to do it by painting the living room so bad. But he got overheated and just couldn’t finish the job. I then asks him why he’s got a ski jacket over his fur coat. He looks at me kinda dumb and replies that he was reading the directions on the paint can and they said....FOR BEST RESULTS, PUT ON TWO COATS!!!”



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on June 04, 2007, 12:58:50 AM
Gordon, meanwhile, after becoming transfixed for a few moments by the interesting conversations that suddenly blasted through the walls from the next rooms, re-fixed his gaze on Harold, who stood smiling, looking fondly upon the fly that stood upon his finger, rubbing its hands together, as if in satisfaction at the stunt.

"You have not lost your touch, I see" said Gordon quietly -- "still the magician extraordinaire."

"I like to flatter myself that that's not too far off the mark" said Harold.  He waved his hand, releasing his bug-eyed captive, then suddenly swivelled and spun a small packet frisbee-style with his other hand in the direction of Gordon, whose too-slow movement to catch it was intercepted anyway by Nasty, who flew in the direction of the missile and caught it, taking it down with him to a corner of the room, where he hunched over it drooling and munching.  (It seems Nasty hadn't eaten in some days, or perhaps weeks..)  Gordon flung his hand down, palm up, next to Nasty's face and said sternly "release it sir".  Nasty reluctantly loosened his jaws and the moistened packet fell into Gordon's hand...

Gordon slowly lifted the packet and began to open it .. with a growing sense of dread...as Nasty and Harold looked on..




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 01:12:44 AM
Well, all I can say is that I’ve had lots of cute dumb boyfriends,” said Desdemona, sipping her coffee after class. “I knew this cute little dummy freshman who couldn't learn to water ski because he couldn't find a lake with a slope. I dated this other little creep who lost his job in a pharmacy because the bottles wouldn’t fit into the typewriter. And then there was this guy who got excited because he finished a jigsaw puzzle in 6 months and the box said 2 to 4 years?” I nodded my head sympathetically saying “Yes, girl, I know exactly what you mean. I had this stupid boyfriend once who got trapped on an escalator for hours when the power went out. He was so stupid he couldn't call 911 because there is no 11 on any phone button?” Desdemona shook her head, “Well, you know what  goes 'vroom-screech-vroom-screech-etc? A dumb boyfriend at a flashing red light.” I nodded knowingly. “I had this drunk dummy boyfriend once who burnt his nose bobbing for French-fries. Dummies in the kitchen just aren’t cool. I had this skinny low IQ mentally-challenged boyfriend who baked a turkey for 3 1/2 days because the instructions said 1/2 hour per pound and he weighed 125. He hated M&M's because they were so hard to peel. And he was always hurting himself while raking leaves—falling out of the tree.” Desdemona shrugged, “What’s a girl to do? You can’t live with them—you can’t live without them? I knew this really nicely built dumb jock in high school who after losing in a breaststroke swimming competition, complained that the other swimmers were using their arms…”



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 01:22:27 AM
When the surgeon came to see Gordon on the day after his operation, he asked him somewhat hesitantly just how long it would be before he could resume his sex life.

"Uh, I hadn't really thought about it," replied the stunned surgeon.

"After all, Gordon, you're the first one ever to ask that after a tonsillectomy."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 01:48:34 AM
Did I ever tell you how Gordon and Harold met?

Gordon was an attorney—and a very smart one too.

Harold was a lawyer too—and very intelligent as well.

Once they got seated next to each other on a flight from LA to NY.

Gordon asks if Harold would like to play a fun game?

Harold, tired, just wants to take a nap, politely declines and rolls over to the window to catch a few winks.
Gordon persists and explains that the game is easy and a lot of fun.

He explains, "I ask you a question, and if you don't know the answer, you pay me $5.00, and vise versa."
Again, Harold declines and tries to get some sleep.

Gordon, now agitated, says, "Okay, if you don't know the answer you pay me $5.00, and if I don't know the answer, I will pay you $500.00."

This catches Harold’s attention and, figuring there will be no end to this torment unless he plays, agrees to the game.

Gordon asks the first question. "What's the distance from the earth to the moon?"

Harold doesn't say a word, reaches into his wallet, pulls out a $5.00 bill and hands it to Gordon.

Okay says Gordon, your turn.

Harold asks, "What goes up a hill with three legs and comes down with four legs?"

Gordon, puzzled, takes out his laptop computer and searches all his references, no answer. He taps into the air phone with his modem and searches the net and the library of congress, no answer. Frustrated, he sends emails to all his friends and coworkers at the NYTimes, to no avail. After an hour, he wakes Harold, and hands him $500.00.

Harold says, "Thank you," and turns back to get some more sleep.

Gordon, who is more than a little miffed, wakes Harold and asks, "Well, what's the answer?"

Without a word, Harold reaches into his wallet, hands Gordon $5.00, and goes back to sleep.

Attorneys are so clever aren’t they?



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 01:57:21 AM
Gordon was gay—as gay as a three-dollar bill.

So Gordon finds himself one night in a straight bar sitting there on a bar stool and he shouts to the bartender, "Wanna hear a dumb straight joke?"

In a hushed voice, the guy next to him says, "Before you tell that joke, you should know something. Our bartender is straight and the bouncer is straight. I'm a 6' tall, 200-pound black belt veteran of the Special Forces. The guy sitting next to me is 6' 2", weighs 225 and he's a rugby player. The fella to your right is 6' 5", pushing 300 pounds and he's a wrestler. Each one of us is straight. Think about it, mister. You still wanna tell that joke?"

Gordon thinks for a moment and replies, "Nah, not if I'm going to have to explain it five times."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 02:03:59 AM
Gordon’s car breaks down on the Interstate one day.

So, Gordon eases it over onto the shoulder of the road and carefully steps out of the car and opens the trunk.

Out jump two men in trench coats who walk to the rear of the vehicle where they stand facing oncoming traffic and begin opening their coats and exposing their nude bodies to approaching drivers.

Not surprisingly, one of the worst pileups in history of this highway occurs.

It's not very long before a police car shows up.

The cop, clearly enraged, runs toward Gordon yelling, "What the hell is going on here?"

"My car broke down," says Gordon, calmly.

"Well, what are these perverts doing here by the road?!" asks the cop.

And Gordon said....

"Those are my emergency flashers!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 02:38:54 AM
Gordon steps into an elevator, smiles at Teddy already on, and says," T-G-I-F."

Teddy smiles and says," S-H-I-T."

Gordon smiles back and replies," T-G-I-F."

Teddy again smiles and says," S-H-I-T."

Gordon looks confused. He answers Teddy, and says, "Thank goodness its Friday."

Teddy smiles and replies, "Sorry honey, its Thursday."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 03:20:00 AM
Gordon buys a puzzle and takes it home.

After an hour he has none of it together, so he gets frustrated and calls Harold.

He says "Harold, I just bought this puzzle, but I can't find any of the edges and none of the pieces fit together."

Harold asks Gordon what is the picture supposed to be.

He says "A rooster."

Harold says "I'll be over in a minute to help you."

When he gets there he says "Damn Gordon! Put all those cornflakes back in the box!"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 03:28:12 AM
Gordon decided to do something wild he hadn't done before, so he set out to rent his first X-rated adult video.

He went to the video store and after looking around for a while selected a title that sounded very stimulating.

Gordon drove home, lit some candles, slipped into something comfortable, and put the DVD on the big plasma screen up on his bedroom wall. To his disappointment, there was nothing but static on the screen.

Gordon got so mad and called the video store to complain.

"I just rented an adult movie from you and there's nothing on the DVD, but static."

"Sorry about that,” said the store clerk. “We've had problems with some of those DVD’s. Which title did you rent?"

Gordon said "It's called Head Cleaner."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 03:38:24 AM
Gordon bought a brand new sports car and decided to drive down to LA for the weekend.

He reached there in a few hours.

After spending a short time there, Gordon decided to return, and called up Harold to expect him in the evening, but he didn't come back in the evening and not the next day either.

When Gordon finally reached home on the third day, poor distraught Harold ran to him and asked him "What in the world happened to you?"

Gordon got out of the car, obviously very tired from a long journey, and said, "These car designers—they’re just a bunch of crazy lunatics! They have four gears for going forward—but only one for going back!"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 03:46:37 AM
To prepare for his big date with Desdemona, Gordon went on top of the roof of his apartment building in order to get a little color for himself.

Not wanting any tan lines to show, Gordon sunbathed in the nude. Unfortunately, he fell asleep while on the roof, and managed to get sunburned on his "tool of the trade.”

Being very determined Gordon decided not to miss his date because Desdemona was such a hot redhead. So, he decided to put some lotion on his manhood and wrapped it in gauze, feeling this should resolve his painful situation.

Desdemona showed up for the date at his apartment, and Gordon treated her to a home-cooked dinner, after which they went into the living room to watch a movie.

During the movie, however, Gordon’s sunburn started acting up.

After several minutes of extreme discomfort Gordon asked to be excused, went to the kitchen, and poured a tall, cold glass of milk. He then placed his sunburned member in the milk and experienced immediate relief of his pain.

Desdemona, however, wondering what he was doing, wandered into the kitchen to see him with his johnson immersed in a glass of milk.

Baffled Desdemona exclaimed, "So, THAT'S how you load those things!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 03:49:38 AM
“Well,” Harold smirked. “I hope you’re satisfied with yourself now.”

“Ah,” said Gordon. “It’s so nice to be a Junior Member.”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 04, 2007, 08:59:12 AM
"junior member,"  Harold snorted.  "All that work, and you are still only a junior member."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 10:08:11 AM
"Besides", Harold continued, "I thought you gave up that gig"?  Gordon knew when to quit (usually) unfortunately it was Nasty's tenacious...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 04, 2007, 10:13:16 AM
body odor that


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 10:19:12 AM
copious amounts (buckets) of hummingbird spit were not sufficient...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 04, 2007, 10:21:18 AM
to completely eliminate.  It seemed millions of hummingbirds had been exploited for the most meager and transitory result.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 10:26:24 AM
"Gawd!"  The exploitation of hummingbirds!  Next thing could be...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 10:39:28 AM
Twinkies?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 04, 2007, 10:42:01 AM
Or worse, the World Bank funding micro-entrepreneurs who, in their zeal to raise quick capital, would pass off other spittles as the genuine stuff.  It would end badly for all concerned, given that other avian species produced a saliva that was little better than plain politician spittle for removing foul odors.  A False Spittle market would do harm to the delicate geopolitical balance and eventually result in...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 10:54:26 AM
even more political blather or worse...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 04, 2007, 11:01:50 AM
a world so crazed from smelling B.O. that...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 04, 2007, 11:08:03 AM
the world's lone superpower would elect a drug addled, alcoholic, lame brain who was immune to compromise and drunk on power as its leader...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 04, 2007, 11:26:31 AM
...a man so befuddled, so badly spoken, and so confused that...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 04, 2007, 11:41:17 AM
he consistently failed to recognize when bald attorneys from Ohio were talking about him on message boards.

Gordon, in desperation, opened a window and, looking across the lawn, happened to notice...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 04, 2007, 11:41:52 AM
a Peeping Tom staring back at him


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 04, 2007, 11:43:25 AM
a species that the internet, and surveillance technology, had rendered as rare as the ivory-billed woodpecker.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 04, 2007, 12:22:16 PM
 Harold, gradually recovering his senses was not so quick to add, "Speaking of rare birds has anyone heard from.........."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 03:03:34 PM
Fubsy Shardborn Fadge?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 04, 2007, 03:09:24 PM
Fadge?  Gordon was incredulous.  "I would not expect to hear from him seeing as he has been dead as a doornail these last five years.  Fadge?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 03:12:23 PM
"Well, last I heard Fadge had succumbed to a horrible case of the collywobbles from consuming gobbets of...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 04, 2007, 03:19:46 PM
rancid elephant semen....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 03:21:19 PM
um, rather gleety to boot...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 03:23:43 PM
and even harder to toss...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 04, 2007, 03:30:18 PM
except in the "cookie" sense of the word toss...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 03:32:42 PM
::) ::)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 04, 2007, 03:41:18 PM
It was with a heavy heart that Gordon bent Howard over his knee and gave him such a spanking the likes of which Howard hadn't seen since


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 04, 2007, 03:58:18 PM
because, of course, bent over the knees like that, he couldn't see the spanking at all....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 04, 2007, 04:04:42 PM
but it didn't matter, because no matter how much spanking, oat bran and prune juice...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 04, 2007, 04:17:41 PM
he experienced, the stool problem just wouldn't go away...not any old stool mind you, we're talking


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 04:26:44 PM
“I told you so,” said Harold. Gordon nodded knowingly and shrugged. Harold wagged his finger at poor Gordon, “I told you so—pearls before swine. Stick with one-liners—you’re just spinning your wheels otherwise.” Gordon sighed, “I know, of course you’re right. All that work just to be a Junior Member? Was it worth it? All I really wanted was a little respect—all I really wanted was to become a “Hero Member” dontchaknow. All I really wanted was just to be “Hero-Dictator for Life.”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 04:32:08 PM
despite rumors of his demise Fubsy appeared...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 04:34:30 PM
Professor Fadge was eager to examine the fossilized stool, as a well-known paleontologist he was expert...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 04, 2007, 04:46:53 PM
at matching an arse to a face...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 05:01:23 PM
This of course was quite useful, for he also moonlighted as a consultant for match.com...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 04, 2007, 05:24:05 PM
but his later years were marred by an inability to tell the difference. Professor Russell it was who eventually provided the key that put everything back in its proper place providing a radical new treatment that involved the use of a complete arse from India and two bellydancers from Casablanca... 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 05:30:25 PM
a handful of camels from Istanbul and two Japanese tourists, who, by the way had met through Prof. Fadge's efforts and...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 05:31:14 PM
a complete arse from India and two bellydancers from Casablanca... 

...but who needs a complete arse from India when there are so many of them here in Creative Writing? And who needs two bellydancers from Casablanca when there's Madupont and Chartres over in the louche Meandering Lounge?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 05:34:51 PM
"Sour grapes"?  It was well past tea-time but Gordon invited Harold to join him in a simple repast...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 05:37:09 PM
a handful of camels from Istanbul and two Japanese tourists,

...and who needs a handful of camels when I can get a nice hump or two over in Cooking? And who needs two Japanese tourists when I can eat ice cream in Paris for free?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 04, 2007, 05:46:00 PM
"Sour grapes"?  It was well past tea-time but Gordon invited Harold to join him in a simple repast...

both of them roundly ignoring Harold's neighbour Cecil Bottomfluff who - chicken dancing around the garden - was experiencing the never ending flashback to the time he spent as a war correspondent for The New York Times in Austria during World War 2...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 06:01:14 PM
All this had not escaped the ever-and-still-jogging iguana, who now was achingly sore from an unexpected fit of giggles, and yet


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 04, 2007, 06:09:33 PM
Harold's neighbour Cecil Bottomfluff

Ah yes, Harold's neighbor Cecil Bottomfluff the esteemed Earl of Fudgepackerton, the reclusive Lord Quakenbush of Fadge Mansion, the ho-hum Squire of Bosie Douglas and Wilde's former lover, the great Poet Laureate of the Deep Dark Dingle --who could blame him for being melancholy and blue today? A touch of Great Expectations tainting the ratty velvet curtains and cob-webbed tall windows, like poor Miss Havisham waiting hopelessly for her young cute Pip to show up...and play a game of cards with pouty Estelle


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 04, 2007, 06:13:30 PM
...not to be confused with the bow-mouthed Clothilde...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on June 04, 2007, 10:15:52 PM
.. "or the Elephanta Caves" said Fadge, eying Gordon and Harold mischievously ...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elephanta_Caves


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 05, 2007, 11:41:50 AM
Meanwhile, back in the natatorium, the pool filters had become clogged with gallons of rancid elephant semen, and the pump was beginning to emit an ominous sound, a terrible banshee-wail that made Harold and Gordon look at each other in wild surmise.

"I think someone is approaching Full Member-hood," said Gordon, "and it's going to ruin our afternoon swim!"

"You don't mean?"

"Yes," said Gordon, "the slim and handsome Nebraska poet, Bart Nilson!"

"My God," cried Harold.  "We must lock up the women and then....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 05, 2007, 11:45:51 AM
run for it!  It'll be every man for himself and the devil take the hind most!"

Meanwhile, Clothilde....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 05, 2007, 11:48:18 AM
pondered the meaning of life while sitting on the crapper....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 05, 2007, 12:00:48 PM
and emptying half a can of Glade into the room to fend off the powerful pheromones of Bart Nilson which were spreading through the building's ventilation system and threatening her calm contemplations with wild erotic longings.  Sometimes, it was better to breathe carcinogens than to defile one's mind with....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 05, 2007, 12:04:12 PM
Bart Nilson....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 05, 2007, 12:08:18 PM
shaving his scrotum while


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 05, 2007, 12:10:16 PM
possessing a full member...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 05, 2007, 12:52:30 PM
"Too damned possessive, that's why I left Bart", Clothilde demured as her esthetician prepared the wax...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 05, 2007, 01:06:53 PM
Meanwhile Gordon and Harold were both still rather nervous and fidgety after watching The X-Files last night—that tacky episode “Jose Chung’s From Outer Space” about Jesse Ventura as the Man in Black, Jimmy Carter as Dr. Fingers the Hypnotist and Bart Nilsen as the autopsied alien come back to life to warn Mulder and Skully that the planet Elbe was on a collision course with the swanky downtown Poughkeepsie “No Tell Motel” where Whiskeypriest was being held as a captive sex-slave spread-eagled in bed by Rachel Ray and a film crew doing the final episode of The X–Files entitled...   


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 05, 2007, 01:10:10 PM
Dr. Fadge ( Fah-dah-jhay) Re-Members?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 05, 2007, 01:12:47 PM
As a matter of linguistics, Gordon mused, can one really be "held captive" as a "slave" if one enters into the captivity and servitude willingly?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 05, 2007, 01:40:24 PM
Meanwhile Gordon and Harold were both still rather nervous and fidgety after watching The X-Files last night—that tacky episode “Jose Chung’s From Outer Space” about Jesse Ventura as the Man in Black, Jimmy Carter as Dr. Fingers the Hypnotist and Bart Nilsen as the autopsied alien come back to life to warn Mulder and Skully that the planet Elbe was on a collision course with the swanky downtown Poughkeepsie “No Tell Motel” where Whiskeypriest was being held as a captive sex-slave spread-eagled in bed by Rachel Ray and a film crew doing the final episode of The X–Files entitled...   

X-Files Episode #666—“Klatu Nevada Naked-Toe”

X-Files Episode #666—“I Married a Lawyer from Outer Space”

X-Files Episode #666—“Kenneth Starr v. Bong Hits 4 Jesus”



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 05, 2007, 01:49:57 PM


At this unseemly ejaculation, shuffling footsteps were heard in the hallway, and a moment later, Charles Nilson Reilly walked in and said


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 05, 2007, 02:07:16 PM
"Ejaculation"?  "Did I miss something"?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 05, 2007, 02:07:56 PM
"Aren't I dead?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 05, 2007, 02:18:33 PM
Meanwhile Gordon and Harold were both still rather nervous and fidgety after watching The X-Files last night—that tacky episode “Jose Chung’s From Outer Space” about Jesse Ventura as the Man in Black, Jimmy Carter as Dr. Fingers the Hypnotist and Bart Nilsen as the autopsied alien come back to life to warn Mulder and Skully that the planet Elbe was on a collision course with the swanky downtown Poughkeepsie “No Tell Motel” where Whiskeypriest was being held as a captive sex-slave spread-eagled in bed by Rachel Ray and a film crew doing the final episode of The X–Files entitled...   

X-Files Episode #666—“The Creature from The New York Times Black Lagoon”

X-Files Episode #666—“Attack of the Tacky Texas Lurking Trolls v. Night of the Lithuanian Euro-Lounge Lizards”

X-Files Episode #666—“When Blogs Collide” or “Earthboys Are Easy and So Am I”

X-Files Episode #666—“Beam Me Up Scotty” or “How I Learned to Live with Msussman’s Martian Podcasts Beamed into my X-Rated Big Apple Brain”



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 05, 2007, 05:24:02 PM
Packed, waxed, re-membered, ejaculated and rejuvenated ( "Did we forget anything?" Nasty asked as he took one more look around the Riiiiiitz Hotel suite) the group moved on...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 05, 2007, 05:34:58 PM
“Harold?”

“Yes, Gordon.”

“How long do I have to be a “junior member”—before I rise to the exalted position of full time elba potentate?”

“Well, Gordon—not until you get down on your hands and knees, honey.”

“But, Harold, I’m always down there!?!”

“Well, stay down there. You’ve gotta learn to stoop to conquer in this crazy newfangled new world of blogs, podcasts and digital dildos…”

But, Harold!!! Every orifice I gots is plugged. I’ve got ear-plugs stuck way in there that sing the Supremes, I’ve got weird funny glasses for 3D vision, I’ve got a slinky microphone halfway down my throat tickling my tonsils, I’ve got a couple of iPod thingamajigs up my…”

Stop it, Gordon. I don’t want to hear about that…”

But Harold—when am I gonna get a hip Hero Member?”

“Gordon, you’ll never be hip. Now strap this on and shut-up.”

But Harold, it’s your turn this time.”

“Gordon!!!!…”




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 06, 2007, 05:17:56 AM
The New York Times

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 06, 2007, 05:52:13 AM
Subtext

 :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-*



 
:o :o :o :o :o :o
        :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o
                   :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 05:58:33 AM
The only potential threat to Nilson's looming lovefest was steeplejack Squawk McDougall in the Cape of Good Horn...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 06, 2007, 06:05:06 AM
Paranoia


::)
::) ::)
::) ::) ::)
::) ::) ::) ::)
::) ::) ::) ::) ::)
::) ::) :o ::) ::)
::) ::) ::) ::) ::)
::) ::) ::) ::)
::) ::) ::)
::) ::)
::)



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 06, 2007, 07:34:39 AM
"Aren’t I dead?”—whiskeypriest

—for William Burroughs

Yes indeed you are dead said harold—you’ve been dead many, many times—in this lifetime alone according to our records—you’ve been dead a dozen times—count them—all those close calls you had—they weren’t close calls at all—they were the real thing—the illusion being just the opposite tho—each close call segues back into life again—lost time and all that—and so there’s no real bingo—you’re back in the game again that’s all—just as good as new—that’s how the tape loop works—we’re proud of our high tech here at uroboros inc.—we embrace and extend the moment like never before—that’s because you’ll never have to worry about it—the before, the after or in between—we’ve wrapped it all up for you—it just goes around and around—some people do it a dozen times—others do it a hundred times—everything’s totally unconscious of course—we don’t want our customers to worry or fret—we insure that nobody knows they’ve kicked the bucket—nobody knowingly kicks the bucket—that would be too anticlimactic—we insure a tight segue—between illusion and reality—that way everybody’s a winner—just imagine—you too can live dozens of real lives—all condensed into one seamless multiplex moment

A winner—just imagine—you too can live dozens of real lives—all condensed into one seamless multiplex moment—don’t worry or fret—we insure that nobody knows they’ve kicked the bucket—nobody knowingly kicks the bucket—that would be too anticlimactic—we insure a tight segue—between illusion and reality—that way everybody’s up for you—it just goes around and around—some people do it a dozen times—others do it a hundred times—everything’s totally unconscious of course—we don’t want our customers to go uroboros on us—we embrace and extend the moment like never before—that’s because you’ll never have to worry about it—the before, after or in between—we’ve wrapped it all up—and so there’s no real bingo—you’re back in the game again that’s all—just as good as new—that’s how the youtube loop works—we’re proud of our high tech here—the close calls you had—they weren’t close calls at all—they were the real thing—the illusion being just the opposite tho—each close call segues back into itself again—lost time and all that—yes indeed you are dead said harold—you’ve been dead many, many times—in this lifetime alone according to our records—you’ve been dead a dozen times—count them—all those close calls

Many times—in this lifetime alone according to our records—you’ve been dead a dozen times—count them—all those close calls…real thing—the illusion being just the opposite tho—each close call segues back into itself again—lost time and all that—yes indeed you are dead said harold—you’ve been dead many times, that’s all—just as good as new—that’s how the youtube loop works—we’re proud of our high tech here—the close calls you had—they weren’t close calls at all—they were the before—that’s because you’ll never have to worry about it—the before, after or in between—we’ve wrapped it all up—and so there’s no real bingo—you’re back in the game again a dozen times—others do it a hundred times—everything’s totally unconscious of course—we don’t want our customers to go uroboros on us—we embrace and extend the moment— like never knowingly kicking the bucket—that would be too anticlimactic—we insure a tight segue—between illusion and reality—that way everybody’s up for you—it just goes around and around—some people do it like winners—just imagine—you too can live dozens of real lives—all condensed into one seamless multiplex moment—don’t worry or fret—we insure that nobody knows they’ve kicked the bucket—nobody

Lives—all condensed into one seamless multiplex moment—don’t worry or fret—we insure that nobody knows they’ve kicked the bucket—nobody a tight segue—between illusion and reality—that way everybody’s up for you—it just goes around and around—some people do it like winners—just imagine—you too can live dozens of real unconscious lives—of course we don’t want our customers to go uroboros on us—we embrace and extend the moment— like never knowingly kicking the bucket—that would be too anticlimactic—we insure before, after or in between—we’ve wrapped it all up—and so there’s no real bingo—you’re back in the game again a dozen times—others do it a hundred times—everything’s totally looped in the works—we’re proud of our high tech here—the close calls you had—they weren’t close calls at all—they were the before—that’s because you’ll never have to worry about it—it segues back into itself again—lost time and all that—yes indeed you are dead said harold—you’ve been dead many times, that’s all—just as good as new—that’s how youtube works—many times—in this lifetime alone according to our records—you’ve been dead a dozen times—count them—all those close calls…real thing—the illusion being just the opposite tho—each close call

Our records—you’ve been dead a dozen times—count them—all those close calls…real thing—the illusion being just the opposite tho—each close call… and all that—yes indeed you are dead said harold—you’ve been dead many times, that’s all—just as good as new—that’s how youtube works—many times—in this lifetime alone according to tech here—the close calls you had—they weren’t close calls at all—they were the before—that’s because you’ll never have to worry about it—it segues back into itself again—lost time up—and so there’s no real bingo—you’re back in the game again a dozen times—others do it a hundred times—everything’s totally looped in the works—we’re proud of our high go uroboros on us—we embrace and extend the moment— like never knowingly kicking the bucket—that would be too anticlimactic—we insure before, after or in between—we’ve wrapped it all for you—it just goes around and around—some people do it like winners—just imagine—you too can live dozens of real unconscious lives—of course we don’t want our customers to Lives—all condensed into one seamless multiplex moment—don’t worry or fret—we insure that nobody knows they’ve kicked the bucket—nobody a tight segue—between illusion and reality—that way everybody’s up

Tight segue—between illusion and reality—that way everybody’s up to Lives—all condensed into one seamless multiplex moment—don’t worry or fret—we insure that nobody knows they’ve kicked the bucket—nobody a people do it like winners—just imagine—you too can live dozens of real unconscious lives—of course we don’t want our customers would be too anticlimactic—we insure before, after or in between—we’ve wrapped it all for you—it just goes around and around—some works—we’re proud of our high go uroboros on us—we embrace and extend the moment— like never knowingly kicking the bucket—that no real bingo—you’re back in the game again a dozen times—others do it a hundred times—everything’s totally looped in the were the before—that’s because you’ll never have to worry about it—it segues back into itself again—lost time up—and so there’s how youtube works—many times—in this lifetime alone according to tech here—the close calls you had—they weren’t close calls at all—they call… and all that—yes indeed you are dead said harold—you’ve been dead many times, that’s all—just as good as new—that’s our records—you’ve been dead a dozen times—count them—all those close calls…real thing—the illusion being just the opposite tho—each close



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 06, 2007, 10:08:14 AM
"Where are we, where are we headed"?  Gordon, groggy and overwrought, had enough...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 06, 2007, 10:13:36 AM
He tried to focus on his book, but half of it appeared to by in webdings, and the rest reminded him uneasily of DeSelby's Codex....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 06, 2007, 10:25:05 AM
Would that be Professor De Selby?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 06, 2007, 10:31:57 AM
Gordon couldn't recall if DeSelby ever taught at an acredited university.  What he really recalled was DeSelby's view that the world was sausage shaped.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 06, 2007, 10:35:15 AM
"Another over-stuffed theory", snorted Fnord.  "I'll have another gnarlneblnaster"!

On second thought, make it a black and tan...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 06, 2007, 10:59:28 AM
Doberman, with fried rice and almonds on the side.

Meanwhile, Harry Nilson and Charles Nilson Reilly, had run out of human life force or "chi" to feed on and could not longer continue their semi-solid and slightly mucilaginous apparitions in the 10-dimensional spacetime matrix.  Though they had tried desperately, a la Don Ameche et al. in  "Coccoon", to get a little extra mojo out of the natatorium, even that pond had turned stale and algal, and so were compelled to go all Ourobouros on themselves and dwindle, first to pale wisps of gossamer-like strands floating in midair, and then finally, in one paroxysmic and final African swallow, to nibble themselves into the transparent (and slightly tangy, with a hint of nutmeg) abyss of nonbeing.

"See how it goes," said Harold.  "Just be glad you have a body and can enjoy life's pleasures.  Now, hold still, while I...."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 06, 2007, 11:01:47 AM
give you a rectal exam


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 06, 2007, 11:02:41 AM
Snip off your penis... I mean foreskin....  Sweat began to break out on Harold's brow as he fingered Nilson's only recently full member.  Adult circumscision paid reasonably well, as a sidelight, but sometimes, sometimes, Harold's inner demon took over and he would, in the immortal words attributed to Abner in Heller's novel God Knows, "bring back the whole prick."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 06, 2007, 11:09:20 AM
Then Harold realized that only seconds before in the narrative, Nilson had winked out of existence due to a lack of chi and possibly everybody talkin' at him, which meant that the member belonged to....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 06, 2007, 11:11:31 AM
Cothilde.  "What the fuuuu..."  The explative was cut off by the sudden appearance of....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 06, 2007, 11:26:49 AM
gingivitis


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 06, 2007, 11:51:21 AM
who had changed her name from Ginger Vidas...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 06, 2007, 12:48:02 PM
..to the obvious.

"I can't hear a word they're sayin'," mused Chlotide.  "Only the echoes of my...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 01:45:24 PM
I admit - I am very Guidi, to the extent


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 06, 2007, 02:08:15 PM
to such extent, that breathing is sometimes difficult with milk running out of your nose?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 06, 2007, 02:17:56 PM
"Ugh," thought Chlo.  "Why are these writers making milk come out my nose?  AAAAH-EEEEEEEEE!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 06, 2007, 02:21:26 PM
"We're thirsty:" it seemed the inevitable reply, but whence came it from?  Clothilde was begining to feel like Daffy in Duck Amuck!...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 06, 2007, 02:23:49 PM
and before her last cosmetic surgery, she did have Daffy's chest, but that was all changed now...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 06, 2007, 02:29:30 PM
not only did Chlo have acute angina,


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 06, 2007, 02:32:50 PM
but a cute vagina...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 06, 2007, 02:34:38 PM
bought in China


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 06, 2007, 02:35:21 PM
from a woman named Dinah...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 06, 2007, 02:38:05 PM
who's in a bind a


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 02:39:13 PM
double bind, the kind


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 06, 2007, 02:39:50 PM
But I digress, Dear Reader.  The fact of the matter is, Chlotilde was disenchanted with her lot in life, and decided after much thought on the matter (all of five seconds), to give up giving out free nutria and rice on Wednesday nights in Terrebone Parish and go for the big time.  Yes, by God!  She would follow her dreams!  She would shoot for the stars!  She would...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 02:41:01 PM
take a pop at Dom


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 06, 2007, 02:43:27 PM
double bind, the kind

Houdini can't unwind....


Now pop the dom


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 02:48:27 PM
Pérignon she thought but cute as it was


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 06, 2007, 02:51:42 PM
it needed just a bit more chilling and a


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 02:58:15 PM
karaoke-cokey kind of shakedown before she'd be ready for all that spontaneity. There was only one man for the job.

She grabbed the little black book...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 06, 2007, 02:59:27 PM
then put it down and grabbed the much larger black book for this she needed


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 03:00:59 PM
the small crane which she kept in her plane


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 06, 2007, 03:02:19 PM
The black billed bird strolled over to the larger black book, its long legs bending backwards.  You need a hand with that, it peeped...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 06, 2007, 03:08:16 PM
"No thank you, chere," replied our Chlo, batting her eyelashes.  "I'm perfectly adept at ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 03:20:38 PM
snopoker - have you ever tried it?"

"Well I'm more of a pool man myself," replied the crane " but I remember a time

No more editing from me - that's a junior member habit


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 06, 2007, 03:25:19 PM
ok...

Snopoker?  Last time I played that I got sooo badly frostbitten that my


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 03:29:03 PM
balls lost all their colour


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 03:32:37 PM
while my pontoon ended up in Dave Jones' locker which he wasn't too happy about seein' as


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 06, 2007, 03:34:23 PM
it was filled to the brim with so much flotsam and jetsam that even a sliver wouldn't


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 06, 2007, 03:38:44 PM
it glowed flourescent in the depths of the mighty sea.  Ah, things were so much different then...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 06, 2007, 03:42:20 PM
The sliver glowed?  Well, of course...and there was the Cheshire cat grinning


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 03:44:15 PM
at the glowing sliver in Jones' locker seascape, ah,


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 06, 2007, 03:44:25 PM
about taking a dump on Lady Havisham's tattered wedding gown


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 03:45:15 PM
it wasn't intentional - I was pre-occupied


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 03:46:19 PM
with a little gnome in a rowing boat singing


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 06, 2007, 03:48:07 PM
Silver slivers are really hard to find to the tune of Michael Row the Boat Ashore


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 03:49:34 PM
And furthermore


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 06, 2007, 03:51:21 PM
"No, Nevermore!" crowed the raven


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 06, 2007, 03:51:45 PM
and sew on Betsy Ross remarked


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 03:53:33 PM
Darn that Raven!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 06, 2007, 03:54:46 PM
and his sox!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 03:55:39 PM
which left Red in stitches


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 03:59:08 PM
after Poe-laxing him in


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 06, 2007, 04:01:11 PM
which really wasn't fair at all considering it was supposed to be hand-to hand...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 04:02:13 PM
gentlemanly billiards but you should know never to trust


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 06, 2007, 04:03:15 PM
a woman who reads Latin American Literature


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 04:04:13 PM
whilst hula hooping naked on her laptop


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 04:06:45 PM
Sumo wrestler Kobi Awabi


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 06, 2007, 04:08:14 PM
otherwise known as heart attack on a block...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 04:20:14 PM
whose tests ranged from the tip-toe test


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 06, 2007, 04:26:39 PM
SHOCKING ANNOUCEMENT—SHOCKING ANNOUCEMENT—SHOCKING ANNOUCEMENT— SHOCKING ANNOUCEMENT—SHOCKING ANNOUCEMENT

NEW YORK—We interrupt this program for an important blog announcement. According to reliable unnamed sources within the NYTimes, a major scandal is developing today concerning the former book producer and host Ricky “The Rat” Sussman who was caught last night in flagrante delicto in a NYTimes cubicle with two infamously nefarious online trolls—skuzzy “Scab-Nose” Lifeline the “book forum flasher” and skanky “weirdo” Poorbritboner the tacky troll of the sedate classical music forum.

Our story begins like an episode of Blackadder. It's the one in the 2nd series, where Edmund Blackadder is under threat of buggery with a red-hot poker for owing the Church a large sum of money. He mentions to the Baby Eating Bishop of Bath and Wells that he (Blackadder) had seen the Bishop in flagrente delicto with some nubile young maidens.

The Bishop responds "Those weren’t nubile maidens! Those were my two embedded journalist avatar ex-boyfriends—louche Lazyboy Lifeline and putrid pussiliminous Poorbritboner. On the payroll just like Ezekielpriest. I was simply administering extreme unction in the privacy of my confessional cubicle before my latest NYTimes podcast interview with Henry Kissinger."

"University politics are so vicious precisely because the stakes are so small."—Henry Kissinger

Stay tuned for this developing scandalous story…




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 06, 2007, 04:36:49 PM
twas a pirate who did that, Matey.  The meanest, nastiest pirate who ever sailed the seven seas.  He was so mean, so nasty, that he...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 06, 2007, 04:41:40 PM
GLITCH IN THE NARRATIVE!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 06, 2007, 04:42:42 PM
It was a stark and dormy night...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 04:49:21 PM
rown by the diver


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 06, 2007, 04:54:21 PM
near the tanks of the Bigris when suddenly...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 05:01:20 PM
without warning fots were shired


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 06, 2007, 05:06:27 PM
"This weans mar!" cried King Jiggy the Lame.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 06, 2007, 05:09:19 PM
:D :D :D :D



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 06, 2007, 06:04:21 PM
SHOCKING HEADLINES--SHOCKING HEADLINES--SHOCKING HEADLINES--SHOCKING HEADLINES--SHOCKING 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.

Ms. Blot came to us after working with The Poughkeepsie Pigsty Gazette in 1978 as a copy girl and became a janitor for the metropolitan desk in 1982, covering over the next 10 years a range of wastebaskets, including transportation, housing, the homeless and foster care. She became an editor on the desk in 1892, and the deputy metropolitan editor in 1894. The following year, she went into orbit as Martian bureau chief, then four years later, Saturn rings bureau chief. She returned to New York as urban haiku editor in 2002. In 2004, Ms. Blot was also given responsibility for coverage of GLBT social trends, like those in gay adoptions, cutting-edge intelligent design religious issues and technology's impacts on louche couch potatoes, and helped develop the Thursday Fatso section. In 2005, she was named national editor.

Several other editors have answered questions in this column, including Executive Editor Bill Keller, Obituaries Editor Bill McDonald, Assistant Managing Editor Glenn Kramon, Director of Copy Desks Merrill Perlman, Metropolitan Editor Joe Sexton, Living Editor Trish Hall and Investigations Editor Matthew Purdy. Their responses and those of other Times editors are on the Talk to the Newsroom page. These discussions will continue in future weeks with other Times editors.

Please submit your questions for Ms. Blot to [email protected] She will answer questions on a rolling basis; read the most recent reply.

Q. Could you offer some insights on how The Times decided to play the story about the alleged purging of the NYTimes Books forums? It was noticeably different than the way the other leading national papers played it; your placement (Metro) and coverage have been more skeptical. I'm particularly curious about why it was not considered a national story, but rather, a local one. Thanks.

—Christine Crankshaft, Manhattan

A. Mind your own business
.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 06, 2007, 07:22:58 PM
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.

Please submit your questions for Ms. Blot to [email protected] She will answer questions on a rolling basis; read the most recent reply.

Q. Could you offer some insights on how The Times decided to play the story about the alleged purging of not only the Book Forums but all the other NYTimes forums? Thanks.

—Hyrum van Glitterfuck, Hump Tulips WA

A. The Second Law of Thermodynamics applies to world class newspapers too, Mr. Glitterfuck. Information systems as well as physical ones. The same is true for Gresham's Law.

Gresham's law is commonly stated as: "When there is a legal tender currency, bad money drives good money out of circulation.” The same with forums—bad forums drive out good forums—in this case Natsec etc. drove all the other forums out of circulation.

As far as being national editor for the NYTimes, each of us in life have our own respective talents. There are areas where we flounder, but there are also areas in which we excel. Some people have a talent for nurturing the tiny acorn, tending it with loving care, and helping it grow into a mighty oak. That is their talent, and where their skills lie.

I, on the other hand, have a talent for chainsawing the rotten branches that are drooping dangerously over the power lines and removing them in a safe and expeditious manner. This is where my skills lie, and this is what I have (metaphorically) been doing for a living for almost a decade.

You may think of me as a Mergist with strong Deletionist tendencies, or a Deletionist with strong Mergist tendencies. Either is probably accurate. Yes, sometimes it does mean that.

But other times, it simply means that the information in the forums doesn't warrant a forum any longer. I have merged all the forums into one pay forum—the Crossword Puzzle & Opera Forum, and will continue to ax any forum that dares to speak up during my tenure here. Let’s face it—books are dead. The future belongs to the Internet.

I am also not an exclusionist, and feel that there is room for many readers opinions in the new Crosswords & Opera Forum within the NYTimes that would not fit within the usual outdated schmaltzy paper book.

In-depth forums about fictional characters are fine by me, for example, as are many (though not all) of my friends and colleagues in the journalism business. Sure we live pulp fiction lives—but at least we’re not as bad as the Beltway Boys……………..yet
.




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 07, 2007, 10:03:43 AM
When Gordon came down from the acid trip, he wondered if he had actually seen two movies while tripping -- one was The Good German and the other might have been The Good Shepherd, but somehow they had merged in his mind and he had a vivid vision of opening credits that read,  "The Good German Shepherd."  The role of the dog, however, seemed to be only a bit part and his Baudelairean reveries had not been able to tweeze even the slightest moral content out of the dog's rather trivial actions.





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 07, 2007, 11:00:20 AM
Gordon realized he must clear his mind of this detritus and picked up a copy of the book on the bedside table, "A Sale of Two Titties," by Darles Chickens.  From between the pages fell a note.  He retrieved it from the cold stone floor of his cell and read...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 07, 2007, 11:23:24 AM
"Meet me in the natatorium at midnight."  It was signed "A Cardiner in Prime".

"Is this a set-up?" wondered Gordon.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 07, 2007, 12:28:38 PM
Red: I tell you, Tiny, you gotta let him in on it.
Tiny: How many times I gotta say it? There's no percentage in smartenin' up a chump.


—The Set-Up (1949)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0041859/


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 07, 2007, 12:55:10 PM
Looking at the clock on the nightstand, Gordon noticed that he would have to leave immediately if he hoped to make it to the naratorium in time.  He hurriedly put his pants back on but just as he zipped up his fly...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 07, 2007, 01:14:08 PM
Nasty jumped out of his tunnel and scared Gordon so badly that he zipped himself up a bit too well, if you know what I mean.

"AAARRRGGGGGHHHH!!!!!" he yelped.  "Damn your hide, Nasty!"

"You needn't get so personal," retorted the clever ferret.  "Now I'm a bit miffed....I'm thinking I just might abandon Project Open Hole."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 07, 2007, 01:18:29 PM
"Now hold on a second, you think you have it bad?" said Keith the gerbil, "Guess where I've been burrowing?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 07, 2007, 01:42:14 PM
"Would you like a bit of cheese with that whine?" sneered Gordon.

Keith burst into tears.  "He's your favorite, I know!  But you could at least show me a little respect!" 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 07, 2007, 02:18:42 PM
A heartbroken Keith scurried back into the small hole near the toilet.

Gordon hurried to the natatorium - it was just past midnight.  When he got there, he was astonished to find...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 07, 2007, 02:23:41 PM
an old, decrepit man floating face down in the water


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 02:39:16 PM
"Not that old man River"?  "I thought he just kept movin' along"?  "What happened"? Chlo was befuddled...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 02:50:26 PM
Shortly after realizing that it was the old man River that kept rollin' along, Chlo was relieved...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 07, 2007, 03:11:29 PM
teaching Basenji dogs to bark once in a while.  It was amazing what could develop in just a few short seconds.   Or in a secondhand pair of shorts.  A few clicks of the second  hand and destinies were forged and burritos completely microwaved.  Perhaps it was the sight of death, floating there in the pool, that served as a catalyst for quick and decisive action.  "Teach Basenjis and be merry," cried Chlo, "for who knows what tomorrow will--"

She was suddenly cut off by a large marble ceiling tile.  There was a wooden sound, not unlike a Three Stooges sound effect, and Chlo collapsed by the pool.

Old Man River rolled onto his back and emitted a jet of water from his weary mouth.  He made a few feeble strokes towards the edge of the pool and 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 03:17:41 PM
 a cockatoo suddenly appeared and


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 03:24:48 PM
no wait, it wasn't a cockatoo (no one is here to run with that at the moment apparently)...it was


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 07, 2007, 03:46:42 PM
a tortoise in a red stetson


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 07, 2007, 03:52:24 PM
"Fear not," intoned the tortoise.  "It's not what it seems."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 03:54:42 PM
Because on one head the stetson and on the other a smart, black beret.  Two heads of course allowing such freedom of expression, although this two-headed (Janus, his name BTW) creature did have conflicting issues...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 07, 2007, 03:56:10 PM
I used to be quite a shy tortoise it was saying but then


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 03:58:01 PM
my other half signed us/me up for...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 07, 2007, 04:01:10 PM
a course called "How to Win Friends and Influence People".  It was life-changing for us!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 04:04:33 PM
But one failed to agree with Dale Carnegie altogether...preferring to exist as a recluse, but this was nearly impossible for the other constantly begged to go...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 07, 2007, 04:06:03 PM
to the other programmes about self-help for tortoises where affirmations were all the rage. For example - "I am a good tortoise, other tortoises like me"

Because we're so slow we need to keep on top of our self-image otherwise it'll run amok because, you see, it's much faster...I visualise a lot of positive outcomes, like


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 07, 2007, 04:08:11 PM
getting a high-paying job so I can buy a purple Stetson, or


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 04:10:29 PM
buy that fancy red sports car (there's more than one way to win a/the race, "bunny-man")!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 07, 2007, 04:12:36 PM
We'd like to be more patient so we assimilate lots of affirmations about being calm in the supermarket, for example, when someone in front of us


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 04:14:00 PM
can't remember what they were doing in line at the supermarket at all


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 07, 2007, 04:15:02 PM
and then struggles to find their card and


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 07, 2007, 04:16:11 PM
then decides to write a check, which they take 30 minutes to do...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 07, 2007, 04:16:58 PM
and then the checkout girl offers a pen but it runs out


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 04:18:15 PM
... then realizes that account was overdrawn then starts counting all that loose change...which falls all over the tortoises head(s)...which then


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 07, 2007, 04:19:14 PM
causes it/them to go mad with frustration and


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 04:20:15 PM
start snapping at...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 07, 2007, 04:21:41 PM
the poor innocent customer.  This behavior is quite unfriendly and non-affirmative.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 04:22:25 PM
And frowned on by most iguanas, except on...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 07, 2007, 04:24:18 PM
their favorite holiday, "Hate the Idiot Holding Up the Line Day."

"It's really terribly embarrassing when my anti-social half acts out," sighed the Stetson-wearing head.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 07, 2007, 04:26:49 PM
As far as he's concerned nobody dents the stetson. But nobody


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 07, 2007, 04:30:37 PM
had to leave for an appointment...so Dense the Stetson grad stepped up instead...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 07, 2007, 04:46:17 PM
"That's a non-sequitor," opined Janus' friendly half.  "Now, if you'll excuse me/us, I/we must be going.  I/we have an important...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: teddy174c on June 07, 2007, 10:42:20 PM
..engagement with ..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 08, 2007, 02:46:32 AM
The Man Who Wasn't There...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 08, 2007, 08:03:01 AM
who, oddly enough, was not at home....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 08, 2007, 09:40:16 AM
Meanwhile, back in Sing-Sing, Puglover had a very busy month in store for him - he was investigating the mystery of the decrepid old man in the pool, who had vanished inexplicably, and who, Puglover had a hunch, was responsible for Chlo's brush with death.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 08, 2007, 09:43:50 AM
Little did he know that the Man Who Wasn't There had been helping Old Man River out of the pool, where he'd been struggling at the edge for several pages, while writers digressed madly about tortoises and haberdashery and iguanas and writing checks and so forth.  Chlo, having already packed and departed for the Basenji Diction Ranch, was unavailable.

"I don't plant taters, I don't plant cotton," the Old Man complained, "so why should I be so soon forgotten?"

Toweling off with a Basenji that someone had thoughtfully left by the pool, he examined the marble ceiling tile that had recently fallen and noticed a strange logo on it, which resembled...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 08, 2007, 10:14:14 AM
a two-headed tortoise in western wear.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 08, 2007, 10:34:13 AM
And Prada...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 08, 2007, 11:01:21 AM
Now, in the wee hours of the morning, Puglover sat at his makeshift desk (the toilet seat and a clipboard), and studied the logo.

"Prada....stetson...tortoise...two heads...it all must be related to some sort of secret society," he thought to himself.  "Some nefarious group of criminals who are quite possibly into the occult."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 08, 2007, 11:21:46 AM
Rainbow Girls?  Cub Scouts?  4-H?  It would come to him...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 08, 2007, 11:26:32 AM
Of course!  The trilateral commission!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 08, 2007, 11:31:23 AM
aka "The Hardy Boys"...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 08, 2007, 11:35:08 AM
who were the winners of the first Who Wants to be the Next Food Network Star competition, but disdained the opportunity to sleep with Rachael Ray, because


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 08, 2007, 11:37:14 AM
they really had the hots for...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 08, 2007, 11:55:30 AM
spring had ended rather suddenly and the days were now...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 08, 2007, 12:00:04 PM
hotter than a popcorn fart; hotter than two rats fucking in a sock....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 08, 2007, 12:02:46 PM
hotter than a June bride iguana in a featherbed...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton 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....





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 08, 2007, 12:18:04 PM
beat 'em to the punch with a Dunkin Donuts...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest 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....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b 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."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b 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.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b 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.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 08, 2007, 01:56:53 PM
"J" silly wabbit...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b 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."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis 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...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 08, 2007, 03:02:27 PM
iron spikes through his scrotum


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis 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...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b 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."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b 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?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis 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?




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle 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


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 08, 2007, 05:16:51 PM
a pillar of salt...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 08, 2007, 05:19:34 PM
Once again Gordo turned to

…her crummy visage in the mirror, asking herself “Do I dare tell them all who I really was in my previous schmucky reincarnation? Back over there in Big Apple La La Land? For Gawd’s sake—surely I can’t tell them the awful truth!!!”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 08, 2007, 05:38:01 PM
forgetting that one should never never look

Don’t look back? Pillar of salt? That’s kind of hard to do, whiskeypriest and kinkykaboodle—with a blog name like:

Escape from Elba - Exiles of the New York Times

Most of the posters here are “exiles” from the NYTimes.

Some are three-time Meandering Forumites like teddy.

Some of us like madupont were exiled even before we were.

So please don’t tell me to shut-my-mouth about the Times—

I had good times and bad times over there even if you didn’t.

I can satirize anything I want—Harold, Gordon or whatever.

C'mon now, don't be bashful. Tell them who you were, girl.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 08, 2007, 05:59:53 PM
"Charming," Harold said. "What a creative response. Calling somebody an asshole. And then quickly deleting it."

Gordon smiled.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 08, 2007, 06:09:11 PM
Asshole?  What happened to the whole ass?  Seems that something is amiss...  Gordon was now ready


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 08, 2007, 06:11:28 PM
for his punishment.  The black robed, hooded monk stepped forward, cat o' nine tails in hand.  He began to swirl the cat o' nine tails over his head, slowly at first, but then faster, faster, faster... the noise quickened the anticipation in Gordon, the thrill, to such an extent that he was barely able to hold off his....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 08, 2007, 06:13:58 PM
pet basenji, who had become so excited with all the unusual activity that the dear, sweet animal actually...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 08, 2007, 06:14:59 PM
urinated in a long steady stream on Gordon's favorite...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 08, 2007, 06:17:04 PM
"home of the whopper" boxers...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 08, 2007, 06:18:52 PM
while reciting the "Lords Prayer", in Hebrew...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 08, 2007, 06:19:54 PM
urinated in a long steady stream on Gordon's favorite...

bald-headed lawyer from Ohio who


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 08, 2007, 06:23:10 PM
had secretly left the building to meet with RR for some R&R...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 08, 2007, 06:26:26 PM
which of course stood for Rats and Rice - Clothilde's specialty.  He could smell that nutria cooking from miles away...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 08, 2007, 06:29:47 PM
urinated in a long steady stream on Gordon's favorite...

bald-headed lawyer from Ohio who

had the hots for young beautiful talented smiling Rachel Ray—rather than Eva and Kinkykaboodle who despite their many wonderful charms were, well…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 08, 2007, 06:31:24 PM
always fashionably late...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 08, 2007, 07:11:13 PM
“Prunes? Did you say prunes?”

“Yes, Harold. Prunes. Get me a glass of prune-juice will you, sweetheart. I feel suddenly rather constipated for some strange reason.”

Constipated? Oh dear, we mustn’t have that, Gordon.”

“Well, you know how it is. It’s hard to be “creative” when you’re “constipated” dontchaknow.”

(The sound of Faulkneresque high-heels skittering into the kitchen…)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 08, 2007, 07:39:56 PM
(A discrete Southern gothic visit to the toilette later…)

“Well, my dear. What movie shall we watch tonight?”

“Baby Doll? Death in Venus? Lolita?” suggested Harold.

“Oh I dunno, Gordon. I tire of pedophilic cinema, lately.”

“I know—let’s watch Ship of Fools. So apropos, honey.”

“Oh you mean, sad tacky “Exiles” and all that?”

“I guess it’s all those wonderful old familiar faces and voices. It gets to you, honey—like a broken record. ”

“Some things just don’t change, my little petunia.”

“Yeah, especially me—I used to be so clever & fun.”

“Well, we could always call Desdemona…”

“Yes, she’s so lively—our lovely little Dirty Pierre’s fag-hag.”

“Always so upbeat and ready to dance…”

“We could fly down to Atlanta—is it still burning?”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 08, 2007, 09:52:53 PM
"Once again Gordo turned to"
..his best friend in the world, Nasty. 

Now Nasty was the locquacious sort, always ready to talk endlessly about his life:  how depressed he was because his girlfriend Linda had broken up with him; how he was emotionally traumatized by his verbally abusive mother: and most unacceptable of all, how his prostate was enlarged.  Puglover would chuckle to himself as he mused over his strange little friend.  "People say they wonder how I could possibly like someone as obnoxious as Nasty."

"I am into my own damn thing right now, thank you very much!" retorted Nasty from a shadowy corner in the room.  "But then of course we both know I'm nothing to you!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 08, 2007, 10:33:49 PM
Desdemona yawned—smoking her cigarette.

Thank Gawd it was a Friday at last she said to herself.

The humid peach-fuzz Georgia evening yawned too.

It was too hot and humid to do anything.

Except yawn—and listen to the two old queens.

Once Gordon and Harold got started reminiscing about the good old days, there was simply no turning back.

“I dunno,” Gordon said, smoking his cigarette.

“There’s this sort of strange romantically perverse Southern decadent sensibility down there in New Orleans—that most people just don’t seem to understand.”

“Yes,” said Harold. “Something Hurricane Katrina added to—rather than took away from.”

“Oh you mean—the regret for tomorrow?”



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 08, 2007, 10:37:06 PM
Desdemona looked away.

“Why do you say things like that, Harold? That’s no way to break my heart,” said Gordon.

“I dunno. The regret for tomorrow—it’s the pits.”

“Oh there will always be a tomorrow, Scarlet.”

“All those French Quarter parties,” Harold opined

“All those Mardi Gras parades down Canal.”

“All those tall cool mint juleps we used to have, Gordon?”

“Yes, I know,” said Gordon. “I know.”






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 08, 2007, 10:37:49 PM
“All those long hot humid schmoozing evenings on your verandah swing—all those lovely stinky magnolia blossom nights we had down by the Mississippi levee in my big black Cadillac convertible—all those lovely sticky honeysuckle hangover mornings we used to wake up to—under the sagging mosquito netting in each other’s arms—all those greedy bougainvillea vines crawling up the side of the porch and then up our legs—feeling it and fanning ourselves quicker and quicker—with our palmetto Pascagoula funeral parlor fans—all those cute young Jude Law hoodlums tied up down there in the root cellar—Tennessee Williams the Great Bird lollygagging in our pool—reciting the poem in “Night of the Iguana”—all those pecan pie boyfriends we had over for bridge—that cute sweet-potato dreamboat chauffeur we had that summer—the feeling that somehow way back then—that now after we’d finally found love—what in the world were we gonna do next—oh Lordy, all those long delta midnights in the garden of good and evil—so much time squandered away by youth—but isn’t that what youth is for—and then the great reminiscing begins…” Gordon drifted off.

“Yes,” said Harold. “Sort of…”

Desdemona shook her head..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 09, 2007, 11:59:26 AM
at this onslaught of chickory-flavored memories, this veritable hothouse miasma of unthinkably vast southern decadence, the steaming verbal polychromes of an immense subtropic decay.   Or maybe it was just the secondhand smoke getting to her.  True, she was the one smoking, but that was no protection from the greater menace of secondhand smoke.   She stubbed out the cigaret and declared....



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 09, 2007, 01:23:55 PM
"Stella, please forget Faulkner, now honey."

"You and Harold be nice now to all these nice folks here."

"Stick with snarky one-liners like everybody else."

"But Stella," Gordon said...

"S-T-E-L-L-A!!!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 09, 2007, 10:12:24 PM
while reciting the "Lords Prayer", in Hebrew...

"Oh," said Harold. "You mean snarky one-liners like Eva's message?"

"Yes," said Gordon. "She hasn't showed up since, has she?"

"Exquisitely snarky and creative tho, don't you think?" smiled Harold.

"Yes indeed. What will she dream up next?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 10, 2007, 12:00:39 AM
It was nearly midnight, but after Janus/Janus had spent the day shopping it was time to chill.  Padding as quickly as possible (for label conscious Jan, of course, wasn't in agreement, needing a late night QVC fix instead) for she kept digging her newly pedicured nails annoyingly across the dusty brick. "A dip! C'mon!"  Jay insisted.  Finally, at the natatorium entrance they discovered the doors padlocked with this message posted:

Due to various and sundry circumstances this area is "OFF LIMITS".  The public shall be apprised of any progress in this matter.  Signed,  Fusby (something or other) Fadge

Suddenly from within...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 10, 2007, 12:14:40 AM
the deep inner recesses of Gordon's oft irritable bowels rumbled forth a prodigous fart.  Clothilde, in the room next door, had a long whiff and shouted: "That nutria gone bad!"  Harold, however, was but two feet away from ground zero, and had no chance.  Gazing at the charred and blackened corpse of his late friend, Gordon mused....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 10, 2007, 12:54:46 AM
"There are no good-byes, Harold, for you will always be in my fart...er, um, heart".
Chlo gently whispered, "we'll clean up in the morning".  And with that they gingerly stepped over Harold ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 10, 2007, 01:50:36 AM
“Holy fucking shit!!!” Whiskeypriest cried out.

“Jesus christ gawd almighty!!! shouted Eva.

“Well, I’ll be a gobsmacking old Memphis whore!!!” said kinkykaboodle. 

“Well shut my mouth!!!” demurred Desdemona politely.

“Stand back folks, stand back,” said Gordon calmly.

“C’mon now you charcoal-assed piece of shit,” Gordon said.

“You can’t fool me—I’m used to you whining for sympathy.”

“In the name of Jerry Fartwell, Monica Goodling, Alberto Gonzales and the Pat Robertson Regent University School of Law—I command you to heal!!! Heal, heal baby!!!”

“Heal in the name of noxious stinky Neocon-Nincompoopery!!!

Suddenly a miracle happened—burnt-to-a-crisp Harold transformed himself right before their eyes!!!

Harold was good as new!!!! Even his liver-spots and swollen prostrate glands were healed!!!!

Everybody gasped—surely it was a divine miracle!!!

Sleepy born-again Harold yawned—“What’s up folks?”

After everybody calmed down a little bit, Whiskeypriest had the audacity to ask, “Well, Harold, what’s it like over there on the Other Side? Do TPTB over there have lawyers?”

“No,” said Harold. “All they’ve got over there is crooked Judges.”

“Stand back now, folks,” Gordon said. “Give Harold some room. He’s had an out-of-the-body experience dontchaknow.”

By that time Donotremove, Madupont, Teddy, Lifeline and Bobbysox were crowded into the tiny two-bit skanky living room that still stank so bad everybody was still holding their nose and trying not to vomit.

“How could you stand it?” asked Chartres. “The smell is bad enough to gag a French maggot?”

Harold yawned. “Oh when you’ve lived with somebody for 20 years, you get used to just about anything, honey.”

Then, ominously, a gurgling subterranean stink-bomb fart could be heard by everybody in the cramped crowded room, emanating from Gordon’s putrid interior cavities—the kind of sinister sneaky greasy runny fart that meant only one thing…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 10, 2007, 03:33:20 AM
“Run for your lives!!!” squealed Madupont, the look of sheer terror in her eyes. Pennsylvanian cow-shit out there on the farm was bad enough—but Gordon’s farts were simply infernally despicable! Her nostrils quivered obscenely…

“Out of my way!!!” shouted Donotremove. He had a mean-looking six-shooter in one hand and a big sinister horsewhip in the other. He meant business—he wanted out of there fast. Having to ditch his Lazy-Boy recliner back at the louche book lounge was bad enough—but he wasn’t gonna gamble getting some awful disease from a couple of old queens.

Desdemona fainted in Whiskeypriest’s arms and he did the best he could getting her out of the hellhole bungalow—holding her in his arms and heading lickity-split for his golf-cart waiting out there on the front lawn. All he could think about was his own eminent wrongful death lawsuit waiting to end his illustrious career as sterling attorney and illustrious literary raconteur for the New York Turd Gazette.

But Eva was sneaky—she already had her emergency gas-mask firmly in place there on her big ugly puss. Her ex-husband had a similar case of obnoxious killer-flatulence—and she was used to running in terror for her life. Unfortunately she got trampled by Bobbysox running out the backdoor—when it came to abandoning ship fuck the women and children!!!

Chartres and Teddy, as usual, handled the whole matter with ladylike calm and aristocratic good taste—suggesting tea and crumpets since after all it was tea time and they were both used to the various and sundry gauche vulgarities of the subhuman primitive male species.

But it was too late…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 10, 2007, 06:42:19 PM
that unlovable pug, munching his sour grapes and spewing, had arrived...






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 10, 2007, 09:41:25 PM
"Gee whiz," Harold said to Gordon in the hot-tub.

"That Eva, she sure does sound familiar."

"Well, Harold, she seems to have your number, honeybunch."

"That's what I mean. What forum back there did I step on her toes in?"

"Well, ask her. She's kinda the demure type isn't she?"

"Yes, she kinda likes those snarky one-liner put-downs, doesn't she?"

Yawn........



 



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 11, 2007, 10:03:33 AM
Meanwhile, Bart headed back west on the horse he had ridden in on.  Sad to be concluding a sentence with a preposition, and glumly toking from an inhaler as his lungs struggled with the recent storm of fart-humor (which had followed so hard upon the prior storm of southern swamp gas and plantation mildew), he rode off into the sunset, though it was only 1 pm.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 11, 2007, 11:30:23 AM
Meanwhile, Bart headed back west on the horse he had ridden in on.  Sad to be concluding a sentence with a preposition, and glumly toking from an inhaler as his lungs struggled with the recent storm of fart-humor (which had followed so hard upon the prior storm of southern swamp gas and plantation mildew), he rode off into the sunset, though it was only 1 pm.




“Stop it, Harold.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop scratching your ass.”

“That’s not my ass—that’s my Avatar!!”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 11, 2007, 11:45:35 AM
“The story features Harvey Pekar, as himself, as the played by actor Paul Giamatti and as the comic book persona that he has created based on himself. Pekar is downbeat, depressed, in a dead end filing job, rather bitter. His best friend is a self-confessed nerd. Yet when the events of his life are epitomized in comic book snapshots they are intensely poignant, they seem to reach the disenfranchised, the dysfunctional within each of us. We follow him into a marriage that is as weird as he is. The originality of the material is reflected in its postmodern style of presentation, self-awareness of audience-manipulation blending seamlessly with entertainment and artistic delivery. Scenes are introduced and blended with comic book taglines, storyboarding, and even transitions from interloping set discussions with the real Pekar to the actor playing the scene under discussion. If it sounds pretentious, it's not – simply because it works so well and in an unpretentious way. Lovingly created and very moving. Probably the first real classic of 2003 and not to be missed, and for lovers of jazz/blues a soundtrack collectors item.”—American Splendor (2003)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0305206/


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 11, 2007, 11:48:20 AM
"It also is a pretty accurate reflection of Cleveland," Gordon noted while munching on a Shay Burger.  "But why are we talking about the movie?" he said to Harold.  "And didn't I just fart you to death?  Seriously, we are looking more and more like two people who exist and act solely on the basis of several dispirate and often competing whims. I do not much like this kind of existence.  Can we get some stability?  Som consistency?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 11, 2007, 12:30:56 PM
"Sometimes," said Bart, who had returned briefly to retrieve his sunglasses and a bottle of talcum powder, "a sudden storm of flatulence humor is a form of protest against disjointed prose, a way of exposing the futility of writing a consistent character."  Readjusting the diaper on his horse, he remounted, and galloped off in the general direction of Denver.

"I thought it was rather Chaucerian," said Gordon, letting loose an explosive methane-rich blast from his London derriere that caused several more WalMart ceiling tiles to fall from the ceiling of the natatorium and kill everyone present.

A hooded figure entered the roomful of carnage and, drawing back his hood, revealed himself to be...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 11, 2007, 12:32:39 PM
Bengt Ekerot....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 11, 2007, 12:37:25 PM
aka Gene B. Kotter....



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 11, 2007, 12:41:04 PM
"It also is a pretty accurate reflection of Cleveland," Gordon noted while munching on a Shay Burger.  "But why are we talking about the movie?" he said to Harold.  "And didn't I just fart you to death?  Seriously, we are looking more and more like two people who exist and act solely on the basis of several dispirate and often competing whims. I do not much like this kind of existence.  Can we get some stability?  Som consistency?"

“A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.”—Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Well, I dunno, it sounds kind of “Albuquerque” to me, whiskeypriest—but I’m more than willing to be “consistent” even tho consistency and creativity seem rather inconsistent with each other,” Harold opined.

“Oh, there you go again Harold,” said Gordon. “Confusing creativity with dialog—and dialog with farting.”

“But Gordon, I’m not talking about hot air—surely a creative writing forum can be more than just a long series of cute little jokes and smart one-liners. A little narrative and stream of consciousness might enliven the conversation don’t you think?”

“Stream of what?”



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 11, 2007, 12:42:10 PM
aka Gene B. Kotter....


"Welcome back!"  Gordon chippered.  "Care for a game of chess?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 12:59:13 PM
"Will Smithers be joining us?" the Hood replied.

"Well, you see


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 11, 2007, 01:10:36 PM
I want knowledge! Not faith, not assumptions, but knowledge. I want God to stretch out His hand, uncover His face and speak to me."

"But He remains silent."  the Hood replied.

Gordnon continued, "I call out to Him in the darkness. But it's as if no one was there."

"Perhaps there isn't anyone."  The Hood said, with a bemused expression.
 
Gordon would not accept this state of affairs.  "Then life is a preposterous horror. No man can live faced with Death, knowing everything's nothingness."

"Most people think neither of death nor nothingness."  the Hood replied.  "Personally, I prefer to think of chess.  I've drawn black.  Most appropriate, don't you think?"
 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 01:18:37 PM
Hood, dear fellow, I could not concentrate on tiddlywinks never mind chess whilst His Majesty remains in his current state of   


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 11, 2007, 01:20:15 PM
Arizona, sweating under the intense dessert heat.  Or is it desert heat?  Any way, sweating... in an arid wasteland waiting for the Hyacinth Girl to....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 01:22:28 PM
wash her bottom from the sweet waters of the Royal bidet and


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 11, 2007, 01:26:33 PM
sing, "Happy Bidets Are Here Again," while the nearest iguana rushed forward and


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 11, 2007, 01:26:59 PM
took a big lick at her exposed quim and


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 11, 2007, 01:34:34 PM
Gordon would not accept this state of affairs.  "Then life is a preposterous horror. No man can live faced with Death, knowing everything's nothingness."
 

“So many dead writers,” Harold shrugged.

“I know what you mean, sweetheart,” said Gordon. “Greene, Nabokov, Percy, Plath, Hughes, Balzac, James…they’re all dead. Deader than doornails.”

“Well, a couple of living ones showed up,” Harold said.

“Camille Paglia showed up at the end of Break, Burn, Blow dontchaknow—or was it Break, Burn, Blowjob?”

“Yes, and Gunter Grass said hello.”

“And Pynchon.”

“They’re all doing podcasts now.”

“Podcasts? Why?”

“Obviously because Sussman and Tannenbaum ask better questions than us mere mediocre run-of-the-mill readers?”

“Well, you have to admit that the readers group wasn’t exactly the epitome of intelligentsia, my dear.”

Intelligentsia—smelligentsia. Oh, who cares about that? That forum is deader than most of the writers over there anyway.”

Harold yawned. Gordon yawned. Albuquerque yawned...

Even Rachel Ray yawned...

 




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 01:50:44 PM
took a big lick at her exposed quim and

to this day remains a stuffed example in the Royal boudoir of what not to do when the Lady is washing in the Royal bidet. But that's iguana for you. One minute they're


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 11, 2007, 01:54:31 PM
minding their own quims and the next thing you know


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 01:59:26 PM
they're cunning linguists intent on boasting to iguana kind


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 11, 2007, 02:05:23 PM
that their book tour promoting


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 11, 2007, 02:12:41 PM
took a big lick at her exposed quim and

"Pssssst!!! I hear Eva has a nice quim...."

"Stop it Harold!!!! You know I can't stand quim-quackery!!!!!!!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 02:16:02 PM
that their book tour promoting

"The Quim Monologue" was doing


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 11, 2007, 02:17:33 PM
better than even the harshest critics could have


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 11, 2007, 02:25:10 PM
feared or its strongest advocates could have


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 11, 2007, 02:27:53 PM
Stop! in the name of love!!!!
Before you break my heart!!!!

Baby, baby
I'm aware of where you go
Each time you leave my door
I watch you walk down the street
Knowing your other love you'll meet
But this time before you run to her
Leaving me alone and hurt
(think it over) after Ive been good to you ?
(think it over) after Ive been sweet to you ?"

-- The Supremes



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 11, 2007, 02:30:19 PM
(The chorus was supposed to come in at the next stanza...)


Where were those advocates, possibly


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 11, 2007, 02:32:07 PM
Stop! in the name of love
Before you break my heart
Stop! in the name of love
Before you break my heart
Think it over
Think it over

Ive known of your
Your secluded nights
Ive even seen her
Maybe once or twice
But is her sweet expression
Worth more than my love and affection ?
But this time before you leave my arms
And rush of to her charms
(think it over) havent I been good to you ?
(think it over) havent I been sweet to you ?

Stop! in the name of love
Before you break my heart
Stop! in the name of love
Before you break my heart
Think it over
Think it over


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 02:33:12 PM
feared or its strongest advocates could have

hoped for.  There were rumours that Chapter four, "My Quim, The Iguana", was


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 11, 2007, 02:35:09 PM
"Is there an echo in here?" inquired the little gnome who was now reading Chapter five


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 11, 2007, 02:36:25 PM
having skipped chapter four and therefore still really didn't know what a quim was...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 02:38:30 PM
"There is no echo" said the Hood. "Now I see what you've been doing, Gordon. Buying time, delaying the inevitable,


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 11, 2007, 02:40:39 PM
a duel (to the end):

Tiddlywinks in hand...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 11, 2007, 02:45:15 PM
“Speaking of the Supremes,” said Gordon…

“I know,” said Harold breathlessly dancing.

“Can’t wait, girl—for that “Bong Hits 4 Jesus” decision to come down by the Supremes, baby!!!”

“Talk about Stop! In the Name of Love!!!”

“Harold!!! Stop it!!!”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 11, 2007, 03:34:37 PM
Ive tried so hard, hard to be patient
Hoping youd stop this infatuation
But each time you are together
Im so afraid Ill be losing you forever

Stop! in the name of love
Before you break my heart
Stop! in the name of love
Before you break my heart
Stop! in the name of love
Before you break my heart

Baby, think it over
Think it over, baby
Ooh, think it over baby...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 03:43:20 PM
After five straight defeats the Hood declared that "it is tiddlywinks, that is the preposterous horror, no man can live faced with the tiddlywink, knowing that everything's tiddler is winking back at them..."

Gordon never took the Hood for a






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 11, 2007, 03:44:28 PM
ride on his 1953 Vincent Black Lightning


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 03:45:40 PM
when they visited the Elephanta Caves in Mumbai due to an outbreak of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 11, 2007, 03:47:43 PM
psoriasis


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 03:50:21 PM
which left him singeing and all detective-like and very, very scaly, to the point where


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 04:01:05 PM
the Hood was running round Mumbai Town looking for a Chinese Herbalist who, when he heard a scaly man was in town, asked how scaly to which the Hood replied


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 11, 2007, 04:04:09 PM
I specialize in quim tea and I Ching predictions


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 04:05:55 PM
The herbalist not taking kindly to this replied: "Yes, at four-fourteen just by the old railway station".

Meanwhile, Gordon burned...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 11, 2007, 04:06:44 PM
spontaneously.  It happens.  People catch fire.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 11, 2007, 04:16:52 PM
So do bill collectors and bald-headed lawyers from Ohio who


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 04:22:48 PM
burn even quicker but not as quick as the Hood who, after insulting the Herbalist's mother-in-law, had gone up like a blue light and had come running back to a melting Gordon, whose mouth was now diametrically a burning ring of fire. The hood collapsed but there was a hero closeby whose lips were made of water and whose name was Beppo the Magnificent and down he went, and down again, giving the Hood the required mouth-to-mouth. Gordon was astonished


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 11, 2007, 05:01:49 PM
the Hood was insured..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 11, 2007, 05:07:53 PM
Beppo the Magnificent?  He wouldn't need insurance!  Why, if anything all he would need (or really, really want for that matter) would be...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 12, 2007, 07:45:48 AM
for that friend of Chlothilde, Felicia Oh, whom he met at the iguana book signing to


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 12, 2007, 10:17:18 AM
help him use a fork and spoon


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 12, 2007, 10:42:11 AM
to groom a Basenji.  Incidentally, they found Bart Nilson's suicide note that morning, taped to the back of a Basenji.  "My requirements," wrote the handsome and well-hung Nebraska poet, "for meaning and coherence in prose are slender; I set the bar very low for continuity; I can ride my mental kayak through the most turbulent stream of consciousness; but this world is crazier than a sack of rabid tomcats.  I'd rather have my eyelids taped open and have Robbe-Grillet novels strobed onto my naked brain 24/7 for the next five years than spend one more day here.  But thanks for punching my pool pass.  If I reappear in this continuum as a lascivious iguana, don't forget to wave!"




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 12, 2007, 10:44:54 AM
And with that said lanky Bart-Poet took his Bic pen and machete


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 12, 2007, 12:18:22 PM
and began the tedious task of editing, slashing


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 12, 2007, 12:23:22 PM
himself very near the heart in a tragic editing accident


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 12, 2007, 12:52:54 PM
I specialize in quim tea and I Ching predictions

'twas (not so) painful, but necessary, and no accident


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 12, 2007, 12:55:38 PM
So do bill collectors and bald-headed lawyers from Ohio who


"This one in particular", the diapered horse snorted, was


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 12, 2007, 01:57:44 PM
one of those Spinal Tap drummers who didn't survive.  Killed in a bizarre editing accident.  They say he choked on his own dialog, though you never know -- kind of hard to dust dialog for prints.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 12, 2007, 07:16:23 PM
"Charming, aren't they, Harold?"

"Yes, my dear. And so witty too..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 12, 2007, 09:56:47 PM
As these events were transpiring before him, a very old man in a browning suit, a little too large for him, decided he would take the opportunity to leave this plane of existence.  Two times he had heard, or mis-heard the name of his old deceased wife.  He took that to mean she was whispering to him from the other world. This was all right with him.  386 years was a long time to live, by any standard except that of some trees.  Stanley wasn't 386 years old, but he thought he was.  He was almost 300 years younger than that.  But age they say, was in the mind. And Stanley felt old.  "It's my time" he thought.  He wanted to speak to mark the occasion, he wanted so much to have the right words to say.  And in a flash there it was.  He knew what to say.  It was so important that he say what he had to before leaving.  He so wanted the characters engaged in all the goings-on before him to stop for just a moment their busy existence and listen to the words of an old man bored with living.  He struggled at first to clear his throat but as his saliva slicked tongue raveled in his mouth he managed these five words before his heart slackened his old knees, sending a crumpled browning suit to the ground. 

He said to everyone and no one in particular "No man makes his mark".  And then he died.  And was forgotten.

Seeing a park bench had just opened up, Harold and his many visions walked over the dead man and took a seat.  "Hmm" He thought "Still warm".

Now where were we dear?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 13, 2007, 12:50:14 AM
“I live right near the Lafayette Cemetery where I like to take my friends from out of town for a cup of coffee and a quiet chat. The dead are buried aboveground in New Orleans because there is water less than five inches under the ground and anything you put in there floats off and rots. There is a flesh-troubling scent of sweet olive and night-blooming jasmine clinging to the crumbling bricks.”—Andrei Codresucu, “The Muse Is Always Half-Dressed in New Orleans


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 13, 2007, 11:37:44 AM
"I have enjoyed his NPR essays," said Bart, freshly reincarnated as a talking iguana from Canyon, Texas who had been installed in a terrarium in the Cafe du Monde.  Most of the regulars ignored him.  "I'll hump a gerbil for a quarter!" he shouted.  "For a dollar, I'll give you a tongue kiss!" 

Harold, hearing this latter offer, felt a strange stirring in his loins.  He began to stroke his Basenji, a distant look in his eyes.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 13, 2007, 03:31:57 PM
The jogging iguana had been eyeing Lanky-Bart for some time now.  He had a great sense of humor and beautiful eyes, and something about the way he ate bratwurst triggered the most delightful, well, let's just say that Harold wasn't the only one with that far-away-look...


But, for the moment Chlo was busy, in spite of her lingering problems with tone-deafness and a tendency to lead...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 13, 2007, 03:49:48 PM
in her on-going campaign to eradicate sacofricosis!  Enough of those occasions when, let's say, a pitcher is ready to pitch and already has one ball in hand.  What's with the "adjustment"?  How many pitchers and other ball-players for that matter are actually searching for their keys?!  Do ball-players even have pockets?  Chlo would continue


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 13, 2007, 04:00:29 PM
to wonder about this most interesting phenomena. Was it merely a habit? A tradition? Or was it deeply psychological? The memory of the old timers having to wear woolen uniforms before Le Jocque Strappe was even invented.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 13, 2007, 04:07:03 PM
Le Jocque Strappe?  Oh my, yes, without his support Chlo was certain the sacofrikkincosis would be even worse than


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 13, 2007, 04:11:24 PM
spelling supercalifragilisticeckspie... something or other.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 13, 2007, 04:25:20 PM
Oh, no, or rather, "Oh, yes!"  another iguana in stitches...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 13, 2007, 04:32:49 PM
“Sacofricosis?” asked Gordon.

“Yes,” said Harold. “Charles Laughton had it rather bad. When his wife, Elsa Lanchester, would find the nefarious hole in his pocket, she’d immediately sew it back up!!!”

“Well, that’s no fun—what if a guy…”




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 13, 2007, 04:34:40 PM
had a going problem?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 13, 2007, 04:35:44 PM
"Or worse. A growing problem!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 13, 2007, 05:06:47 PM
Well, Harold…all I can say is it’s obviously a major problem inflicted on the whole world by the male species,” said Gordon. 

“What about all those cute Scottish soldiers with their cute little plaid kilts? Sacofricosis must be rather embarrassing over there when it comes to changing the guard and all that kind of stuff for the Queen don’t you think?”

“Well, don’t ask me,” Harold said, “I’m no Queen!”       


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 13, 2007, 05:17:47 PM
"Believe me, I accidently stumbled into Hamburger Mary's. I didn't realize where I was until the waiter asked me if I wanted some spicy mustard."

Harold couldn't buy a break. He had entered into a Harvey Pekar comic strip and didn't know how to escape.

"Who's in charge here?" he shouted in vain.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 14, 2007, 06:51:43 AM
"Quite obviously, nobody,"  a disembodied voice responded.  Gordon looked around for the bodiy that had been disemed....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 14, 2007, 07:29:24 AM
"Disa- what?"

"-peared."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 14, 2007, 08:02:04 AM
"-peared?"  Who's peared, inquiring minds never


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 14, 2007, 09:47:41 AM
understood just how Rachael pares pears, unless she pairs


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 14, 2007, 09:49:55 AM
prayers


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 14, 2007, 09:51:04 AM
plying


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 14, 2007, 10:18:42 AM
her pores with paraffin.

A shot was fired in the night.  A ship appeared on the horizon.  It was time...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 14, 2007, 10:23:27 AM
to get jiggy with it


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 14, 2007, 10:38:18 AM
with Mister Biggy actually, but that would have been prior to the peotomy that was necessary due


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 14, 2007, 10:39:30 AM
the uncontrolled inflammation of Gordon's pe


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 14, 2007, 10:42:40 AM
eptic ulcer, but also to the success of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 14, 2007, 10:43:15 AM
Chlo's campaign.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 14, 2007, 10:44:15 AM
"Nix on the personal health chatter," cried the iguana from his terrarium, where he had been plinking tepidly on his miniature banjo and trying to figure out the chords for "Dust in the Wind."  He stared hard at the horizon, hoping the ship bore rescuers from PETA.  He had sent out distress messages from the cafe by various means, including a note folded in Chlo's...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 14, 2007, 10:46:43 AM
butt crack, which he knew no one would see except for...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 14, 2007, 10:47:39 AM
the hairy plumber, aka Prof. Fusby


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 14, 2007, 11:29:33 AM
former tv repair man and media critic.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 14, 2007, 11:41:43 AM
Fusby, who had the world longest....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 14, 2007, 12:11:07 PM
name but shortened it to Fusby to cover up his ethnic background...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 14, 2007, 12:15:51 PM
Yes, Fadge fah-dah-jay and his constant habit of forgetting to unwrap his towelled head after showering with


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 14, 2007, 12:18:39 PM
a Basenji


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 14, 2007, 12:19:32 PM
who also towel wrapped


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 14, 2007, 12:23:32 PM
and habitually twirled the towel and snapped Fusby on the buttocks while yodeling "I'm looking over a four leaf clover..." in Bantu.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 14, 2007, 07:41:22 PM
Meanwhile, back at Sing-Sing, Puglover finally had to ...well...get off the pot.  He was so sure he could have solved the mystery of the old man and tortoise-logo ceiling tile, but his efforts were stymied.  "Damn!" he swore, punching his right palm as hard as he could.  "If only I could get my hands on a ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 14, 2007, 08:20:16 PM
...fawn-colored pug with a pedigree a mile long!

"I see you're left-handed."  An unfamiliar, wraspy voice croaked from a shadowy corner...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 14, 2007, 08:21:24 PM
raspy?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 14, 2007, 08:33:31 PM
"Oh my heavens to BETSY!  How in the hell did YOU get in here?" a shocked Puglover gasped.

A lumpen figure emerged from the shadow, cackling. 

"Sur-PRY-ize!"  It was Pug's old enemy and former dogcatcher of Terrebonne Parish, Jimmy "Prevert" Prejean.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 14, 2007, 08:36:41 PM
Prevert emitted a low, throaty chortle.  It made Puglover's hair stand on end.

"Wail, dat's a long damn story, old chum.  It all started after Chlotilde closed her little bar and nutria grill and an unsavory character by the name of Bayou Dan converted the place to strip joint for the handicapped.  He thought it was a novel idea.  I thought the pole dancer with one leg shorter than the other was the love of my life.  Only problem was...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 14, 2007, 09:05:15 PM
"Ah suddenly loss mah accent, mid-sentence," thought Prevert.

"Onliest problem was her city-slicker boyfriend, Junior Boudreaux.  See, Junior was from Lafayette, so he TAUGHT he was all dat, but..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 14, 2007, 09:07:13 PM
"Just stop right NOW!!" screamed Puglover.  "Junior is my first cousin!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 14, 2007, 09:11:41 PM
"He's also very dead, cher ami."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 14, 2007, 09:36:50 PM
"Now wait a minute," said Puglover.  "Are you talking about the Junior Boudreaux from Lafayette with the wen on his forehead, or do you mean the Junior Boudreaux from Lafayette with the...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 15, 2007, 12:47:21 AM

Seeing a park bench had just opened up, Harold and his many visions walked over the dead man and took a seat.  "Hmm" He thought "Still warm". Now where were we dear?

(“The secret charm of old restaurants is precisely this sense of continuity: you sit down where someone sat one hundred years before you. They sat down, told a story, and died. Life goes on. Old cities soothe and ease the pain of living because wherever you are someone else was there before, had troubles worse than yours, and passed on. I don’t see how people can inhabit spanning new suburbs without succumbing to terminal anxiety. We need the dead to make us feel alive. In New Orleans they’re at it full time.”—Andrei Codrescu, The Muse Is Always Half-Dressed in New Orleans)



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 15, 2007, 12:51:17 AM
Suddenly the ground opened up and swallowed everyone whole.  The earth had finally had enough of the chatter.  And things were quiet.



























For a very long time.













Until one day...













The earth decided it was bored.... and so it spit everyone back up. There was just one problem.  Almost everyone had died.  Well... everyone did die. But you know the old saying...  yeah that one.  Anyway ever so slowly people actually started to come back to life, spitting up clumps of dirt and grass and drawing deep hearty choking breaths of oxygen.  How was this possible?  Best left to philosophers to decide. 


If you ask me... the earth missed us.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 15, 2007, 12:55:11 AM
warhead in the fen?

"Oh, definitely the one with
...the Confederate flag tatooed upon his penis.  Nothing like the thrill you get from watching the old Stars and Bars flapping in the breeze....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 15, 2007, 12:56:10 AM
All was set right again... it was almost as if no one knew it had happened.

What about Stanley?  Was he brought back to life too?

Funny you should ask.  Ha-ha.

No, he was too freshly dead before all this had happened.

Which meant Harold didn't have to give up his seat.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 15, 2007, 08:07:55 AM
"When did it close, Lanky?"  Gordon was hungry, totally famished, his nutria-system order was long over due and he'd been craving Chlo's home-cooking, no one could fry up a plate like Chlo!  "Guess, with all that family visiting she just hasn't the time..."  Just as he and Lank were about to head on over to the Bluebird cafe, there was Chlo whistling her favorite tune, part of her on-going campaign:


                         
zip-a-dee-do-dah   zippity-day my-oh-my-oh gonna put that stars and stripes away


She was in a rare mood so


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 15, 2007, 08:16:48 AM
... as long as she kept a happy tune in her head, as long as the sun rose every morning, nobody was going to bring her down. The earth could swallow her up and spit her out every day, but my oh my...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 15, 2007, 08:19:23 AM
could she ever butcher a song...


Otherwise


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 15, 2007, 08:21:23 AM
she did have a lovely voice.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 08:54:46 AM
'Well thank St. Jude that messis over with," said Chlotilde, rolling her eyes heavenward and crossing herself twice. " Poo!  Gettin' spit out de eart an all dat...."

"I wonder what ever happened to dat boy Shaft down dare to Baton Rouge?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 15, 2007, 09:01:04 AM
"Shaft?"  "I thought that's what they gave to the gimpy stripper down at Bayou Dan's?"

Gordon was


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 15, 2007, 09:10:02 AM
still pretty damn hungry and wondered if he'd ever get some grub.

"The heck with Shaft and Harold and pole dancers. Where dat nutria?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 09:17:25 AM
"Dontchu worry about dat none, babe!  Why, come on down by where I stay and we'll eat summa dat big ole loggerhead turtle the neighbors caught last week.  Dey cut dat sucker up and shared and now the whole damn bayou got enough to last all summer!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 15, 2007, 09:26:24 AM
"Shaft?"  Boswell replied.  "You mean the black private dick that's a sex machine to all the chicks?  The man that would risk his neck for his brother man? the cat that won't cop out when there's danger all about?  the bad mother--"

"Shut your mouth!"  Chlot interjected.  "He's a complicated man.  No one understands him but his woman."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 09:37:13 AM
Who's the cat that won't cop out when there's danger all about
(Shaft!)
Right on...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 09:47:15 AM
"Well, now, everybody invited over by my place for some home cooking.  We gonna dem crawdads berled and turtle with rice and gravy - might even fry us some okra if ya'll real nice.  Ah'll git mah boyfriend Cletus to git us a keg."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 15, 2007, 10:15:46 AM
And then the earth underwent a catastrophe which killed everyone, except for a few hardy nutria, members of a highly adaptable (and tasty!) species who quickly recovered and evolved in intelligence and developed handtools and fire and the smelting of metals.  In short order, civilization blossomed and the Nutriatute for Advanced Study appointed Dr. Bart Zayus as its director; in this sinecure, he immediately implemented a plan to develop genetic engineering to a degree that would allow the recovery of DNA of the now-extinct human race and clone copies of the humans formerly known as Gordon, Chlotilde, Harold, Cletus, Puglover, et al.

When the project was completed, a barbecue was held in honor of the restored humans.  After the keg had been tapped and the beer had begun to flow, the humans broke out in a chorus of "Dr. Zayus, Dr. Zayus!" and the now ancient scholar brushed an oily tear from his eye and beamed at his strange and nearly hairless creations.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 15, 2007, 10:28:15 AM
Fusby was not amused.  His experiments (which took up much more of his time than working as a tv repair man or a plumber) had resulted in hairy specimans, unlike this charlatan, whats-his-name, and his iguana-like, near naked skinned


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 10:34:50 AM
lab assistant Igor, who seemed to have a penchant for lecturing Dr. Zayus incessantly.

"But Dr. Zayus," he argued, "Why clone such dreadful human beings as Junior Boudreaux (the one from Breaux Bridge who lives in camoflauge) and the bestial Puglover?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 15, 2007, 10:46:12 AM
"Simple," said Dr. Zayus, "the traits that make some dreadful also happen to be highly adaptive and help the species survive.  If you remove all that is obnoxious and repellent from the genome, you will have a species that is too good and gentle for this world."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 10:52:25 AM
Just at that moment, Charlotte the gimpy stripper stumped in, gaily attired in a costume of her own design consisting of dyed egret feathers and aligator skin.

"Ah, here is one of my most successful experiments to date!" cried Dr. Zayus, deftly cleaning himself as he spoke.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 15, 2007, 11:00:51 AM
As his prehensile tongue traveled farther and farther south, Dr. Zayus eyes grew more and more distant, and it seemed his train of thought would be lost.  But then...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 11:07:12 AM
...there was a deafening crash and...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 11:19:45 AM
a squirrel on the rampage attacked Igor...

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19223211/?GT1=10056


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 15, 2007, 11:21:28 AM
who fell, screaming, into the giant vat of mentholated deep heating rub....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 15, 2007, 11:56:40 AM
What emerged from that vat was no longer near-naked skinned Igor but a shinier, shinier than your hiney, bright blue apparition, which on closer inspection (which was tough considering the fumes)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 12:03:40 PM
"I'll git dat sucka wit dis crutch," cried Charlotte, as she beat the rampaging squirrel to a bloody pulp...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 15, 2007, 12:14:27 PM
This left a rather soiled Charlotte, bright blue (smelly) and bloody-red, which prompted


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 15, 2007, 12:34:38 PM
a large elephant with a massive erection


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 15, 2007, 12:46:07 PM
treated to week at the Canyon Ranch Spa, run by


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 15, 2007, 12:46:52 PM
three midget wrestlers and a guy named Moe


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 12:53:03 PM
Now Moe, he was so So-Cal that he was a characiture of himself.

"DOOD! I am like, so done with El-Lay!" he said as he brushed aside a stray lock of hair.  "I am just so OVER it!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 15, 2007, 01:10:16 PM
The fact that his skateboard and bluetooth were both solidly implanted in his


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 01:23:17 PM
1972 Volkswagon Van made it hard to be him.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 01:23:46 PM
"It is SO not easy being me," he sighed.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 15, 2007, 01:26:33 PM
But it would have been worse to be an elephant with a massive

digression that nearly obliterated both the sun and any kind of narrative thread in which one might follow the doings of the central characters.  Everyone began to long for another global catastrophe, this time one that included the nutria in its massive extinctions.

What, one wondered, had become of the newly-decanted Gordon that Dr. Zayus had so lovingly crafted from nothing but a strand of DNA and a few hunks of



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 15, 2007, 01:27:34 PM
...pubic hair?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 15, 2007, 01:55:08 PM
Viola! Then a cute sleepy-eyed Jude Law sullenly appeared—yawning in a puce hyacinth kimono—politely served coffee in bed the next morning—by Gordon that wealthy old Atlanta queen—out of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil—who just happened…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 15, 2007, 02:07:15 PM
to be Moe's half brother, but no one, but no one, knew this except for


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 15, 2007, 03:22:34 PM
Moe's father; certainly, when Moe and Gordon had their drunken homosexual experience, to which neither ever alluded again, they were unaware that atop the hidden thrill of gay sex they were piling the crime of incest and, in Gordon's case, Moe being 14 at the time, pederasty.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 15, 2007, 04:13:57 PM
Jude Law said to Gordon... "Hello ... who are you?"

This is when Gordon was about to reveal himself but just as he was about to let Jude in on a little family secret..


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 15, 2007, 06:13:02 PM
…Harold leaned thru the door and whispered, “Kid, your mother is Desdemona—that’s why you’re so gawd-awful cute.”

Gordon nodded knowingly, “That’s the truth…”

“And your father is Dirty Pierre,” said Harold. “That’s why, kid, you’re so gawd-awful handsome and well-endowed.”

My oh my—how the bougainvillea moaned and groaned that morning—and lordy how the old magnolia trees wept all night long...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 15, 2007, 06:51:19 PM
No longer sleepy-eyed, Jude cried, "How do I get out of this puce hyacinth outfit?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 16, 2007, 12:20:17 AM
Meanwhile, Prevert sat there before a stunned Puglover and burst into tears.  "Dat Charlotte...dey was sumfin differnt about her...dat girl meant the world to me.  I'm so choked up to have lost her, that I wrote it all down in my diary.  Here, you take it."

"I suppose this would beat the NYT for reading material," replied Puglover.  "I do want to know the story of you and Charlotte and how one of the Juniors was ruthlessly murdered.  I'm a novice sleuth, so I was hoping for some practice."

Prevert tactfully neglected to inform Puggy that he had just said it was he, Puggy, who had torn, spindled, and mutilated the Junior with extra fingers on each hand.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 16, 2007, 01:27:28 AM
Jude Law began scratching his ass. 

"Would someone please tell me what i'm doing here?"

It was at that very moment I knew someone was about to die.  And by someone, I mean you.  And by die, I mean speak. 

Thats when you said  "What the hell is this i'm reading?  Is this the best we could do with 200 million dollars?  Al Gore laid his life on the line for this?"

But dear reader... don't you think you're overreacting?  I mean, you've got to at least give it a few hundred pages

"Ok..." You say.  Knowing... Yes, because we both know... you're not going anywhere.   You're never going anywhere.

Now where were we des?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 16, 2007, 08:04:17 AM
... we were going... where?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ULakSmQzxig


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 16, 2007, 03:37:01 PM
...never know what you can dig up as a rainstorm rolls by...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 16, 2007, 04:15:19 PM
Nunca sabe uno.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 16, 2007, 05:23:06 PM
"Quando omnia vincit," said Gordon, still a bit dewy from being decanted, "moritati."

"Quando omnia vincit," replied Pug, "masturbati."

"Nolo te bastardes carborundum," said the handmaid, sweeping up more fallen tile.

"Cogito ergo cum!" cried the still-tumescent elephant, who had approached from his vantage point on the horizon and was now reaching a happy ending as he pawed the latest issue of "Ivory."

Gordon opened his umbrella and...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 16, 2007, 05:33:29 PM
out popped...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FrU_C7toDJk


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Detective_Winslow on June 16, 2007, 06:17:17 PM
Sorry to interupt this interesting discourse, but what the fuck is going on???


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 16, 2007, 06:26:28 PM
Gordon closes his umbrella and asks, "And you call yourself a detective?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Detective_Winslow on June 16, 2007, 06:53:33 PM
The detective proceeds to snatch the umbrella from Gordon and shove it up his rectum.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 16, 2007, 06:55:56 PM
"Cogito ergo ouch!" Gordon screams.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 17, 2007, 01:27:34 AM
This forum is by far superior to the NYtimes.


The detective proceeds to snatch the umbrella from Gordon and shove it up his rectum.


This forum needs an enema


You can eat my shorts if you don't believe me.

Papabear:

Is the word penis fair game?

Saminnh:

Answer me this.  Are you, or are you not a registered sex offender?


Carlos123. Go stuff a spicy chimichanga up your fat ass.


“Well,” said Gordon. “That Detective Winslow certainly is rather butchy, isn’t he?”

“Actually, my dear,” said Harold. “I kinda like assertive private dicks like that.”

“Yes,” said Gordon. “And you seem to like big spicy chimichangas too.”

“I wonder,” mused Harold, “if Detective Winslow would be interested in my Maltese Falcon?”

“Honey,” said Gordon. “Nobody’s interested in your old Maltese Falcon anymore.”




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 17, 2007, 01:30:34 PM
"Hey," said Harold, "E Pluribus Anus!"

The detective rubbed his Clousea-esque moustache and felt around in his capacious trench coat pockets for a universal translator.  His moist hand closed on a...






(footnote to previous few posts:  ROFL, which I first typed as ROLF, which might have indicated my being bent out of shape and in need of deep-tissue massage....)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 17, 2007, 06:43:22 PM
HH (Harold Harold)



which might have indicated my being bent out of shape and in need of deep-tissue massage....)


“But Harold—what if Lolita were a young male nymphette?”

“Oh dear—that would be much too much. Much too scandalous for poor innocent exiled eyes!”

“Yes, my dear,” said Gordon. “What if Charlotte Haze had a cute teenage son—rather than a cute scrumptious daughter?”

“Oh dear—that would be just awful!!!”

“You know, kinda like Nabokov says in Lolita,” Gordon opined:

“You’re a monster. You’re a detestable, abominable, criminal fraud. If you come near—I’ll scream out the window. Get back!!!”

Harold paused a moment—he had this sudden rather horrifying “creative writing” flashback—Shelley Winters, her face disfigured by her emotion, not a pretty sight as she glared at him. Oh dear, Shelley had his number…

Harold fixed a quick scotch—that’s when the phone started ringing…

Looking outside the window, Harold saw a big black glossy Packard had jumped the curb. And there sprawled on the sidewalk in her bathrobe…

The only thing poor HH (Harold Harold) could think about was his poor innocent little new step-son sequestered way out there all alone in Camp Climax—his boyish eyelashes still matted with tears like Charlotte’s eyes…

It was simply shameless—truly a decadent vision of young male lolitaesque things to come

“What fun we’ll have at The Enchanted Hunters,” Harold mused to himself. “Once I get rid of crummy Quilty and that detestable Mr. Swine…”

HH (Harold Harold) went into an exquisite swoon—sensing a totally brand-new heavenly version of Annotated Lolita descending from the sky into his scheming subversive seminal brain…





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 17, 2007, 07:12:28 PM
(NEW YORK)—A simply detestable new posting appeared today in The New York Times. The supposedly defunct and discombobulated Readers Group Forum for April (Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita) seems to still have a little life left in it after all—sending shock waves all the way from Le Montreux Palace Hotel to the Big Apple newsroom:

http://forums.nytimes.com/top/opinion/readersopinions/forums/books/aprilreadinggrouplolitabyvladimirnabokov/index.html?offset=733&fid=.fac5bbf/733


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 17, 2007, 09:25:17 PM
HH (Harold Harold) went into an exquisite swoon—sensing a totally brand-new heavenly version of Annotated Lolita descending from the sky into his scheming subversive seminal brain…

sadly, secondary stages of senility slowly saturated his skeptically skewed skull...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 17, 2007, 09:26:43 PM
aah, shit.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 17, 2007, 09:27:05 PM
“The elms and the poplars were turning their ruffled backs to a sudden onslaught of wind, and a black thunderhead loomed above Ramsdale’s white church tower when I looked around me for the first time. For unknown adventures I was leaving the livid house where I had rented a room only ten weeks before…”—Vladimir Nabokov, The Annotated Lolita, New York: Vintage, 1991, page 103

I don’t know if in these tragic notes I have sufficiently stressed the peculiar “sending” effect that Charlotte’s young son had on me—his good looks, the pseudo-Celtic, attractively simian, boyish manliness he exuded from each and every pore. The effect he had on both men and women—of every age and erotic persuasion.

Of course, I know this sounds ridiculous—but every once in awhile I have to remind the reader that I’m a professional novelist—and that once I’ve given a character some mannerism like a dog then I have to go on producing that dog or that mannerism every time the character crops up in the course of the book.

Even more so in this case—when I play HH the way I do. Following him around like a dog dontchaknow… Thus my gloomy mood should be kept in mind if my story is to be properly understood. Adolescent Gordon was my Lolita—and I loved him and his boyish charm along with his hiccuppy body-music with a mature, possessive passion that I now deplore and respect more than I care to say.  

Gordon was handsome in a carved-Indian sort of way—with a burnt sienna complexion. His lips were like large crimson polyps—and when he demurred with that special smirk, he showed tiny sharp teeth and pink gums. When I touched him with my always trembling fingers—he closed his eyes and I tried to glue my lips to that big thick vein that throbbed so obscenely down the side of his forehead. It was just awful—awfully nice…

http://forums.nytimes.com/top/opinion/readersopinions/forums/books/aprilreadinggrouplolitabyvladimirnabokov/index.html?offset=734&fid=.fac5bbf/734



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 17, 2007, 09:29:32 PM
sufferin' succotash.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 17, 2007, 09:31:55 PM
suffice it to say, somebody was surely suffocating under the stress.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 17, 2007, 09:36:42 PM
A somniloquist was suddenly solicited.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 17, 2007, 10:02:45 PM
“One might suppose that with all blocks removed and a prospect of delirious and unlimited delights before me, I would have mentally sunk back, heaving a sigh of delicious relief. Eh bien, pas du tout!!!”— Vladimir Nabokov, The Annotated Lolita, New York: Vintage, 1991, page 105

The somniloquist fickle finger of Fate—it had blessed me with the beams of smiling Chance. But then I became obsessed by all sorts of purely ethical doubts and fears—what if the long hairy arm of Coincidence reached out to ignore my heathen moment that its twin lamb Chance had given me and hand Gordon a premature note of commiseration?

True, the accident had been reported only in the Ramsdale Journal—but what about the Poughkeepsie Porky Pig Gazette and The New York Times? How about the Washington Post and the Climax Herald? Or worse yet the Hump Tulips Tribune or the Seattle Post-Intelligencer? I kept imagining Gordon Haze being informed already—ending my whole charade of gallivanting around the country in our station-wagon and enjoying every somniloquistic No Tell Motel along the way.

Still even more disquieting—the fact that I, Harold Harold, a band-new American citizen of obscure Zemblan origin, had taken no steps toward becoming the legal guardian of my dead wife’s young son (sixteen years old). Would I dare take those steps? I’d lie in bed at night in various tacky poshlust midwestern motel rooms—shivering in fear of having to explain myself to some judge and jury in a Cleveland, Ohio courtroom. With Whiskeypriest as my attorney…

http://forums.nytimes.com/top/opinion/readersopinions/forums/books/aprilreadinggrouplolitabyvladimirnabokov/index.html?offset=735&fid=.fac5bbf/735


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 17, 2007, 10:20:58 PM
Sacre bleu...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 17, 2007, 11:56:10 PM
“Sacré bleu!!! Gadzooks!!! Galloping gobsmacks!!!”—chauncey.g

“Lolita Boy” or “Confessions of a Wasted Widowed Writer” are the two titles under which the writer of this present note received the strange pages it perambulates.

Harold Harold, their author, had died in legal captivity, of severe coronary halitosis, on November 16, 2006, a few days before his trial was scheduled to start. His lawyer, my good friend and relation, Whiskey Q. Priest, Esq., now of the Ohio State Bar, in asking me to edit the manuscript, based his request on a clause in his client’s will which empowered my eminent cousin to use his discretion in all matters pertaining to he preparation of “Lolita Boy” for print.

Mr. Whiskey Q. Priest’s decision may have been influenced by the fact that the editor of his choice had just been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature—for a modest literary work entitled “The New World of the Blogosphere—Do Blogs and Podcasts Have Souls?” Even though millions obviously have seen and heard my various and sundry appearances on Youtube—I’ve always remained calm and circumspect about my modest thoughts in regard to the future of mankind. Especially in regard to the lowlife online munchkins who inhabit the mentally-challenged worlds-within-worlds of the vast busy tacky unrelentingly boring pervasive Internet.

Thus Mr. Whiskey Priest can trust my firm conservative judgment as to the present manuscript at hand—even though I must say that it’s a truly miserable hand of cards dealt to me from the most evilly-fixed deck that any Mississippi riverboat gambler could surely deal from on a lonely drunken moonlit night somewhere between louche New Orleans and sinful Memphis. Nevertheless I shan’t falter from my denigrated excuse designated task—to evaluate this troublesome, morbid and perverted manuscript in my possession.

Viewed simply as a novel, “Lolita Boy” deals with situations and emotions that would remain exasperatingly vague to the reader had their expression been etiolated by means of platitudinous evasions. True, many obscene terms are to be found in this skanky work—but paradoxically one would be surprised at how many philistine prudes have lavished their attention on this banal novel—similar to the attention the Supreme Court has lavished on the recent controversial “Bonk Hits 4 Jesus” case from abysmal Alaska.

As a case history, “Lolita Boy” will become, no doubt, a classic in psychiatric jerk-off circles—more than just a mere tempest in a test-tube or the shocking confession of a dirty-minded demented diarist. As a work of art, it transcends its expiatory lamentations and desperate throbbing honesty—HH magically conjuring up a tendresse, a compassion for Gordon that makes us entranced with the book while abhorring the author.

No wonder the April NYTimes readers group lavished so much attention on this work—this poignant personal study of a wayward boy, an egotistical mother, a panting maniac. These individuals are not only vivid characters in a unique story—they warn us of dangerous trends and point out the perils of the love that dare not speak its name.

“Lolita Boy” should make all of us—parents, social workers, teachers, lawyers, businessmen, politicians, journalists, garbage-men, taxi-cab drivers, deadbeat dads—apply ourselves with still greater vigilance and vision to the task of bringing up a better generation in a safer world.

John Ray, Jr., Ph.D.
Poughkeepsie, New York
June 17, 2007

http://forums.nytimes.com/top/opinion/readersopinions/forums/books/aprilreadinggrouplolitabyvladimirnabokov/index.html?offset=736&fid=.fac5bbf/736


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 18, 2007, 01:01:12 AM
Forgive me, chauncey. I don’t mean to derail this lovely thread we’re having but may I ask you a question?

Dude—do you need some new duds?

That picture in your profile certainly captures your creative imagination nicely. So earthy, male and down to earth. It reminds me of Ron Perlman in Quest for Fire (1981)—that classic adventure science fantasy adventure movie. I still get tingles up and down my spine when I watch it—the things they put Amoukar through. What a guy has to do—to get a light. But I like him even better in Hellboy right? But then maybe the pic isn’t Perlman after all.

Thanks for the dialog. Good night






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 18, 2007, 06:57:42 AM
Dude—do you need some new duds?

yes, but at the rate i am losing weight, i'll just wait until i bottom out before investing in a new outfit.

back to the show...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 18, 2007, 10:29:27 AM
It was a dark and stormy night.  A ship appeared on the horizon.  Deep in the hold, in a crate full of iguanas, one particular iguana named Bulwer-Lytton had passed that cognitive threshold that is the gateway from brutish stupidity into the shining realm of true consciousness.  He had reached out his tiny paw and touched the humming black monolith and it had sung to him, giving him a name and a purpose and a spark of curiosity that might some day lead to the use of tools and a need for coin-operated laundry facilities.
 
But first, there was the pressing matter of voiding his cloaca.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 18, 2007, 11:04:09 AM
He began to scratch his ass, wondering what to do next.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 18, 2007, 05:34:31 PM
Gordon: “Bulwer-Lytton says the Exiles has grown so dirty since the 16th of April, that it’s only fit for the feet of the Unwashed."

Harold: “I know exactly how she feels. These dark and stormy nights can be so tiring, my dear boy; the foul words falling in torrents—except during occasional intervals, when it’s checked by violent farts and gusts of flatulance which sweep down over the island (for it is in Elba that our scene lies), ratting around in the rotting wainscotting, amongst the mad tapping keyboards of poor lost souls, fiercely agitating the scanty flame of intelligence that struggles against the darkness.”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 18, 2007, 06:04:05 PM
It was a dark and stormy night—the moody, cynical wind molesting the auburn tresses of the fair damsel clinging to the trembling bed sheets of her marriage bed, from which vantage point she could see what nightmare honeymoons were really all about, thinking the same horrible thoughts poor shocked Fay Wray must have felt, crudely chained to huge greasy posts outside the tall gaunt gates of savage Skull Island City, drugged out of her mind with foul jungle aphrodisiacs, rabid primitive drums beating insanely in the background,  her hysterical blue eyes bulging out at what she saw, her huge King Kong bridegroom delicately parting the wretched palm trees, leering at his new bride and ogling her soft Brooklyn female charms, letting her see what no lovely innocent American girl had ever seen before—and it wasn’t pretty either…

—for Desdemona




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 18, 2007, 06:21:43 PM
It was a dark and stormy night—the wretched old woman who lived in a shoe was still living in the same old grimy low-income Gretna ghetto Shoe which had about as much equity (because our story, dear children, is set in New Orleans’ hot real estate market) as a piece of shit and so after Katrina she decided to upgrade the exterior to alligator skin siding as a tribute to her idol, Marvin Gaye, moved her kids to a shack out back, and then reopened the place as the "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" Motel (but you'll have to wait until you're 18 to read any further).

—for Becky



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 18, 2007, 06:46:48 PM
It was a dark and stormy night—I was dancing as usual that Saturday night with the radio blaring away, listening to the Kingsmen sing “Louie, Louie” up there on the top floor of Balmer Hall, blaring it loud on the sultry radio, while I got Benjie Fontaine drunk on cheap JAX beer, his girlfriend down in New Orleans so lonely and sad, while I did him the way he liked to done, the way she wouldn’t do it, oh baby he was so fine…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 18, 2007, 11:17:58 PM
At that moment Detective_Winslow opened a door in his bedroom and as if in some kind of dream, he was now inside his favorite bar in Chicago.

"How do I know this is 12 year old Whiskey?" He heard someone say.

Detective Winslow was not wearing anything, as he had just been in his bedroom about to go to bed.  Now he was in Chicago.  Naked.

No body at the bar turned to look, but one of the two men nearest him spat out a string of obscenities  "thats fucking PISS man?" continued their conversation. 

Winslow was unsure if they even heard him come in.  He quickly turned, bare-assed and flew out the door of the bar.

"Yeah, but how old am i?" Their voices trailing off as he shut the door again he was back in his bedroom.  Ready for bed.

Except there was a drink in his hand.  Whiskey. What the hell?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 18, 2007, 11:59:02 PM
It was a dark and stormy night,
three robbers sat in a cave.
One robber's name was Antonio.
"Antonio," said the robber chief, "tell us a story."
And Antonio began thus:

It was a dark and stormy night,
three robbers sat in a cave.
One robber's name was Antonio.
"Antonio," said the robber chief, "tell us a story."
And Antonio began thus:

It was a dark and stormy night,
three robbers sat in a cave.
One robber's name was Antonio.
"Antonio," said the robber chief, "tell us a story."
And Antonio began thus:

It was a dark and stormy night,
three robbers sat in a cave.
One robber's name was Antonio.
"Antonio," said the robber chief, "tell us a story."
And Antonio began thus:

It was a dark and stormy night,
three robbers sat in a cave.
One robber's name was Antonio.
"Antonio," said the robber chief, "tell us a story."
And Antonio began thus:

It was a dark and stormy night,
three robbers sat in a cave.
One robber's name was Antonio.
"Antonio," said the robber chief, "tell us a story."
And Antonio began thus:

It was a dark and stormy night,
three robbers sat in a cave.
One robber's name was Antonio.
"Antonio," said the robber chief, "tell us a story."
And Antonio began thus:

It was a dark and stormy night,
three robbers sat in a cave.
One robber's name was Antonio.
"Antonio," said the robber chief, "tell us a story."
And Antonio began thus:

It was a dark and stormy night,
three robbers sat in a cave.
One robber's name was Antonio.
"Antonio," said the robber chief, "tell us a story."
And Antonio began thus:

It was a dark and stormy night...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Detective_Winslow on June 19, 2007, 12:41:22 AM
It was a dark a stormy night.....


Sploogetopolis, the $20 per hour hermaphrodite hooker, had just enjoyed a hard working night on the job.  While walking home, he/she was approached by a smelly, morbidly obese, asian man.  The asian man knew exactly what he wanted.  He held a fake gun to splooge's numb skull, and proceeded to sodomize it.  The asian man was startled when Splooge began moaning like a whore.  "What the hell is guwing on!  Exclaimed the fat asian.  In its sexiest 60 year old voice, Splooge informed the fat asian  "You could have just paid me like anyone else.  I can be whoever you want me to be, baby."    The asian man backed off, visibly disgusted, as was Splooge when she cried out.  "You didn't wear a condom you ASSHOLE!" 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 19, 2007, 12:54:03 AM
Never argue with an idiot.

He'll take you down to his level and beat you with experience.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 19, 2007, 01:02:06 AM
Yeah, the night was dark and stormy, but the bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean, and so we had it, against warning, and against the inevitble sunrise, and the orange glow on the horizon that portended more than we were able to surmise, and less than we were able to stomach without pharma and other discouraging impediments to its undeniable effervescent appeal...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 19, 2007, 09:33:04 AM
Later, after the dark and stormy had abated, Gordon, languidly reaching for Chlo found only a note left on her pillow:
Dear Gordo,
See ya 'round, maybe.
Chlo

  Evidently Chlo could no longer combat the nanophilia raging in her veins, and was running off to join the much-celebrated dwarf circus, where she would 




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 19, 2007, 10:01:29 AM
train Victorian iguanas to ride on the backs of verbose Basenjis while pulling sleds of WalMart ceiling tiles that were insufficiently porous to really be glued properly.  But, until then, she had to recover fully from the head injury she had suffered in the natatorium, that day not so long ago, before nutria had ruled the earth in man's place.  So it was she found herself, each morning, undergoing cognitive therapy and, like "Nell" in that grotesque affront to southern culture, gradually developing an attraction to Liam Neeson as he diction improved and...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 19, 2007, 10:04:11 AM
...she was no longer compelled to reverse his name and call him "No Seen Mail."

The dwarfs, though they would never have Liam's stature, would provide erotic solace with their amazing ability to...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 19, 2007, 10:51:22 AM
continue to extend the imagination of the most devout paraphiliac.  Who else could fall head over heels over a small Ming vase?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 19, 2007, 01:27:15 PM
A large Ming, perhaps?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 19, 2007, 01:52:00 PM
"I'm sick of dis life," thought a bored Chlotilde.  "I'm gonna run away, me.  And I'm never cooking another nutria rat again as long as I live, unless I damn well FEEL like it."

Indeed, life was getting our Chlotilde down.  She was sick of her job as a nutria-stewer, her boyfriend had recently bailed on her, her kids were driving her crazy, and her old car was breaking down every week in the sweltering bayou heat.

"What if I just up and flew away to France?"  she thought.  "I want to get away, I want to fly away, yeah."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 19, 2007, 03:20:52 PM
"Kids?"  "Those are dwarfs!"  Ringmaster Ming Ling-Long was beginning to have doubts about his latest side-show, Callipygian Clothilde.  Memory lapses just a part of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 19, 2007, 08:22:20 PM
LEARN - Lets End All Racism Now


When a individual says "LEARN". When a individual says "Let's End All Racism Now." That individual is telling other people about themself. They're telling people that their a loving person. That they want to end hate. They're telling people that they treat others with respect. That they want to end discrimination. They're telling people who are racist, people who are ignorant, that they must LEARN.

One individual cannot speak for all people. However, if rabbis, reverends, preachers and ministers tell their congregations, " believe in what we believe, respect what others believe, that's what America's about.", People will LEARN. Parents will LEARN. Children will LEARN ... and children remember what they LEARN, especially at a young age.

It's not enough to tell our children Let's End All Racism Now. It must be explained. What's LEARN mommy? LEARN is about ending hate, it's important to be a loving, caring person. LEARN is about ending discrimination. You should treat people with respect. Racism is ignorance and the only way to end ignorance is to LEARN. Why should we LEARN daddy? Because this is America ... and America is made up of millions of citizens from hundreds of different backrounds and beliefs. With few exceptions, while you may not agree with what others believe, you should respect their right to believe it. 


This lesson should be taught in every school in America, over and over again. It's the most important lesson an American citizen can ever LEARN.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 19, 2007, 08:35:28 PM





                                   
Who was that masked man?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 19, 2007, 10:23:16 PM
The pamphlet smacked Gordon in the face.  Or rather, Gordon had walked into a telephone pole.  He rubbed his sore forehead as he read the bill. 
 
Quote

LEARN - Lets End All Racism Now


When a individual says "LEARN". When a individual says "Let's End All Racism Now." That individual is telling other people about themself. Their telling people that their a loving person. That they want to end hate. Their telling people that they treat others with respect. That they want to end discrimination. Their telling people who are racist, people who are ignorant, that they must LEARN.

One individual cannot speak for all people. However, if rabbis, reverends, preachers and ministers tell their congregations, " believe in what we believe, respect what others believe, that's what America's about.", People will LEARN. Parents will LEARN. Children will LEARN ... and children remember what they LEARN, especially at a young age.

It's not enough to tell our children Let's End All Racism Now. It must be explained. What's LEARN mommy? LEARN is about ending hate, it's important to be a loving, caring person. LEARN is about ending discrimination. You should treat people with respect. Racism is ignorance and the only way to end ignorance is to LEARN. Why should we LEARN daddy? Because this is America ... and America is made up of millions of citizens from hundreds of different backrounds and beliefs. With few exceptions, while you may not agree with what others believe, you should respect their right to believe it.


This lesson should be taught in every school in America, over and over again. It's the most important lesson an American citizen can ever LEARN.

"Learn to walk straight buddy" he chuckled at himself. 

Observing this was Harold.  "Good Friend, you can't walk with an umbrella shoved up your rectum". 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 19, 2007, 10:32:27 PM
The People's Stats


Ok, I did a little research. I have wrote many times that I believe most people are loving, caring people. I'm certain eyes have rolled at this thought, however I now have indisputable evidence that I am correct.


I wonder how people think. So I went to google and did a search. I put love up against hate.
War vs. Peace. Crime vs.Charity. Chocolate vs. Vanilla, Racism vs. Learn. What do people want?



Ding!!! Ding!!! Ding!!!


Love 908,000,000 vs. Hate 258,000,000
Wooooooo. As a fan, this is one of the greatest wins I have experienced. This here was the main event. Without question, when it comes to what people want, LOVE is the Heavyweight Champion Of The World.


War 594,000,000 vs. Peace 187,000,000
No surprise here. Too much war in this world. Many loving people going online to find out about it. People seeking peace has disappointing showing.


Crime 341,000,000 vs. Charity 96,700,000
Crime easily wins this battle. I look forward to the day when charity wins. I can't realistically imagine that any time soon.


Learn 599,000,000 vs. Racism 27,600,000
I doubt this epic battle will ever make headlines. An absolute slaughter. People are much more interested in educating themselves then they are thinking about racism. . Second only to love amongst all participants, these numbers certainly show the power of LEARN


Exhibition Match


Chocolate 112,000,000 vs Vanilla 33,600,000
Upset of the night. Both participants could be difficult to spell, but I expected a much tougher battle.


In addition, to gauge the validity of our numbers, we searched a contender that wasn't on tonights card.


Sex 399,000,000


I did think sex had a chance to beat love. Happy to say, not even close. Love left
all contenders in the dust.


LOVE & LEARN, the people's one-two punch.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 19, 2007, 11:42:03 PM
Deja Vu Redux

Double L?  LEARN & Lifeline= GAG


No soliciting

                                                          POST:


Soapboxes -- unless accompanied with a sense of humor -- not particularly welcome


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 20, 2007, 01:07:15 AM
Spank City

It was a dark and stormy night…

“I think we all deserve a good spanking right now,” said Harold Harold, sitting on the dumpy couch in the mansion’s living room, smoking his cigarette.

Oh honey, if that louche sofa could only talk…

“Yeah!!!” said Gordon. “Let’s do it, baby!!!”

(http://scribalterror.blogs.com/scribal_terror/images/i_willl_keep_spanking_until_1.jpg)

“Assume the position, kid,” said Harold.

Gordon slipped down his pants and shorts—after a nice long bong hit 4 Jesus. Gordon loved it when Harold got into one of his slutty S/M moods—Harold could be such a haughty dominatrix old bitch when she got in the mood…

“OK, I’m ready Big Daddy,” Gordon said, all dreamy-eyed and ready for action. His nice fine little ass was already glowing in the dark with that cute adolescent innocence and pure shameless unadulterated queer indulgence that only pouty young male Lolitas know how to indulge themselves in—especially when they had bridge guests over.

And there they all were—anxiously waiting for the spanking to begin. Detective Winslow was already foaming at the mouth—closet cases can be so tacky. Kinky kitinkaboodle and kewl Kam-shaft were into their usual smirky ogling-mode down on their knees—while petite Eve and Desdemona were already desperately fanning their overwrought pussies with their Pascagoula Funeral Home fans (made from the finest palmetto fronds that money could buy) fighting back the urge to join in on the fun.

Pouty put-upon Learn the Newbie was getting a crash-course in Blog Barforama Fun Time, baby—while Madupont quibbled with Donotremove as usual over who’d get to use the infamous 1000-volt vibrating Texas cattle-prod next. Hmm-hmm, honey.

Chauncey and jbottle were warming up their camcorder for some down-home get-down juicy naughty action—they couldn’t wait to share with their Youtube buddies what bored Exiles did for fun and games!!!

It was just awful—but of course things got worse. Lo and behold who shows up knock-knock-knocking at the door but the lovely putrid Podcast Twins—Sussman and Tanenhaus Inc. the nefarious Big Apple bottoms looking for their own little piece of the online action. Their nice little literary fannies shivered and wiggled in monetary anticipation—they wanted sloppy seconds after Harold got done with Gordon dontchaknow. Once Spank City got going, honey—there was no stopping it.

Already the old mansion was moaning and groaning—the rats were dancing behind the wainscoting and Dracula’s daughters were stirring down there in the loathsome crypt.

“Lordy, lordy,” said Flem Snopes, the neighbor upstairs. “Dem white-trash intellectuals downstairs are at it again!!! They’re giving Ike, the cows and everybody else around here a bad name!!!”

Meanwhile word was getting around—Gordon’s meek whimpering had gone into high gear and his shocking soprano screaming could be heard all the way over to Basketball and the Meandering forum.

“There goes our nice little coffee-klatch again,” Furphy said to Teddy.

“There goes the neighborhood,” said Whiskeypriest to Boswell.

Bosox18d yawned—he had more important things to do like take care of Rummy that night. Hmm-hmmm.

Dzimas as usual had the class to avoid the spanking session—instead taking a nice long bus ride between Vilnius and Lviv as guest of Queen Kinbote getting to know the wonderful world of Zembla down the road from Zamosc…

Thanatopsy fled the scene quickly—thanatos just wasn’t up her dark alley.

Snyggokul, Julian of Norwich and the irrepressible Johan Huizinga were enjoying themselves immensely—sipping their absinthe and getting into the game.

“Game?” Weezo ejaculated. “Hey, this is serious business!!!”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 20, 2007, 05:42:12 AM
Quote
Observing this was Harold.  "Good Friend, you can't walk with an umbrella shoved up your rectum".
"Rectum?  Nearly killed 'em!"  Gordon threw out.

Harold chuckled.  There was nothing he enjoyed more than Gordon's tendency to toss out disembodied punch lines.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 09:51:43 AM
"Their telling people that their a loving person.  

aaaaaaaaaaaEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" shrieked Chlotilde.  "A lecture with atrocious spelling errors!!!!!   What in the name of Lafayette's beard is this critter doing over here?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 20, 2007, 10:33:23 AM
There was a knock on the door.  Clothilde opened it and saw a conquistador and a priest standing there.

"I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition," said Chlo.

"People generally don't," said the priest.  "We overheard you shrieking.  We just wanted to point out that spelling errors can sometimes be God's way of giving us inspiration."

"Give me one example," said Chlo, folding her arms.

"Well, what if you were writing 'nutrasweet' and instead you wrote 'nutriasweet.'  Might that not inspire you start your own business, marketing  an artificial sweetener with that special hint of nutria flavor?  Could be quite delectable, yes?"

Chlo slammed the door in their faces.  But, then she began to ponder the whole nutria angle again...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 20, 2007, 11:06:56 AM
The more she pondered the more she pondered.  And with all that pondering


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 20, 2007, 11:17:11 AM
she began to ponder her penchant for pondering.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 11:18:27 AM
she remembered all the years she had wasted stewing nutria and steaming rice in that sweltering little ass of a town in the middle of nowhere.  "Dat's it!"  she cried.  "I'm off to Paris."

Twelve hours later, she arrived at Charles DeGaulle airport.  Hot damn!  Dis is my heritage!

She hailed a cab.  "Take me down dare to the main part of the city and drop me off at a good hotel."

The cab driver shrugged and dropped her off at the nearest hospital.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 11:23:10 AM
"Don't much look like dat dare Eiffel Tower or no cateedral or not much of nuttin'," she pondered.  "Am I sure I'm in Paris?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 11:44:14 AM
Chlotilde hailed another taxi.  When she got in, she found the smell familiar - it was just like the other taxi.  Overpowering perfume covering up (only partially) the smell of the unwashed.

"Don't anybody here wash dey ass?"  she thought out loud.

"Je ne suis un American, madamoiselle, je suis Francais.  Non parle pas Anglaise."

"Well take me down dare by that Eiffel Tower," she said.

"Le tour d'Eiffel?"

"No, you damn French dumbass!  The Eiffel Tower!"

The taxi driver promptly dropped her off at the American Embassy. 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 20, 2007, 12:52:44 PM
The deputy consul was adding a bit of Nutria-Sweet to his cafe au lait when he heard a ruckus downstairs in the foyer of the embassy.  "Merde!" he cried, "another perfect moment ruined by the necessity of dealing with other people who are, as Sartre pointed out, HELL!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 01:26:08 PM
"Dis ain't the Loub, dat much I know for sho!"  a voiced shrieked.  "Git yo damn hands offa me or you gonne eat da floor for lunch, yeah!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 20, 2007, 01:29:45 PM
Gordon regretted taking the new job as counsel, even if he did get to live in Paris.  He was mulling over a career change after just hours on the job when he heard that voice again, only louder, "Whatch all askin for mercy for?  You gonne need mercy weh I gets done wid you!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 01:33:14 PM
Nasty, who had been appointed Deputy Ambassador, was terrified.  "OH MY GOD!" he shrieked.  "It can't be - it sounds like that nutria-berling bitch from down there around Bayou St. John!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 01:47:55 PM
Meanwhile, Chlotilde was being shown the door - chin first.  "French Bastards!" she screamed.  "No wonder the Indians won in the French anad Indian War!"

"Mais this is the American consulate, chere amie," came a laconic voice.  A little man in a stiped shirt and beret stood behind her.  "Allow me to introduce myself to you - I am Pierre LaMerde, and you are tres charmant.  Please, let me help you with that suitcase."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 02:34:49 PM
"Why come nobody told me about France before I got here?  Problem with this place is, nobody speaks English!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 20, 2007, 02:45:39 PM
"Mal chance."  Pierre cooed softly.  "Come, let me show you the door."

"I've seen the door!" Cholthilde bellowed.  "Why does everyone in France want to show me their doors!  I've seen every door in France."  She paused for breath.  "I thought your name was Pierre.  Why you tellin me you Mel Schantz?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 20, 2007, 03:12:55 PM
desdem

Thank you for pointing out my spelling errors. I made the corrections.  What I wondered is why you seem to get such joy in pointing them out.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 20, 2007, 03:14:59 PM
Here's two of my favorites:


ATTITUDE -- by Charles Swindell

The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.

Attitude, to me, is more important than the past, Than education, Than money, Than circumstances, Than failures, Than success, Than what other people think or say or do.

It is more important than appearance, Giftedness or skill. It will make or break an organization, A school, a home.

The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day Regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day.

We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable.

The only thing we can do Is play the string we have. And that is our attitude.

I am convinced that life is 10 percent what happens to me And 90 percent how I react to it. And so it is with you.



WINNERS VS. LOSERS - Author Unknown


A Winner always has a program. A Loser always has an excuse.

A Winner says "Let me do it for you." A Loser says "That's not my job."

A Winner sees an answer for every problem; A Loser sees a problem in every answer.

A Winner looks for opportunities, to find someone doing something right. A Loser looks for opportunities, to find someone doing something wrong.

A Winner says "It may be difficult but it's possible." A Loser says "It may be possible, but it's too difficult."

A Winner accepts responsibility, for what they do, right or wrong. A Loser accepts responsibility for what they do right, and blames others for what they do wrong.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 03:17:44 PM
Perhaps because you're preaching a sermon in a Creative Writing forum, where sermons on anything are decidedly unwelcome? :-[

Go share you Charles Swindle crap with someone who cares, like the Southern Baptist Convention.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 20, 2007, 03:19:21 PM
What is with all the stupid flyers?  Pierre wondered.  Shouldn't these things be in an education forum or something?  Why is the person passing these out destroying the beauty of our fair city?  Get that crap out of here and into where it belongs!

He turned to Cholthilde.  "I am sorry.  I spoke French out of habit.  I will attempt to confine myself to English.  That may be very rigid for me.  I hope any errors I make will not create in you a nervous person."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 20, 2007, 03:26:21 PM
Amongst many things, LEARN is a tool, it has no value if you don't use it.

Though it may come across that way, I don't mean to preach. While I do come to educational and creative writing type forums, where should I go? Where would you go if you created a  opposite symbol to racism.

If you think a symbol is silly, how would you feel if I was spreading a swasticka instead.

LEARN - spread the word  8)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 03:28:48 PM
Chlotilde frowned at the peculiar little Frenchman.  "You look familiar somehow," she said.  "Anybody named 'Boudreaux' in your family?"

"Well, chere, I got a sister married to a Boudreaux, but here's something more important than that.  I'm going regale you with platitudes right now, whether you like it or not.  Did you know the grass is always greener on the other side?   Or that there is no "I" in team (but there is a "me"?  How about this - Love make the world go round.  Always be cheerful, even if someone is sawing off your right leg.  Be positive - everyone likes a winner - the world loves a lover - Greater love hath no man - if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all,


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 20, 2007, 03:33:08 PM
desdem

Oh, I get it, you're (spellcheck :-) one of those pompous posters who like to tell others what they should and shouldn't post.

LEARN, Charles Swindell, Winners vs. Losers and The People's Stats were all pieces of creative writing. Whether you found it creative or not.

You don't like it, don't read it ... you're (spellcheck :-) creative enough to know that.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 20, 2007, 03:37:17 PM
the early bird catches the worm, it is better to have loved and lost, what goes up must go around, time and tide wait for no man, next to of course god america i love the land of my fathers oh say can you see by the dawns early centuries come and go and are no more what of it we should worry in every language even deaf and dumb thy sons proclaim thy glorious name by gory by jingo by gosh by gum why speak of beauty when what can be more beautiful than those heroic happy dead who rushed like lions into the roaring slaughter they did not stop to think they died instead then shall the voice of libery be moot?"  He spoke and drank rapidly a glass of water.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 20, 2007, 03:39:52 PM
Desdem,

Here let me help you out. Go to Personal Message Options http://forums.escapefromelba.com/index.php?action=profile See:



Ignorelist:
Add one Username on each line.
Or enter * to ignore all messages.


Put my name on it. Thanks 8)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 03:56:48 PM
...let a smile be your umbrella, you can conquer the world with a warm handshake, neither a borrower or lender be, don't judge a book by its cover, don't bother with contractions, they're just useless idiosycrasies of the language that you don't need to know....

"Pierre," said Chlotilde, "If you say one more nice thing, I'll never speak to you again."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 04:11:37 PM
"Mais mon chere, you do not understand.  I am going to make a difference in this world.  I am going to stamp out racism.  I am going to shove neocon Christian shitsprik down the throat of le monde.  I am going to learn what "actions are ansorbed" means, and then I will impart that knowledge to everyone, whether they want it or not."

"But Pierre, I'm here to pass a good time, maybe have a laugh or two even!"  objected Chlotilde.

"Then just put me on "ignore"," said Pierre, showing her a little white card with a smiley face emoticon on it.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 20, 2007, 04:26:12 PM
des,

If nothing else, at least your writing is becoming more interesting. I'm glad I inspire you.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 20, 2007, 04:31:48 PM
Chlo was slowly adjusting, and as jet-lagged as she was, something kept knawing at her like some old swamp thang back in the bayou.  "Jest seems some folks don't get it!"  "No mattah how ya spell it out, spit it out, draw dat pitcher, well, some doze peoples, dey got sheet fer brainz."  "What ma would call simple folks."  And with that Chlo re-adjusted her petticoats and began practicing her kicks in preparation for her Can-Can audition at the Moulin Rouge...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 04:33:02 PM
Meanwhile, back at Sing-Sing, Bruiser was in the midst of faking a hunger strike.  It was 2:00 A.M., a time when, he knew, the guards were snoozing and he could surreptitiously eat his can of Spam.

"Just where did that Spam come from," asked an irate voice in a dark and shadowy corner...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 20, 2007, 04:38:09 PM
Bruiser looked at the can.  "Dunno," he said, "it appears to be some kind of meat of undetermined origin."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 20, 2007, 04:41:11 PM
The shadowy voice whispered, "It's from a meathead"...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 20, 2007, 04:42:09 PM
A lumpen figure emerged from the darkness.

"Hand that over.  You know Spam isn't allowed in prison anymore than Punkzbane is..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 21, 2007, 08:28:46 AM
After hearing that her Can-Can wasn't quite up to standards (something about needing a wax, whatever that had to do with it, but maybe she had misunderstood).  Chlo pondered her options.  What could she offer?  Langue de nutria au gratin perhaps?  Something...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 21, 2007, 09:53:20 AM
...marinated in wine, then sauteed in wine, then served with a...it was coming to her....yes! a nice pinot noir....but wait, she thought to herself (as there was no other brain to think to), why would a nice white wine call itself "noir?"  Shouldn't it be a black wine?  Were there any good black wines?




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 21, 2007, 09:56:28 AM
"Had me a black wine once," said Bulwer-Lytton the overly-florid nutria, who had been sitting quiescent in the corner.  "Chateau de Maison I think it was....man, it was a motherf--"

"Shut your mouth!" cried Chloe.  "It's a complicated menu, and no one understands it but....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 21, 2007, 10:00:42 AM
his woman."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 21, 2007, 10:06:01 AM
"Whose woman," asked Bulwer-Lytton.  "I don't know to whom "his" refers."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 21, 2007, 10:27:30 AM
"Now is clearly not the time to insist upon logic and consistency in the narrative," Boswell barked from his pillow in the corner.  Then, he rolled to his side and began, gently but insistently, to lick his balls.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 21, 2007, 10:36:47 AM
The very same balls that had been marinating in a


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 21, 2007, 10:40:33 AM
stew of nutria, rice, bonito broth, shark fins, cod sperm and tomatoes."

"Tomatoes?"  the dubbed Japanese announcer remarked with incredulity in his voice.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 21, 2007, 10:43:52 AM
An incredulity that seemed suspect, given the absolute composure with which he had announced, not long before, the emergence from the Sea of Japan a gigantic dripping....



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 21, 2007, 10:51:38 AM
squid?  No wait, it wasn't that!  It was a giant, white





 asparagus...asparagi?




What is one giant stalk of white dripping limpness called anyway?



Chloe pondered...




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 21, 2007, 11:04:41 AM
"What is one giant stalk of white dripping limpness called anyway?" she asked aloud. 

"Ron Jeremy on a bad day," came Boswell's response.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 21, 2007, 11:17:08 AM
Chloe wasn't sure who, or what a Ron Jeremy was...but noted that it wasn't a Schilling...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 21, 2007, 11:24:43 AM
although, she had noted that the phrase "big dick" got mentioned frequently in connection with both....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 21, 2007, 04:41:46 PM
Irish monks with a penchant for porn, baseball and French cooking, not necessarily in that order. Actually a more general order, in fact.  One in which required their filling page upon page of furious scribbling


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 21, 2007, 08:48:09 PM
It was a dark and stormy night…
 
Childe Harold & his lover-boy Gordon—excuse me Harold-Harold and Ratboy—were taking a brief vacation out on the coast….
 
They’d visited Hump Tulips, the Pacific Ocean and a damp rotting mildewy rain forest or two. And now they were comfortably ensconced at the quaint rustic Forks Motel—with their simply exhausted  petered-out station-wagon parked out in front. If that station-wagon could only talk, girl—what lovely louche lolitaesque tales it could tell…to say nothing of all those tasty nutria gumbo recipe tidbits.
 
Cute nubile Gordon had just slithered into the room after his nice shower—his lovely puce kimono with its ever-so stylish wilting limp fuchsias drooping down so languorously. It all seemed to fit the louche and lazy mood rather nicely….
 
Harold yawned, turning off his cute little Jujizzy tablet-computer—so convenient for all those little  travelogue notes and literary jottings…after all HH was a famous pulp fiction poet from Pascagoula and an old Delta Bourbon aristocrat dontchaknow...
 
A lovely “exile noir” scene slowly descended over the lucky loving twosome—as it rained and poured outside that dark and stormy night…
 
 



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 21, 2007, 09:28:53 PM
Detective Winslow, Whiskeypriest and Learn the Newbie.....after a rather brief louche three-way quickie at the swanky Exiles Motel in beautiful downtown Atlanta:

(http://www.ibiblio.org/Dave/Dr-Fun/df200312/df20031210.jpg)

http://www.ibiblio.org/Dave/Dr-Fun/df200312/df20031210.jpg


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 22, 2007, 04:09:30 AM
(http://brianschlosser42.googlepages.com/zombaldo.JPG)

http://brianschlosser42.googlepages.com/zombaldo.JPG


It was a dark and stormy night…

Desdemona couldn’t help herself. It was midnight and she had dem cravings again—she craved a nice big slice of pecan pie, some nutria sherbert and...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 22, 2007, 10:20:38 AM
and a bottle of Bud Light, so as to keep in touch with the common folk. 

In the corner, Bulwer-Lytton said, "I can't take much more of this."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 22, 2007, 10:25:54 AM
So he switched to Stella Artois, a lovely


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 22, 2007, 10:34:34 AM
Italo-French dancer whose charms swiftly had men tearing their teeshirts in the street and yelling, "STELLA!"


Meanwhile, on a lonely pier in Duluth


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 22, 2007, 10:38:45 AM
Gordon found himself wondering, idly, about the whereabouts of his old high school friend, Przemyslaw Krzczewski, or as he was popularly known,


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 22, 2007, 10:41:39 AM
Nikolai Ivanovitch Lobachevski.  (it wasn't any shorter, but it was much easier to say....)



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 22, 2007, 11:25:04 AM
although "Nikolai" at first resented changing his perfectly acceptable Polish name to a Russian one. 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 22, 2007, 12:15:32 PM
But he knew that it would help Bart Nilson, the well-endowed prairie poet from Nebraska, gain a well-deserved foothold in the 200's and begin the final ascent to Senior Member.  Though "Slaw" knew that it was a mixed blessing, leaving a full member behind.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 22, 2007, 12:20:32 PM
Penelope Applebottom was rather weary from stepping around all those full members, a few of which


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 22, 2007, 12:41:29 PM
standing erect...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 22, 2007, 01:40:36 PM
his colostomy opening


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 22, 2007, 01:45:18 PM
which was so cleverly disguised by his furry


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 22, 2007, 01:58:37 PM
merkin


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 22, 2007, 02:13:44 PM
which itched him to no end since Chlo had borrowed it for her Can-Can audition


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 22, 2007, 02:17:29 PM
There were whisperings that it wasn't a proper furry merkin, that it didn't qualify for merkinhood due to   


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 22, 2007, 02:20:49 PM
its true origin.  Rumor had it that it may have actually come from some questionable spot in up-state Ohio, only one


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 22, 2007, 02:23:30 PM
state removed from Indiana, where Cholthilde suddenly found herself


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 22, 2007, 02:26:36 PM
hopelessly lost in the midst of a beekeepers convention where the buzz was


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 22, 2007, 02:35:26 PM
interfering with the glowing fibre-optic merkin she'd recently purchased on a whim from a rather dubious looking merchant in Paris. No-one when purchasing a furry merkin in a foreign land expects some kind of Spanish Inquisition   


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 22, 2007, 02:43:38 PM
especially when shopping at the well known (but rather seedy) thrift store on the Rue St. Denis, but that


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 22, 2007, 02:45:04 PM
puzzled Cholthilde because she did not know anyone named St Denis, let alone why she should rue him....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 22, 2007, 02:52:01 PM
slyly setting up her ipod and sending subliminal messages via the accordian


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 22, 2007, 02:57:21 PM
file that she had swiped from St. Denis's desk, a theft she had already begun to rue


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 22, 2007, 03:02:40 PM
since she grabbed the wrong one and now had to return his personal notes on "Consumer Reports on Recommended Merkins" and once again


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 22, 2007, 04:10:47 PM
see the terrible sight of him, standing there, head in hand, her merkin at eye-level...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 22, 2007, 04:23:16 PM
placed deftly atop his grizzly protuberance


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 22, 2007, 04:25:57 PM
"Oooooo, that man is some kinda creepy," Chlo shuddered.  "I would never have come here if dey tole me about dis freak carrying his head around....and that grisly protuberance!!!  ACK!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 22, 2007, 09:05:58 PM
(http://joshreads.com/images/0506/tommyrage.gif)

Suddenly FOX-News interrupted the basketball game with a heartbreaking tearjerking piece of sad news…

Gordon and Harold were getting a divorce!!!!



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 22, 2007, 10:54:10 PM
"I don't care what anyone says," intoned the head of St. Denis.  "It most certainly IS a proper merkin."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 23, 2007, 10:48:03 AM
The conquistador and priest knocked on the door again.  The cleaning lady answered for Chlo, who was indisposed, due to a worsening merkin allergy.

"Were you expected?" she asked.

"No one expects the Spanish Inquisition," said the priest.

"Whatever.  She's not well, come back later."

"If we come back later, we'll be, how can I put this?" said the priest.

"Somewhat expected," finished the conquistador.

"Are you a real conquistador?" asked the cleaning lady, arching her brows skeptically.

By way of answer, he showed her his...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 23, 2007, 10:56:36 AM
silk monogrammed women's thong panties he wore in preference to uderwear


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 23, 2007, 02:04:08 PM
and the key to his betrothed's chastity belt.

"Come in, then," said the housekeeper.  "You lot are too insistent for me."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 23, 2007, 02:10:12 PM
"Torquemada and an anonymous conquistador here to see you, ma'am," announced the housekeeper.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 23, 2007, 08:36:27 PM
silk monogrammed women's thong panties he wore in preference to uderwear

(http://joshreads.com/images/0606/wilbur.jpg)

"Good Golly Miss Molly," exclaimed Gordon. "Uderware?"

Harold shook his head. "Sounds like a rather tacky gauche sexist Freudian slip to me..."

"Hello? May I speak to Rachel Ray, please!?!"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 23, 2007, 08:45:36 PM
(http://www.joshreads.com/images/07/01/dreamlover.jpg)


“Hello? Miss Madupont? Miss Learn? Mrs. Detective Winslow?"

"Did you hear what that simply awful Whiskeypriest said up there?"

"I think it’s high time we had another Spanish Fly Inquisition, my dears!!!"

"Beginning in Ohio, don’t you think ladies? The sooner the better!!!”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 23, 2007, 10:15:16 PM
"Torquemada and an anonymous conquistador here to see you, ma'am," announced the housekeeper.



"Torquemada?  An anonymous conquistidor?" replied a baffled Chlotilde.  "Did you tell them I'm all broke out down dare?"

"Well, ma'am, ahem, I told them you were indisposed, and they were most insistent.  The priest says he's part of the Spanish Inquisition, ma'am."

"Everyday I regret coming to Europe more and more.  You folks so strange!  That horrible man carrying his head around, and now this!"

"What you boys want, anyway?" asked Chlotilde.  "I got some kind awful stuff going on right now ---- it's like torture."

"Torture?" an evil laugh erupted from Torquemada.  "That would be our specialty..."

"But what do you WANT?" asked Chlo, trying her best not to scratch or twitch.

"We've heard rumours that you've been indulging in suspicious, perhaps heretical behavior recently, Senorita Boudreaux.  Something about merkins and St. Denis, may he praise our Lord in Heaven forevermore."

"I sorry to mess wit your mine," retorted Chlo. "But St. Denis is, well, he's kinda like a prevert or something."

"That is heresy, Ms. Boudreaux," snorted Torquemada.  "Now I am feeling extraordinarily zealous about bringing you to trial for witchcraft."

"Ooooooo, mais no!!!" cried Chlotilde.  "My mama sent me to Ursuline Academy down dare in New Orleans!  We take mass down dare by St. Odo of Cluny."

"I'm sorry, Madedemoiselle Chlotilde, but you spoke evil of St. Denis," said Torquemada.

Suddenly, the conquistidor whipped out an iron maiden from behind his back.  "When I'm not handing out blankets infected with the pox in the America's," he said.  "I practice using this old girl for a hobby."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 23, 2007, 10:43:54 PM
(http://joshreads.com/images/0604/taupeballygoodness.jpg)

"Thank goodness, Desdemona!!!"

"Another favorite treat of mine. Lovely nutria casserole!!!"

"Hmm-hmmmmm good!!!!!!"

"What's for desert, my little sweetpea?"

"I simply can't wait..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 23, 2007, 10:48:32 PM
(http://joshreads.com/images/0606/wilbur.jpg)

"What's this?" Whiskeypriest asked.

"It doesn't look like a human pubic hair..."

"It kinda looks like a nutria pube, if you ask my legal opinion."

"Surely Desdemona cleans dem rats better than that..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 24, 2007, 02:05:11 PM
As Torquemada opened the iron maiden, it emitted a groan and then a woman's voice, crying "Please let me out!  Please, I'm ready to repent!"

Torquemada glared at the conquistador, who had been adjusting his panties, which had a tendency to slide up and get bunched up in his buttcrack.  "I thought you said you cleaned this out before we left.  Winona's still in there, you dolt!"

The conquistador squinted into the opening.  "I thought it was empty.  I'm sorry, I just hefted the thing and it felt empty.  I don't think Ms. Ryder weighs very much.  In point of fact, and I mean no disrespect, but I don't think the iron maiden is quite as effective a tool of punishment on one of those skinny movie stars."

"The impertinence!" bellowed Torquemada.

"Let me out," cried Winona.  "I'm really sorry about those blouses!  I just wanted to check the color in outdoor light!"

The conquistador pried the iron maiden farther open.  "Look, the spikes haven't even penetrated her flesh.  She might have a bit of bruising at the very worst...."

"She said she's ready to repent," said Torquemada, "so it worked well enough!  Let's yank her out of there and have her...."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 24, 2007, 04:06:25 PM
"Pardon the interruption", said the eye-rollingly obnoxious intruder. He  went on to proclaim ...


"While I do not think we/society can end racism (there will always be individuals who are racist), I'm 100% certain that we/society can spread an opposite to it.

Similarly we can't end hatred, but it doesn't mean we shouldn't spread love.



LEARN is a powerful word. To me and I think most people, it means acquire knowledge. So the message/symbol that you see means acquire knowledge of ending racism, acquire knowledge of end-broken-hearts. The experts always say, the best way to handle blah, blah, blah, is through education. I can't imagine a more memorable, educated message when it comes to ending racism than LEARN.


While I realize there's no one message ALL people can agree upon.... the truth is, if a person REALLLLY wants to end racism, they should have no problem saying Lets End All Racism Now."


"Shut up.",  roared  all in earful. "We don't care about racism." "Go away.", they shouted. The intruder left.

"What an ass" ;), proclaimed ......


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 24, 2007, 06:52:26 PM
(http://joshreads.com/images/0606/wilbur.jpg)

Dearest Madam Learn,

Excuse me while I barf at your sanctimonious oinky oink-face quasi-piggery.

No change that—make it total completely unadulterated oinky oink-face poshlust better than-thou oink-slut piggery.

How does that sound, fuck-face madam learn?

Dearest one, (yawn) you’re the worst kind of slimy Trollette—the fake do-gooder Inquisition queen-bee type.

Ten times worse than lifeline and the msussman clones.

A clue—your shit does stink


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 24, 2007, 07:20:22 PM
(http://joshreads.com/images/0606/wilbur.jpg)

It was dark and stormy night…

Post your own writing to be critiqued by your peers.

“The creative act is not performed by the artist alone; the spectator brings the work in contact with the external world by deciphering and interpreting its inner qualifications and thus adds his contribution to the creative act.”—Marcel Duchamp

how to critique “shit”—
conversationally chic
café moment shit?

with absolutely no continuity of character, plot, or setting, though with certain repetitive themes, to wit:

In the corner, Bulwer-Lytton said, "I can't take much more of this shit."

"Now is clearly not the time to insist upon logic and consistency in the narrative," Boswell barked from his pillow in the corner.  Then, he rolled to his side and began, gently but insistently, to lick his balls.

It was a dark and stormy night…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 24, 2007, 08:08:25 PM
Haiku critique

(http://joshreads.com/images/0606/wilbur.jpg)


Children are sponges.
Others actions are ansorbed. [sic]
Is the water clean?


cleanliness is nice—
the nicest thing in the world
next to my asshole



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 24, 2007, 08:57:32 PM
puge

the nicest thing in the world
next to my asshole


Erroroneous tale
I thought opposites attract
Nice world you live in.

Much hostility
Why the desire to lash out?
Insecurities?

Creative writing
One man's heart, one man's garbage.
AND, one man's asshole.

Shoot the messenger
For exposing hypocrites
Easier than truth.

Truth shows shallowness
Thoughts that most prefer to hide
That's the way it goes. 8)




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 24, 2007, 09:02:18 PM
And now, after those (not brief enough) messages (from the outer limits) we now return to our regular programming where we find Miss Clothilde and Miss Applebottom ever so discreetly comparing


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 24, 2007, 09:46:39 PM
furry merkins.  By now, Chlotilde had accummulated quite an assortment from all over the world.  She had smashed Paris flat on its back with her merkin wardrobe.

"Oh, Chlotilde," sighed Miss Applebottom.  "How I wish I knew where you adquired this ermine furry merkin.  I envy you so!"

"Don't worry, babe," replied the affable Chlo.  "I can hook you up with my connect."

"What a dear friend you are to me," effused Miss Applebottom.

There was yet another knock on the door.

"A Mr.Carbuncle to see you, ma'am.  He says he has something vitally important he wishes to impart to you and Miss Applebottom immediately..."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 24, 2007, 09:58:05 PM
Carbuncle burst into the room.  "Detective Carbuncle.  Scotalnd Yard."  Carbuncle looked around the room.  "I have been observing the proceedings, and I beluieve we have missed a vital clue to the whereabouts of the missing artifacts from the Mubai Dig (see post 26)."  The attendant throng waited breathlessly....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 24, 2007, 10:43:40 PM
Percy sauntered in and the curtains rustled as the hot Saharan air moved through the room and he adressed the attendants:  "Hallo, bastards, have you missed me...?"

Several fainted and at least three scurried to get Percy a cocktail, as the desert heat leans as heavily on one's impulse to survive by hydration and escape by intoxication.

"I suppose scotch and soda will suffice...," but Percy had already turned and looked into the coming sandstorm, squinting hard against the blast of sand and the looming peril...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 24, 2007, 10:48:42 PM
"Had I told you of the Mubai dig, Percy managed, dropping a majestic bejewled monkey, before succuming to the heat and exhaustion." 

"It's not as if he's Linsay Lohan," said Ellen, "He's been through actual horror..."

"...and gathered some right fair quarry, eh?," as Inspector Carbuncle examined the figure."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 24, 2007, 10:51:27 PM
Percy woke up from a horrible dream drenched in sweat:  "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO...I am only a man trying to get to post one-fiddy..."

Back at the precinct, Carbuncle played minesweeper and thought of holiday.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 07:36:03 AM
"No, no," Carbuncle said, "we've missed an important clue here."  He looked around at the suspects - Gordon, Clothilde, Russell, the professor...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 08:08:09 AM
Boswell, as usual (with his hootchie momma) was busy snoggling


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 25, 2007, 09:52:03 AM
Editorial Aside:

Dear Mr. Learn, thanks for completely and thoroughly defecating on my Torquemada paragraphs and derailing my Winona Ryder in the Iron Maiden subplot.  If you post here again, I will consider you a troll and request of the sysop that your membership privileges be revoked.  I think it's fairly obvious what this particular thread is about, what the rules of engagement (such as they are) are, and where other threads lie that would be more pertinent to your various issues.

Oh, and by the way:  Fuck you, you ignorant shit-stuffed asshole.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 10:07:22 AM
As Torquemada opened the iron maiden, it emitted a groan and then a woman's voice, crying "Please let me out!  Please, I'm ready to repent!"

Torquemada glared at the conquistador, who had been adjusting his panties, which had a tendency to slide up and get bunched up in his buttcrack.  "I thought you said you cleaned this out before we left.  Winona's still in there, you dolt!"

The conquistador squinted into the opening.  "I thought it was empty.  I'm sorry, I just hefted the thing and it felt empty.  I don't think Ms. Ryder weighs very much.  In point of fact, and I mean no disrespect, but I don't think the iron maiden is quite as effective a tool of punishment on one of those skinny movie stars."

"The impertinence!" bellowed Torquemada.

"Let me out," cried Winona.  "I'm really sorry about those blouses!  I just wanted to check the color in outdoor light!"

The conquistador pried the iron maiden farther open.  "Look, the spikes haven't even penetrated her flesh.  She might have a bit of bruising at the very worst...."

"She said she's ready to repent," said Torquemada, "so it worked well enough!  Let's yank her out of there and have her...."



...clean up that mess in the Chlo's bedroom.  GET YOU'RE THIEVING ASS INTO MADAMOISELLE'S BEDROOM AND GET TO WORK ON THOSE MERKINS!" he shouted.

"But wait - I have a tip for the police in Australia.  If I tell you about the reptiles in the gnomes, will you not make me clean Chlotilde's room?  And did Beppo somehow have something to do with these heinous crimes?  Very suspicious with his side references to iguanas and gnomes if you ask me...."

And with that, she handed Detective Carbuncle a document.

http://www.comcast.net/news/international/australia/index.jsp?cat=AUSTRALIA&fn=/2007/06/19/693274.html&cvqh=amazing_reptiles


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 10:16:20 AM
So, there was the gnome, Boswell (with his hootchie momma) Lanky-Bart , much lankier now that he had gotten something off his chest (snoggling with an iguana named Winona) all tunneling under all that silky underwear strewn around Chlothide's


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 25, 2007, 10:24:12 AM
potting shed.  As Winona (mysteriously rendered into a reptile) snuggled with Bart, she remarked, "This is pleasant, but there is really no place like a gnome."

"Exactly my point," said Carbuncle.  "The reptiles are showing up in Australia not out of any desire to emigrate, but because of the irresistible ambience of a garden gnome."

"We know how to deal with reptiles," said the conquistador.  "It's simple and effective...






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 10:28:41 AM
First, we must import the most devastating creature known to reptile, the exotic


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 10:47:43 AM
"No, no, no!  You've all missed it!"  Carbuncle interjected.  "A few posts ago, Boswell licked his balls!  But the real Boswell doesn't have any balls!  As everyone knows, he was neutered as a puppy!  That" he said, pointing at Boswell, "is an imposter!"  Carbuncle strode over to Boswell and grabbed him by the nape.  As he gave a swift tug, the fur pulled away, revealing underneath....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 11:00:17 AM
Pamela Anderson?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 25, 2007, 11:53:12 AM
No, no, no...Pamela Anderson would be the wanna be exotic reptile exterminator-ess.  Boswell, on the other hand (paw) had the artifact clue hidden in his collar, that now is lost in Chlo's potting shed, with all those panties, panty-liners, merkins, assorted trinkets (collected from her sordid laisons with gnomes) including rejected Professor Fusby, and the genuine, real-deal Boss-Boswell himself has been left  --  stripped -- and clueless


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 12:33:24 PM
not to mention ballsless


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 12:37:36 PM
"Anyone left with balls?"  The two frenetic gnomes, Cynefin and Werin, were scouting, ever vigilant


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 12:58:16 PM
for new reptiles to abscond to Australia with.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 01:24:28 PM
Barton,

 :D ....

Nice to meet you too
Though you sound a bit perturbed
Call Moderator

I'm sure your anger
While directed at me
Has a deeper root

You're problem, not mine.
Certain there's other issues
Aren't there? Bartman

If I insulted
The ridiculous posts read
I'd insult all day.

Thanks for inspiring
Bringing out Haiku in me
See, from bad comes good

I'd wish a good day
But I'm not a hypocrite
Become decent first  ;)





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 01:35:56 PM
des, puge, barton

What a forum. A bunch of people who if they don't agree or  find writing's creative, they spew venom. If one comes in and doesn't add lines to their supposed creativity, watch out.


Wow, I didn't know, but should have anticipated that creatively writing thoughts -particularly about ending racism - can really bring anger out of people.

Your anger inspires me to post more ... creatively of course .... please write/cry to  moderator with any displeasures you have ... you know the saying amongst the  small minded , if you don't agree with it .... censor it.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 01:36:53 PM
Okay, we're all agreeing to end racism now.  Now will you just go away?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 01:37:46 PM
I mean ALL racism.  We'll end ALL racism, right this instant.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 25, 2007, 01:40:33 PM
[editorial aside] LOL, Desde.






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 01:45:34 PM
I probably should go away, but I won't. You guys/gals were too mean and now you must suffer :D

BTW, I don't think we can END racism, there's billions of people in this world, there's bound to be some racists, but I'm CERTAIN that we (society) can spread an opposite to it.

"Boy, this creative writing is fun.", said the brilliant troll. 8) What if ......







Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 01:50:13 PM
"Someone needs a time-out!"  Sister Agatha was on her very last nerve, with her knickers in a twist and a ruler in hand she once again declared that unwelcome trolls be ignored...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 01:56:48 PM
Tumbleweed, aka "The Tumbler", a man who, as rumour would have it, had dipped into undiluted acid in the late sixties and had never quite come down.  "Like, wow, man," he droned.  "I had some really profound thoughts last night that were like - COMPLETELY revolutionary!  I mean, I was thinking about creative ways to end all racism now?  And then, like, I went to these peoples' house?  And like, they were playing some game or something, laughing and joking around, but I thought my agenda was much more important.

'Hey, Freaks!' I interjected.  'Let's like LEARN, ya new?  Yeah, dude - check it out - this is heavy.  Let's End All Racism Now!  Learn, get it? Wow!  Is that not so like far OUUT?"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 02:07:42 PM
Well, no one was laughing then.  They were like, really mad.  They must have issues or something, because they told me to like, fuck off.  I just smiled and stayed around - now I want to punish them because they were so mean, so I'm going to write lots of doggerel about improving the world and what assholes they all are.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 02:08:55 PM
and a ruler in hand she once again declared that unwelcome trolls be ignored...

But it was too late and  she didn't realize she wasn't in charge of the welcoming committee. Too much vile had been unleashed. The old-timers opened up a can of rudeness and their  forum life will never be the same. Hell hath no fury like a creative writer scorned :D

"Do not let the possibility of failure, deter you from a cause you know to be just." - Abe Lincoln


"What brilliance, what candor from that 16th US President.", crowed the newbie.  As the oldtimers grumbled ....



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 02:16:40 PM
"The fucking water is NOT clean!" cried one of them.  "What the hell is WRONG with you, anyway?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 02:20:40 PM
"Most pronounced case of cranial-rectal inversion I've witnessed since Boswell was a pup (and still had his balls)." Prof. Fusby intoned.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 02:25:05 PM
and what assholes they all are.

Notice I didn't write that about you guys, though from being called an asshole, to Fuck off, it would be understandable if I did.

Just because I didn't and don't   find the group's ongoing  supposedly creative writings creative, you didn't see me  insult them. I didn' even mention them. I figured let them post what they want, I'll post my stuff. That's the right way .... you guys/gals  chose the wrong way.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 02:38:01 PM
Anyway, its been fun. I have to go make some money ;) What time do you guys/gals want to hang out tomorrow? Let me know, I can't wait.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 02:44:45 PM
and what assholes they all are.

Notice I didn't write that about you guys, though from being called an asshole, to Fuck off, it would be understandable if I did.

Just because I didn't and don't   find the group's ongoing  supposedly creative writings creative, you didn't see me  insult them. I didn' even mention them. I figured let them post what they want, I'll post my stuff. That's the right way .... you guys/gals  chose the wrong way.
Actually, the "right way" would be to post your stuff in the appropriate forum.  Which is all anyone here has asked you to do.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: liquidsilver on June 25, 2007, 02:45:42 PM
I'm tempted to start a pissing contest forum where posters can tell each other off and let the rest of us be


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 02:54:41 PM
Which is all anyone here has asked you to do.

You're incorrect. Re-read the posts, started by des .... you'll  see the insults immediately. Maybe if your fellow participants in your creative writing stories had better manners  .... this wouldn't have occurred.

Also, my initial posts were my creative writing about ending racism. Nothing wrong with that. What was wrong is the reaction to them. If disliked, they should have been ignored. Instead they were lambasted with ill-mannered thoughts.

Now am going to have to watch over this forum :D Obviously some of the child-like posters on this forum need some supervision.

This is fun. Are you having fun yet?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 03:17:57 PM
Geez, Dave, are you like this in real time and space?  An obnoxious boor is unwelcome anywhere.  And a bore to boot...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 03:26:13 PM
"If disliked, they should have been ignored. Instead they were lambasted with ill-mannered thoughts."

The "ignore" feature doesn't work, and I can't think of anything more ill-mannered than imposing yourself on a sizable group of people who are enjoying themselves with your sanctimonious agenda and smiley faces.  Talk about passive-aggressive personalities!  You are a textbook case.  

I'm sure you must be well satisfied with yourself now that you've completely SPOILED this forum.  


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 03:26:58 PM
Nope (just the opposite), but I dislike rude, insulting bullies (not including you in that)

Des, Puge, Barton initiated  alot of unnecessary trash talking. They insult and curse me. Yet, you keep judging me. I'm an easy target. Though I doubt you will, it is them who you should be lecturing on how to conduct themself.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 03:27:59 PM
It is a dark and stormy day.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 03:28:56 PM
I'm tempted to start a pissing contest forum where posters can tell each other off and let the rest of us be

Oh, I'm afraid that wouldn't do at all.  The whole point is to impose yourself where you're not wanted and then pretend to be "more sinned against than sinning".  A special forum for arguing would ruin everything - it would be the appropriate place to grouse instead of choosing a place where things WERE going quite well.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 03:30:02 PM
Detective Carbuncle looked out at the drumming rain and wondered why beautiful dames never sultried into his office the way they did, say, Sam Spade's or Phillip Marlowe's....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 03:31:09 PM
It is a dark and stormy day.

"Naw, just a minor blip on the radar, Captain"...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 03:32:08 PM
(smile)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 03:33:39 PM
I'm sure you must be well satisfied with yourself now that you've completely SPOILED this forum.  

Des,

You started. You should watch your mouth. You should learn how you talk to people. You immediately spoke disrespectful to me. If I'm now bothering you, too bad, you deserve it.  If you weren't such a big mouth in the first place, I probably would have been gone by now. You should apologize to your fellow forum members for having such a pompous, disrespectful attitude and causing this mess.  You have no one to blame but yourself.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 03:37:05 PM
learn -

What - no smiley face now?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 03:37:58 PM
"You want sultry?"  Penelope purred in Marlowe's ear.  "You know, I'm in such a state without a clever dick...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 03:39:41 PM
"Would you settle for a smart ass?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 03:41:42 PM
"Depends?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 03:42:49 PM
"On how clever or how smart?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 25, 2007, 03:43:12 PM
hmmmm....post in the appropriate forum, don't impose where you're not wanted....last I heard this was a public forum.  And your "creative" "writing" seems nothing more than a  road to nowhere.  Have none of you heard the phrase "scroll on by?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 03:45:44 PM
"Dionne Warwick, right? B-side to 'Do you know the way to San Jose'?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 03:48:12 PM
"On how clever or how smart?"

"Clever's good, smart is better."  Just what did this message mean?  Was it a clue?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 03:50:24 PM
"Meaning? You want meaning around this place? Why, we can't even get cable tv in Ridgemont."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 25, 2007, 03:59:33 PM
Flip side of Walk on By?  Nah...It's a little known Jeannie C. Riley rip-off.  She put it on the flip side of "Harper Valley PTA."  Lotta people here familiar with that old ditty.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 04:02:20 PM
lhoffman -

I don't recall anyone asking your opinion on the matter - you don't even participate over here.  And FYI, whether you "appreciate" what's being done over here or not (obviously you have NO sense of humor at ALL), I cannot for the life of me understand why you feel it is necessary to INSERT yourself into this and to CRITICIZE our "creative writing".   It's a JOKE - duh.

Well, guys, it was fun while it lasted, but you can ALWAYS count on some ASSHOLE like LEARN to ruin it.  See ya'll around - anywhere but here as long as LEARN is around.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 25, 2007, 04:05:53 PM
My dear Desdemona....no one had to ask my opinion...this is a public forum.  I have just as much right to comment as you do.  Hope you don't break a leg when you fall off that high horse.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 04:10:57 PM
It is a dark and stormy day.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 25, 2007, 04:14:40 PM
It is a dark and stormy day.

"Naw, just a minor blip on the radar, Captain"...

"Clear weather ahead."  Now where the hell were we, hmmm?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 04:15:53 PM
In Detective Carbuncle's office, waiting for the sultry dame, I believe.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 25, 2007, 04:17:24 PM
"Well, why didn't you say so earlier?"  Miss Applebottom was caressing her


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 04:20:00 PM
pussy as she sat on her chair across from Carbuncle.

"How many times have I told you to leave your cat at home, Miss Applebaum?  This is a detective's office, not a vet's."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 25, 2007, 04:21:39 PM
"It's not easy leaving pussy alone"...she sometimes just won't


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 04:22:37 PM
behave herself and starts to rub up against the leg of every passing stranger."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 25, 2007, 04:24:48 PM
In Detective Carbuncle's office, waiting for the sultry dame, I believe.

Well, here I is!!!” said Madupont.

“It’s gonna be a dark and stormy night,” said Boswell…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 04:25:37 PM
Ooh, all this pompous yuckiness has inspired a CREATIVE thought for the LEARN site.

Though best to be respectful, sometimes you have to stick up for yourself. It's about right and wrong, not black or white.


Not my best, but I like it. Des, Puge, Barton .... thank you so much. With out you, this couldn't have happened. :D


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 04:29:23 PM
"But apparently she rubbed up against that one stranger the wrong way."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 25, 2007, 04:29:41 PM
"Poor, wee puss."  "She has no shame!"  "Why, just yesterday she was hanging out, never considering the consequences of exposing herself like that."  "Now, here she is


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 04:32:52 PM
Before I post, I hope this post -Haiku- has the approval of the creative committee.


Oh, what a fun day
Pointing holes in those who've strayed.
Avoiding harpoons.

 :D ;) 8) ;) :D
So blind to their pompous self
Will they see the light?

They probably do.
Having a forum meltdown.
Forget right and wrong.

Forum God's forgive
Pompous hearts probably don't.
Only time will tell. :D



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 25, 2007, 04:35:16 PM
Will someone please put out a few roach traps?  On second thought, that could be misconstrued...does anyone have a cyber-silencer handy?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 25, 2007, 04:45:33 PM
My dear Desdemona....no one had to ask my opinion...this is a public forum.  I have just as much right to comment as you do.  Hope you don't break a leg when you fall off that high horse.


Bit of a snob-oh here...bet she has kids.  That's a "mom" tone for sure.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 25, 2007, 04:48:50 PM
“I don’t need a roach trap,” said Boswell. “I need a good lay.”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 04:49:58 PM
"Fat lot of good that'll do ya," Carbuncle sneered, "without yer balls."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 04:50:11 PM
Eva joins the fray.

Hi Eva, what does your pompous self have to say?

.... and why is it that you think you have a right to dictate what is and isn't posted on this forum?

Laughable.

I love this forum. I'm going to be a life-long member. Are you happy? :-*


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 25, 2007, 04:53:05 PM
Mister, you are a wet-blanket,  most unwelcome here (good for Sweet Bos for a lay possibly).  Why don't you simply post in the education forum where I'm certain you will be more than welcome.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 04:54:12 PM
Ignore the attention whore.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 25, 2007, 04:55:14 PM
Yes, my very next post was simply to state that very same intention...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 25, 2007, 05:00:08 PM
"Fat lot of good that'll do ya," Carbuncle sneered, "without yer balls."

“On the other hand, maybe I don’t need a good lay,” said Boswell.

“Maybe I need a good lobotomy?”

“But honey,” Desdemona said. “You had one last week!!!”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 05:07:09 PM
"But that lobotomist was such a bad lay. As far as I can remember, anyway."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 25, 2007, 05:09:33 PM
hhhhhhhhhmmmm, clever and smart...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 25, 2007, 05:11:12 PM
...just what a sultry dame needs on a sultry day, while the music plays "gimme dat ding"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 05:12:48 PM
"Hey, you got it. Now, where did I put it? Been a while since I used dat ding, ya know."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 25, 2007, 05:14:26 PM
Betty Boop smiled.  "I got your ding!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 05:17:52 PM
Add Whiskey to the list.


Before you know it, with exception of lhoffman, I'll be taking all these trying to be creative writers on.

Whisk, it's about right and wrong, not attention. I'm right, you're wrong :-*

"I agree with LEARN", said Carbuncle and Boswell simaltaneously declared. This forum does seemd to be filled with a never before seen creatures from .........


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 05:18:48 PM
"Betty, Betty. Please, hand it over. I may be needing it soon, darling."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 05:26:51 PM
Betty, who the fuck is Betty? Chauncey and Boswell and the rest of this odd nonsense. Post this shit somewhere else. This isn't creatve, this sucks. What's wrong with you?

My impersonation of what forum members -des, puge, barton, eva, whiskey- are supporting.




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 05:30:58 PM
Betty, who the fuck is Betty? Chauncey and Boswell and the rest of this odd nonsense. Post this shit somewhere else. This isn't creatve, this sucks. What's wrong with you?

Well, it was dark and stormy day, in a galaxy far, far away.

http://forums.escapefromelba.com/index.php/topic,39.0.html


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 25, 2007, 05:48:47 PM

“On the other hand, maybe I don’t need a good lay,” said Boswell.

“Maybe I need a good lobotomy?”

“But honey,” Desdemona said. “You had one last week!!!”



“Oh,” said Boswell. “Maybe that’s why I feel so good?”

“No, honey,” Desdemona said. “That’s because you’re a genius!”

“Yes,” said Boswell. “I am good at doggerel aren’t I?”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 25, 2007, 06:11:50 PM

Well, it was dark and stormy day, in a galaxy far, far away.



“They call me doggy-bone badboy!!!” Boswell said.

“Why do they call you that, honey?” Desdemona asked.

“Because I’m from Sirius—the faraway badboy dogstar…”




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 25, 2007, 06:51:51 PM
How does that sound, fuck-face madam learn? - Puge


Hey puge how you doing?

Another creative writer with a big mouth ....

Please remind me, I forget, what is it about you that makes you think you can dicate what gets posted on your forum? Knowing that you love your asshole, isn't a big enough clue, but most likely will fit into the puzzle when solved.

BTW, this:

They call me doggy-bone badboy!!!” Boswell said.

“Why do they call you that, honey?” Desdemona asked.

“Because I’m from Sirius—the faraway badboy dogstar…”


What is this crap? You critique my writing yet post this shit. Are you fucking kidding me?  You know what's beautiful? I'll tell you what's beautiful. I'll forget this boring shit you wrote the second I sign off line, I did already. But LEARN ... Lets End All Racism Now .....   you'll remember that forever. You won't be able to forget it, even if you tried. That should gnaw at you a bit. Especially, when you realize it's true.


I see des, after opening up her big mouth, has left the forum. She couldn't take it as well as she could dish it out. We'll see what you're made of.

From what I've seen, not much.











Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 25, 2007, 08:03:24 PM
Cleaning house!  Watch it Reader, people will call you a (gasp) "Mom." 

Be sure and eat your broccoli   ;).


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 25, 2007, 08:09:06 PM
Nicely done LEARN.

Thank you.

 You're off to an admirable start in cleanng house.

That was their intention, not mine. I'm into people posting their creative thoughts as they wish. This group of posters feel they have a right to dictate what is posted. Amazing and laughable.


 Clearly the most refreshing voice I've seen here.  

Thanks, again. Don't be surprised when your support brings you scorn.

But, once the place is clean, do you think you can make it habitable?

I'm not trying to make it habitable. I was just posting my attempting to creative writings about ending  racism.  Now I look forward to writing creative thoughts and taking on (creatively of course)  these bullies. As far as making a forum habitable ... not an easy task for anyone foolish enough to take it on. Forum participants (myself included) are a odd bunch. They like to express themselves and wish to be heard.  More   often than not they're  not  interested in the thoughts of others, only their own.  Not easily controllable or worthwhile to try.

Ding, ding ding ... where's Puke and Barton? I've only begun wiping the floor with these punks :D Barton, have you written the moderator yet? Tell them I say hi. Thanks.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 08:10:44 PM
“Because I’m from Sirius—the faraway badboy dogstar…”

"Sirius?"

"As the grave," Boswell joked.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 25, 2007, 08:12:20 PM
I dunno, LEARN....I suspect "Puge" is the only one here who can actually write.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 08:14:23 PM
I dunno, LEARN....I suspect "Puge" is the only one her who can actually write.
If you're going to insult people with that kind of comment, you'd best spell it right.

Learn isn't posting any creative writing.  He's pimping himself.  You aren't posting creative writing, you're bitching about others.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 25, 2007, 08:17:52 PM
I fail to see how you are insulted because the man can actually write.   It's not as if I said he was the only decent lawyer here.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 08:20:14 PM
Who said I was insulted?  I found the typo in your post funny.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 25, 2007, 08:21:07 PM
Truth to tell...so did I. 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 25, 2007, 08:25:45 PM
Hey, how does haiku go again, sylabically?

Or with a fight?

five-seven-five?, I forget.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 25, 2007, 08:27:41 PM
Might one not also say that diatribe and vitriol and dogma can not drive out their kind?
Perhaps only good writing can do that.


I understand what you're saying. Being  cursed at -des, puge, barton- several times brings out the smart ass  in me. I realize it makes me look childish and somewhat shallow ... I have no excuse, except that I'm a shallow,  flawed human being.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 25, 2007, 08:29:05 PM
So there's hope for natural selection, yet?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 08:31:16 PM
I sniff Bambi's balls
And ponder life's big question:
Where are MY balls, Steve?

- Bozwell

5/7/5....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 08:41:56 PM
Lhoffman, I never pegged you for one to get into flame wars.  Did you invite your little lackey Reader over here?  Boy, are you a disappointment - I always thought rather highly of you.  Turns out you're just a common, nasty jerk.  And don't worry about me and my horse - it's nice up here above the likes of you and your idiot friends.

Anyway, I've set up a blog where we can continue to have our fun unmolested by these jerks if anyone is interested.  Please send me a message with your email address (you can set up a bogus one if you like) and I will send you an invitation.  (Pugey, you and whiskey send me your addresses even though I already have them somewhere - it'll save me a bit of time.  Thanks.) 

You can click "My Messages" on the top toolbar to send and receive messages in this forum.  Don't give these party crashers the pleasure of wrapping the house with toilet paper anymore is my advice.  All are welcome with three notable exceptions.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 25, 2007, 08:50:19 PM
Des,

Can I join? Can I join? Actually setting up the blog is an excellent idea. Good work. I approve :D

If you need any help or writing tips, let me know.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 08:51:16 PM
"I understand what you're saying. Being  cursed at -des, puge, barton- several times brings out the smart ass  in me. I realize it makes me look childish and somewhat shallow ... I have no excuse, except that I'm a shallow,  flawed human being."

Nope, not saying that at all. And I don't mind the smart ass a bit.  I'm a big fan of pugetopolis, too.  You might be surprised at what he's capable of when he really gets going.

The houses that need to be cleaned aren't just tired posting threads.  The diatribe and vitriol that needs to be driven out is not just what might find its way into this (non)place.  I was thinking more along the lines of your stated purpose, your site, your haikus.

Like this one (which I presume is yours):

Children are sponges.
Others actions are absorbed.
Is the water clean?


Not bad, even good, but why isn't it great?  What makes a great haiku?  What would this one need?  What is great writing?  Why aren't we aspiring to that?

Too bad you and pugetopolis got off to such a bad start.  The two of you could lead others into putting together some very nice writing here.




GACK!  


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 25, 2007, 08:55:55 PM
My Dear Des....while you're at it, why not found a whole new planet to rule.  You can tell everyone what they can say, and how and when to say it.  Maybe you can even invent your own special language so that when outsiders visit your planet, you won't have to bother to talk to them.

As far as my being a jerk, I care very little for the opinions of people who are against free speech.  1300 plus posts and you have the nerve to complain when another poster "imposes" and "interupts"  the flow of your precious forum.  Absurd.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 09:00:13 PM
Free speech?  Oh my God, you really ARE a COMPLETE PUTZ!!! LOL!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 25, 2007, 09:10:00 PM
Hey, Desdemona
Must have grown up a loner
Not taught how to play

It's my court, not yours
My rules, I'm the one in charge
Or, I'm not playing

How to describe this
I think it's a spoiled brat
That sounds about right

But, is it too late?
Can Desdemona change paths?
Will brattiness rule?

Only time will tell
Or has delusion set in?
Will she ever LEARN?


 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 25, 2007, 09:21:12 PM
Reader,

Don't forget slack. As many in this story-telling bunch are slacking with their ability to deal with people who think different from them. Or smack, what they'd receive from many if they were as disrespectful in person as they are on this forum.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 09:27:59 PM
Reader,

Don't forget slack. As many in this story-telling bunch are slacking with their ability to deal with people who think different from them. Or smack, what they'd receive from many if they were as disrespectful in person as they are on this forum.

true nature revealed
the resounding echo smacks
curmudgeon preacher


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 25, 2007, 09:31:10 PM
Oh, and BTW lhoffman, you're also a hypocrite - from today's NYT voting forum:

lhoffman12 - 7:49 PM ET June 23, 2007 (#649 of 669)

I find it quite odd that over in classical music, they had a spammer, and the NYT was able to kick him off. Yet over here in books, we are told that nothing can be done to stop Lowlife. I'm beginning to suspect that Lowlife is on the NYT staff.


THIS from the Defender of Free Speech.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 09:32:06 PM
Arrogant jackass
Thinks vain self promotion is
Creative Writing.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 25, 2007, 09:41:13 PM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AN-Vu46fSus


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 25, 2007, 09:50:05 PM
Good Good Good .... at least we have a little creative writing going on. I'll take Haikus over the boring humorless story telling anytime.

Des, Puge, Barton, Eva, Whiskey others who support  nastiness and bullying, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah you're monopolistic forum will never be the same. There's a new sheriff in town and y'all going have to get in line or take a common sense verbal whipping ;) Are we having fun yet?

Am I being creative? Judges?

Hey Whiskey and Des, on your new blog, you two can have a contest. Who can point out the most spelling and grammatical errors? Only the best of the best compete in that event. Congratulations to both of you.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 09:54:55 PM
It was a dark and stormy afternoon.  Detective Carbuncle looked up from the paperwork that his lieutenant had placed in front of him.  Before him stood a woman who looked, to him, vaguely familiar.

"My name Cholthilde," she said.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 25, 2007, 09:57:07 PM
Chlo stretched and yawned, "It's been a long day, Gordon."  "What do you say?"  "Call it a night?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 25, 2007, 09:58:23 PM
Oh, and BTW lhoffman, you're also a hypocrite - from today's NYT voting forum:

lhoffman12 - 7:49 PM ET June 23, 2007 (#649 of 669)

I find it quite odd that over in classical music, they had a spammer, and the NYT was able to kick him off. Yet over here in books, we are told that nothing can be done to stop Lowlife. I'm beginning to suspect that Lowlife is on the NYT staff.


THIS from the Defender of Free Speech.



Not hypocritical at all.  Lifeline has been posting off topic for ages.  He posts in a book forum and never talks about books.  I tried to engage lifeline in conversation many times, as have others.  He is clearly not interested in anything but cut-and-paste.  David  (LEARN) posted once and people jumped all over him.  How many red-blooded males do you think would let that pass?  How do you even know where he was going?  Maybe he was just testing the waters.   Perhaps he planned on posting some creative writing.  I've thought of posting here a few times, but didn't want to interupt your thread.  I don't think, though, that it is unreasonable after 1300 posts, if someone wants to begin something else.  That is the nature of a public forum.   What is unreasonable, is that David was considered an interloper.

As far as starting a blog so that you don't have to deal with the riff raff,  you might prefer to set up a forum.  Blogs don't save last posts, and it can get annoying scrolling through a long line.  Also, by setting up a forum, you will have the power to ban anyone you choose....much as the NYT banned you (and me) when they took exception to the posting of blog addresses.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 09:58:38 PM
"O.K., it's a night."

Where the hell did Gordon come from, Inspector Carbuncle wondered.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 25, 2007, 10:04:50 PM
It was a dark and stormy afternoon.  Detective Carbuncle looked up from the paperwork that his lieutenant had placed in front of him.  Before him stood a woman who looked, to him, vaguely familiar.

"My name Cholthilde," she said.


"Who cares?", asked the disrespected newcomer. "Who cares about your Detective Carbuncle?", he continued.  "Cholthhide, try to get yourself away from these pompous grand poobah wannabes, they'll lead you nowhere, except down a troubled path.

Whiskey, so I don't waste my time, the next time post something you think is creative, put something bold on top of it. Considering your critiquing of other's creativity, I'm still waiting on something from you.

Now get down and give me twenty. We have to get your drinking ass and mind into shape.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 25, 2007, 10:07:05 PM
Carbuncle was stirred from his musings by a noise in the corner.  "Now what?"

"Oh," Gordon stated, "it is just a child who has been following us around.  He's fond of making noises.  It was irritating at first, but once you earn to ignore it, well, you've learned to ignore it, I guess."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 25, 2007, 10:12:17 PM
Quote
I've thought of posting here a few times, but didn't want to interupt your thread.

It's easy to do.... said Kam in the third person.  (Does that make this the ninth person?)

I've found a few ways to gently inject myself into a thread:

1. Armageddon.
2. Waking up from a dream/drug induced haze.
3. Announcing "And thats where our story starts"

And many more...

Once you wipe away the other characters from existence.  You pretty much can post whatever you want.  The only thing is, the next person may pick up what you wrote and take it from there, or they may use one of those aforementioned techniques to steer the thread their way.  It's all good.  Just make sure you use one of these tried and tested tools and you will not risk an embarrassing social gaffe! 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 25, 2007, 10:44:31 PM
What had seemed a noise was a rustle in the curtain, it seem some stray cat had wandered in, and yet the figure was the size of boy, he said from behind the curtain:  "Every time the wolf howls, a curse come round your way, and when hear him howl no more, then he has come to stay....."

Carbuncle awoke from a nap in his own pool of saliva. 

"Salvia?" said Figg-Thorne...

"Yeah, looks like..." said Carbuncle...

"Look alive there, I says, Jesus Carbuncle, can't you leave the station long enough so you don't drown in your own spittle..."

"Why no, uh, yes, then, to the pub, eh?"

Carbuncle heard the curtain flutter and could smell the breath of some beast, some hound, something violent in the ether, but as he turned, he only saw a small spattering of catshit...

"I hate animals, they have no respect for the inside..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 25, 2007, 11:00:33 PM
Gordon thought he'd call it a night, but then found he couldn't sleep.  He called Chlo....
"Forget this callin it a night crap, what say we hit the bar?"

"Works for me.  I'll meet you at Moe's."

Gordon ran into Chlo outside of Moe's bar.  They walked in and headed to their usual booth, but found it was occupied by a couple of Russians. 

"That's odd," mused Gordon.  "That's the third pair of Russians I've seen today.  I keep hearing that there's a plot to detonate nuclear bombs on the fourth of July.  Maybe that Armegeddon the Baptists keep preaching isn't quite as loony toons as I thought."

"Let's see if we can figure out what they're up to, Gordon."

Gordon and Chlo sidled over to the booth next to the Russians.  As they slipped into their seats, they overheard:


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 25, 2007, 11:12:30 PM
"Yeah, in walk a couple more boorish poofts, well, one of them may be a chick"

"They probably think we're Russian, because of the jackets?"

"Yeah, I don't care, tell me more about Project Slipstream....."

"I would, but in the present company it would be like giving a secret to the village idiot, anybody can hear us..."

"Yeah, but that's the point, you diverts all the boorish runts from their ordinary activity with Project Slipstream, so I can sneak in and steal all the Warhol paintings from the Guggenheim..."

"Oh, right, you wanted that one with the soup can, the fucking like Progresso one...that one was really awesome..."

"And meanwhile you're distracting one of the guards in drag...any of this ringin' a bell..."

"Not much of it.  I still think they think we're Russian though, look at the fucking disdain.  Glastnost, asshole!!!"

"Perestroika, motherfuckers!!!"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 25, 2007, 11:16:58 PM
"Glasnost...Perestroika....think we ought to notify Homeland Security?  It's Armageddon, I tell ya."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 26, 2007, 12:04:25 AM
"It's Deep Impact out there, don't nobody know what a meteorite can do to a planet...you ever see what a meteorite will do to a planet...it had Tea Leoni on fucking pins and needles with that meteorite..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 26, 2007, 12:11:27 AM
"Keep your pants on, Chlo...I've got a plan."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 26, 2007, 12:29:49 AM
"You Russians have had too much to drink, I heard you raise your voice about a social movement during the 1980's, that shit don't fly in my bar, ok, comrade???"

"We're not Russians, but yes, we've...

"How much...???"

"...had to much to dr..."

"I'll pick up the tab," said Carbuncle, "and I'm going to have to haul you boys downtown for vaguerancy and versimilitude..."

"Hey maaaaan..."

"Which one of you scumbags is the obscurantist???"

"Dude, I swear, all Vlad did was say some shit about Glastnost, and, what are you staring at, bitch?"

"I haven't done a pink roundup since, well, this might be the first, you said you were Morgan Freeman fans???

"Naw man, he just said Tea Leoni was hot..."

"The box office said the same thing about Shawshank Redemption, ladies, which is where you're going now....."

"I guess that makes me Tim Robbins."

"Fraid not.  It might make you Mary Poppins, smart guy..."

"Well, chitty, chitty, bang, bang..."

"Yup."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 26, 2007, 01:21:23 AM
Just then a man tapped Carbuncle on the shoulder.  Carbuncle thought he'd never seen a man so large, and the galoot looked like he was chiseled out of granite.

"Unhand my comra.....er associate."

"And who might you be?"

"I am Sergei Federov.  This is Professor Artukov.  He is invited here by US university to teach seminar on chess." 

Federov turned to Artukov and mumbled under his breath, "??????? ??????? ????? ??????."

"What is it with these American forums.  I try to whisper Russian to my comrade, all I get is a bunch of silly icons.  What is American fascination with smiley faces?  Should I perhaps speak to sysop?"

Federov reached in his pocket....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 26, 2007, 10:56:00 AM
he fumbled around til his fingers found what they were searching for, a box of matches.  He just wanted to feel them, safe in his pocket.  He had superstitions about such things and often thought nimble fingered pickpockets were about.  He had taken to carrying valuable messages on unremarkable items on his person.  This matchbox wasn't for casually striking.  This one could spark a whole war, let alone a tiny flame.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 26, 2007, 12:18:17 PM
Pug's laundry hamper...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 26, 2007, 12:22:54 PM
that was the size of the Taj Mahal, although certainly less pristine, an impressive load


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 26, 2007, 12:36:57 PM
e-bay...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 26, 2007, 12:45:40 PM
auctioning Winona Ryder's clothes in order to raise money for


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 26, 2007, 02:31:30 PM
Inspector Carbuncle.  Speaking of the inspector, where was he anyway?  Having his carbuncle inspected, I presume


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 26, 2007, 03:03:45 PM
despair.  Bunion and Carbuncle had met years ago back in college.  They had been roomates for a time, but Bunion found it difficult to cope with Carbuncle's constant mood changes and lack of ability to do his own laundry.  One day, Bunion simply packed up and moved. 

Years later, Carbuncle was paying a visit to his chiropracter and came across Bunion in the lobby. 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 26, 2007, 06:20:15 PM
Top #1 Hit Poop Song

I'm singing in the poop!!!
Just singing in the poop!!!
What a glorious feelin'
I'm happy again
I'm laughing at clouds
So dark up above
The sun's in my heart
And I'm ready for poop!!!
Let the stormy clouds chase
Everyone from the place
Come on with the poop!!!
I've a smile on my face
I walk down the lane
With a happy refrain
Just singin',
Singin' in the poop!!!

Dancin' in the poop!!!
Dee-dah dee-dah dee-dah
Dee-dah dee-dah dee-dah
I'm happy again!
I'm singin' and dancin' in the poop!!!

I'm dancin' and singin' in the poop...
Why am I smiling
And why do I sing?
Why does September
Seem sunny as spring?
Why do I get up
Each morning and start?
Happy and head up
With joy in my heart
Why is each new task
A trifle to do?
Because I’m living
A life full of
Poop!!!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on June 26, 2007, 06:28:21 PM
Federov shut off his cell phone.  Ever since he had downloaded that hit poop ringtone it would go off at times most inopportune.  The Professor jeered his old chess-mate.  "What have i told you countless times before Sergei?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 26, 2007, 07:03:32 PM
"When feeling poopy, have a laugh." recalled Sergei.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RnfflRNpwKA


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 26, 2007, 07:18:06 PM
Sergei Nabokov

he was in berlin—
with all the other exiles
post revolution






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 26, 2007, 07:29:17 PM
Sergei Nabokov

but then he escaped—
with tchelitchev his lover
pavel and paris...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 26, 2007, 07:56:02 PM
Howl

—for Allen Ginsberg

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by blogs,   
      youtube, starving hysterical naked,

dragging themselves thru the snarky back alleys of the
      internet dawn looking for a decent book,

nytimes readers burning for the ancient heavenly
      connection to crummy Big Apple hucksters of the night,

exiled by msussman the rat and tanenhaus the mouse,
      the podcast queens smoking in the supernatural darkness
      of tacky cubicles, sleazy skyscraper haughty hacks
      contemplating books sales, publishers, writers…








Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 26, 2007, 08:44:07 PM
http://forums.nytimes.com/top/opinion/readersopinions/forums/books/voteforthereadinggroupbook/index.html?offset=685&fid=.fac5bc6/685


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 27, 2007, 01:15:36 AM
Puget sounds like something of a poopologist and a musical writer:

http://www.thirdeyefilm.com/phpBB2/

Very friendly toward "Brokeback Mountain" defenders, as well as those who are anti-personal trainer, a very welcoming environment if you have a corncob the size of a football stuffed up your ass to begin with or are an acid tragedy/cokefryout like hippie, anyway it that doesn't apply, no charge for the reference and tell them I said hello, from outside the circle jerk they have going.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 27, 2007, 09:59:26 AM
Meanwhile, back at Chlotilde's potting shed, Inspector Carbuncle, who had just bared his sole to his podiatrist and was feeling a renewed sense of clarity and vigor, was piecing together the facts surrounding the odd deaths of the lizard incarnations of Winona Ryder, Edward Bulwer-Lytton, Bart Nilson, and others who had lost their way on desert vision quests and found themselves stuck in iguana brains much longer than necessary to achieve insight and recalibrate, in the case of Winona, the moral compass vis-a-vis the appropriation of stylish vestments and the overall effects of rhetorical excess, such as might be found in run-on sentences, of which, Dear Reader, I can muster at present no adequate example.

As Carbuncle lowered his magnifying glass, he cried, "By Jove!  I think I've uncovered a break in the spacetime continuum which is causing the insertion of an extra letter 'O' into random locutions, thus quagmiring us in poop music and other manifestations of orthographic distortions that somehow alter the structure of reality itself!  Winoona and Nilsoon and Bulwer-Lytoon escaped just in time.  Soon, tots will toot and...."

"Are you going to complete that sentence?" asked the coonquistadoor.

"I don't think it's a good idea," said Carbuncle.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 27, 2007, 10:11:33 AM
And with that Chloo now decided it was time, way past time, for her assembled and mootley crew to get a moove oon, which they did, but unfortunately


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 27, 2007, 11:24:20 AM
Torquemada was still lurking about the premises, intent on torturing ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 27, 2007, 11:49:14 AM
all of Johnny Depp's ex-girlfriends with red-hot...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 27, 2007, 12:23:17 PM
pookers.  (Torquemada had a bit of a complex.  He'd never quite understood the poopularity of Depp in the first place....People praised Depp to the skies and all the while Torquemanda remained misunderstood.)  But the big T thought he could change all that.  With just one...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on June 27, 2007, 02:44:51 PM
skinny-mini model with huge vacant eyes by his side and enough tattoos surely he would find himself (for he had been lost far too long, typical of most in the rather short-lived occupation as conquistador) as an equally gifted stud as Depp, in spite of his one rather unattractive


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 27, 2007, 04:23:51 PM
on his upper lip. 

"How unfortunate it isn't more conveniently situated," he sighed.  "It could mayhaps have a French Tickler effect what with the hair etc were it located elsewhere."

"But nevermind that, I have important work to do in the name of God and all that is holy!  I must get to work immediately!  Now where did I put those thumbscrews?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 27, 2007, 05:03:54 PM
Good day one and all
Please, keep the nice flow going.
You're having a ball.

You are creative
Outbursts to contrary
Said during battle

Reader wants great scribe
I'm gonna try and give it
Will you feel my vibe?

Must say, hope you do
Though I know I shouldn't care
Write validation

Just interrupted
Creative thoughts have left mind.
Running into blank.

Gotta go, really.
But what a rotten last line
Mmm, will ;) this be fine?






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 27, 2007, 06:17:07 PM
Lifeline

—for Mick Sussman

lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline
lifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifelinelifeline

http://forums.nytimes.com/top/opinion/readersopinions/forums/books/voteforthereadinggroupbook/index.html?offset=690&fid=.fac5bc6/690


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 27, 2007, 06:19:30 PM
What just Desserts
Creative writing gets
Such Learned Hand Job


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 27, 2007, 06:26:15 PM
Circle jerks are nice—
Just ask mister jbottle
Critic supremo


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 27, 2007, 06:44:55 PM
Creativity
Sucks, when used negatively
But negative sells

We say no, but do.
We say why, already know
Both sides of the mouth

Ban Paris, bulbs flash.
Stay away from drugs - minds crash.
Respect - treat like trash.

Wow, we are shallow.
That's a tough pill to swallow.
No poetry meant.






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 27, 2007, 07:03:27 PM
Puget sounds like something of a poopologist and a musical writer...friendly toward "Brokeback Mountain"...a corncob the size of a football stuffed up your ass...an acid tragedy/cokefryout like hippie...the circle jerk they have going.

Exquisite literary criticism. I haven't read such exquisite "left-handed ad hominem" lit crit since way when during our Paglia Break, Blow, Burn poetry discussion -- or more recently during our charming Assia Wevill discussion in regard to Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath. There's a certain element to "creative writing" that is ad lib, impromtu and extemporaneous and I can flow with that as much as anybody. After all, as the administrator points out in the beginning of this exciting Thread -- post and then critique.

Critique to me doesn't necessarily mean The New York Times Book Review -- but a pause in the Narrative is refreshing every once in awhile. There are those who want to rush ahead and "stay on topic" like Eva -- but since criticism is supposedly what this Thread entails, one might ask what is criticism and how does it work in this Thread? Kam's points for entering the Narrative are germane as far as avoiding gaffs. Others gaff it up like certain unLearned ones using their soapboxes for studious and serious "social criticism" of world shaking importance. Others like jbottle critique auteur and film noir-esque.

That's okay with me. I like the "stream of consciousness" of this Thread very much. I've always been a fan of Holly Martins in The Third Man. When asked what stream of consciousness was, Holly remarked "Stream of what?" Graham Greene's humorous satire of readers, intellectuals, writers, critics and criticism there in that Viennese postwar lecture room in The Third Man has always appealed to me. The author of The Oklahoma Kid has always been my Number One guy dontchaknow.

What is stream of consciousness? Where is it going? Where did it come from? I don't know, really I don't. These are just minor questions from a minor critic from a very minor poet...caught up in a fascinating stream of quack quack quack...








Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 27, 2007, 07:22:52 PM
People like to laugh
They want to be entertained
Will pay last dollar

Hey, who can blame them?
Work hard, play hard, worry hard.
Laughter's medicine.

Two guys at a bar
One guy says to the other
I gotta tell ya ....

HA, HA, HA, HA, HA
The guy's rolling on the floor.
Buys round for patrons.

Everyone goes home.
Safe, smiling, laughing happy.
Just how you'd like it.

Unfortunately
Racism isn't funny.
LEARN logo, no laughs.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 27, 2007, 07:34:32 PM
Puget:  You had six syllables in the second line of your haiku, not to be too "critical," but as critic supremo, thought I would mention it--you're not too bright are you?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 27, 2007, 07:40:19 PM
Torquemada thought he caught sight of his thumbscrews when Federov and Artukov walked by.  "So how many syllables in the name 'jbottle'?"  asked Federov. 

"Who knows.  Who can make sense of these English."

"Russian, English, what's going on here?" Torquemada mused. 

Meanwhile Carbuncle....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 27, 2007, 07:42:41 PM
Hey, it ain't easy.
Struggling sucks, ask many.
The power of money.

Must be happy first
There are miserable rich folk
Does yen equal grin?

Generalizing
For sure you have to be wrong.
Can't always be right.

Health's most important
Struggling for money, bills
That'll make you sick.

That's why people laugh
Otherwise, they'd be crying.
and we're fortunate.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 27, 2007, 07:56:00 PM
Sing...sing a song....sing out loud... sing out strong.... don't wory if it's not good enough for anyone else to hear .... just sing... sing a song. La, la, la, la, la ....

Excellent mentality for 'creative writer's'.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 27, 2007, 08:20:03 PM
Puget:  You had six syllables in the second line of your haiku, not to be too "critical," but as critic supremo, thought I would mention it--you're not too bright are you?

What just Desserts
Creative writing gets
Such Learned Hand Job
-jbottle

Jbottle -- actually it is you who had the six syllables. Now that funny. Correcting someone else and you're wrong, classic putz.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 27, 2007, 08:38:50 PM
I reckon what you
learned types like is a plain
fuck yourself asshole


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 27, 2007, 09:02:31 PM
Nice comeback bottle
You were correcting yourself
HA, HA, HA, HA, HA

Have another drink
Numb painful, inner demons
Have - Sex on the beach

Oh, that's what it is.
Keep correcting your lovers?
You've been missing out?


Try using write hand.
Maybe talent will rub off
My guess -  shortcomings.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 27, 2007, 09:36:09 PM
WAAAWWWHHH, cries jbottle.
Sounds like bottle needs a bottle
With some soap in it

Hugs and kisses too.
Massive therapy needed
May have to break glass.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 27, 2007, 09:54:30 PM
Wow, you really throw out the troll smack, exacty when did the real humiliation come for you, when you couldn't play sports and guys like me got all the girls, or maybe you weren't into girls and were more *sensitive* and actually pretty dumb, the only thing that ever gave you anything was a keyboard, you pussy.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 27, 2007, 11:03:56 PM
(http://joshreads.com/images/0606/wilbur.jpg)

A Review of Mr. Jerkbottom’s Latest Haiku

I reckon what you
learned types like is a plain
fuck yourself asshole

I must say (as Madame Merkin would fondly “say” during our long lovely evenings of bridge after a little wine)—I must say that Mr. Jerkbottom (excuse me Mr. Jbottle) is quite the quite. Quite the creative poet—and quite the creative critic.

Rarely does one find such exquisite poetic creativity working “hand-in-hand” (???) -- together with such a keen sense of deliciously creative criticism!!!

Not since my freshman days at Harvard have I had the pleasure of reading such an astute tidbit of Whitmanesque worldly wisdom—so nicely phrased with just the right nuance of chic literary flair plus no-nonsense naughty nincompoopery.

And I should know—after all, my dears, my latest long-awaited best-seller entitled Gogol’s Asshole—The Latest Poop on 19th Century St. Petersburg Literati (New York: Ink Press, 2007) has ascended the throne and ensconced itself there rather nicely at the top of the NYTimes Top Ten list. And my latest podcast interview with moody Madame Tanenhaus has garnished simply rave reviews from here to Poughkeepsie.

Speaking of “Bottoms-Up,” let’s take a brief creative peek-a-boo at Mr. Jerkbottom’s latest ditty:

“I reckon what you
learned types like is a plain
fuck yourself asshole”


See how “down-to-earth” and so very “Leaves of Grass” Mr. Jerkbottom begins this haiku? It makes my heart flutter and my little innocent virgin anus sphincter tighten up so nicely like it does—whenever a man says “I reckon” with that deep male baritone butchy tone and gets down to some serious business.

Let’s skip the “learned types”—we all know who they are. They’re the ones over in Fiction and Meander—who actually read books and know what they’re talking about. They deserve our respect—after all somebody’s got to do the reading around here. It’s a dirty job—but somebody’s got to do it. Jerkbottom and me—we prefer the easy way out. We do the writing—and leave the reading up to the intelligentsia dontchaknow.

Mr. Jerkbottom is such a creative genius—he saves the best for last: a “plain fuck yourself asshole.” Ah, such wondrous words from such a silver-tongued eloquent country poet. And so down-to-earth—just a “plain fuck” type of guy. But even better than that—such a lovely everyday simple Whitmanesque “plain fuck yourself asshole” -- down & dirty without any bourgeois shame or blushing kissy-faced bashfulness. Just the facts ma'am -- just the facts. That's the way to end a haiku—with a perky little wiggle and snap.

I must say that Mr. Jerkbottom ranks up there with the best—probably Jerkbottom is today the Best American Poshlust Postmodern Poet of the Land!!! Yes, ladies and gentlemen of the jury -- I’m sure we’ll hear more from Mr. Jerkbottom in the days and long stormy nights ahead...

Sincerely yours,
God



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 28, 2007, 12:26:21 AM
got gotten?  lol


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 28, 2007, 08:12:31 AM
exploded in anger.  "I am trying to conduct a serious investigation into the disappearance of Mubai relics!"  Why won't anyone pay attention?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 28, 2007, 08:36:22 AM
Suddenly and unexpectedly, Ms. Jones entered Carbuncle's office holding in her hand a box of matches.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 28, 2007, 08:40:11 AM
Ms Jones began: "Althorp Woolfhardisworthy didn't give a hoot for the Mumbai dig. He'd long ago abandoned the idea that ancient discoveries could shed light on the nature of history and existence in the light of technological advancements made in modern times. His preferred system of discovery in archaeology involved three shots of mezcal, half a worm           


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on June 28, 2007, 08:46:06 AM
and a dose of fibre-optics, otherwise known as a flash-in-the-


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 28, 2007, 08:59:25 AM
cholmondley.

Fear gripped Carbuncle's heart.

"I won't have no truck..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 28, 2007, 09:06:22 AM
"...with anyone who spells his name "Cholmondley" and pronounces it 'Chumley.'"

Cholthilde interjected her but.  "But Inspector, you pronounce your name 'Crunkle.'"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 28, 2007, 09:09:31 AM
"Yes but my Great Uncle Featherstonehaugh, the great Victorian sleuth, always said that a man should never..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 28, 2007, 09:15:22 AM
admit to being named after a pussy abscess.  Of course, he pronounced his name Featheraw" so..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 28, 2007, 10:15:54 AM
everyone expecting Fanshaw would be thrown off his trail.   That, and the extra syllable made it more difficult for trash-talking haiku poets to so easily appropriate his name for their pooperative slinging.

In any case, Carbuncle was ready to close the file on the potting shed events and move on to the more pressing matter of responsibility for the loose ceiling tiles in the natatorium, a matter which had been nearly forgotten after Chlo's abortive experiment with Basenji farming, and the subsequent events, which included the extinction of the human race, the rise of the nutria, the cloning and rebirth of humanity, Chlo's trip to Paris, the transmigration of Winonan Ryder and Edward Bulwer-Lytton, and other small matters which had nearly snuffed the flame of historical...





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 28, 2007, 10:23:26 AM
nincompoopery. 

But fear not, Dear Reader.  All this time, Puglover and Gordon had been studying the strange logo and attempting to get a logo match by doing Internet research using terms like "two-headed tortoise", "Stetson tortoise", "bizarre, murder creatures like tortoises", and ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 28, 2007, 10:24:09 AM
  MISSED YOU BEPPO 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 28, 2007, 10:38:52 AM
nincompoopery. 

But fear not, Dear Reader.  All this time, Puglover and Gordon had been studying the strange logo and attempting to get a logo match by doing Internet research using terms like "two-headed tortoise", "Stetson tortoise", "bizarre, murder creatures like tortoises", and ...
"teen aged girl + horses" the latter not seeming to have much to do with the logo, but Puglover insisted it would work.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 28, 2007, 10:50:36 AM
and he still didn't believe it wouldn't work even when he found himself jammed in the cooler with some baseball equipment and a hard copy of Gordon's


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 28, 2007, 11:08:45 AM
keyword search of "erotic equestrianism," which would occasionally yield, among the usual millions of meta-crawled hits, something about the two-headed tortoise, or at least its daily horoscope, which usually began, "You are a Gemini, which accounts for the two heads, and also your...."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 28, 2007, 11:20:29 AM
sartorial splendor is declining.  Someone is researching you on the Internet, and today is a good day for a wise, albeit slow, move...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 28, 2007, 11:30:21 AM
to Phoenix, where the heat and sun drummed down on Andzrej's thinning hair.  Why did I ever leave beautiful, temeprate Gdansk for this thermal hell, Andrzej wondered aloud.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 28, 2007, 11:45:28 AM
"I should have moved to Gstadt instead," he sighed.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 28, 2007, 12:10:52 PM
Just then The Voice returned.

"Andrzej - I am already in Phoenix on some unfinished 'clown' business but I require of you a favour. Here, take these." It was sheets and sheets of A4 paper. "Find some order in these here trees. Make them worthy of me!"

Andrzej rubbed his eyes and stuck a finger in his ear. Nope the paper was still falling from the sky. Slowly he began gathering it up sheet by sheet. To make sure he wasn't dreaming he hopped around on one leg singing     
"Polandia, Oh Polandia" and then wondered, "Nobody gives sheet in these days and age without there being catch. But do I give a sheet? I've never taken sheet from anybody and what is this speetil dreenk that makes you carazy? Murkin. What is murkin? And what is my favourite bend doing in here?

 
 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 28, 2007, 12:38:23 PM
Andrzej never could make head nor tale of the papers. He arranged them into various groupings, set up some color coding for the more abstract regions of the manuscript and managed to blag a ticket back to his beloved Gdansk by shifting them on ebay disguised as


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 28, 2007, 12:39:57 PM
Howard Hughes' diary.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 28, 2007, 12:42:06 PM
The bidding was on the light side until Andrzej had the idea of throwing in 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 28, 2007, 12:46:11 PM
Paris Hilton's garbage, specifically, an empy can of tuna and a nutria merkin.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 28, 2007, 01:12:55 PM
After Paris saw the light in prison the first thing to go was the designer merkin. Rumour had it that


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 28, 2007, 01:32:29 PM
the merkin designer was Chlotilde Boudreaux's uncle, Nolan "LeStink" Hebert-Bordelon, a recluse from New Iberia with a frightening aspect and a ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 28, 2007, 02:03:54 PM
an even more frightening aspic, which he made from boiling nutria in a vat of paint thinner and brandy. 

Andrzjmnpqwyej had tried a similar aspic once, while on a layover, in Gdenver, a city in the mountains of Poland.  The Gdenver Omelet, however, was far better.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 28, 2007, 02:16:28 PM
:D :D :D


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 28, 2007, 03:31:21 PM
Time for Haiku fun
Searching out Mister Bottle
Is hangover done?

Speak with wicked tongue.
Often communication
For minds built with dung.

Masculinity
Using sports, women to prove
Insecurity

Time for prediction
What will bottle's response be?
Mmmm, vulgarity?

You're a fucken ass.
I'd say that's a good wager.
Place your bet, bottle.

Ass, pussy, suck my dick
Bring it on you dumb ass prick.
I'll teach you some tricks.

BTW, Bottle.
This is creative writing.
What you doing here?

You got no scripture. (grammar check)
Your writing has little scope
Forgot, you're a dope.

My bad ... more to come.
You're a derserving target.
Martini .... I'm done.








Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 28, 2007, 05:22:11 PM
It's poetic, just ass, all the time.  Teach learn to be clever, someone, it's too painful to feel his pathetic desolation.  Poster boy for an intellectual famine.  Relief, please!!!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 28, 2007, 05:38:55 PM
Oh, c'mon bottle
Ayer, fuck yourself asshole
Hoy, sounds like white flag.

Don't blame you bottle
Obviously lacking skills
Don't have what it takes.

Get my e-mail?
Wanted Haiku delivered.
Sign here, sir bottle.











Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 28, 2007, 05:49:27 PM
      “Intellect is invisible to the man who has none”
 Arthur Schopenhauer quotes (German Philosopher, 1788-1860)

 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 28, 2007, 06:03:51 PM
Albert Einstein The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits.

Guess I'm limitless.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 28, 2007, 06:09:01 PM
"Albert Einstein The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits. Guess I'm limitless."

Don't be so hard on yourself, you're probably really good at something like delivering pizza.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 28, 2007, 06:23:45 PM
A good one bottle.
The pizza, cheese, the whole pie.
Whew, you got sauce.

Actually, bot
Sending you to Triple A
Work on some pitches.

Intellect Expert
Need some competition here.
Come back when ready  :D




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 28, 2007, 07:11:45 PM
When you said you were limitless, you were admitting stupidity according to the quote:  So you didn't understand it in the first place, evidently.  Did you need me to explicate it for you or do you still not understand?  Order up?  That one rings a bell, eh?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 28, 2007, 07:53:19 PM
Ladies and gentlemen lend me your ear
There's rules to this forum
You'll want to hear.

These are not my rules
I wouldn't be so pompous
But if like me  don't follow them,
For sure, they'll try to stomp us.

For me, quick story
Said fuck you to my face
That's a nice welcome
I'm thinking they own the place.

Being a guy from Brooklyn
I wasn't taking that flack
As more and more piled on
I came fighting back.

The rules go like this
Don't burst upon the screen
They have a story going
If you don't add to it, you're obscene.

So now, after battling
Giving better than I took
They e-mailed (2) a new approach
Trying to make me book.

Explaining what they do here
Asking me to move along
Find another forum
Shall I dance to their song?

No fucking way.
Are these people crazy?
The audacity in them.
Their character is lazy.

I thank my foes.
They stir creative fire
When it comes to taking on these types
I will never tire.

So, do not be fooled.
You are allowed to write.
Be creative.
Express thoughts without fright.

Time to say goodbye for now
Gonna have to split
If you think I won't be back
FUGGETABOTIT !!!













Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 28, 2007, 08:04:22 PM
JBottle

I understood the quote. I was making fun of myself. You should try it sometime.

Anyway, I'm done fighting with you. Not that I don't think you're an ass, but because the battle is so one-sided that it looks like I'm bullying you.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on June 28, 2007, 08:13:24 PM

So, do not be fooled.
You are allowed to write.
Be creative.
Express thoughts without fright.

Time to say goodbye for now
Gonna have to split
If you think I won't be back
FUGGETABOTIT !!!


dude. you do realize that lack of participation today is based on interest in the nba draft?


Title: interlude
Post by: chauncey.g on June 28, 2007, 08:16:40 PM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7XKpEgv8oU


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 28, 2007, 08:23:35 PM
Dude, I welcome participation.
Odom's the first pick
I'm like this forum's Rodman
Except he's got a bigger dick.

Just a guess,  but the guy's 6'8.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 28, 2007, 08:34:42 PM
I'm a bit surprised that you are posting all this negativity using the LEARN logo.  You seem to take a great deal of pride (well earned I might add) in your development of LEARN, why associate it with this?  Granted, you didn't receive a very warm welcome, but it seems to me that if you want to write you should get on with it and let the other folks here get on with whatever it is they want to do.  Who knows?  They might find they like what you have to say. 

I'm still not clear why there isn't room for both.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 28, 2007, 08:51:43 PM
the merkin designer was Chlotilde Boudreaux's uncle, Nolan "LeStink" Hebert-Bordelon, a recluse from New Iberia with a frightening aspect and a ...

…nephew by the name of Claude “LeStink” Herbert-Bordelon who just happened to be my first dormitory “crush” there in Boudreaux Hall on campus down that lane of leaning old magnolias drooping next to the Huey P. Long Fieldhouse where I lollygagged on the pool balcony with my mint julep along with the decaying potted ferns and cracked red-tile roof admiring through the rotting wrought-iron filigree the lovely sleek physique of young Claude down there swimming nude in the pool during those long humid midnights in the garden of good and evil always slowly creeping like mold on cheese deeper and deeper into my poor Lake Pontchartrain pea-brain consciousness full of decadent “Baby Doll” nostalgia for my cute dark-haired French “LeStinker” boyfriend knowing back then that he’d never amount to much anything other than a minor heartache in some Grand Isle motel room down there in the middle of that Katrina hurricane with the stormy flood pulling him back out into the gulf where sharks and pelicans gorged themselves on him leaving nothing but his once-manly merkin floating there in the fetid pools of what once was…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 28, 2007, 08:58:46 PM
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Otto West: Look, you obviously don't know anything about intelligence work, lady. It's an X-K-Red-27 technique.
Wendy: My father was in the Secret Service, Mr. Manfredjinsinjin, and I know perfectly well that you don't keep the general public informed when you are "debriefing KGB defectors in a safe house."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Otto: Well, would you like to know what you'd be without us, the good ol' U.S. of A. to protect you? I'll tell you. The smallest fucking province in the Russian Empire, that's what. So don't call me stupid, lady. Just thank me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wanda: To call you stupid would be an insult to stupid people. I've known sheep who could outwit you. I've worn dresses with higher IQs, but you think you're an intellectual, don't you, ape?
Otto: Apes don't read philosophy.
Wanda: Yes they do, Otto, they just don't understand it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 28, 2007, 09:02:47 PM
I'm a bit surprised that you are posting all this negativity using the LEARN logo.

LHoffman, I understand what you say. I've thought of it myself. I will not go back and delete. That would take the authenticity (spellcheck) out of the humanness behind LEARN, but I will give it extra thought in the future.

When two White people argue, it's called an argument. If two Black people argue, it's called an argument. When  Black and White people argue with eachother, it's called racism.  

One of the things that I find interesting during this forum handicapped match is this, I don't know the race/culture of anyone I'm fighting with. So while we all might be screwed up individuals, its based on being screwed up, not on racism. If everyone in the world was the same exact skin color, there's still be fighting, they'rd still be hatred, we just wouldn't and couldn't blame it on racism.

My opinion, racism is like a negative cloud hovering over society. If people want to do something about it, they should spread an opposite to it. LEARN should be that opposite. It doesn't HAVE to be, nothing HAS to be, but it should be.

If the world is how I'd like to believe, people could hate me, but they should have it in them to love LEARN.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on June 28, 2007, 09:10:20 PM
and let the other folks here get on with whatever it is they want to do.

Lhoffman, you know from the past I have and continue to have respect for you. On this I disagree. Simply, I haven't stopped or requested for anyone to stop posting. I never would. I've just answered back posters. Mostly the ones who cursed at me.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 28, 2007, 09:42:01 PM
pugetopolis - 9:20 PM ET June 28, 2007 (#384 of 384)
"Can there be poetry after Auschwitz?"--Theodor Adorno

Lifeline

—for Sam Tanenhaus

“Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store. Well I'm happy to be back. But I have to go to the bagel store.”

http://forums.nytimes.com/top/opinion/readersopinions/forums/books/voteforthereadinggroupbook/index.html?offset=696&fid=.fac5bc6/696


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 28, 2007, 09:54:14 PM
I'd be happy to take a dramamine.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 28, 2007, 10:32:51 PM
"Who is this Lifeline I keep hearing so much about?" Carbuncle wondered. 

Sadly, Carbuncle had been in a bit of a hurry to rid himself of  Federov and Artukov...they'd been aware of Lifeline from as far back as the Cold War.  Lifeline was one of the cleverest operatives they'd ever encountered.  Rumor had it he used the defunct book-chat forum of a major US newspaper to send daily coded messages to his handlers.  Problem was, no one knew who those handlers were.  He was currently placed in Jerusalem.  The first thing he did when he got there was to move in with a hapless Israeli family.  He ripped the screens off their windows and left the remains of his half-eaten meals around the place.  In no time at all, he had managed to infest the house with rats and mice.  He also stayed up late into the night, leaving the house at odd hours on his bicycle.  When he got back, he dropped right into bed....no bath and definitely no change of clothes.  The Israelis didn't know what to make of him...some thought he was nuts; some thought he stank.  Either way, things worked out well for Lifeline;  the Israelis avoided him like the plague.  This left him quite free to...

 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 29, 2007, 08:39:20 AM
an even more frightening aspic, which he made from boiling nutria in a vat of paint thinner and brandy. 

Andrzjmnpqwyej had tried a similar aspic once, while on a layover, in Gdenver, a city in the mountains of Poland.  The Gdenver Omelet, however, was far better.

Meanwhile, back in the prison natatorium, the synchronized swimming teams were preparing for the big yearly competition.  The Gdancers team, consisting of Gordon, Bruiser, Puglover, and three other inmates, was struggling this year because Pug just couldn't concentrate due to the distractions of the investigation into the Natatorium Incident.  Bruiser and Gordon were extremely concerned and almost angry because Pug kept unsynchronizing the synchronization.  Maximillian Von Schleswig-Holstein, another member of the team who was serving time for cattle torture, was even more upset.

"Puglover, you are going to RUIN our chances in the big competition this year!" he snarled during one particularly grueling practice session.  "My life will be OVER if we don't win again this year!"

"Well I just feel so misunderstood," retorted Puglover.  "You boys act like you don't even care who almost killed Chlotilde or how that ghastly old man got into the pool - why can't you get your priorities straight?  You should..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 29, 2007, 08:52:17 AM
"...well, actually I should just hush my bigmouth dontchknow. I talk much too much." (Applause from the audience)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 29, 2007, 09:36:18 AM
"Scheisse!" bellowed Schleswig-Holstein, as another ceiling tile fell and conked him on the head as he was practicing the Australian Crawl. 

"Chill," said Gordon, "no trained athlete ever let a subdural hematoma hold him back.  Walk it off, man."

Gordon grinned, blew a little more air into his Spongebob flotation ring, and...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 29, 2007, 09:44:02 AM
I'm a bit surprised that you are posting all this negativity using the LEARN logo.  You seem to take a great deal of pride (well earned I might add) in your development of LEARN, why associate it with this?  Granted, you didn't receive a very warm welcome, but it seems to me that if you want to write you should get on with it and let the other folks here get on with whatever it is they want to do.  Who knows?  They might find they like what you have to say. 

I'm still not clear why there isn't room for both.
I would have thought that you would have realized by now that Learn is all about two things: controling others and his own ego.  Why else would he post here when he has no creative writing to share - cutting insults into brief lines is not poetry - and never has?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 29, 2007, 09:49:12 AM
"Scheisse!" bellowed Schleswig-Holstein, as another ceiling tile fell and conked him on the head as he was practicing the Australian Crawl. 

"Chill," said Gordon, "no trained athlete ever let a subdural hematoma hold him back.  Walk it off, man."

Gordon grinned, blew a little more air into his Spongebob flotation ring, and...



deftly retrieved Schleswig-Holstein's monocle as it floated past him.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 29, 2007, 09:51:09 AM
"Quickly, grab that ceiling tile," cried Pug.  "We must immediately begin investigating this Natatorium Incident (Part II)!  I feel quite certain now we have a serial ceiling tile killer in our midst!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 29, 2007, 09:56:49 AM
"Everyone was in the water," said Carbuncle.  "Who could have dislodged that particular tile without our notice?"

"YOU weren't in the water, inspector," Gordon pointed out.

Carbuncle shrugged inside his trench coat.  "This coat hasn't been scotchguarded.  I have to be careful."




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 29, 2007, 10:08:52 AM
"I am developing a theory as to exactly what happened with the ceiling tile as we speak, Inspector," said Pug.  "I believe the ceiling tile was rigged with a timed device wedged behind it that acted as a spring device to dislodge it during our practice.  And by the way, I don't think Schleswig-Holstein was the real target here."

Not to be outdone, Inspector Carbuncle...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 29, 2007, 10:13:48 AM
dropped his pants and, waving his private parts, invited Pug to "have a go if you think you're so smart."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 29, 2007, 10:31:48 AM
"You're my #1 Guy," Pug said, "but..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 29, 2007, 10:38:25 AM
"...surely my heart belongs to Desdemona..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 29, 2007, 10:43:05 AM
or, as you know him, Andrzej....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 29, 2007, 11:00:32 AM
HOLD UP, WHISK - DON'T GO TRANGENDERING ME, JUST TO PLEASE YOU, LA-DEE-DAH-DEE-DAH-DEE-DAH - OOOO-OO-OOOOOO...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 29, 2007, 11:01:43 AM
Krzhnsplkewnbrozhnrski, former president of the International Society for Superfluous Consonants.

"No," said Carbuncle, putting himself back in the loose folds of his trench coat, "Desde is clearly a woman through and through.  There are no Crying Game scenarios here, though I'll admit we haven't checked Old Man River under his swim trunks yet...."

Some of the team looked nervously over at Old Man River, who was still floating in the shallow end of the pool, pushed by the currents of swimming practice into a corner.

"A pointless digression," said Harold.  "We need to think about who's got a motive, not who's got a...."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 29, 2007, 11:04:33 AM
song in their heart."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 29, 2007, 11:12:07 AM
"Unless," said Carbuncle, narrowing his eyes, "it's that Tom Lehrer song about poisoning pigeons.  Anyone with that song in their heart could be harboring evil intentions...."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 29, 2007, 11:14:48 AM
"Curse!  You got me!"  Gordon shrieked, as he opened his locker to reveal Eve Ellen Tenschien...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 29, 2007, 11:18:37 AM
holding a trigger device and grinning broadly.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 29, 2007, 11:21:07 AM
"I swear I had nothing to do with this!" laughed EET.  "I'm just a red herring!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn on June 29, 2007, 11:24:07 AM
I would have thought that you would have realized by now that Learn is all about two things: controling others

While you're creative writing skills should be left to your mind and the readers, your lack of reading comprehension is evident in this post. Simply it is forum participants who were looking to control me or anyone not participating in their story. To think otherwise borders on delusional.

and his own ego.  

I do have a big ego, hope to accomplish great things. I  also have the ability to admit my shallowness and flaws.


Why else would he post here when he has no creative writing to share

Whether it's creative or not is a matter of opinion ... as long as the writer thinks so, they have the right to post here.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 29, 2007, 11:29:09 AM
"She's telling the truth," said Carbuncle.  "If you'll look closely, that's a tv remote in her hand, not a triggering device.   And under her arm there is a long and boring tract on the problems of racism.  Scarcely the reading choice of a homicidal person."

"I don't know," said Harold.  "Reading that stuff could make you homicidal...."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 29, 2007, 11:38:46 AM
...but what in the hell is she doing here?"

"Perhapth she meanth to divert uth from our sthport," lisped Bruiser.  "How inconthiderate."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 29, 2007, 11:46:10 AM
Meanwhile, whatshername had escaped from the locker and set up a soapbox on the diving platform.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 29, 2007, 12:13:09 PM
"Don't worry about me, folks, no long speeches," EET exclaimed.  "I'm just trying to get a closer look at these ceiling tiles.  I suspect the falling tile in question was triggered by this control...which I found hidden under a pile of towels in the lockerroom.  Let's see what happens when I push this red button........"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 29, 2007, 12:14:04 PM
The British Undersecretary of Yard Clippings walked in and exploded.  Harold yawned, and scratched his ass.  Somewhere on Baffin Island, a polar bear farted.  A cobblestone was dislodged in Quito.  Carbuncle began to feel around inside his trench coat.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on June 29, 2007, 12:17:10 PM
as he pondered the interconnectedness of all things.  What I wouldn't give for a plate of shrimp, he thought idly.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 29, 2007, 12:18:33 PM
"Synchronicity, it's far out," he mused.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 29, 2007, 12:22:37 PM
The red button, when pushed, caused Eve Ellen to vanish.  "Hmm," said Gordon, "perhaps it's an editorial button.  Push it and pointless digressions based on hideous puns are erased from our universe.  Wouldn't that be sweet?"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on June 29, 2007, 12:26:29 PM
or perhaps it just transported her to another place in the story.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 29, 2007, 12:28:53 PM
....a Reynolds Wrap factory near Dubuque, Iowa, where she fell into one of the machines.  Thus was an Eve Ellen Tenschien foiled....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 29, 2007, 12:33:37 PM
Carbuncle refllected that there is very that little goes on in prison without insider knowledge. He pulled his secret weapon from his pocket and glared at Puglover: "Who's the Daddy?" Puglover taken aback


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 29, 2007, 12:57:08 PM
Great Uncle Carboincle of New York whose infamy stretched all the way from 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 29, 2007, 01:55:27 PM
the time of the infamous Boor Wars situated in


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 29, 2007, 02:00:32 PM
situated in, situated in. That's another story thought Carbuncle. He inspected his large magnifying glass whilst dropping some iron fillings on to the tile. This might work. As he produced the large magnet from his bag a small crowd gathered below in the natatorium. He placed the large U shaped instrument below the tile and then as if by magic the iron filings shaped themselves into a most welcome sight: The sentence was unmistakable. The crowd gasped. Almost in unison they shouted "A horny elephant gringo cometh early oh Igor!!"  Great Uncle Carboincle! cried Carbuncle. Forsooth cried another. Thith ith the devil's work bellowed puglover. Those are google co-ordinates screamed yet another. "Hold it boys, hold it. Let the detective do his work. Carbuncle took a deep breath...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 29, 2007, 02:21:15 PM
and pulled his own index finger.  "Now," he said to the crowd.  "I think we can safely say that this message solves the mystery."

"How so?" asked a puzzled Pug. "I don't understand what it means.  Who is Igor?  Why would he want to hurt Chlo?  What makes the world go round?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on June 29, 2007, 08:36:14 PM
“So many fascinating yet, well, pointless diversions,” Harold said, yawning into his merkin that somehow had become entangled with his moustache during all the excitement in the natatorium.

“Yes, yet so many seductive plots and subplots,” murmured Desdemona, tightening her pink flamingo kimono, gazing up at the skylight. Delicate shimmering lights and shadows were reflecting off the pool onto her beautiful upturned face. She seemed troubled yet calm at the same time.

“Ah yes,” said Krzhnsplkewnbrozhnrski, former president of the International Society for Superfluous Consonants. “You Americans certainly like your playfully sensuous little syntactical synchronicities, nicht wahr, my dears?”

A horny elephant gringo cometh early oh Igor!!" pondered Pugey, flopping down and stretching out in one of the chaise-lounges, sipping his tall cool mint julep.

Gordon the young nymphette was serving all the guests some nice drinks on a silver tray to calm everybody’s nerves.

“You’re lucky to have such a charming cute kept boy,” nytempsperdu remarked while Beppo nodded lustfully.

“I keep hearing a haunting piano sonata,” said Lhoffman.

"It reminds me of Last Year at Marienbad," sighed Pugey.

It had been a long difficult session for everyone just like Murder on the Orient Express—or The Comedians.

Surely the next thing would be a body found down there in the deep end at the bottom of the pool…

“Just as I thought,” said Inspector Carbuncle. “What do we have here?”

Everybody scuttled quickly in their flip-flops and robes over to the deep end—gasping at what they saw.

Way down there in the murky depths…



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on June 30, 2007, 10:41:44 AM
was the watery willy, the benthic lifeform that had been checking out Mary Eliz. Mastrantonio in "The Abyss," and making Ed Harris nervously cross his legs.  It rose gracefully to the surface of the pool and began to....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 30, 2007, 01:05:36 PM
make a strange slurping sound.

Meanwhile Carbuncle stared at the filings. "Not a poet by any means. Certainly not a haikuist. Naturally any detective would wonder who might Igor be? And elephants - what role might they play in this mystery?" 

As the slurping got louder a prisoner emerged from the throng not quite realising that an event was unfolding in the water. "I'll say it again, Inspector - that is a coded sentence linked to number. Take the first letter of each word, find its numerical equivalent and proceed from there. You should end up with eight numbers. They are global co-ordinates, Inspector. We're not dealing with a master criminal here sir. That that man there - he pointed straight at a rather sheepish Puglover - he, sir, will be your chief suspect. You have a laptop Inspector? Google earth will assist your investigations.

At that...

           


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on June 30, 2007, 01:35:34 PM
Puglover keeled over in a violent seizure.  As he flipped about on the hard poolside surface, the lights began to flicker off and on and the sound of evil laughter filled the natatorium.  The synchronized swimming teams were petrified, clinging to each other like children, crying "Oh, what is this evil that hath befallen us??"  A malodorous miasma swirled in from the vents - Gordon and Von Schleswig-Holstein were furiously gagging...the watery willy...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on June 30, 2007, 02:32:24 PM
meanwhile, moved slowly towards the shallow end of the pool, slurping all the while, an opening revealing a kind of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on June 30, 2007, 06:40:14 PM
...large mammalian female, obliviously doing laps and thinking shellfishly of her dinner plans:  scallops.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 01, 2007, 01:30:49 PM
the horny elephant, as it bathed itself in the shallow end and gave extra attention to the fold areas.  The encounter with Igor, earlier, had left it feeling a bit soiled, not that the revived zombie corpse of the composer of "The Firebird" was not an agreeable dinner companion.  The Abyssal creature, spotting the elephant, shrank back into the water, taking Mary Elizabeth and her dinner plans with it, down into the depths....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 01, 2007, 02:06:26 PM
where Bart Cousteau was waiting in a deep-water submersible which he'd constructed, while waiting for his certificate of Senior Member status in the American Oceanographic Society to arrive, out of....



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 01, 2007, 02:09:39 PM
Paul Prudhomme's old pressure cooker, a 1986 Chevy Nova, a Salad Shooter he'd picked up for practically nothing at a garage sale in Gdansk, and a few bolts which he removed from his ex-wife's


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on July 01, 2007, 04:36:20 PM
stuffed, hardy nuts. The term Castrati meant very little to him in his turbulent four-month 'shotgun' marriage but it was a word he could not, for love nor money, expunge the flame of now. A ghostly, haunting voice, one that made the hairs on his neck stand erect. How could he not shower her with the inevitable riches she so desired? The daily flowers, the diamonds, the


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on July 01, 2007, 06:07:18 PM
...the lovely juicy facials...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 01, 2007, 09:32:57 PM
the Dolce y Gabbana shoes and bags, the Hermes scarves and bags, the Prada shoes and bags,


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on July 02, 2007, 06:24:58 AM
(http://images.tribe.net/tribe/upload/photo/ff9/dfc/ff9dfc7b-d45e-42e5-85c9-0e1988d10f26)

Wrong again folks…

The creature from the bottom of the pool turns out to be...none other than a rather large astute Henry James...

“My gawd,” exclaimed Desdemona. “Look at that huge snorkel!?!”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 02, 2007, 09:24:54 AM
"Why, he can give me a 'Turn of the Screw' anytime!"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: jbottle on July 02, 2007, 10:41:52 PM
"Long Bad Night of the Penis Breath" is about a high school guy who gets called penis-breath one day at school, and goes on a road trip bound for anywhere with the family cat, a six-pack of Barge's, a switchblade, a box of Chee-to's, a pack of Newport's, $38, and a brown belt in karate, an Ipod and a Rabbit's foot.

"Dammit," he thought to himself, as he punched the pedal to the floor and sent his '88 plunging hard into the orange sunset, with desperation and fear of retribution all in the rear-view mirror...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 03, 2007, 09:33:01 AM
"I left my copy of Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge, by Ambrose Bierce, at home!  Crap!  It was supposed to be peeking out from under the Cheetos bag, hinting to  the readers that this part of the narrative might be only the dream of a dying brain as it perished in the deep end of the natatorium."

He squinted into the west, where the dying sun rode along the horizon like a hurled meatball in a middle school cafeteria.

"The question is, who's brain is dying?  And will I cease to exist, when it dies?"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 03, 2007, 09:55:59 AM
"He squinted into the west, where the dying sun rode along the horizon like a hurled meatball in a middle school cafeteria."

Greatest simile ever written.





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 03, 2007, 10:44:06 AM
;-)

[http://www.sjsu.edu/depts/english/2006.htm]

[Bulwer-Lytton Contest samples, for purposes of inspiration...]



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 03, 2007, 12:16:18 PM
Back at the prison natatorium, a medic had arrived and strapped the spazzing Pug onto a board.  The seizure went on and on - it seemed as though it would never stop.

"Of course, this means he is guilty as charged," cried Gwatson, the brilliant one who had figured out the "Igor" code. 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on July 03, 2007, 03:35:40 PM
"Don't worry about Mr. Pugey," said Nurse Ratched. "We've taken care of him..."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 05, 2007, 10:28:02 AM
The tall Indian patient picked up a water cooler and tossed it through the window.  "What?" he said, "the building's climate controlled; how else am I going to get some fresh air in here?"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 05, 2007, 10:50:35 AM
"That is precisely why you're on tap for a lobotomy day after tomorrow, Mr. Chadrakoshar.  Now, take your pills."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on July 05, 2007, 11:11:36 AM
...or I'll tell your mother."  Nurse Hatchett had the corner on passive-aggressive behavior.  Not one inch of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 05, 2007, 11:25:48 AM
one inch of Mr. Chadrokashar's ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on July 05, 2007, 04:32:32 PM
adam's apple could be missed as it upgulched nervously in his particularly bumpy and black-headed neck.

The new consultant was brash and over-confident, and pushing Hatchett back into her corner stated:

  "I don't know why it is, but secrets just rot you like teeth if you don't yank 'em out."  "We'll simply  proceed with mozziein' questions", the young, recent med-school grad, Dr. Clothilde Fusby declared (yes, old Fusby and Chloe had eloped, Vegas style, where Chloe had also managed to squeeze in her internship, having finally given up on ever passing the bar, circus work, nutria and the Can-Can).  Gordon, on the other hand


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 05, 2007, 05:04:33 PM
was pre-occupied with his own latest endeavor, attempting to pursue his life-long dream


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on July 06, 2007, 09:10:30 AM
a slow boat to China, not entirely by accident


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 06, 2007, 09:39:34 AM
The elephant came again.  Three more ceiling tiles fell.  Old Man River farted.  Another cobblestone came loose in Quito.

"We're going to need new pool filters," said Carbuncle.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 06, 2007, 10:27:17 AM
"Think it may be more than a filtration issue, seems input is really




                                                       
S~~L~~O~~W






must be the heat or simply summer vacation?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 06, 2007, 11:22:25 AM
"By Jove, those falling ceiling tiles are a nuisance!" cried Carbuncle.  "I'm going to call a ceiling tile expert in on this case.  I've done the necessary research, and Chief Inspector Reginald Littlebath is our man."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 06, 2007, 12:28:27 PM
But, wait...
Something suspicious about this Reginald?  Yes, on closer inspection it's no Littlebath at all, it's the Littlewoman i.e. Nancy Reagan!

With a wide-eyed shitletto-shock Carbuncle remarked, "Yurrin Hulpal!" 

Arabic?


Boswell rose, scenting vulnerability


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 06, 2007, 02:36:35 PM
and a remarkably bad case of halitosis...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on July 06, 2007, 08:54:10 PM
Oh my, where'd everybody go? It must be the July 4th holiday week.

Anyway, I didn't want the story tellers to think I just disappeared. It's just that I didn't have anything creative to write. I still don't, which got me to thinking, if people didn't post here because they didn't have something creative to write, depending on who's judging, the site would  be empty. Which got me to thinking some more (dangerous) ... people shouldn't post here based on whether their writing's creative or not, they should post here  to express themselves.

The writer can't control if readers think its creative or not. Write on. :-X


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 07, 2007, 07:35:15 AM
and a remarkably bad case of halitosis...
and a fatuous, meaningless iterjection designed soley to feed the ego


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 07, 2007, 10:40:11 AM
Nancy removed her shoes and stepped into the pool, dodging floating strands of elephant cum, ceiling tiles and what were either turds or soggy Baby Ruth candy bars, and worked her way towards the deep end.

"What are you doing, Mrs. Reagan?" shouted Carbuncle.

"My astrologer said this was a good day to die," she replied in a thin papery voice.  "The stars are all properly aligned for me to make my passage to another plane of being.  Or move to Des Moines.  And I know I don't want to move to Des Moines!"

"Look around you!" cried Carbuncle.  "This pool is filthy.  Don't you think death should have some dignity?"

Nancy sniffed and looked around.  "It does occur to me that the writer has arisen too early in the day and has written me into a scenario that really doesn't make much sense, given what he must surely know about me as a public figure."  She began to retreat back to the shallow end.  "Very well, I'll come out.  But then you need to explain what I'm doing here, and why I was introduced as Littlebath!  Or..."

"Or what, ma'am?" asked Carbuncle.

"Or I'll rip off your head and piss down your fucking neck, you stupid crackhead!"

"Wait a minute," said Boswell, "I don't think Nancy Reagan would talk like that.  Something's amiss here."

Carbuncle crouched down by the edge of the pool, where "Nancy Reagan" was just emerging and began to tug at the loose folds of flesh under her chin.  "Dammit!  It's not coming off!"

Suddenly, there was a sticky squishy sound, like the sound of two copulating octopi being pulled apart...







Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on July 07, 2007, 12:11:45 PM
Whiskey,

When I post it is for for ego, when you post it's for .......

Whiskey drinks ( and attempts to creatively write) in  glass house.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 08, 2007, 01:45:57 PM
....and Nancy Reagan's face came off, revealing....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 08, 2007, 02:36:02 PM
a disgusting mass of red pulpy flesh, muscle, veins and fat, because she hadn't been wearing a mask and actually was Nancy Reagan....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 08, 2007, 03:12:39 PM
....or so it seemed until more careful scrutiny revealed that it was William Shatner....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 08, 2007, 03:27:34 PM
with his face pulled off as well....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on July 08, 2007, 07:33:49 PM
Whiskey,

You passed over my simple question. If not for ego, why do you post here? Certainly not because your creative :D Just a joke ... if you think your creative, that's all that matters.

Anyway, you claim I post because I have this huge ego. OK, I have a huge ego. Why do you post?

Are you afraid your answer is going to expose hypocrisy?

Creative writing = creative truths.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 08, 2007, 11:05:36 PM
as if it were an army of orcs and he Aragorn....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 09, 2007, 12:49:52 PM


"My astrologer said this was a good day to die," she replied in a thin papery voice.  "The stars are all properly aligned for me to make my passage to another plane of being. 



Nancy sniffed and looked around.  "It does occur to me that the writer has arisen too early in the day and has written me into a scenario that really doesn't make much sense, given what he must surely know about me as a public figure."  She began to retreat back to the shallow end.  "Very well, I'll come out.  But then you need to explain what I'm doing here, and why I was introduced as Littlebath!  Or...








Right the first time!  A total case of mistaken identity, in spite of the possibilities afforded by the orcs and with that error-gone...the truth finally revealed!

All along with mask after mask ripped off there she was!


Anne Heche!  Yeah, who needs Trekkies (or W.C. Fields for that matter) with Ms. Heche?!  A true trip there!  Who else could morph with such ease and still


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 09, 2007, 02:00:03 PM
be the ex-lover of Ellen Degeneris?   


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on July 09, 2007, 03:28:29 PM
Creative?  He-he-he-che could fill pages!  Soap opera incarnate...alien abductions to boot.  Dazed and confused, so many excursions to the known and un-known; Gordon, Harold, Chloe, et al can't compare!
Well, except for Boz, Lanky-Bart, Wacky Whisk, Dizzy Des, Kit-a-koo, nytemps-per-doo (and Beppy too) all contributions now so few, what's the CW forum coming to?
 
Time for


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 09, 2007, 03:59:40 PM
a twist in the plot, Dear Reader.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 09, 2007, 04:02:25 PM
And it came to pass that one early morning, Bruiser awoke to his favorite oldie, "Twisting the Night Away." 

As he opened his sleep-encrusted eyes, he realized he had fallen asleep in the natatorium out of sheer boredom with the plot, only to awake to the most chilling sight of his entire life:  A prison natatorium full of twisting inmates. 

"What the...?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 09, 2007, 04:33:41 PM
"Tapeworm," declared Fusby.  "Ants in the Pants," contradicted his not so blushing new bride.  "No, it's


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 09, 2007, 07:53:35 PM
"Not so fast!" shouted Warden Scheiss (affectionately called Sheisserl by his family).  It was obvious the warden was angry beyond all measure.  He strode over to...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 10, 2007, 06:27:45 AM
Rachael Ray.  "Yummo?"  Scheiss coughed out.  "What the Hell kind of thing is that to say?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on July 10, 2007, 07:24:17 AM
"Fantabulous!"  GAG!  Even worse than "yummo"...as if Dunkin Donuts were the high point of our once admired and oh so cute RR's career.  "Just how greedy for green can one chef be?" 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 10, 2007, 07:58:32 AM
"Just how greedy for green can one chef be?"

Exactly the one thought that had been haunting Gordo.  Missing Chlo he was stupified by her choice to actually choose ol' hairy king-kong butt Fusby as her sigboth -- the money, yeah, that was understandable -- but it was also rumored that the esteemed Professor Fuzz was


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 10, 2007, 09:37:05 AM
Bill O'Reilly in a gorilla suit, hiding out there from the gangs of killer lesbians roaming our nation's capital with pink pistols, bent on....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 10, 2007, 09:40:43 AM
buying up as many of Rachael Ray's 3 knife sets for $99.00 as he could.  "Three knives for $99.00?  The perky little twist IS getting greedy, isn't she?  Next thing you know, she'll have her own overpriced line of Extra Virgin Olive Oil!"  Gordon thought.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 10, 2007, 09:45:28 AM
"Ms. Ray indubitalby has the hots for me," said Bill-O.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 10, 2007, 09:54:59 AM
"Sounds like she could use an Extra Virgo around the house," he said, reading the day's horoscope, which foretold


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 10, 2007, 10:34:59 AM
roving gangs of lesbians in the D.C. area, brandishing pink pistols....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 10, 2007, 11:09:20 AM
"By God, I KNEW I was right!" he shouted, banging on the desk.  "These lesbians must also be communists - you know, pinkos!" 

He began typing furiously...

"Pinko lesbians from hell shooting up Washington...the end is nigh....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 10, 2007, 11:10:39 AM
-- Off topic, so to speak:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eT1zjs0y6Z4 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eT1zjs0y6Z4)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 10, 2007, 03:59:03 PM
"Pinko Lesbians?"  "A recipe for disaster, certainly one that even for a twilight summer soiree would be most inappropriate."  The new darling of the natatorium's kitchen, Giada de Lovely-Laurentiis  -- one who could offer all that RR was lacking  --  endowed with a pair of jugs that even the St. Pauli girl would struggle to carry -- was ready to take on the dubious title of Executive Chef in spite of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 10, 2007, 10:13:37 PM
an abnormally large jaw that robbed her of whatever sexappeal her admitedly impressive rack might otherwise have provided her...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 11, 2007, 07:37:56 AM
the jaws of Glenn Close and Jay Leno.   Of course,


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 11, 2007, 09:58:22 AM
none of this brought them closer to solving the mystery of the falling ceiling tiles.  "Information," said Carbuncle, "we need more information."

"You won't get it," cried Numar Sikhs, as he ran from the natatorium in his silly canvas sneakers.

"Send the balloon," the warden ordered. 

Sikhs, hearing the roar of an angry balloon, felt in his pockets for a salad fork, as he sped out onto the strand.  "I am Numar," he cried.  "I am a free man!"






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 11, 2007, 10:37:52 AM
With his cheap Nike-Knock-Off sneaks and his (once impressive) turban unfurling (which revealed a rather large, perfectly balanced jar of pickles atop his curly locks) Numar suddenly 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 11, 2007, 11:29:26 AM
turned to his midget butler and said, "Can you carry the pickles for a while?"

The butler accepted the jar without comment and set off at a forty-five degree angle from the direction that Numar was running.

"I'll see you back in the Village," Numar shouted.  "Harold and I are going to head for the white castle, up the beach.  I think we'll be safe from the balloon there and I may be able to deprogram Harold from the brainwashing that Number Two Nutria gave him.  Be seeing you!"

Sinister laughter emanated from loudspeakers mounted on various buildings, and Numar ran on, dragging Harold behind him, the angry balloon in hot pursuit.

The Radetzky March, by Strauss, began to play, as the other prisoners began to gather around the bandshell.  Soon....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 12, 2007, 09:32:56 AM
system of checks and balances that is engrained into our Constitution.  Gordon yawned.  "Put that civics textbook down," Rachael purred, the covers staying just high enough to cover the roseate splash of her nipples, "and grab some EVOO.  The Next Food Netwrok Star is on, and you know what that means."

Indeed he did.  Frankly, he had only just recovered from the show's weekend marathon.  And yet, the cost of refusing Rachael's demand was frightening.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 12, 2007, 10:04:59 AM
Only a moment before he had been hobbled by the U.S. Constitution, he had thinking about a plate of shrimp.  And now, here before him, was a PLATE OF SHRIMP!  And yet, there would be no shrimp, and possibly no plate, if he did not precisely follow the instructions on the bottle of olive oil and....


 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 12, 2007, 11:14:32 AM
marinate Rachael's tasty bits before stewing the meat, for any good chef knows that oyster and sausage eaten together complement each other nicely...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 12, 2007, 11:21:18 AM
with casual remarks like,

"Hey, Oyst, nice shell, man!"  or

"Yo, Sausage, lookin' good!"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 12, 2007, 11:22:36 AM
"You look lovely, and your casing is divine!" the Oyster gushed.  "Have you lost weight?"

"Thank you!" the suasage said.  "I really like the way you have come out of your shell the last few weeks."

"Idiots!'  Rachael interjected.  "Complement, not compliment!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on July 12, 2007, 11:27:08 AM





yes~~~yes~~~YES~~~~OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

The JOY of Cooking!

Now where were we...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 12, 2007, 11:29:53 AM
"I was just thinking of a plate of shrimp," said Carbuncle, sweeping up the broken tiles.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 12, 2007, 09:27:42 PM
"And why am I sweeping up tiles like a moron when I have a bunch of criminals all around who are supposed to be doing hard time?" he shouted, petulantly slamming down the broom. 

"WELL!" said Puglover.  "I don't know about the rest of the guys, but I have things of my own to do!  I've been examining every last one of these tiles, and they all have something in common!"

"REALLY?" asked Bruiser.  "Oh puggy, you are THO wonderful!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 13, 2007, 10:34:10 AM
...that they all bore the precise same pattern on them!  What were the odds, Carbuncle wondered.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 13, 2007, 01:20:55 PM
After a couple of hours, however, Carbuncle stopped wondering and gave in to the powerful forces of ennui and apathy which had taken over the prison.  It didn't make any damned difference if tiles were the same or not.  Either way, the grout eventually crumbled and the mold eventually penetrated.  What was the use of chasing after facts in a world of constant change and flux?  What was the point of trying to put the past under a magnifiying glass when, in a few decades, they would all be dead and no one would care about any of these matters?  The Buddhists were correct:  it was all maya, an illusion, a meaningless pageant of sensory stimulations that only clouded the consciousness.

Just then, another tile fell and cracked Carbuncle on the head.  "Muzzerfockairrre!" he screamed, and....



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 13, 2007, 11:36:46 PM
Clouseau was by far his superior in every way.  "Oh if only I could be more like Clouseau, the GREATEST FRENCH DETECTIVE OF ALL TIME.  Ahem! Ahem! Cough!  Okay, let's see....uh....'does your duggie bite?' 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on July 16, 2007, 02:06:44 AM
(http://www.kantor.com/blog/images/nancy-answers-the-door.jpg)

After strangling her common-law husband with a vacuum cleaner hose, Nancy answers the door…

“Gee whiz,” Sluggo said. “I hope it’s not…”


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on July 16, 2007, 02:33:43 AM
(http://www.glyphjockey.com/pix07/fritzi1-400.jpg)

Desdemona contemplates how Carbuncle got Boswell…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 16, 2007, 11:51:05 AM
Behind a poster of Winona Ryder, Gordon had begun to dig a tunnel with his...





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 16, 2007, 12:32:25 PM
stunningly prehensile member...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on July 16, 2007, 05:46:18 PM
and about one second later had managed to tunnel his way through giving a whole new meaning to the title "Little Women". But on turning up at the "Poke Your Member Through A Poster Night" he discovered to his acute embarassment The Thursday Sewing Club, led by serial kleptomaniac Nick "Fingers" Steel...



     


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 16, 2007, 08:40:43 PM
who could deftly wield five knitting needles at once while singing a happy tune as he simultaneously...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on July 17, 2007, 01:27:27 AM
(http://content.answers.com/main/content/wp/en/3/36/Nancydetail.jpg)

Dear Aunt Fritzi,

I think you should know that Nick “Fingers” Steel is not a very nice man. I fear he has the “hots” for Nancy. Please be on the lookout for your lovely niece.

Desdemona


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 17, 2007, 09:11:33 AM
who could deftly wield five knitting needles at once while singing a happy tune as he simultaneously...

...nicked the knickers off every clothesline from here to Kalamazoo, for you see Steely Nick had a secret passion for


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 17, 2007, 10:27:43 AM
anything connected to the Western Michigan University Broncos, which would, of course, explain his presence in Kalamazoo.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 17, 2007, 10:50:56 AM
Gordon had managed to dig out enough cement with the use of his prison cafeteria spork to open up a small hole into the building's utility core, but it was only a couple of inches in diameter, which meant that he might still be months away from being able to wriggle through, shinny up a drainage pipe to the roof and escape from there by climbing down a bedsheet rope and strapping himself to the undercarriage of a visiting supply truck.  Plan B, of course, was to wait until the natatorium ceiling, already showing signs of decay, completely collapsed and then run away in the ensuing chaos.  Plan C, the plan of last resort, involved...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 17, 2007, 11:31:04 AM
a large bucket, several yards of string, and a dream.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on July 17, 2007, 12:16:01 PM
(http://www.barrettchase.com/molested.gif)

Desdemona yawned. Life would be so much more pleasant without all the perverts in the natatorium…”

Just then the head pervert appeared—it was none other than…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 17, 2007, 12:55:38 PM
Peeping Tom aka


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on July 18, 2007, 10:43:41 AM
The Peeping Tom?!  Where did that moniker come from in the first place i.e. who was the first peeper and why Tom?  Why not Dick, or Harry?  And what is it about...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 18, 2007, 11:23:23 AM
Michael Vick?  Just how preverse can one professional dog-hater get?  Can he still be flashing that huge, cocky grin now?

Does Boswell have a chance of sitting on that jury?  And if he did, could he be relied on to


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 18, 2007, 10:29:16 PM
scrutinize Vick thoroughly, including a full cavity search.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 18, 2007, 10:46:47 PM
Suddenly, Wynona Ryder sauntered into the room, fresh from five years of reclusion in her home town of Petaluma, California.  "I didn't think anyone was from Petaluma," scoffed His Lordship Nigel Seward, who was diligently catching ceiling tiles with a large basket.  "Rather like a game!  Pip, pip! Hear, hear!! 

Wynona was looking a little better since being released from the Iron Maiden, but still a bit petulant. "I really don't feel that bad about the $5000 shoplifting spree," she said earnestly.  "I mean, like, if it was something where I actually hurt a real, live human being, well yeah, uh, then I'd feel pretty bad.  But my spiritual advisor has encouraged me to move toward the move toward the light, to go back to work again, and according to I Ching the days just ahead are to be auspicious ones, so I've decided to ...."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on July 19, 2007, 12:50:58 AM
cease being America's oldest ingenue and grow-up or simply try to grow, swear off musicians forever, and, last but not least, emulate Angelina (to the best of my ability - limited as I am by my cuteness and my blank wide-eyed stare) and begin adopting all the


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 19, 2007, 09:25:10 AM
the bed sheets.

Meanwhile, Chloe had begun to proceed with ridding herself of Fuzz and had consulted with her attorney W.P. Shavenballz Esq. who


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 19, 2007, 09:40:36 AM
had previously represented Gordon, and had assured him, according to Gordon, that "it was in the bag" after the final summation.  W.P., on the other hand, claims to have said "I was in the bag," a version of the facts seemingly born out by Gordon's subsequent 40 to life penalty for aggravated mopery....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 19, 2007, 09:59:42 AM
and felonious use of a spork in the ingestion of a meatloaf, a Class A felony in the state of Wisconsin.  Winona, who was now claiming that she had not spent  time in an Iron Maiden, but only dated a former member of the band Iron Maiden, offered the services of her legal counsel to Gordon, who she felt might have more experience dealing with victimless crimes.  Though her spiritual advisor had alerted her to the possibility that the mere act of eating meatloaf might, in fact, not be a victimless crime...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 19, 2007, 10:08:37 AM
In fact, Meatloaf, inspired by such spork proddings had declared that he would do anything for love, but would stop short of being ingested by Gordo with the exclamation " but I won't do that," and was open to other suggestions for


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 19, 2007, 10:17:08 AM
...finding paradise by the dashboard light....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 19, 2007, 10:29:12 AM
"Baby let me sleep on it," was the first response Fuzz had to the proposed settlement offered by his attorney P. Applebottom (quite the dish herself if you liked


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on July 19, 2007, 10:32:18 AM
apple bottoms) Gordo though, in spite of his history, was a top-shelf kinda guy and


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 19, 2007, 11:06:36 AM
his habit of kicking his dirty shorts under the bed was simply an anomaly of his true nature, but it had been enough cause for Chloe to leave him on that fateful day when


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 19, 2007, 12:35:07 PM
Chloe left him.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on July 19, 2007, 01:41:50 PM
Leaving the shorts - that was a different ball game. She'd grown


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 19, 2007, 01:51:59 PM
"Yes", she'd groan, "these shorts are postively vile, just how many times can a man keep wearing the same pair of shorts?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on July 19, 2007, 02:22:28 PM
In the end, Gordon left the house as a commando, not realising     


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 19, 2007, 02:37:00 PM
that a stiff breeze would leave him so -- no, dear reader, not so stiff -- but rather embarrassed -- truly forgetting that wearing nothing but a borrowed


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on July 19, 2007, 03:15:47 PM
sherwani, recommended by Lanky-Bart to be much cooler than even the most faded and worn Levi jeans any commando-inclined guy could imagine, would


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 19, 2007, 07:03:56 PM
be just the ticket to swinging life, free from care and dirty underwear.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 19, 2007, 07:24:44 PM
Though a sidetrip to a little town which its all-male population likes to call Chafing was not out of the question.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 19, 2007, 10:16:40 PM
jungle rot, or, even nastier,


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 20, 2007, 08:55:48 AM
squirming fly larvae imbedded in the scalp? 

"Heads or tails, your call."  Chloe and Gordo had reunited for a nostalgic


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 20, 2007, 09:20:24 AM
squirming fly larvae imbedded in the scalp? 

"Heads or tails, your call."  Chloe and Gordo had reunited for a nostalgic
bit of 69, or, for worms, 11...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 20, 2007, 09:32:02 AM
and a pizza, hold the anchovies


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 20, 2007, 09:39:29 AM
in an Olds 88, driving down Route 66 on a beautiful fall day with the windows down and the air, perfumed with blooming sage, blowing in their


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 20, 2007, 09:40:47 AM
a phrase that always made Cedric Smith-Smythe Anchovy's heart skip  a beat, so much did he long to be held as a result of a loveless childhood spent mostly with prim governesses while his socialite parents.....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 20, 2007, 09:53:29 AM



...while his socialite parents
in an Olds 88, driving down Route 66 on a beautiful fall day with the windows down and the air, perfumed with blooming sage, blowing in their

rusted out floorboards...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on July 20, 2007, 10:45:06 AM
With the high cost of quality day-care, why, even the likes of anchovy-royalty have a hard time keeping the old Olds rolling along in high-style!   Besides, who buys anchovies any more?  Just try to get a real Cesaer salad these days!


Hmmmmm!  Chloe pondered...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on July 20, 2007, 11:15:51 AM
"Ponder no more." whispered some dark figure from the corner. "Matteo's in Honolulu. Greatest Caesar since Sid."







Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 20, 2007, 11:32:11 AM
Chloe knew she was missing something, while she'd been hanging-out at Jamesons, the Caesar thing was happening just down the long windy road, past the China Man's Hat!

Luckily, she caught a ride with Anchovy's folks, the Olds may be shot but their




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: chauncey.g on July 20, 2007, 11:58:51 AM
mechanic was a wonder with bailing wire and bubble gum.

"We'll get this thing purring along. Just gotta get some air in that front tire."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on July 20, 2007, 02:11:45 PM
Unbeknowns to Chloe the mechanic had suffered all his days from a serious case of overengineeeringitis - he was famous in his home town for taking things forty steps beyond the necessary . It wasn't the air in the tire it was some displacement in the weight of the vehicle that was causing the air shortage. Then it was the road. And pretty soon he was blaming his mama. Chloe eventually thumbed down a pink tractor...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 20, 2007, 02:15:19 PM
trailer, driven by Wilfred Smith-Smythe Anchovy, younger son and disinherited brach of the Anchovy tree, who


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on July 20, 2007, 02:18:12 PM
wasn't stoppin' for nobody that day. Yet as he chugged along, enraged by his historical ineptitude, the sight of a young buxom redhead (he didn't see the mechanic) engorged every aspect of his unfarmed alabaster meatpole to the extent an oiled Chloe asked him: "Mister, what does unfarmed mean?"

Our shy pink tractor disinheritant blushed.

"Let's just say...

The clouds beckoned. Ixion raged!

"...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on July 20, 2007, 04:32:52 PM
and then it rained...


and rained
             
and rained some more
           
rain



After all that rain Chloe was a redhead no more and the virginal Anchovy, well, you guessed it...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on July 20, 2007, 04:46:15 PM
reigned happily ever after as the eponymous King Smytheon of Anchovy not once


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 21, 2007, 06:30:17 PM
decorated with a gay blue ribbon of watermarked silk.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 22, 2007, 02:20:53 PM
perky Iowa State cheerleaders who have been sent to the Iowa Home for the Hamstrung to recover their perspective and train orphaned marmots to


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 22, 2007, 02:32:46 PM
commit suicide by skinning themselves, thus saving furriers valuable time and energy


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 22, 2007, 02:40:36 PM
and boosting sales of "Existentialism Made Simple For Fur-Bearing Mammals," by Alain Robbe-Grillet, a book that has suffered in competition with the recent publication of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 22, 2007, 02:42:58 PM
Harry Potter and the Ginormous Bales of Cash, which was considered the greatest, in terms of profits, book since


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 22, 2007, 02:45:37 PM
Off topic: I was idly watching the end of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on HBO, and I noticed the reconstituted Voldemort sniffing as if he was smelling the air.  The problem being, he has no nose.  If he has no nose, how does he smell?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: harrie on July 22, 2007, 04:58:58 PM
AWFUL!!



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 22, 2007, 09:53:05 PM
Anchovy was enjoying Sunday dinner at his brother's house, Giles Lytton-Smythe, Duke of Argyle.  The beautiful weather inspired a picnic consisting of cucumber sandwiches and fresh strawberries, roasted pheasant, stewed lamprey, and


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 22, 2007, 11:18:09 PM
watercress soup.

A young man of noble physiognomy strode across the lawn with great purpose.  He walked right up to Anchovy, removed his right glove, and bitch-slapped him.

"I say!" responded Anchovy, "So it's fisticuffs you want young fellow?"

"No," retorted the young Earl of Essex.  "I just felt like bitch-slapping you, old man, that's all."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 22, 2007, 11:19:09 PM
"And another thing," cried Essex.  "Your physiognomy is bestial.  What are you doing with title and a manor, anyway?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on July 23, 2007, 02:16:32 AM
For to it you were most certainly not born, fortuitously, because your gifts are so badly needed by the proletariat, especially those twirling lariats in that show put on by Will, while Rogering Jill...or was that Ginger?  Aieeee, Dios mio! So many so famous for such short tiempos, what's a reeling (or even a videotaping) brain to conceive, or rather, to germinate underground as in Germinal wherein so very many were terminal, as in Cleveland's Tower, wherein tennis was played as on the courts where the revolutionary oath was ta'en, a vow as etern' as e'er the Marseillaise, or e'en the Mayonnaise..I mean, the Internationale.  And which is the better chanson?  Je ne sais pas, tant pis, mon dieu, et sacre bleu!

Au revoir, mes enfants. Je tu veux un tres bon reve.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 23, 2007, 09:24:39 AM
And then the unholy hybrid of William S. Burroughs and Alain Robbe-Grillet took his leave, ducking through the privet hedge, and rushing off across the moor in hopes of finding


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 23, 2007, 09:35:18 AM
his attorney, St. Eve of Baldpate, who had recently fled the wild and trackless wastes of Cleveland in search of civilization and tastier pizza.  When he failed to show for work this Monday morning, no one but Essex realized that he had lost himself in the moors which lay between DeKalb and Chicago.  Anchovy, whose estate lay on the grounds of Fermilab, directly over the pulsing heart of the cyclotron, had been subdued into aristocratic complacency by the giant magnets which lay underground, and would be of no use in the search for St. Eve. 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: madupont on July 23, 2007, 11:45:46 AM
For your benefit, this blog has been submitted for analysis to the Maimonides Hospital psychiatric department.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 23, 2007, 12:39:01 PM
St. Eve's legal assistant, May Mona-Dees, was beside herself with worry.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 23, 2007, 01:04:18 PM
Which she had been able to accomplish solely by virtue of her secret expirements in human cloning


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 23, 2007, 06:36:48 PM
until she had ended up with just a head with a mouth on it, quite disgusting.

"I suppose you expect me not to go to the press with this," said a thin little man in green seersucker. 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 23, 2007, 06:39:15 PM
Off topic: I was idly watching the end of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on HBO, and I noticed the reconstituted Voldemort sniffing as if he was smelling the air.  The problem being, he has no nose.  If he has no nose, how does he smell?

No doubt he smells rather badly - I doubt that sort bathes regularly, my dear whiskey.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 24, 2007, 10:22:19 AM
Essex wandered the outer ring of Fermilab calling out for St. Eve, in a clipped British accent that dropped syllables and rendered it as "Steve."  Distracted, he missed various warning signs, and stumbled directly over a giant buried accelerator magnet which pulled on various rivets, buttons, old trolley tokens, some Uzbeki currency which contained lots of ferrous metal alloys, and aristocratic bling, all with tremendous force and thus pulled him to the ground where he was pinned and helpless.

Bart, who was passing through en route to a bluegrass festival in Newfoundland, spotted the wriggling man and came over to see if he could help.  Wearing only a faded teeshirt and copper-riveted jeans, he felt the magnet's tug only as a mild depression and sense of world-weary ennui, as the iron molecules in his blood were urged downwards toward his feet by the laws of physics. 

"The first thing you need to do," said Bart, "is...

 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on July 24, 2007, 10:40:06 AM
...breath deeply,then as I pull you exhale and if it hurta you are fobidden to swear or say any 4 letter-word.Long lettered words like gadalmitee are permitted...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on July 24, 2007, 10:42:15 AM
note the 1st. (A is S just typing with my thumb)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 24, 2007, 11:21:43 AM
the first thing you need to do is say "Uncle".

"Dash it all, you fool," cried Essex.  "Do you KNOW who I am?  I am the great-grand-son forty times removed from Edward III!"

"Say "Uncle", you


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on July 24, 2007, 11:43:59 AM
say Uncle and smile you bastard!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on July 24, 2007, 11:52:32 AM
UNCLE! ONCLE! TIO! ZIO! FADDER/MOTTER BRODDER!
"Now grab my foot and pull me out if thee pleases"
"See I am the descendant of this guy:

   http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0405094/plotsummary

There fore I am related to one Whiskey-Preest who was the Konfessor to a certain Sekt of the Search Feature, whci BYTW would be gladly appreciated if included in this here blog".


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 25, 2007, 10:12:53 AM
"Remove your pants," said Bart, "and I think you can free yourself."

"Free myself in what sense," said the Earl of Essex, and winked.  The family gift of good humour under duress had reasserted itself.  He wriggled out of his pants and managed to stand, though the supermagnet still tugged painfully on his horrible British teeth and his garter snaps.

"Did you just spell humor with a 'u', sir?" asked Bart, looking around nervously.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" asked Essex.  "We are characters within the narrative, not observers of the meta-narrative, you dolt!"

"Don't call me a dolt," said Bart, fingering his



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on July 25, 2007, 12:47:44 PM
nose...







A nasty habit formed when he had that misfortunate


Title: Re:BRING BACK,BRING BACK ,O BRING BACK THE SEARCH FEATURE AGAIN AGAIN
Post by: martinbeck3 on July 25, 2007, 12:53:43 PM
accident where he lost his manly attributes.

"Please as you tow me out answer these existentialist questions:

1.where would the inverted commas go, before or after the full stop
2.to be or otherwise."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 25, 2007, 02:36:49 PM
No castration scenes please....especially where Bart is concerned.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 25, 2007, 02:42:15 PM
"Remove your pants," said Bart, "and I think you can free yourself."

"Free myself in what sense," said the Earl of Essex, and winked.  The family gift of good humour under duress had reasserted itself.  He wriggled out of his pants and managed to stand, though the supermagnet still tugged painfully on his horrible British teeth and his garter snaps.

"Did you just spell humor with a 'u', sir?" asked Bart, looking around nervously.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" asked Essex.  "We are characters within the narrative, not observers of the meta-narrative, you dolt!"

"Don't call me a dolt," said Bart, fingering his



waxed mustache, which he had dyed blood red for a special occasion.

"By God, sir!  In the name of all that is holy, please direct me as to how to proceed!" cried the Earl.  "I'm afraid of getting caught with my pants down!"

"Okay, take it easy," said Bart, in his most soothing voice.  "I am an experienced magnetic force negotiator, so take a few deep breaths and repeat after me:  I am an English nobleman.  My bare ass is a treat for all to see..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 26, 2007, 09:01:19 AM
Destruction."  Barry said.  "Yeah, my blood’s so mad feels like coagulatin’ and I’m sitting here just contemplatin’...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 26, 2007, 10:17:22 AM
the total meltdown of the narrative into cute nonsequiturs and one-liners."

"Meta-narrative again!" cried Essex.  "Is that allowed?"

St. Eve emerged from a copse, whatever that is, and brushed leaf bits off his silk trousers.  "Whatever is not expressly forbidden," he said, "is permitted."

"Where the bloody blancmange have YOU been?" cried Essex.

"Back there," replied St. Eve, pointing back at the copse.  "I go there to clear my mind and sometimes, when the mood strikes...."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 26, 2007, 10:46:07 AM
but then, I never meta-narrative I didn't like.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 26, 2007, 11:05:00 AM
[:-0]

St. Eve walked over a buried supermagnet and the oysters, rich in iron, which he had had for lunch, violently ejected from his body.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on July 26, 2007, 11:55:19 AM
in a tiny space craft that had made in his intestines from


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 26, 2007, 01:15:22 PM
steel wool, tapeworm skeletons, and a mass of undigested pubic hair he had swallowed while


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 26, 2007, 03:01:33 PM
performing an unspeakable act upon himself.

"By Jove," said Essex, still face down on the ground with his naked ass glowing for all to see.  "When are you going to free my ass from this dilemma?  Tell you what, I'll give you one of the family manors - it's Strathwood, a lovely place in the peat bogs of southern Scotland."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 27, 2007, 11:07:44 AM

"How can it be called Strath-WOOD," asked Bart, "if it's in a bog?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 27, 2007, 01:50:57 PM
"Well we could hardly name it Strathbog Manor, could we?  Perhaps we should change it to Strathmore Manor?  Peat's Palace, maybe?  What would you suggest?  Aside from the bogs, it's a lovely place.   It's where all of our family's invalids have been sent for centuries, particularly if they had consumption or the King's Evil."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on July 29, 2007, 10:42:12 AM



Any fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius-and a lot of courage-to move in the opposite direction. - Albert Einstein


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 29, 2007, 01:41:22 PM
"Was he?" asked Bart.

"Was who what?"

"Was the king evil?  You said family members were sent there if they had consumption, or the king's evil."

"Now this is where meta-narrative could really help," said Essex.  "If you paid attention, you would notice that I wasn't stipulating that people would be sent to Strathwood in the event that the king was evil, for you would have discerned the use of an upper case 'K' and 'E' and made the inference that 'King's Evil' was a name, describing some sort of affliction, i.e a medical condition.  Also, may I point out that we have had more than one king of England, which made your question not only obtuse but ignorant."

"Well," said Bart, "you do have quite a stick up your butt, don't you?  But what else could one expect of an inbred toffee-nosed snot who cares more for the arrangement of silverware than the welfare of his fellow man?  See if you get any help from me again!"

"Could you hand me my pants?" asked Essex, seemingly unruffled.

"You have to be kidding!" cried Bart.

"You instructed me to see if I could get any further help from you.  Asking for my pants seemed like a simple way to perform this test."

At this point, E.M. Forster materialized, due to a problem that Fermilab had been having with small dimensional rips in spacetime.  "Stop this right now," cried Forster.  "Has no one here read my 'Aspects of the Novel'?  Does no one here know the FIRST THING about writing fiction?  This is just horrible, horrible, horrible!  You need to simply start over!  And I don't mean having nutria evolve intelligence and taking over the planet after the human race destroys itself!"




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on July 30, 2007, 12:12:53 PM
St. Eve collapsed to the firm turf of Fermilab and, with a horrendous groan, gave birth to a horde of huge writhing alien snakes.

As death drew near, the Earl of Essex leaned close to the dying balding plump attorney and asked, "Have you got a valediction, boy?"

"Keizer Sozay!" grunted St. Eve.

"Who?" said Bart and Essex, in unison.

"Rollo Tomassi!" cried St. Eve.

"Sounds like some eye-talian fellow," said Essex.

"Rosebud!!" screamed St. Eve.

"Never mind that," said Bart, ever practical and always with small nodules in his armpits that kept scaring the hell out of him, so he was accustomed to fear.  "We need to kill these huge alien snakes before they---AAAAAIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!"

"Quite right," said Essex.  "Perhaps a sharp pointed stick or a heavy----AAAAUUUGHGGGGHHHHH!"

"Urlghrgk!" said St. Eve and died.

The snakes began to reproduce and soon had taken over the entire human race by invading recti and then taking control of the host body.  Annoying ad jingles, in human brains,  were replaced by stern commands to begin building vast underground burrows and mouse ranches.

Another alien race, known as the WeeniePie, took pity on suffering humanity and nuked the Earth into smithereens.

THE END



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on July 30, 2007, 12:54:22 PM
The Weeniepie Irritates My Eye Part II

It was a stark and dormy night....on planet Weenie...the firestorms were unusually fierce that time of year, after the Weeniepie Winter Solstice event...

Oh, it's no use!  I can't write sci-fi!!!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on July 30, 2007, 01:35:13 PM
-neither can I-

PREFACE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1

It was the day and the hour...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 01, 2007, 11:18:18 AM
of the Weeniepie invasion of Earth.  The alien fleet darkened the skies of the planet's great cities.  On board the battleships, the grills were being fired up.  The chubby residents of North America, busy with their own grills (for it was Saturday evening), continued to flip and baste, heedless of the looming menace and of their own intrinsic


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 01, 2007, 03:26:38 PM
tendency to take the good times for granted.  "Poo-weeeeee!"  shouted Bordelon, sweating over his giant grilll covered with freshly-killed nutria.  "Dis gonna be some good eatin', yeah.  But I'd swear I smelled sulfur."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 03, 2007, 09:14:55 AM
Next door, in his small duplex, Gregor Samsonite woke up and also noticed the odd smell, like hardboiled eggs that had sat out too long.  What are those tout-a-fait foux cajuns up to now, he wondered, as he tried to sit up and rub the sleep crumbs out of his eyes.  The effort required was too great and he sank back onto his pillow.  Ca m'est egale, he sighed.  Ca 
ne fait rien.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on August 03, 2007, 11:30:54 AM
Hey we need a title!",Gregor Samsonite said coming out of his autistic slumber
and also we need to know who will play me in the movie and who will be my leading lady.Please the director is not to be master Spielberg otherwise he will turn me into a gigantic coakroach and only use my voice.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 03, 2007, 09:53:35 PM
Suddenly, there was a banging on Samsonite's door.  When he opened it, he saw a short, swarthy man with nothing on but cut-offs holding out a huge plate.  "Nutria cook-off!" he shouted.  "Mais yeah, dis damn near as good as dem crawdaddies, but dey not in season non.  Come on over an pass a good time.  We got some Dixie Beer and moonshine too.  Besides, my cousin Peanut has a crush on you."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 04, 2007, 10:47:42 AM
"Thanks," said Gregor.  "Could I get some backstory on you, Bordelon, when I drop by?  I never hung out at the NYT creative writing forum, so I'm only dimly aware of the history behind you and Gordon and Harold and Chlotilde and several others."

"Ah, taint no grande chose, mon ami," said Bordelon.  "It's all about cajuns and le clichay [ain't got that acute accent mark figgered out on mah keyboardelon] an' good grillin'!"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on August 05, 2007, 12:56:49 AM
while chillin' 'n' eatin' chitlins, occasionally firin' dey gats in Gatlinburg, eatin' burgers with de burghers 'n' de bourgeoisie who bought dat ol' Bushwha before gettin' Bushwhacked in d'ambush d'Amboise, or autrefois the Contra contretemps aka much of Annie's ado 'bout dat farce by Tammy Fay (RIP) deaux dough do-re-mi, which every god blesses de chile's 'at's got his own, has got his own...   


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on August 05, 2007, 01:19:56 AM
What! Have they got lions in there or something? March it right back out again. It's too late sir. There are reports of graffiti—orders, plans—you know, and—urination. Lots of urination, And a stall—young lady— cheeseburgers. Problem's in the north, sir. There is only a door, but you said, you said—I didn't say anything of the sort son (Get the army, get the chesseburgers). 'Lone jogger, Lone jogger', those were my instructions. Jenkins—where's Jenkins, the adapters—the adapters are fine sir. So let me get this straight. A small army is currently marching through my hub and all the while there's a lady selling cheeseburgers? You got it in one sir—but it gets worse—someone has gotten their hands on your triggers—we're firing blanks all over the eastern wall...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 05, 2007, 01:53:05 PM
"and that's all we're reading tonight," said Gordon, and closed the book.

His niece, Juliette Malvoisin-Putain, protested in a shrill voice, a voice very far from sleepiness.

"But Uncle Gordie, I just love Tennessee Williams's mescaline diaries!  They give me such strange dreams!  More, more!"

"Well, just a little bit more, and then you must promise to be good when I stop, because then it will really be bedtime."

"Thank you, Uncle Gordie!"

Gordon opened the book again, found his place, and began to read....





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Kam on August 06, 2007, 12:21:32 PM
But he didn't get very far... after reading the same line three separate times he knew he needed to rest so he laid the book under his head and went to sleep.  In his sleep he experienced a beautiful and scary dream.  An infinitely scaled dragon reared itself up and in the scales Gordon could see his ancestors.  All the way to the top of the dragon, where his eyeballs contained the faces of his mother and father.  It all made perfect sense now.  At least as long as he didn't have to explain it to anybody. 

Niece juliette woke him with a smack on the knee!

"Sorry jujie... i must have drifted off there.  I had a beautfiul dream."

"You were asleep for 3 seconds Uncle!!!  What did you dream about?"

"I can't remember honey.  And it dissapoints me so..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 07, 2007, 09:29:27 AM
Gordon began to tickled Juliette mercilessly, thus venting his frustration on a small and defenseless child while giving the appearance of engaging in wholesome and harmless play.

"Hehehehehehe," cried Juliette.  "Stoppp!  Read some more of the mescaline diaries, Uncle!  Pleeeaaaase!"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 07, 2007, 11:52:56 AM
"Say Uncle!" cried Gordon fiendishly.

"I already did!" cried the helpless child.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 08, 2007, 09:45:46 AM
"You must say 'Uncle' in the form of a single-word exclamatory sentence," said Gordon, digging his fingers into the soft flesh under Juliette's ribcage.

"UNCLE!" shrieked the little girl, and then kicked Gordon in the balls, for punctuation.

Gordon moaned and slid to the floor, clutching himself. 

"Sorry, Uncle Gordie," said Juliette, peering over the edge of the bed with concern.

"It's okay," he gasped.  "This kind of behavior is probably the fault of--"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on August 08, 2007, 11:06:43 AM
...your mother who never had any manners,beautiful as she was


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on August 08, 2007, 04:28:39 PM
her annoying habit of trimming her ear and hair nose in public while


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on August 08, 2007, 10:00:56 PM
hula-hooping nude -- no -- wait -- that was someone else -- also known for her astounding beauty and her uncanny ability to not only intuit that Bart is indeed Lanky and never allows flesh (other than hers of course) to touch his lips (iguana smooth as they can be from so much licking).  But she was better known for, well, that was then and this is now...

Which brings us to, dear summer readers, another chapter. 

It was the summer of 2007 and the players and the writers were an odd mix of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 09, 2007, 09:58:39 AM
nefarious characters with the peculiar habit of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 09, 2007, 11:12:48 AM
storing their clean undies in canopic jars while waiting for the return of the Slinky.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on August 09, 2007, 11:23:36 AM
Some of these writers lived in winter while the others lived in summer.Odd are the ways of the world.

The dirty undies they burnt on Thursdays in honour of Thor the mitee god of thunder.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on August 09, 2007, 11:26:02 AM
Others were quite unable to write much at all, having crumpled over in a fit of giggles, leaving only a trace of


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 09, 2007, 12:36:43 PM
smeared ink in their wake.

Meanwhile, Puglover had at last been released from Sing-Sing for good behavior (easy for him since there were no pugs in prison and he had remade himself into an amateur detective).  He had to register as a pug sex offender with the ASPCA and the Humane Society in his home town of San Rafael, California within one week of his release.

As he stepped out of the prison gate, he was greeted by a PETA member who had gotten wind of his release, one Madge Mulroney.  She was joined by the owners of Puglover's victims, all shouting and carrying signs that said things like "Bestiality is Not for Animals" and "Perverts Aren't Good Enough for Pugs".

"Pugloving PIG!!!!!" shouted Madge, who sported a bad haircut and a two-inch long, curling white whisker under her chin.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 09, 2007, 03:33:10 PM
A zaftig bleached blonde appeared out of nowhere and shoved Madge.  "Don't you be talking smack to my man!" she shouted.  "Puggie!" she cried.  "It's me, Cookie!"

"YOU'RE Cookie?" Pug replied with a tinge of alarm in his voice.  Cookie had located Pug through an internet inmate site and they had been corresponding for several months.  "Hmmmm," thought Pug.  "Those rolls around her neck, that small nose, those round, bulging eyes..."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on August 09, 2007, 11:51:48 PM
"Oh wait, it's you Winnie!" said she to the ghost of Churchill at the Downs, though he wasn't particularly right then, his black dog having departed for the environs o' Styron for a while, during which....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 10, 2007, 11:06:20 AM
time the Slinky did indeed make a comeback and there were no stairs one could climb in peace.  Thus the obesity crisis worsened and soon...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on August 10, 2007, 11:38:39 AM
it was time to put a rubber band round her stomach and she thinned into what Tom Wolfe calls a beautiful walking corpse.

"I am a Cooke from Boston",said the ex-obese blond.
"What a cook in Boston! Now I see why you were so fat" replied...

 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: madupont on August 10, 2007, 08:58:20 PM
...the thunderbolt from the Cisalpine championship down hill racers

"Wannna see my Sphanx", said Blondine snapping her gum.  "Your name
is Floyd, right?".


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on August 12, 2007, 06:44:25 PM
They were called Ponchoboy and Rangergirl:

http://sphanx.deviantart.com/activity/

Everybody mistook them for Blondine and Floyd who used to wear:

http://www.figleaves.com/uk/nsf/qwiser.asp?term=Spanx&src=ggrowa056z

not sexy at all.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 13, 2007, 12:42:58 PM
"Funny," said Gordon, "I was just thinking about a plate of shrimp and then, next you know, I was reading the paper and there was this article about shrimp."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 13, 2007, 12:51:08 PM
"That is odd," said Lao-Tzu, as he tossed another prawn on the hibachi.  "But that is the way of the Tao."

"The way that can be spoken of," said Gordon, "is not the Way.  Can I have one of those?"

"Knock yourself out," said Lao-Tzu.

"Really?" said Gordon.

"Sure," said Lao-Tzu.

Gordon rammed his head into the garage and collapsed on the lawn.

"Hmm," said Jung, around a big bite of Polish sausage.  "Synchronicity.  You say 'knock yourself out' and next thing you know, he is knocked out.  And I was thinking about a plate of shrimp, too.  Anything but more of this sausage."

"A journey to the hibachi begins with a single step," said Lao-Tzu.

"Shut your fucking piehole," said Jung.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 13, 2007, 01:21:13 PM
"So tell me, Gordon," said Jung, tamping down the tobacco(?) in his hand-carved pipe.  "What sort of dreams have you had lately?  I interpret them, you know.  Dreams, that is.  Did you know that the body informs the subconscious mind?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 14, 2007, 09:20:49 AM
Gordon, unconscious on the lawn, seemed to understand the concept perfectly.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 14, 2007, 10:36:02 AM
"I would interpret your dreams, Gordon, if only you were conscious and lucid."  Jung was growing bored.  "If only Sigmund were here," he thought to himself.  "I'd give him a run for his money."

A dark shadow appeared over Jung, who was reclining in a lounge chair waiting for the Perseid shower.  "Tell me what MY dream means, Doc."

Jung looked up and broke out into a cold sweat.  It was...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on August 14, 2007, 12:53:51 PM
...Dr.Freud peeing against the old sycamore tree that had been ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 14, 2007, 01:24:47 PM
the site of Dr. Jung's treehouse, where he went to...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: madupont on August 14, 2007, 04:02:30 PM
 watch you-tube

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6BEsZMvrq-I&eurl=


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on August 14, 2007, 05:45:26 PM
This, of course, simply underlines the fact that you don't have to live in a tree-house to be f***ing nuts.  Furthermore,


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on August 14, 2007, 05:52:27 PM
you don't have to be f***ing nuts to live in a tree-house.


And certainly...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 14, 2007, 08:36:07 PM
if you dream you're fucking nuts, you're not fucking nuts, you're fucking dreaming.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on August 14, 2007, 09:33:27 PM
or dreaming about same, which is ever so much more common than even the ubiquitous peanut in its multitudinous guises so feared by those easily shocked, anaphylactically speaking, which explains why...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 15, 2007, 09:52:16 AM
Mr. Peanut is a symbol of mortality, in most dreams.  Of course, if you say "peanuts" real fast and mumble, they could be a symbol of something else.

"Tell me more, Dr. Jung," cried Anna Felaxos, the Greek beauty and peanut heiress, appearing on the lawn from some indeterminate prior location, as the rich often do.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 15, 2007, 11:39:03 AM
Mr. Peanut is a symbol of mortality, in most dreams.  Of course, if you say "peanuts" real fast and mumble, they could be a symbol of something else.

"Tell me more, Dr. Jung," cried Anna Felaxos, the Greek beauty and peanut heiress, appearing on the lawn from some indeterminate prior location, as the rich often do.



"Anna Felaxos" --- LOVE IT!!!!!!!   :D


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 15, 2007, 03:49:45 PM
"Ach!  Anna, you aren't worth peanuts, but I'll give you a free session anyway...I'm getting bored with my pipe, so here goes.  Tell me about the most recent dream you've had."

Anna's eyes rolled heavenward as she considered her dreams.  "Well, Dr. Jung, I suppose the most disturbing dream I've had lately is one in which I am back in the halls of my high school butt naked.  I'm feeling really self-conscious about it, but no one seems to notice yet.  So, I try to appear confident and perky as usual.  All of a sudden, a huge, pink, glistening blob is rolling down the hall, engulfing all the students in its wake.  A white horse appears, and I grab its mane and jump up on it, riding it bareback.  I'm still feeling humiliated because I'm naked, but those feelings begin to diminish because my schoolmates are dying all around me so there are fewer to see my nakedness.  Did I mention that my nail and toenails weren't manicured, either?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 15, 2007, 09:57:49 PM
"The dream is a sign that you are terminally ill," droned Jung.  "Your nakedness inside a high school being attacked by a giant kidny signifies a nephrological crisis brewing, while the white horse always means death.  You subconscious already knows you are going to die a terrible death quite soon, my dear, and it is trying to inform you of that fact."

"But why are my toenails and fingernails unmanicured?" asked Ms. Felaxos asked.

"They represent the decay of the flesh, the horrors of corruption, the conqueror worm, the


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on August 16, 2007, 12:12:28 AM
ones that crawl in and out while others play pinochle on your divine little upturned snout.  Which reminds me, my dear, I do hope you won't consider paying off your plastic surgeons' bills before you pay mine.  After all...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 16, 2007, 10:07:55 AM
that nose of yours is soon going to rot off your face..."

"Please!" cried Anna.  "I feel like part of the Danse Macabre!



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 16, 2007, 10:10:47 AM
"Sorry," said Jung, "I haven't seen any of Travolta's dance movies since Saturday Night Fever."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 16, 2007, 10:28:32 AM
Plucky Anna rose up to her full height of 4'8" and held her chin out as she defiantely launched into a righteously indignant rebuttal. 

"I am NOT going to die and my nose is NOT going to rot off my face, you bearded boob, you Swiss cheese-faced bastard, you charleton, you quack!  I am a peanut heiress, my ancestors have grown peanuts in South Georgia for centuries!  We boil them, we roast them, we use them as tools and implements - why, you have no idea what all we do with them!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 16, 2007, 10:38:45 AM
"Well, mah deah, Ah don't know you-wah fam-ly, but eh-vuh-body knows about mah peanut fahm in Plains."

It was Jimmy Carter in the same blue cashmere sweater he had worn 30 years previously in his fireside chats. 

Anna knew she had been outed.  It didn't take much to make Miss Felaxos confess to her pretensions.

"Okay, I lied," she said.  "I don't have a south Georgia accent, but I banked on Dr. Jung here not recognizing, if you know what I mean..."

"So you confess you are not who you seem," drawled President Carter.

"Lying indicates a sense of entitlement, one of the hallmarks of neurosis," mumbled Dr. Jung.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on August 16, 2007, 06:08:09 PM
"You have made a mistake Dr. Jung," said Dr. Freud as he apporached biting on his pipe hard so his false teeth wouldn´t drop -there were no tooth implants in the last century,writers note(worthy).
" The white horse means raving sex.See Equus."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 18, 2007, 04:09:23 PM
The Vomitorium

Meanwhile back at the Vomitorium, Gordon paused a moment…
 
They were all there as usual. All the inmates…

After the Titanic sank, they’d simply jumped in a lifeboat and moved over to a new Ship of Fools.

There was the Argentine diva and the Georgia Peach…

The cranky Bosox playing with himself…

What’s her name reading her New Yorker

There was Henry James, as usual, cruIsing Miles and Peter Quint.

What a nice pair of lovers they made…

Madame De Farge knitting there by the pool…scowling at the men.

She had that jaundiced guillotine look in her eyes…

How she hated Mexican food—especially big enchiladas

Donny secretly smoking his cigarettes in the locker-room…

Whiskey gorging himself on squirrel ice cream…

Hoffman, Reader, Charles & Sussman playing bridge…

Mad in her straitjacket meandering away as usual…

Liquid Silver plotting revenge & revolution…

Lifeline dead in the deep end of the pool…

Gordon yawned. Ho-hum…

Some things just don’t change


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 19, 2007, 04:02:02 PM
Gordon scratched himself.  When the itch had been relieved, he opened to the next chapter of The Mescaline Diaries of William Faulkner, and began to read...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 19, 2007, 09:32:34 PM
The Vomitorium (cont)

“What is that gawd-awful putrid smell?”

Gordon wrinkled his nose—looking around the pool.

“That’s our new guest,” said Desdemona.

She pointed over to the poor creature moiling about with Bosox in the corner under the ratty palms. They were busy discussing something rather heatedly—and every once in awhile Bosox would stop and cut a fart. They weren’t normal farts—they were exceptionally putrid fetid farts that stank to high heaven…

“Such rude foul-smelling Flatulence,” said Gordon, almost gagging into the pool. Gripping the sides of his chaises-lounge, he bent over almost vomiting but controlled himself.

“If you think that’s bad,” said Desdemona, “wait till you meet Bosox’s buddy, Weeeeeezo the Whacko.”

Weeeeeezo the Whacko? Oh, that one. The one over in Meandering forum who raised such a ruckus over that tacky queer Rummy-Fireman butt-fuck photo? So that’s him.”

“Yeah, that’s Weeeeeezo, honey,” said Desdemona.

“I see,” said Gordon. “That’s why Weeeeeezo likes Bosox?”

“You got it, girl,” said Desdemona.

One could actually see the greenish-stench drift over the pool like swamp gas in somebody’s terrible bayou nightmare…

Gordon shook his head. “Christ, another Flatulence Queen.”



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 20, 2007, 11:18:16 AM
Gordon sighed as the bubble of prose moved through his gut and rushed out into the quiet summer air that hung like a moist towlette over the exercise yard of Chanter-Chanter prison.  He continued to read.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 20, 2007, 12:54:23 PM
"I hate the South!  I hate the South!  All that roiling despair, the putried decay of old matrons in their web-infested shanties tripping their pubes off and crying out 'Mah day-bew!  May day-bew!'  All of them are bitter, clinging to decaying gauze dresses and wishing their beau of 60 years past will appear once again midst the riot of jasmine and honeysuckle, whispering of their love of the South and their upcoming sacrifice..."

"Ugh," muttered Gordon, as his sour stomach continued to roil.  "This decaying South stuff is hard to digest..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on August 20, 2007, 01:08:20 PM
He flipped to the end, and read further:

"Now I want you to tell me just one thing more. Why do you hate the South?"

"I don't hate it," Quentin said quickly, at once, immediately; "I don't hate it," he said. I don't hate it, he thought, panting in the cold air, the iron New England dark; I don't. I don't! I don't hate it. I don't hate it.

Well, he figured, done with that book!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 21, 2007, 10:07:20 AM
Oh, Dixie!  The rich verbal polychromes of an unthinkable vast decay where old times are not forgotten!  11:38 PM in the garden of formerly good and once thought to be evil!  Galveston, oh Galveston, I can hear your poets breaking warm wind!  Eudora, I am getting welty from the sharp sting of your magnolia-ridden missives, now that you no longer live at the PO!  Thomas Wolfe, thank the good Lord that you didn't wear white suits and call yourself Tom! (you NEVER could have gone home again, if you'd pulled that kind of pretentious crap!)  I hope Neil Young will remember, the southern man don't need him 'round anyhow!  I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by kudzu, angelheaded hipsters searching for that ancient heavenly connection in Tennessee's bunghole, their Duboises blanched by the unremitting kindness of pious strangers!  Oh, Absalom!  Tiz summer and the darkies are gay, catfish are jumpin, and the cotton is high!  Ahmoanavabeer!



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 21, 2007, 10:23:11 AM
Tears streamed down Gordon's face as he "went all sentimental" on the old South.  "Time to head to Stone Mountain for the laser show," he thought.  He knew he could go there and be joined by a hundred or so stars n bars wavers who adored indulging themselves in maudlin sentimentality over what they perceived the South once was.  There, before the rock edifice where the figures of Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and some other random Confederate officer were carved, he could watch laser-light covered wagons (wheels turning) progressing to their destination of the new territory (but wait - Georgia seems awfully far to the east for covered wagons, doesn't it? thought Gordon), accompanied by southern music.  The climax of the show came as Elvis' "Dixie" began to play and tears began to flow.  The grand finale featured the stone horses on which the stone confederate officers were riding coming to life and galloping off. 

"Shake it off," thought Gordon, walking away in quiet reverie.  "Just think, back then they didn't even have air conditioning!"

"What a ridiculous spectacle that was," someone behind him said.  "What is the deal with these morons, anyway?"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 21, 2007, 02:06:18 PM
Gordon felt relieved and inspired as he drove back home that night.  Suddenly he realized Why He Was Here on This Earth.

"I'll become a famous southern novelist!"  he thought.  "Seems easy enough."

He immediately tackled his newly-hatched project. 

'CHAPTER 1' he typed.

'Yes, we had an idiot in our family, too,' he wrote.  'Who in the South doesn't?  But the Barton/Parton clan was way ahead of that game.  We had a miscreant, an alcoholic, a slut, a saint, a grandpappy, a crazy cousin, and a deaf guy.  We lived in a village called Shoot and Maim in the bowels of Alabama.  We lived on cornpone and black-eyed peas.

One day Daisy, our squeaky-clean sister, came home with a man we had never seen before.  He had a funny kind of way of talking, and I didn't much like the slick-um he wore on his hair.  Still, he seemed oddly familiar.'




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 21, 2007, 04:18:10 PM
"Ya'll," said Daisy.  "This is Adam Hornswoggle, the man I love."

'There could be no sanctification of the Parton/Barton clan now.  The visions of Daisy in the steamy sickly dew-soaked grass with this obvious city-slicker made my veins bulge to the brink of bursting as a small hammer began to tap tap tap inside my brain, making me curse the day she was born instead of worshiping at her feet as I always had.

"Daisy smells like leaves!  Daisy smells like leaves!" cried my second cousin once removed A.J., whom we called "Butch" for short.

"How do you do?" said the stranger in the strangest patois I ever heard in my life.

"You're a Yankee, ain't ye?" said Pops, our bewizened little grandfather.  "I seen the likes of you and your'n before, young feller."  Pops got up slowly from his rocking chair and left the room.

"But he's a good mayun, Pops," said young Daisy as I sweated out my shirt and cursed the day I was born.

A loud report and a scream are all I remember.  And blood, I remember that too.   Oh, and my pinhead brother Jehosephat squealing and banging his head on the wall.  That's all I remember.  And the coloring draining out of Aunt Mildred's face leaving it whiter than a magnolia blossom in summer.  I do remember that...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 21, 2007, 08:19:08 PM
Adam Hornswoggle?” whispered Aunt Mildred...

“Not the Adam Hornswoggle!!!!!”

A hush fell over the room. Everybody looked at each other.

Jehosephat the cute pinhead stopped banging his head against the wall. Even he knew who Adam Hornswoggle was…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on August 21, 2007, 09:39:00 PM
Whacked-Out Weezo surveyed the scene. Everyone seems screamingly content and no one was sniffing belly button fuzz. The Peugley Puget was sitting grandly alone. Weezo, sidled over to the Pug, flipped up her red siren's dress, assumed the pose, and blew the greasiest, nastiest fart in her repertoire. The Pug turned violet, then purple, then a ghastly green. Finally the Pug passed out, and Wacked-out Weezo, in her best diva walk, sauntered over to the litter box to finish what she had started. No need to clean it up, she thought to herself, I know mine don't stink! Pug got all the flavor!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 22, 2007, 04:36:09 AM
"What in the world is that gawd-awful strange odor?" Pugeletta said.

Gordon/Puget was finding himself slowly but surely reviving from his fainting spell with the help of young Jehosephat. Jehosephat was such a cute nice little teenage pinhead. But then aren't they all? All teens are pinheads -- at least some parents and most HS English teachers think so...

Young Jehosephat reminded Gordon a little bit of Benjy the hopeless stream-of-consciousness retard in The Fart and the Fury, a stirring novel that Gordon worshipped as the epitome of Southern Literature.

In fact, the whole Barton/Parton family reminded Gordon of that novel...it was like suddenly finding himself in the living room in middle of a long drawn-out evening with Fanny Faulkner sipping her corn and taking note of her latest ongoing Mississippi melodrama, Go Down Mama...

As Gordon slowly revived from Weezo's sneaky stink-bomb, the whole lovely Barton/Parton clan came into focus.  There was the miscreant, the alcoholic, the slut, the saint, the grandpappy, the crazy cousin, and a deaf guy.  They all lived in a village called Shoot and Maim in the bowels of Alabama.  They lived on cornpone and black-eyed peas.

"Maybe that was the cause of the gawd-awful smell that knocked me out?" Gordon said to himself.

"That was no normal stink-bomb," Weezo said. Everybody turned to Weezo the crazy cousin.

"It was my secret weapon," Weezo said. "It's for shutting up wise-ass uppity Yankees like you, Gordon. You need to get off your high-horse, baby, and come on down to Yoknapatawpha reality with the rest of us a little bit, honey. Isn't that right, Jehosephat?"




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 22, 2007, 09:51:45 AM
Jehosephat continued to bang his head against the wall.  'NYUH NYUH, NYUH NYUH,' he gurgled.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 22, 2007, 10:25:22 AM
"Too much jumping," suggested Doctor Pangloss, freshly returned from his visit to Baja Arkansas. 



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 22, 2007, 10:41:57 AM
"Actually young Jehosephat was banging me, honey," Gordon said.

"I was the one getting my head banged against the wall..."

The Parton/Barton family stared at Gordon. They were shocked...simply shocked.

"Are all Yankee preverts this bad?" whispered Aunt Mildred...

Gordon yawned. He was beginning to feel himself again...after Cousin Weezo's sneaky fart attack out of the blue.

One never knows when the next fart will fall...

Jehosephat stood there in the center of the room...with this spastic child-idiot grin on his face...

"If only those cute quivering hair-lipped snotty lips could speak..." said Gordon.

"What is it about adolescent pinheads that make them so endearing...so exquisitely vulnerable...

Meanwhile Aunt Mildred...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on August 22, 2007, 11:01:25 AM
Grinning at the revived Pug, Cousin Weezo put a humongous pot on the fire, filled it with dry bean or every shape and color, added water and the ham bone discarded by the dog, and began to stir, and stir, and stir. Whacked-out Weezo knew that Pug would need another dose of Sneaky Fart to get to sleep tonight, and she didn't want to be caught without ammunition.

As she stired, Weezo sang a song:

Oh, the farts I fix, oh the farts I fix,
They are not flattened by noodles,
They are not tempered by macaroni,
They yield not to the bread whether fresh or moldy,
My farts they endure, endure, endure.

Oh, how I love my farts! Oh how I love my farts!
To flatulate is to ingratiate,
To see the smeark of pure pleasure,
By those who are posed by the open window,
By those who smell no more,
By those who enjoy the last staggering flatulence,
Before the solids descend.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on August 22, 2007, 11:10:06 AM
As the whacky one continued to stir, and stir, she recited a poem learned at her grandmother's knees:

Oh wood some god the giftee gi'e us
To smell our farts and ithers flee us
I twould frae many a blunder free us
And foolish notion.

With that she dropped into the pot a potent portion of Rosemary, to ensure that the flatulence fragrance was duly perfumed.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Lhoffman on August 22, 2007, 11:39:27 AM
LOL Anne...so much for the image of the staid schoolmarm.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 22, 2007, 11:50:46 AM
[one more contribution to the Flatus Canon...]

There once was a Scotsman named Barton,

Who was paid to refrain from all fartin',

Because his intestinal stench

Made strong stomachs clench,

And turned plain-colored walls into tartan.

 


Title: Re: Stream of What?
Post by: pugetopolis on August 22, 2007, 12:17:46 PM
Jehosephat was exceptionally mature for a young spastic sixteen year old pinhead…

…in fact, one could say young jehosephat was almost too mature and well-endowed…it was like all of jehosephat’s brains were getting slowly but surely squeezed out his shrinking little pinhead skull…down into his amazingly well-endowed young manhood downstairs…one could almost say…hesitantly of course…so as not to offend those, well, somewhat delicate, perhaps overly-sensitive southern sensibilities…not that alabama was known for its over-sensitivity for much anything at all anyway…other than breeding men, dogs and growing cotton…one could perhaps say to oneself…like gordon was always saying to himself…always speaking to himself out loud before he even thought about it…or rather speaking out loud so that he was thinking out loud…the way benjie compson the child-idiot in the fart and the fury was always thinking…not so much in a stream of words…not so much in stream of consciousness (stream of what?)…but rather thinking more or less in terms of a stream of images…both jehosephat and gordon always thinking in terms of a stream of pulp fiction images…true detective mystery story images…amazing stories pulp sci-fi takes…centered in some  bizarre everyday apocalyptic moment…pick a moment…any moment…each moment opening up…and swallowing the next moment…the earth groaning and moaning and splitting wide open…swallowing up pluto, persephone and all the fucking hogs…all of them tumbling straight down into the dark land of dis…down they go…while jehosephat clings to the now…clings to it desperately…trying to make sense of it…the linear lying dogs of straight narrative…barking at his heels…that’s what makes jehosephat so charming and brave…jehosephat has learned to live completely in the yoknapawtapha moment…not bothered like quentin, henry or colonel sutpen by time…not concerned with all that horrible southern gothic honeysuckle barforoini…all that mythopoetic civil war crap going on inside their heads…that’s what made jehosephat so charmingly attractive to gordon…plus jehosephat was, well, rather well-endowed…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 22, 2007, 12:19:53 PM
Aunt Mildred's sisters descended on the house, as was their wont on a Sunday afternoon.  There was Aunt Anna Parton Barton, Aunt Irma Lee, Aunt Ruth, and Aunt Eulabee.

"How ya'll been doin'?" asked Aunt Mildred.

"Fine, fine, mighty fine.  Can't complain, but this heat is dreadful.  You know I was speaking to our niece the other day and..."

"Which niece?" asked Aunt Anna.

"Ruthaby," replied Aunt Irma Lee.  "Anyway, she was telling me that Loyd Arlen {note to reader - Loyd Arlen Parton is the son of Uncle Loyd Parton} had him a good job in Jackson at the dry goods store, and he got fired for drinkin' hard liquor."

"I SWANEEE that Loyd Arlen!" exclaimed Aunt Ruth.  "That boy is a disgrace to the family!"

"Anyway," continued Aunt Irma Lee.  "I brought ya'll some of my homemade chow-chow."

"Oh well thank you, honey," said Aunt Mildred.  "I put up some fig preserves this week - here's jar of those for you."

"And I brought some of my pickled beets," replied Aunt Anna, pulling a jar out of her purse. "Surprise!"

"Chow-chow!  NYUH NYUH!" said Jehosephat.


Title: Re: Jumping Jehosephat
Post by: pugetopolis on August 22, 2007, 12:43:00 PM
Re: jumping jehosephat

: : : : : Does anyone know where the phrase jumping jehosephat came from?

: : : : Since nobody has so far, on this forum, been able to give a satisfactory answer to your question I propose in the words of Churchill (1874 - 1965) to classify it as '.a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma'.

: : : Except, of course, that Jehosephat was a king in the Bible.

: : The real riddle remains: why was he jumping and what provoked him so to do?

: I have read over the stories in the bible that discuss Jehosephat and none of them refer to him jumping. Maybe it is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. 

: : My Irish relatives would use the phrase "great Jumpin' Jaysus..." in much the same fashion. I suspect poor Jehosephat was jumping for the same reason that Orphan Annie's Leaping Lizards were leaping... it's alliterative, it's amusingly visual, and its just plain fun to say.

http://www.phrases.org.uk/bulletin_board/1/messages/2849.html


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 22, 2007, 12:47:23 PM
"The sound of the furry!" exclaimed Lula Mae Eulah-Belle Snopes-Magnolia-Ortiz.

"Music to mah ears," said Puget soundly.  Puget was the bastard child of James Joyce and Carson McCullers.

Jehosaphat jumped up and began to devour the pickled beets.  "Nggarrrrrrrrrunggghhh," he commented.

Grundoon crawled in from the Okeefenokee Swamp.  "Gbnx?" he asked.





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 22, 2007, 12:50:24 PM
[I think "jumping" is an emphatic sort of word added to Biblical names in order to produce a high-octane exclamation....I doubt that the historical Jehosephat was known for jumping....]



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 22, 2007, 01:19:50 PM
"No chow-chow for you, young feller," said Uncle Travis.  "No sirree.  You been out thar to the stables again, I can tell by the way Flossie is mooing."
 
"eihg!eigh!"

"Don't you argue with me, boy!  You better have some respect for youwah eldahs!" 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 22, 2007, 01:29:05 PM
"NYUH NYUH!  NYUH NYUH!"

"Somebody get that boy's blanket - that's all he wants," said Aunt Mildred.

"Here's youwah nah-nah, sugah,"  said Cousin Minnie, handing a banana to young Jehosephat.

NYUH NYUH!"

"AWWW - poor deflicted little ole thang," sighed Great Aunt Dixie, handing Jehosephat a jar of bread and butter pickles.  Heyuh, honey.  Play with these."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on August 22, 2007, 02:18:08 PM
While Jehosaphat was studying which end of the banana to suck first,
Wacked Out Weezo cackled as she continued to stir the thickening beans.

Beans, Beans, the musical fruit –
The more you eat the more you poot!

The beans were thickening as the atmosphere. The mid-day sun smoldered over the humidity thickened by the pot of stewing beans. The scent of honeysuckles wafted over the simmering caldron wilting the ham bones into a mush of muscle.

Weezo thought ahead to the days approaching when she would strap on the starched collar, unfurl the outdated map graciously donated by the Tight-A***d Geek Program updated by the artistic student who desperate needed the unearned D to march in June with his peers, refresh herself by rereading the files of Kneel and Bobb,  and the plans to bring them to Heel., and fulfilling her spring pledge to once again out gross the grossest the school board cast her way.

Wacked Out Weezo momentarily left the caldron to work its magic on its own, and to take a turn on the stump before the keyboard, to bang out some new viruses to apply to the worksheets she would hand out on the opening day of the school year ahead, asking the hapless fellows to put their summer into words. She would build bytes of bile to win her wayward charges to the ways of wisdom, to charge through the fog of fetid video games clouding their summer-drenched minds, to elicit from them the most regressive expressions of their festering intellects, and above all, to keep her charges, discarded from the ranks of normality, from infecting the pure minds and nostrils of their betters.

Armed with the wacked-out worksheets and a cup of rubber pencils, and girded by that stiff collar of the morally insane, Weezo would soon take her place at the front of her hoard of  unherdable hapharzards,  to out-wit the wittiest, out-mouth the mouthiest, out-reach the reachiest, out-stink the stinkiest, out-poet the poeticalless, out-steam the steamiest, out-politic the policalists, our-word the wordiest, out-mummble the mummbliest, out-nimble the nimbblist, out-preach the preachyest, out-grime the grimiest, out rut the ruttiest, out-run the fastest, out-funk the funkiest, outrage the most outrageous, and otherwise get the school year off to a good start.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 22, 2007, 02:27:45 PM
“Great Jumpin' Jaysus!!!” said Aunt Eulabee.  

Aunt Irma Lee shook her poor head…looking up to the stars overhead for heavenly guidance…

Aunt Ruth grabbed her jar of pickled beets and ran for the door...

Jehosephat had taken off his coveralls again—dancing around proudly displaying what Mother Nature gone-amok had so generously given the rambunctious young boy.

Mildred simply ignored the kid—she was used to it. And so was the rest of the family—they were all used to Jehosephat showing off. The visiting sisters were the only ones that were shocked. Or pretended to be shocked—probably to conceal their own pent-up rather excitable passions.

Gordon went into a swoon too—it was so goddamn hot and humid during the Alabama summers. Mint juleps were the only thing that made life bearable—but even that failed sometimes to cool Gordon off…

To spare the ladies any additional embarrassment, Gordon gently guided Jumpin Jehosephat from the living room -- out onto the verandah where things were more cool and relaxed. Jehosephat put on his earphones—the ones Gordon bought him—and got into it. Snoop Dog was getting down—and pretty soon Jehosephat was getting down too.

Ah, what a savage little hip-hop hoochie-coochie voodoo dance that louche young libidinous Jehosephat could do!!! Gordon had it all planned—he’d make a million bucks off Jehosephat next Mardi Gras in the French Quarter…talk about a sexy little freak. The rubes would die to see it...what a show!!!

Gordon lollygagged on the porch swing…enjoying the Southern decadent moment. The nuances… The lucrative nuances…

The sound of feet. Clompity-clomp down the stairs…and out to the car. The whole Parton family piling into the beat-up old Packard…heading off to church. The aunts already fanning themselves desperately…with their funeral parlor fans…

Zoom!!! Off they go…Gordon laughs.

“C’mon Jehosephat,” Gordon said. “Jump for me, baby!!!”

Jehosephat sho nuf could do that—he was good at it. With his earphones turned up loud…talk about a cute Pinhead Elvis the Pelvis…

It was all so exquisitely primitive and animalesque…yet smooth and streamlined too. Jehosephat was so inescapably captivatingly Snopesian decadent and down-low. Pinheads had to have sex too dontchaknow…

The bougainvilleas began feeling it—they started swaying with the music. The verandah slowly opened up like an ancient magnolia bloom—the ratty mosquito netting started swaying gently in the cunningly apocryphal Alabama breeze…

The odor of honeysuckle drifted through the air—making the Sunday morning even more sickeningly sweet…so sweet it almost gagged Gordon with the pure unadulterated giddiness and joy of the moment…

“Great Jumpin' Jaysus!!!”










Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 23, 2007, 01:35:27 AM
(http://images.tribe.net/tribe/upload/photo/ea3/057/ea3057a6-f0f6-4b8d-931d-4e658c685951)

Southern Pulp Fiction

Jimmy Dean and Jimmy Dean were twins—I couldn’t tell them apart. They were both from Biloxi—they lived with a girl named Norma Jean. We all lived in a rundown dumpy old mansion on Nicholson Drive north of campus—the boys and me were going to LSU. The ghetto landlord was going to tear the place down soon—so we were the last ones to live there. The rent was dirt cheap—I lived upstairs by myself. I had an outside staircase to my ratty hovel—I could see Huey P. Long’s tall skyscraper state capitol building from my window. I could smell the levee at night—the Mississippi leaning in on me thru my window all night long. That whole neighborhood is pretty much gone now—full of apartments and parking lots. Norma Jean liked me for some reason—she’d come knocking on my door at night. She was lonely—the boys weren’t that much company. Jimmy Dean and Jimmy Dean lived in their own world—they pretty much kept to themselves. Norma Jean and I would stay up late at night—talking about the boys. That’s how I learned all about the twins—and how she was in love with both of them. They were both cute but dumb—like Southern boys can be dontchaknow. Cute as shit—but dumber than nails. I loved it the way they talked—the way they talked so slow and sweet. All the words so slow—slow and thick as molasses. They’d been there in that old dump longer than me—two cute boys who hated school but had to keep going. Their father back in Mississippi threatened to disinherit them—if they didn’t graduate and make something out of their lives. Norma Jean told me how to tell the difference between Jimmy Dean and Jimmy Dean—one had 3 inches more than the other. I laughed and she laughed—how in the world was that supposed to help me? Have them pull down their pants in the morning and at the end of the day—just to say hello and good night to the right one? She’d fix these scrumptious gumbos and fine apple pies—and invite me down. We’d play Pinochle late into the night—and listen to jazz. We got to be friends—I got to know them all pretty well. Their ménage a trois had been going on since high school—the boys came to Baton Rouge to get away from their rich Delta Bourbon Big Daddy. I saw him once in a big black Cadillac—he was right out of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. He even looked and acted like Burl Ives—if he only knew how we partied in that dumpy old mansion on weekends. If only he knew I got my lips on both those boys—and got to know the family jewels real well. I got pretty good at telling Jimmy Dean and Jimmy Dean apart—even in the deepest darkest night. Especially during those dark humid Southern nights—when the Spanish moss hung down heavy as sin from the gnarled old magnolia trees—when it was too hot to sleep—and there was nothing else to do—those extra 3 inches made all the difference in the world…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 23, 2007, 09:33:32 AM
(http://images.tribe.net/tribe/upload/photo/cc6/9a3/cc69a372-e079-4862-b973-bf2f413d5e46)

Pinhead Movie

The lighting was film-noir—moonlight coming down through the beat-up Venetian blinds. Another hot night in Alabama without air conditioning—Gordon sharing his bed with the young pinhead. Jehosephat had big pinhead feet—feet that were used to getting in their own way. He had big pinhead hands—how many times had he slowly choked Gordon to death? He had pinhead eyes—he was the Boy with X-Ray Eyes. He had pinhead nipples so sharp they pierced his T-shirt—plus they glowed in the dark. He had a nice pinhead pair of buns—squeezable like a pair of loin-chops. He had a strong pinhead back—it could bend backwards forever. He had big pinhead lips—when Gordon kissed him it was out of this world. He had wide pinhead shoulders—and a nice pair of pinhead biceps. He had a pinhead Venus torso—and pinhead legs tight like a vise. How Gordon loved to feel those lovely male contours—each contour a nice pinhead surprise.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 23, 2007, 09:58:43 AM
Far from the festering swamps and fleshpots of Baja Arkansas, Barton looked across the vast steppes of Inner America and said to himself, his voice nearly drowned out by the omnipresent prairie wind, "Oh, if only Katrina could have been a Category Six!"   The wind, which they called Mariah, or maybe it was Murray (the wind's diction was generally poor, its gender ambiguous), answered back, "No more Jimmy Dean?"

"Well," said Barton, "Jimmy Dean would then only be a mediocre breakfast sausage, no more than three inches long, and dripping pork grease."

St. Eve, striding past on his way to his new and demanding job greeted Bart:  "Hey, what kind of wood doesn't float?"

"I don't know," said Bart.  "Ebony, maybe?"

"No," said St. Eve.  "Natalie Wood!"





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 23, 2007, 10:08:44 AM
The women were in the kitchen now, cooking dinner.  "Okay, I cooked the blackeyed peas and the green beans this morning, and the ham is in the oven, so all we need to do now is fix some mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and cornbread.  Irma Lee, would you fix that relish dish?  We need sliced tomatoes, onions, pickled beets, chow-chow, and bread and butter pickles in it, just in case there's not enough to eat."

"Mildred, you always were the bossy one.  I'm over here worrying about Junior.  I haven't seen him in hours."

"Oh, don't worry about him, honey.  He went up into the...."

Junior shot down through the kitchen ceiling hard and fast, leaving sheetrock and dust in his wake, landing hard on the floor, screaming like a pig going to slaughter.

"Boy, what on EARTH?" shouted a startled Anna.

"That boy don't have the sense God give a B-B," intoned Aunt Ruth.

"Don't you talk about my boy like that!" said an indignant Aunt Eulaby.  "He can't help it if he's a little clumsy."

"Clumsy??  He weighs 300 pounds!  Junior, what in the Sam Hill were you doing up there in my attic?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 23, 2007, 10:16:05 AM
"I was gone in search of a simpler and more innocent time," said Junior, spitting out gypsum dust and insulation.

"Onanism!" cried Aunt Mildred.  "Fetch me the saltpeter!"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 24, 2007, 12:16:32 AM
“Great Jumpin' Jaysus!!!” said Aunt Eulabee.

When all the dust had cleared, the whole Parton family stood back in shocked surprise...

It wasn't Junior after all who fell throught the ceiling...

"My gawd!!!" Aunt Mildred said. "It's Henry Sutpen!!!!"

Everybody thought Henry was dead, after killing his mulatto brother Charles.

Charles Bon had been shot at the gates of Sutpen's Hundred.

He had his own family in the French Quarter -- he was going to ditch Henry.

He didn't care about Henry, his sister or the Sutpen Dynasty anymore.

Everybody thought Henry was dead or hiding out in New Orleans.

But low and behold...he'd been living in the attic all these years.

“Great Jumpin' Jaysus!!!”








Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 24, 2007, 10:53:56 AM
"My God," said Ms. Snopes-Magnolia-Ortiz, "it's like that Simpsons episode where Bart's evil twin is kept chained in the attic!"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 24, 2007, 11:14:50 AM
The Parton Barton aunts were infuriated beyond all reason.  Not only had their cooking activities been disrupted, a taboo in all southern household, but Great-Aunt Minnie's peach cobbler had been ruined by the cascading debris.

All of them, as if under some nameless, voiceless command grabbed a jar of pickled beets, plum preserves, bread-and-butter pickles, or chow-chow.

"We got you now, you blackguard!" they shouted in unison.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 24, 2007, 01:32:48 PM
["blackguard" -- are they Southern or British?]

[and while I'm asking, what is "chow-chow"?]



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 24, 2007, 01:37:02 PM
[I never did have the courage to try Great Aunt Ruth's chow-chow.  It is a tomato relish of some sort - why one makes it or eats it is anyone's guess.  And BTW, there really was a Great Aunt Anna Parton Barton, and all the other great aunts were real people, too.  And Ruthaby.]


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 24, 2007, 01:37:56 PM
[re:  blackguard - that's term used a great deal in Faulkner's lit]


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 24, 2007, 01:50:54 PM
[thanks, I didn't know that, but it makes sense given the way Southern dialects are rooted in anglo-saxon culture....I read As I Lay Dying years ago, and The Reivers also long ago, so my Faulkner is limited....]



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 24, 2007, 03:44:22 PM
(http://images.tribe.net/tribe/upload/photo/917/257/917257e9-9c6a-4858-9542-7d0a2fb2e9af)

Absalom Apocalypse

"...all boy flesh that walked and breathed stemming
from that one ambiguous eluded dark fatherhead and
so brothered perennial and ubiquitous everywhere
under the sun—”—William Faulkner, Absalom, Absalom


“Where am I? Who am I?” asked Henry Sutpen.

Thus began the next chapter in that ongoing strange pulp fiction novel entitled Absalom Apocalypse—the sad story of the rise and fall of the Parton Dynasty there on the red plains of Georgia—excuse me Alabama...or was it Louisiana?

It’s the heartwarming yet heartbreaking story of how Gordon Snopes became a rich millionaire and wealthy entrepreneur—all because of a young man by the name of Jehosephat “Pinhead” Parton.

The Parton Family Tree was a strange gnarled thing—an uprooted twisted cypress tree torn from the fetid depths of the Okefenokee Swamp. With thick corkscrew roots deep in the primeval mud—and epiphyte Spanish moss clinging to the upper canopy branches.

There were cypress domes and dwarf cypresses and cypress swamps—along with fetterbush, wax myrtle and buttonbush shrubs. There was duckweed, pipewort and lizard tail underbrush. There were bald cypresses and water tupelo trees. There were pond cypresses and black gum trees—and even some pines along the Southeastern coastal plain.

But there was nothing quite like the Root of the Parton Cypress Family Tree. Just ask Gordon Snopes—he knows. Gordon Snopes knows all about the Parton Family Tree—and the Parton Family Roots. Aunt Mildred say he know too much dontchaknow—but all Gordon says to that is: “Well shut my mouth!!!”

It was a desultory moody pouty Root—not used to being uprooted from its home in Corkscrew Swamp Florida. It was the women in Parton clan that kept things going—they were the ones that took care of business and made sure the Parton Family got by from day to day. They were like the Rock of Gibraltar—because of their family values and Christian ideals they insured the Parton Dynasty would survive. Not only survive—but grow and flourish.

Well, of course, there were setbacks—throwbacks to more primitive times. Times when hair-lipped pinheads ruled the Land—and the men folk were almost as bad as hogs and bears living out there in the swamp. It was the woman folk who civilized the men—sort of domesticating them slowly into the ways of the Lord and modern civilization. It was struggle—Gawd only knows sometimes how they got by.

It was no secret that Jehosephat was a throwback to more primitive times—kind of like Ike Snopes but even worse. Ike Snopes stuck to Bessie the Cow to slobber over—but Jehosephat wasn’t particular. Anything that moved was fair-game for the kid—like I said all his brains were in the wrong head.

Then one day Gordon Snopes showed up—and offered to pimp the pinhead to fame and glory. Of course, he didn’t put it that way exactly—he more or less said he’d tutor the youth about the birds and bees. Which was okay with the ladies—the libidinous teenager was becoming unmanageable and downright rude. Anything Gordon could do to alleviate the problem—would be much appreciated.

Gordon moved in and became a member of the Family. He was the sociable type—he could play cards and drink corn with the men. He could help out in the kitchen—he was good at gumbos and cooking the most mouth-watering jambalaya. He was the ladies man—and knew how to please women with his smooth ways. He drove a Cadillac convertible and always had a bankroll.

Why in the world Gordon would be interested in a gimp like Jehosephat was a mystery—a mystery wrapped up in a suitcase wrapped up in long trips with Jehosephat to New Orleans. They’d be gone for weeks sometimes—and each time they came back home it seemed like Jehosephat was becoming more and more a man. A man of the world—a gentleman sort of in a strange way.

There were plenty of extremely wealthy gentlemen in New Orleans—men bored with life and in need of certain kinds of unusual diversions. These connoisseurs of the strange and forbidden lived in mansions and hotels in the Big Easy—ensconced in elegant Garden District homes and the sleek French Quarter apartments.

These Southern decadent dandies were the kind of rich bachelors—who had a fondness for Ripley’s Believe or Not freaks and bizarre genetic accidents on the part of Mother Nature.

There was one rich French aristocrat who raided all the circuses and carnivals of Europe—so that he could possess such freaks of nature as the Alligator Boy with his huge reptilian penis that made all the ladies run screaming from the carnival sideshow tent in fear & loathing.

Another fine gentleman collected cute young Siamese twins joined at the head or the hip—so that he could enjoy Double Your Pleasure Double Your Fun. There were other monstrosities too numerous to name—hunted down in the backwaters and back alleys of a sordid underbelly America that few got to see or know.

If only Jehosephat could talk—but of course he couldn’t. All that came out was ”NYUH-NYUH-NYUH!!!”

It was the most gawd-awful sound a human being could ever make—a slightly nasally “NYUH!!!” with his cute wrinkled boyish nose and that look of exquisite young male spasticity that wealthy decadent socialites found so enchantingly seductive.

Gordon Snopes knew what they liked—he was good salesman who knew how to pimp like a pro. Soon word got around that Gordon had found an idiot savant who was half-boy and half-alligator garfish. Not only that—what made Jehosephat so manly made other men manly too. It was as if the Okefenokee Swamp itself flowed through this kid’s veins—especially the gnarled cypress super-root vein that was the talk of the town.

It was as if all that Florida Everglades were concentrated down into that huge Root—all the vim, vinegar and vermin of the prehistoric night and precincts of the damned oozed out of that kid when he went “N-n-n-n-n-n-n-u-u-u-u-h-h-h-h-h!!!” Old queens clamored for it—in hopes of rejuvenating themselves with the Fountain of Youth. Others craved facials to smooth out the wrinkles of the years—the decadent lifestyle of the rich and famous.

Gordon managed the natural resources of his young protégée wisely—garnishing praise from his clientele for his generosity and paying him well for the chance to partake of the gods. Gordon was waiting for Mardi Gras though—that’s when wealthy out-of-towners made their presence known. They paid handsomely for such a lovely trick—so very LSMFT. Lucky Southern Men Faint Totally—when they get their lips on Jehosephat the cute young Pinhead.
 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 24, 2007, 08:20:18 PM
(http://images.tribe.net/tribe/upload/photo/541/922/541922b9-deff-42f5-b100-7e7ec38371e7)

Absalom Apocalypse

“And now,” Shreve said, “we’re going to talk about love.”

“Henry was learning from him how to lounge about a bedroom in a gown and slippers such as women wore, to a faint though unmistakable effluvium of scent such as women used, smoking a cigar almost as a woman might smoke it…with an air of indolent and lethal assurance…”

“…like a cat—cosmopolitan New Orleans…his own inherited and heritable Florentine lamps and gilded toilet seats and tufted mirrors…”

“…champagne in the octoroon’s boudoir…”

“…aping his clothing carriage speech and all…”

“…the cosmopolite ten years the youth’s senior almost, lounging in one of the silk robes the like of which the youth had never seen before and believed that only women wore…”

“…watching the youth blush fiery red yet still face him, still look him straight in the eye while he fumbled, groped, blurted with abrupt complete irrelevance: “If I had a brother…I would want him to be older than me…and I would want him to be just like you…”

“Is that so?” said Bon.

“That young clodhopper bastard. How shall I get rid of him…”

“And who to say if it wasn’t maybe the possibility of incest, because who…has been in love and not discovered the vain evanescence of the fleshly encounter…”

“…Bon telling himself I not only don’t know what it is I want but apparently I am a good deal younger than I thought…”

“…he looked at Henry’s face and thought, not there but for the intervening leaven of that blood which we do not have in common is my skull, my brow, sockets, shape and angle of jaw and chin and some of my thinking behind it, and which he would see in my face in his turn if he but knew to look as I know…”

“…there just behind a little, obscured a little by that alien blood whose admixing was necessary in order that he exist is the face of the face of the man who shaped us both out of that blind chancy darkness which we call the future…”

“…there—there—at any moment, second, I shall penetrate by something of will and intensity and dreadful need, and stip that alien leavening from it and look not on my brother’s face whom I did not know I possessed and hence never missed, but my father’s, out of the shadow of whose absence my spirit’s posthumeity has never escaped…”

“That’s all I want. He need not even acknowledge me; I will let him understand just as quickly that he need not do that, that I do not expect that, will not be hurt by that, just as he will let me know that quickly that I am his son…”

“…and saw face to face the man who might be his father, and nothing happened—no shock, no hot communicated flesh that speech would have been too slow even to impede—nothing.”

“Bon watching him and listening to him and thinking It’s because I don’t know myself what I am going to do and so he is aware that I am undecided without knowing that he is aware. Perhaps if I told him now that I am going to do it, he would know his own mind and tell me. You shall not…”

“Now. Now. Now. It will come now. It will come this time, and I am young, young, because I still don’t know what I am going to do.”

“And he spent ten days there, not only the esoteric, the sybarite, the steel blade in the silken tessellated sheath which Henry had begun to ape at the University…”

“…but the object of art, the mold and mirror of form and fashion”

“until he disappeared, taking Henry with him, and she never saw him again and war and trouble and grief…”

“So that now over the frozen December ruts of that Christmas eve: four of them and then just two—Charles-Shreve and Quentin-Henry…”

“…because he must have now understood with complete despair the secret of his whole attitude toward Bon from the first instinctive moment when he had seen him a year and a quarter ago…”

“So it was four of them who rode the two horses through that night and then across the bright frosty North Mississippi Christmas day…”

“Henry knew but still did not believe…”

“Four of them there, in that room in new Orleans in 1860…”

“…four of them who sat in that drawing room of baroque and fusty magnificence which Shreve had invented and which was probably true enough…”

“…the Haiti-born daughter of the French sugar planter…”

“…the blue unwinded wood smoke standing above the plastered chimneys of the slave quarters, to the River and the steamboat…”

“Four of them there, in that room in New Orleans in 1860, just as in a sense there were four of them here in this tomblike room in Massachusetts in 1910...”

“…the octoroon and the child would have been to Henry only something else about Bon to be not envied but aped if that had been possible, if there had been time and peace to ape in…”

“…two young embattled spirits…”

“…peace not between men of the same race and nation but peace between two young embattled spirits and the incontrovertible fact which embattled them…”

“… Bon took Henry to see the octoroon and Henry looked at her and said, “Ain’t that enough for you?” and Bo said, “Do you ant it to be enough?”

“…and then that spring with Lincoln elected and the Alabama convention and the south began to draw out of the Union…”

“…and Henry and Bon already decided to go…because after all you don’t waste a war…”

“Jesus, think of them. Because Bon would know what Henry was doing, just as he had always know what Henry was thinking since that first day when they had looked at one another…”

“They did not retreat from the cold. They both bore it as though in deliberate flagellant exaltation of physical misery transmogrified into the spirits’ travail of the two young men during that time fifty years ago…”

“Henry citing himself authority for incest, talking about his Duke John of Lorraine…”

“…as if he hoped possibly to evoke that condemned and excommunicated shade to tell him in person that it was all right, as people before and since have tried to evoke god or devil to justify them in what their glands insisted upon…”

“…the two the four the two facing one another in the tomblike room…”

“Quentin, the Southerner, the morose and delicate offspring of rain and steamy heat…”

“…your illusions are part of you like your bones and flesh and memory…”

“…the old mindless sentient undreaming meat that doesn’t even know any difference between despair and victory…”

“…since neither Henry and Bon, anymore than Quentin and Shreve, were the first young men to believe that wars were sometimes created for the sole aim of settling youth’s private difficulties and discontents.”

“Quentin could have spoken now, but Quentin did not.”

“…and Henry: Write. Write. Write.”

“…that quality of delicacy about the bones, articulation, which even at twenty still had something about it, some last echo about it, of adolescence…”

“—So it’s the miscegenation, not the incest, which you can’t bear.”

“You are my brother…”

“Do it now, Henry,” he says…

“Bon does not move beneath the gripping hands; he sits motionless, with his faint fixed grimace; his voice is gentler than that first breath in which the pine branches begin to move a little..”

“I don’t know,” Quentin said.

“But I know. And you know too. Don’t you? Don’t you, huh?”

“Yes,” Quentin said…

“Come on,” Shreve said. “Lets get out of this refrigerator and go to bed.”

—William Faulkner, Absalom, Absalom, New York: Vintage, 1990


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 25, 2007, 04:28:25 AM
"That Gordon Snopes," said Aunt Mildred.

"He sure has a big mouth. Does it ever stop?"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on August 25, 2007, 01:54:07 PM
"I´m sure this is some first class writing but can anyone write a 50 word précis of it",exclaimed the SouthAmLat. beige brat.


Title: Re: Martin
Post by: pugetopolis on August 25, 2007, 02:17:02 PM
"This crucial difference between the urgent historical and political imperatives of post-colonialsim and post-modernism's relative detachment makes for altogether different approaches and results, although some overlap between them (in the technique of "magical realism," for example) does exist."--Edward Said, Orientalism, 349.

Faulkner's Absalom, Absalom is a magical realism novel -- like the novels and works of Borges and the other South American magical realists.

The HBO series Carnival is magical realism as well. The same with Dunn's Geek Love.

Said sees magical realism as the bridge between postcolonialism and postmodernism.

In other words, the Other is a "construction" of reality -- like Quentin and Shreve reconstructing the Sutpen Dynasty in their dormatory room. Fifty years after it happened. This Faulknerikan reconstruction of the Other isn't just a postcolonial or postmodern academic exercise; rather Faulkner's Other is both realistic and magical for both these two young undergraduates at Harvard.

Faulkner uses magical realism in Absalom, Absalom to create/reconstruct his own family's apocryphal history. This is especially true with Absalom, Absalom -- truly a stunning philoprogenitive journey into the heart of darkness...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 25, 2007, 03:34:50 PM

“And now,” Shreve said, “we’re going to talk about love.”

“Come on,” Shreve said. “Lets get out of this refrigerator and go to bed.”

—William Faulkner, Absalom, Absalom, New York: Vintage, 1990


Martin, please notice above the first and last Faulkner quotes I use in the Absalom piece...

Many Faulkner critics -- such as those convening at the Yoknapathawpha Conference in Mississippi this summer on the topic of Faulkner and Sexuality -- are also getting into Faulkner and Homosexuality which once was a forbidden topic in Academe. I'm looking forward to reading some of this year's papers...

For example, if you've read Absalom, perhaps the thought has occurred to you that the novel details a somewhat tortured gay relationship between Henry Sutpen and Charles Bon.

Seen through the eyes of Quentin and Shreve in a cold Harvard dormatory.

Some critics say that Quentin and Shreve are lovers too -- and that Quentin's struggles with the South are more about him being a "closet case" than his problems with the South.

When Quentin says "I don't hate it!!!" -- it's himself he's talking about not the South.

And when Faulkner says "Two is two and two is four" -- it's the gay dialogic imagination at work he's talking about...

You see, that's why I chose the Absalom quotes the way I did in the seemingly rambling Absalom Apocalypse piece you've pondered over.

From the first sentence to the last, I've traced the gay relationship between these two young Southern gentlemen.

And that's why I wrote the somewhat campy piece about Gordon Snopes and young pinhead Jehosephant...from a gay point of view.

You see, I'm camping it up online to create a sort of gay Cliff's Notes on this, well, rather racy magic realist Novel dontchaknow...

Dare I call it "queer magic realism"?

I'm enjoying the discussion immensely -- thanks to desdemona, barton, hoffman, reader, weezo and my other literary partners in crime...

Do the words "apocryphal" and "philoprogenitive" ring a bell?




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: martinbeck3 on August 25, 2007, 04:01:04 PM
Thank you Puget.I knew there was something rich brewing there but just couldn´t put my finger on in.

I wish I could read Absalom but unless it´s on the web that is the sort of book you can never get in these prairies south of Bolivia. I have though the Wild Palms (in Spanish) but at least I have it.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 25, 2007, 06:11:44 PM
Barton found himself inspired by Pug's literary knowledge and flair with a pen (or, possibly, with a flair pen?), and resolved to read Absalom, Absalom at the soonest possible juncture.  Or at least one of the Absaloms, depending on how he mastered some of his prior phobias regarding the Oxford bard's prose style.

In the meantime, Brokeback Bayou was up on the big screen, though he had gone to the multiplex and told the ticket seller that he was going to see Chronicles of Narnia, then snuck over to the other theater at the last moment.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 25, 2007, 10:27:46 PM
Magic Realism

“I don’t care much for facts, am not much interested in them, you can’t stand a fact up, you got to prop it up, and when you move to one side a little and look at it from that angle, it’s not thick enough to cast a shadow in that direction.”—William Faulkner to Malcolm Cowley

(“As we read these words, written more than forty years ago, in the 1980s, we see how Faulkner created such joy for generations of great Latin-American novelists. That “disregard” for fact gave him weight and standing, since idea, conception, strategy were all. Garcia Márquez, Fuentes, Vargas Llosa, Donoso, and before them all, Borges, could create their invented worlds out of Faulkner’s “I don’t care much for facts.”—Frederick R. Karl, William Faulkner: American Writer, New York: Ballantine: 1989, 739.)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on August 26, 2007, 01:34:40 AM
Pug,

I am enjoying your obvious relish of Faulkner even though I am not reading it and not getting very much encouragement to change my mind. I am following your theory of "magical realism" with great interest. I do enjoy this board for the continuing stories. Sometimes I log into it and find it going in a thread that sparks my inspiration. I did have a finale planned for the day of stirring the beans, but alas real life intruded with realism that was far from magical and I had to leave off weezo's consumption of the pot of beans topped with finely chopped onions, and downed with a malty brew so that she could climb into a gone-with-the-wind gown complete with wide hoop, walk over to the Pug, and use the hoopskirt to play "blizzard" with Pug, suffocating him under the volumnous dress from which there was no escape then peppering him with the smelly remains of her repast until he again dissolved into unconsciousness from which he recovered only when the sun sparkled on the horizon ushering in another hot and humid day.

It's a few days late, and not as prettily painted as originally intended, but I think you can get the picture.

I still need to dig up my poetry binder and share "Descent into the Alley" with you so you can see how well I fooled the judges into thinking it was a "misguided" male rather than a near-middle aged woman who wrote the piece. I think I was happier to learn I'd fooled the judges than to have won first prize. "They say" that one should always write from personal knowledge, yet, I think sometimes think that to put yourself in the shoes of another is the greater achievement. I enjoyed the Poisonwood Bible because of the fact that the author was so effective in giving a voice to each of her female characters and telling the story in their voices.

I especially like you point about Faulkner disdaining facts. There is quite a row going on on American History because the book chosen by the poll ended up being a speculative history which has proven most uncomfortable for the academic history types. Some argue that the book belong in fiction of mythology. A few are willing to concede that the possibility for it being true is sufficient to put it in history even if it takes a generation of research to establish if it is or isn't likely to be true.

Most of my children's stories start out with the Reader (named) donning a magical hat that takes him/her to the time, place, etc. of the story. The magical hat makes them familiar and called by name by the historical figures of the story. The Reader participates in some way with the action of the historical event, often as the hero who inspires the historical figure to fulfill destiny. The style was inspired by the book "Ben and Me" with some inspiration from Rocky & Bullwinkles "Fractured History". But, in these stories the hero is the child who is reading the book or having it read to them. I was in the dentist's office two days ago, and amusing myself during the wait with a rather dejected boy who was not happy to be back in school. He didn't care much for books. So, I told him the stories I have online, gave his one of my cards with the web address on it, talked some more, and he asked me for more of the cards so he could share them with his teacher and classmates. If some of those stories get his attention and lead him into an enjoyment of reading, my efforts will be rewarded. I may never know if it happens, but I arrived for my usual torture with a lighted spirit and hopeful heart.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 26, 2007, 03:53:23 AM
Weezo—congratulations with your stories and poetry. I’m looking forward to reading them. Especially the Pineapple Cat one—so many wonderful stories about cats out there. I tend to think that all cats are Literary Cats—if you’re attuned to them like Samuel Johnson and so many other writers were and are…

Storytelling seems to be shifting to the Internet and graphic novels—I don’t know how much longer kids will read books. You and Hoffman know more about such things than me. Online stories are sort of different than the Puss ‘n Books I grew up with. Plus You-Tube and all those interesting online movies are new to me too. Back in college I didn’t even have an electric typewriter—how lucky the kids today are with their laptops and access to unlimited knowledge.

I know this Creativity Forum is best with short little messages—like Barton and Desdemona do. That way everybody gets to be part of the Storytelling and the Narrative flows in new and interesting ways. It makes me feel guilty to post anymore of this Faulkner stuff here—I guess I’m just obsessed with the way Faulkner tells a story. It probably has to do with the number Absalom did on me back in college—maybe it’s kinda Return of the Night of the Living Dead?  ::)

I’m going to shift everything over to Fiction—and let the storytelling of the Creative Writing forum get back to its original style. You’re a good storyteller—and your stories had me laughing. Go ahead and post your latest one. Barton and Desdemona are good at it too—lighter and more easy-going than me. I tend to get carried away with my big mouth sometimes—I don’t want to hog the forum up with my stuff dontchaknow…




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 26, 2007, 06:19:55 AM
On the other hand... ::)

I posted something over there in Fiction, but it looks kind of naked without the Creative Writing context from whence it flowed, i.e. the Absalom Apocalypse piece. So I'll post it over here and then call it quits. I like the magical realism spin here in this forum -- compared to normal bookchatting reportage like in Fiction, you know what I mean? This last piece I did with the list of Absalom quotes about Quentin and Shreve in their Harvard dormatory room discussing the Henry Sutpen-Charles Bon affair. It's about the Parton Dynasty dontchaknow.

(http://images.tribe.net/tribe/upload/photo/cc6/9a3/cc69a372-e079-4862-b973-bf2f413d5e46)

Go Down Jehosephat

“And now,” Gordon said, “we’re going to talk about money.”

Young Jehosephat was learning from Gordon how to lounge around a bedroom in a gown and slippers like women wore—with the faint though unmistakable effluvium of perfume like women wore— smoking a cigar almost like a woman might smoke—with an air of indolent and lethal assurance…

Jehosephat was becoming a kept boy—there in cosmopolitan New Orleans. Amidst the Florentine lamps and gilded toilet seats and tufted mirrors…

Sipping champagne in octoroon boudoirs…aping Gordon’s clothing, carriage, speech and all…

The cosmopolitan Jehosephat, lounging in one of the silk robes the like of which he’d never seen before and believed that only women wore…

Gordon watched young Jehosephat blush fiery red yet still face him, still looking him straight in the eye while he fumbled, groped, blurted with abrupt complete irrelevance: “NYUH-NYUH-NYUHHHHHHHHH!!!”

“Well, well…” Gordon said to himself. “This young pinhead clodhopper numbskull is worth plenty. I’m going to get rich off him.”

And who’s to say he couldn’t—the possibility of lust in the Big Easy was boundless. Anybody who’s been to New Orleans—knows how much the vain evanescence of the fleshly encounter is worth…

Gordon knew what it was worth in New Orleans—but he knew how much it was worth in Memphis too…

Gordon looked at Jehosephat in bed and thought—this little Pinhead stud has my skull, my brow, my sockets, the same shape and angle of my jaw and chin—and yet there is no thinking in there—the kid can’t see in my face what I see in his…

And it was true—young Jehosephat was even more a child idiot than Benjy Compson was back in Mississippi—standing there nude in front of Gordon in their luxurious apartment in the French Quarter—a long list of avid admirers lined up to appreciate this latest young primitive discovery from the backwoods.

Young Jehosephat’s pinhead existence was soon in demand there in Sin city—decadent sophisticates were totally obsessed with such newly discovered and excruciatingly reptilian sexuality—they loved young dumb Alabama manhood—obscured totally by that primitive mindlessness whose admixing was necessary in order that the kid could give them what they wanted—shaped out of that blind chancy darkness which we call the Okefenokee Swamp…

There—there—at any moment, second, Jehosephat could evoke it—the primeval prehistoric past that lurks in every man—the ultimate whitetrash transubstantiation only swamp consciousness can incite in wicked hearts—all that cheesy intensity and dreadful zoology— stripping away any thin veneer of civilization that the wicked may have still possessed—this young pinhead hustler who never missed a beat—from the shadowy depths the absence his spirit’s posthumeity never escaping…”

That’s what Gordon Snopes wanted—he wanted Jehosephat stupid forever—he didn’t want the kid to acknowledge anything—he wanted him to understand nothing—the sooner the better just as quickly as possible—he didn’t want the kid to expect anything—all he wanted the kid to be was himself—like he found him back in Alabama—with just a fine touch here and there for the rich clientele—like a bath now and then—some fine clothes—a well-oiled fancy coiffure—the looks of a young man about town—but once the clothes come off and the lights go down low—that’s when Gordon wanted the real Jehosephat to come out—the ultimate shockingly gauche Swamp Creature…

Gordon looked into the face of the boy whose father could just as well have been a gnarly old cypress stump—oozing, overflowing with Okefenokee sensuality and rude swamp lust—no shyness, no politeness, just hot communicated flesh that speech would have been too slow even to impede—the most gawdawful throbbing Alabama animalesque thing one could imagine…

Gordon watched Jehosephat and listened to the kid— saying to himself “It’s because I’m so smart and such a good businessman that I’m going to do what I’m going to do—I’m going to make this Jehosephat even more undecided about who he is than he is already—and even more knowing about his instinctual subhuman Okefenokee you-know-what . Even if I told him now what I’m going to do—he wouldn’t understand it. But that’s not enough—I want him to understand absolutely nothing at all—I want him brain-dead dumb.

““NYUH-NYUH-NYUHHHHHHHHH!!!”

“That’s the way, kid” Gordon said.

It will happen now. It will happen my way—he’s young, dumb and full of squirrel ice cream—and he’s gonna stay that way—like a deep-down ripe oil well pumping Alabama crude—I’ll get rich…

And so Jehosephat spent six months there in New Orleans—lorded over and pimped by the esoteric, the sybarite, the steel blade in the silken tessellated sheath while Gordon hauled in the big bucks from the  French Quarter…

So that Jehosephat became as object of art—the mold and mirror of pure young animality and fashion. Then Gordon disappeared, taking Jehosephat with him—they took the Delta Queen up to Memphis to do what rich Delta Bourbons did so well. Live it up…all the way.

Then once the frozen December ruts of Christmas Eve appeared—the two vagabonds showed up back at the Parton Plantation. The two of them—except something had changed. Jehosephat must have now understood with complete despair the secret of his whole affair with Gordon—from the first instinctive moment when they met six months ago.

Gordon had failed—the kid was getting smarter. He could even drive a car now and mix martinis for wealthy guests—so that it was a different twosome who rode in the fast sleek Cadillac through the night and across the bright frosty North Alabama Christmas day.

Gordon knew but still didn’t believe—the Alabama-born boy of the Parton clan had changed. Jehosephat was still an Okefenokee pinhead—but something else had happened…

The blue winding wood smoke hanging above the plastered chimney of the Parton Plantation—they were far from the River and New Orleans. The gimpy hair-lipped youth he’d taken under his wing—the child-idiot who aped him only months ago was more than just a dumb naked ape anymore…

Two embattled spirits—struggled inside Jehosephat now. The spirit of the swamp and the spirit of the Big Easy. There was no peace between these two embattled spirits—one ancient and chthonic like an alligator gar gliding through the cypress swamp. And the other an incontrovertible cosmopolitan craving for Carnivàle and freedom.

Gordon took Jehosephat to see a doctor—perhaps a lobotomy would help. The doctor looked at Gordon and said, “Ain’t he enough for you? Why do you want less of him?”

The Parton family couldn’t believe it—Jehosephat was actually a pretty goodlooking young man now. He didn’t say “Nyuh” anymore—he didn’t have that glazed stupid look in his eyes.

“Jaysus, just look at you,” said Aunt Mildred. “A gentleman.”

Jehosephat didn’t retreat from people anymore—he could even play Poker, Pinochle and Bridge. It was as if he lived in a state of deliberate flagellant exaltation—his physical deformity transmogrified into the spirit of a young man now.

No matter how much Gordon tried—he found it impossible to evoke that condemned and excommunicated Okefenokee shade to tell him in person that everything was all right. Surely it was just a lapse of decadent teenage frivolity—sooner or later Jehosephat’s glands would assert themselves—and he could be had again in time for another lucrative Mardi Gras.

The two faced one another in the living room of the Parton home—Jehosephat the Southern moron—the morose and delicate offspring of swamp, rain and steamy heat. And Gordon Snopes—worried like all Snopes about his investment.

“There’s no escape,” Gordon said. “Your pinhead fate is part of you—like your bones and flesh and memory.”

“That old mindless sentient undreaming meat that doesn’t even know any difference between despair and victory—it’s still you and it won’t ever go away…”

Gordon wanted to keep believing that Pinheads were sometimes created for the sole purpose of selling secret private endowments—to rich Delta Bourbon aristocrats and decadent French Quarter queens who needed it…

Jehosephat could have spoken but he didn’t.. There was a quality of delicacy about Jehosephat now—even at sixteen in the middle of the last faint echo of his Alabama adolescence…”

“C’mon now,” Gordon said. “It’s time we left for Mardi Gras now,”

But Jehosephat didn’t move beneath the gripping hands—he sat  motionless in the parlor. A faint fixed grimace on his face—yet his breath gentler than that first breath when the pine branches begin to move a little…

“I don’t know,” Jehosephat said.

“You don’t know! You don’t know? You don’t know nothing, kid!!!” Gordon shouted with a mean look.

“I don’t know,” Jehosephat said.

It was then that Gordon realized the awful truth—he’d lost his pinhead goldmine…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: weezo on August 26, 2007, 10:56:06 AM
While Gordon was pondering the loss of his lovely young pinhead, the pinhead was developing an agenda of his own.

He stood before the revealing eye of a full length mirror, and striped away the chose-for-him frocks of his decadance. He stood naked before the revealing mirror.

He looked for his muscles, but even striking the poses of those well-cut men of stature in the body-builting books did not encourage any musculature to emerge. His decadant-weakened muscles seemed to sag beneat the weight of that bones that sought to give them form. He notice an unruly pauche emerging from the constant swilling of fine wines and champaignes. Even his legs, which were much more prone to exercise than his arms and shoulders, were ill-formed and saggy.

Feeling no pride in the image before him, even his magnificent manhood sagged and more clearly resembled an old vet sitting on two duffle bags, than the expression of manhood he wanted it to be. Jehosaphat had never needed the addition of a codpiece to proclaim his verility, yet this naked, decadant, body begged for a padded piece to proclaim its existance under a growing shadow of paunche.

Jehosaphat made a momentous decision. He pulled on his shorts, the ones with the long legs and pictures of race cars printed on them, slipped into some athletic shoes that belonged to someone else and were a bit generous around his thinly-decadant feet. He picked up a lush, turkish towel and wrapped it around his boyish shoulders, and took himself to the gym down the street. He would find the man in his body!



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 26, 2007, 10:34:37 PM
...Actually he would find the man of his dreams...  ;)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 28, 2007, 02:04:02 AM
(http://images.tribe.net/tribe/upload/photo/cc6/9a3/cc69a372-e079-4862-b973-bf2f413d5e46)

Jean Paul Lafayette Escadrille

“He was young. He could run. He could gamble. He fled.”
—Reinaldo Arenas, The Palace of the White Skunks


Jehosephat stood there in front of the mirror.

He was only 16—he was built like a brick shithouse. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He was lean and mean—like a water moccasin. He didn’t walk—he slithered. He didn’t talk—he hissed…

But he had a brain now—he wasn’t just a pinhead anymore.

His Okefenokee young manhood—it was instinctual. There was a magic realism to it—incredibly unbelievable. Yet real—more real than anything around him. So real—it raised eyebrows and made eyes stare in wonder.

That’s why the New Orleans queens and rich Delta Bourbons liked him. That’s why they wanted him—that’s why Gordon Snopes wept alligator tears. He didn’t love the boy—he loved the money.

To be a hustler or kept man—one has to be in shape. One must have something to give—something that both men and women want. Not just sex—but something else…

Most men live their lives—day to day and year to year. Working, slaving away, paying bills, keeping their family going, keeping a roof over their heads. And then suddenly—they’re old and used up.

The rich are the same way—day to day and year to year. Slaving away—addicted to various addictions. The usual ones being money and power and pleasure. Some bred horses—others owned vast delta plantations. Some bred slaves—not just to cut cane and pick cotton either…

That’s what Gordon Snopes had planned—during Mardi Gras to sell Jehosephat into male slavery and get rich quick. Mandingo love and male slavery—the dark secret underbelly to antebellum plantation life. Some patrons wanted to buy Jehosephat—and breed him for their own nefarious purposes. He was young—think of the possibilities…

There was this letter on the escritoire—a young planter Jehosephat  met in New Orleans wanted Jehosephat to live with him. He’d just inherited a sugar plantation south of Baton Rouge—and a vast fortune. He had a beautiful young wife—but no children. The more they tried—the more disappointed they became.

The young planter’s name was Jean Paul Lafayette Escadrille. Like Colonel Sutpen, he had a plan. A design in his head—he wanted Jehosephat as his lover. But he wanted more than just that—he wanted some of that Okefenokee young manhood in his Family.

Jean Paul Lafayette Escadrille wanted Jehosephat—to father his sons. He was just the opposite of Colonel Sutpen—Jean Paul wanted some of that young pinhead manhood in his Family Tree. He wanted the Escadrille Dynasty—to be built like Jehosephat…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on August 28, 2007, 09:17:38 AM
After a pause she began again.
  "I could keep you all day with the history of the misdirection of human effort, but I won't (aren't you relieved?), instead let's simply ponder", Chloe mused and pondered.
  Her thoughts wandered.  This a universal affliction to be sure, although how many actually considered the futility of striking a match on a crumbling wall, or lifting a cheesecake with an iron hook?
 Where was Whiskey when needed?  And Lanky-Bart?  What the hell happened to Liquid Silver, Bepps and Kitskaboodle?  Tempsperdu, where are you?
Dizzy-Des, c'mon! Though Martin the Appossel is a most welcome addition and the Puge (when not totally hogging) is frequently entertaining there was a certain heart now missing, a twisted humor gone astray...
 Chloe flagged the nearest


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 28, 2007, 11:43:06 AM
Bart had been reading Nick Bostrom and come to agree with him that reality was nothing but a computer simulation.  In his mind, he broadcast a message to the cosmic Sysop requesting a software update.  He is currently residing in the south of France, studying philosophy, growing grapes (Pinot Noir, of course) and tutoring village maidens in the ways of love and how to pronounce "th" in English.

He is still mastering the use of tenses.





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 28, 2007, 04:16:54 PM
The pool was empty. The guests were gone.

Eva felt morose and blue. Nobody to talk to...

She cut a fart—an especially desultory bored stinky one…

“That was a nice one,” said a voice behind her.

It was charming Weezo—a connoisseur of exquisite flatulence.

Eva shrugged. She was bored. Mostly with herself.

Weezo bent down and kissed Eva...

There beneath the mauve skylight…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 28, 2007, 08:28:08 PM
Oh my gawd,” said Eva. “Did you hear that?”

Eva leaned up from her chaises-lounge—listening intently.

“There it is again…did you hear that?”

Weezo slipped into her robe—she peered down into the pool.

“For heaven’s sake,” she said. “Just look at that.”

Down in the deep end of the pool—something was moving.

The pool had been drained—a month ago.

But a fetid puddle of slime was still lurking in the deep end…

“Look at that—it’s a mad Mongolian mongoose!!!”

"Yes," said Eva.

“And it sure does look mad about something!!!”

The mad Mongolian mongoose was thrashing away.

It was snapping and biting at everything.

Dead leaves, branches, even a used condom…

The mad mongoose had bloodshot mean-looking eyeballs.

It was the meanest looking thing in the Asylum…

Eva and Weezo held each other tight…

It was just awful


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on August 29, 2007, 09:42:11 AM
Chloe flagged the nearest Vespa, hoping that here on the streets of Rome, where the city oozed sexuality, she just might get lucky.  Lucky, of course, had long since been simulated (the former Lanky Bart) and no longer inhabited anything remotely akin to a physical human form, and was content to continue life Bostrommed. 
It had been a rather disappointing year for the illusive noir and the Maidens, mouths now wearing bright silver hardware (to correct the lisping) were often not quite as delicate as before during their lessons, but, as a whole, Italy, Rome in particular, agreed with him. 
He practiced his yoga (in a toga), slept until noon, had pistachio gelato for breakfast, pastries for lunch (the cream puffs in particular were transforming his stringy sub-human image into a more soft and buttery image -- unfortunately this was creating yoga-toga difficulties -- and periodically his digestive tract would rebel -- certain areas of transhuman simulation were still a bit quirky) and lolled about, basking away, admiring all about him. 
And yet, something was missing.  In spite of himself, he craved...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on August 29, 2007, 09:48:58 AM
...to be back in France?   "How the hell did I get to Italy?"  Lucky-Bart pondered...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 29, 2007, 09:57:16 AM
"That would be because a certain Father Torquemada and his assistant, Odo, absconded with Lanky Bart when...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 29, 2007, 10:14:39 AM
his body, lolling in the matrix vat, had begun to bubble the mixture into a froth with uniquely pungent farts, redolent of bleu cheese and onions.  This unplanned bubble bath, though it did cloak his hairless physical frame in a demure Hays Code cloud, had begun to foul the alien mother ship's airscrubbers and sent the Captain into a...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on August 29, 2007, 10:19:54 AM
a titty fit.  " Bathtards!" he shrieked, hands on hips.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: ponderosa on August 29, 2007, 10:43:50 AM
"Mutiny!" cried the crew of the HMS Torquemada. "We've had enough of this cheesey bleu rain of red onions."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on August 29, 2007, 02:14:42 PM
You want this panino grilled or fried,bella?


Chloe could hardly believe her ears.  How was it possible?  In the midst of cascading cheese, onions and a mutiny, there was ol' Gordon!

A short (short, yes, he had that little people thing going for him, Chloe could never resist that about him) order cook, here in the Matrix!
Now it was certain that...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 29, 2007, 03:32:42 PM
the soup de jour was cream of dwarf—plus caviar thrown to swine...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on August 29, 2007, 04:59:18 PM
Not to be outdone, or more precisely over-done, Gordon suggested to Chloe that they leave the soupy matrix (otherwise known as Venice, having left Lucky roamin' in his own stew ) and with nothing more than each other they headed for Naples, where among the bustle of working-class italianos they knew they could at the very least find a decent (pizza) pie or maybe even Luca Spaghetti (Chloe's first husband, who still had her jewelry and her favorite dog) and there even the score once and for all.  But first there was that small matter of...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: ponderosa on August 29, 2007, 06:01:22 PM
shedding the desire to categorize people into classes.

"Everybody comes into this world in pretty much the same manner. We all land on our feet eventually. Those lucky breech babies get there first though." Gordon laughed.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 29, 2007, 07:47:12 PM
Whereas...

"Oh dear me," said Gordon.

"Whereas?"

"Fuck, it sounds like a manifesto or something..."

"Not very creative...rather bourgeois I think, my dear."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 29, 2007, 07:55:24 PM
[re "shedding the desire to categorize people into classes" -- Ponderosa, I hope you are a real newbie and not the reincarnation of an erstwhile pest who called himself "Learn..."  -- I'm not going to assume anything, but I hope you will use your cyber anonymity wisely in your quest for, well, whatever it is you are questing for...]




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on August 29, 2007, 07:59:32 PM
"My, my someone is jest itchin' fer a fight...nitpickin' o'er nuttin'...must be that time o' the month.  Jest settle yourself there a bit, it'll git better."  "Maybe."  The one-legged whore then lit her pipe and settled back in her rocker to just set a spell, see if things improved any for her dear old gramps aka Pugee.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 29, 2007, 08:24:55 PM
[re "shedding the desire to categorize people into classes" -- Ponderosa, I hope you are a real newbie and not the reincarnation of an erstwhile pest who called himself "Learn..."  -- I'm not going to assume anything, but I hope you will use your cyber anonymity wisely in your quest for, well, whatever it is you are questing for...]

Learn was a hanger-on over in Urban Haiku.

Her name back then was l.e.a.r.n.

Here’s one of her tacky haikus:

l.e.a.r.n.-6:59 PM ET July 18, 2006 (#7228 of 7233)

Children are sponges
Others actions are absorbed
Is the water clean?

Sound familiar? Puke


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 29, 2007, 08:56:30 PM
Speaking of crummy émigrés coming over to Elba from the NYTimes:

Another winner over there in Urban Haiku was this lady from Tennessee who was quite the pill. In fact Eva kind of reminds me of her. Same syntax and attitude. Words don’t lie…

Her online name was fwtho—and she hated my guts. She and seagullpie & electraglide were some of the worst queer-bashing trolls I’ve ever met. Most of the other haikuists were fun to be around—but fwtho was the Wicked Witch of the West.

Fwtho posted in the NYTimes Creative Writing forum too—Eva sure does sound a lot like her. Same cranky old storylines. Here’s one of her tacky haikus:

fwtho-12:02 AM ET March 23, 2007 (#9551 of 9566)

hypnotic clicking
counting stitches, pulling yarn,
knit-wit therapy


Fuck me. Talk about crummy déjà vu puke…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: ponderosa on August 30, 2007, 08:46:28 AM
[re "shedding the desire to categorize people into classes" -- Ponderosa, I hope you are a real newbie and not the reincarnation of an erstwhile pest who called himself "Learn..."  -- I'm not going to assume anything, but I hope you will use your cyber anonymity wisely in your quest for, well, whatever it is you are questing for...]




No, not learn, not pickin' a fight, but more like a time of the month thing. I'm saddened over the Owen Wilson story. Bright kid, coming from a well to do family, with what seems like a bright future ahead. Hollywood can eat at one's soul. He's not the first and probably not the last to have trouble coping and I'm not even a big fan of him personally but do like some of his work. His episode struck a chord. That's all.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on August 30, 2007, 09:18:38 AM
             [ for puge -- no -- let me assure you -- fwtho I am not -- no soup for you ]



As Chloe and Gordo meandered toward Naples the suggestion was made that one of them should try writing an adventure story, you know, try writing about a real hero type...


He was a dark and stormy knight...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 30, 2007, 10:33:30 AM
[Pondy -- glad to hear you are not our former bane!  Welcome, and good luck figuring out our past tattered storyline!  Re OW:  I've liked Wilson's ironic postmodern dufus ever since Bottle Rocket, and am sorry that his comic talent hasn't provided solace to him during a depressive patch.  Feel better, Owen!]

[Puget -- Eva didn't strike me as gut-hating or queer-bashing; it is easy to mistake cyber prose styles (as I just did recently)...re haiku -- does it strike you as one of those forms where you can write something that you think is fine one day and then retch when you reread it the next?  Of course, that applies to most of what I write...]





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: ponderosa on August 30, 2007, 01:05:49 PM
(smile) No, I'm that other bane (chauncey/burnzy). I had to cut loose and go work on that adventure story. Took a break and either the full moon or the Owen episode or both and everything else led me back here. Focus and discipline are my weak points so I can't participate here and work on my stuff at the same time.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 30, 2007, 04:44:58 PM
It was a dark and stormy night…

Eva was bored as usual…plus she was constipated.

She smoked her cigarette...her leg itched.

Then a miracle happened…

She cut a fart…a nice juicy one.

Everybody around the pool got outta her way.

“Oh gawd,” she said.

“That felt so good…”



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on August 31, 2007, 10:55:27 AM
There were days when Bart longed for a name with a completely different rhyming scheme.  Or perhaps, a lack thereof, "Humberto" maybe, or "Rupert."  Sitting by the natorium (consultation had revealed the extra "at" to be spurious!), lounging by the pool, watching the sepia clouds of methane and digestive residues settle over the sad group of felons and jailers, "Bart" felt more of a liability than an asset.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on August 31, 2007, 03:58:51 PM
It was a dark and stormy night…

Barton was blue—the methane mauve.

Actually sepia—but did it make any difference?

It was like being a guest at the spa.

No Exit—the patients come & go.

The fetid natatorium pool…

Ennui and boredom…


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 01, 2007, 01:00:22 PM
Feeling palindromic, Gordon expressed the existential lull as,

"Camus saw I was sumac."  Then,

"Liam stops traffic, if fart spots mail."





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on September 01, 2007, 03:17:38 PM
(http://farm1.static.flickr.com/155/413249692_451cb43e44.jpg?v=0)

It was a dark stormy night...

It was the Night of the Living Dead.

It was raining cats and dogs...

She appeared out of nowhere...

She looked around the natatorium...

She yawned...

"What a dump!!!!!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 04, 2007, 11:46:50 AM
And thus began her journey of self-discovery, as she set out in her 1968 Dodge Dart convertible across the vast outback of Texas, with a turkey/swiss sandwich, a gallon of lemonade, a can of mixed nuts, some dried apricots, and a 12 ounce jar of hemmorhoid cream.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 04, 2007, 01:53:01 PM
Her mother had always taught her to watch those under-eye circles by treating the area with Preparation H.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on September 04, 2007, 09:10:52 PM
but her mother had not known what a boon to cross country travel by the obsessed astronaut diapers could be, that was a development that had to await...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 05, 2007, 10:20:34 AM
cross-country travel by obsessed astronauts.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on September 07, 2007, 12:41:41 AM
who, as highly educated and extensively trained as the devisers of ways to divert public funds could make them, nevertheless lacked even the most rudimentary skill in...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: elportenito1 on September 07, 2007, 09:34:14 AM
The Man from Snowy River


by El Portenito



THERE was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
    That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses — he was worth a thousand pound,
    So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
    Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
    And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.
There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
    The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up—
    He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
    No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand,
    He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,
    He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony—three parts thoroughbred at least—
    And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry—just the sort that won’t say die—
    There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
    And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
    And the old man said, “That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop—lad, you’d better stop away,
    Those hills are far too rough for such as you.”
So he waited sad and wistful—only Clancy stood his friend —
    “I think we ought to let him come,” he said;
“I warrant he’ll be with us when he’s wanted at the end,
    For both his horse and he are mountain bred.

“He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko’s side,
  Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a horse’s hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
    The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
    Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
    But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen.”

So he went — they found the horses by the big mimosa clump —
    They raced away towards the mountain’s brow,
And the old man gave his orders, ‘Boys, go at them from the jump,
    No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
    Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
    If once they gain the shelter of those hills.’

So Clancy rode to wheel them—he was racing on the wing
    Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
And he raced his stock-horse past them, and he made the ranges ring
    With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,
    But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,
    And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black
    Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back
    From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way,
    Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, “We may bid the mob good day,
    No man can hold them down the other side.”

When they reached the mountain’s summit, even Clancy took a pull,
    It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
    Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
    And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
    While the others stood and watched in very fear.

He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
    He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat—
    It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
    Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,
    At the bottom of that terrible descent.

He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill,
    And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,
    As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.
Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
    In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,
    With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.
    He followed like a bloodhound on their track,
Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,
    And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
    He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,
    For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
    Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
    At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around the Overflow the reedbeds sweep and sway
    To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The man from Snowy River is a household word to-day,
    And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.


El Portenito, enjoy!



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 07, 2007, 11:59:17 AM
who, as highly educated and extensively trained as the devisers of ways to divert public funds could make them, nevertheless lacked even the most rudimentary skill in...
...personal hygiene.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 07, 2007, 07:40:52 PM
Git along, little dogies!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on September 09, 2007, 03:12:13 AM
(http://images.tribe.net/tribe/upload/photo/8fd/49a/8fd49ae8-46d6-49b0-a10e-6e9f57a4aebc)

And thus began her journey of self-discovery, as she set out in her 1968 Dodge Dart convertible across the vast outback of Texas, with a turkey/swiss sandwich, a gallon of lemonade, a can of mixed nuts, some dried apricots, and a 12 ounce jar of hemmorhoid cream.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 09, 2007, 01:39:47 PM
Somewhere out in the desert, on the edge of Canyon, Texas, the drugs began to take effect.  Looking across the stark and beautiful vistas of the Palo Duro, where Georgia O'Keefe had first discovered the enchantment of the Southwest (before her later journeys into New Mexico and subsequent settling there), Eva discovered that an enormous coyote was somehow keeping pace with her car, loping along effortlessly it seemed, though her speedometer registered 80 mph.  She squinted hard at this apparition -- was that a cigarette holder in its mouth? 

"Who are you?" she shouted.

The coyote grinned.  "You just shot out of Canyon, my dear.  I, however, was recently shot out of a cannon!  The universe connects us in interesting ways!"

Eva stared, her face a mixture of fear and loathing.  "It can't be!  You were nothing but ashes!"

 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on September 09, 2007, 04:46:15 PM
Quote
Git along, little dogies!
sang Banjo Patterson, beloved Bard of Oz, whose work so resembled that of Robert Service, the Beatles "Rocky Raccoon" and many another... 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 10, 2007, 09:56:38 AM
Somewhere out in the desert, on the edge of Canyon, Texas, the drugs began to take effect.  Looking across the stark and beautiful vistas of the Palo Duro, where Georgia O'Keefe had first discovered the enchantment of the Southwest (before her later journeys into New Mexico and subsequent settling there), Eva discovered that an enormous coyote was somehow keeping pace with her car, loping along effortlessly it seemed, though her speedometer registered 80 mph.  She squinted hard at this apparition -- was that a cigarette holder in its mouth? 

"Who are you?" she shouted.

The coyote grinned.  "You just shot out of Canyon, my dear.  I, however, was recently shot out of a cannon!  The universe connects us in interesting ways!"

Eva stared, her face a mixture of fear and loathing.  "It can't be!  You were nothing but ashes!"

 

"Anyway," she said.  "I can't be bothered with you Mr. Coyote, I'm heading to Amarillo!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 10, 2007, 11:14:14 AM
"Ah, yes," said Thompson the gonzo Coyote, "the town whose name means 'yellow!'"

"And the town whose name means 'lunch,'" added Eva, who saw that her provisions were running low.  How had she gone through them so fast?

"Sorry," said Winona, whose godfather was Timothy Leary and whose former boyfriend was a good friend of Thompson, as she sat up in the back seat and let the fierce Texas wind blow the sleep from her big vacant eyes.  She adjusted her boobs inside her blouse and then smiled at the sensation of the madras cotton rubbing against her nipples, making them [writer takes 10 minute coffee break]

"What are you doing back there?" cried Eva.  "Last I checked, the Spanish Inquisition was working on your penance for shoplifting!"

"I was checking the garments in a natural light," said Winona.  "Besides, Torquemada and I worked something out on the side."

"The rental agency didn't say anything about taking an extra Ryder in my car," said Eva.  "One would almost think you have insinuated yourself into this situation, just so that I could..."







Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 10, 2007, 03:56:18 PM
...point out how very out of place you are in west Texas.  We'll be coming up on Jimmy Dean's sausage factory in Sweetwater here in just a few, and here you are talking trash about Torquemada.  I can't wait to see your thieving little ass when nightfall comes and the stockyards start to take over everyone's evening."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on September 10, 2007, 04:40:21 PM
  "I can't wait to see your thieving little ass when nightfall comes. "


Lanky had been picked up by the motley and assorted crew while hitchhiking along this dry, dustier than a dust barrel stretch of highway and worn-out as his skinny self was he only had eyes for the gal of his dreams. No matter that he was somewhat less than his usual dapper self, jeans filthy as a ragged oil cloth, his once white shirt stained a sweaty yellow.  Come to think of it, he was sure it wasn't the stockyards that smelled, he was sure that odor was his own. Now just what were the odds that he'd be a sitting here (of all times and places) in the back seat of that ol' Dodge with winsome Winona?  Dang!  He certainly didn't want to blow his chances again!  Slicking  back a stray lank of oily hair, he gazed at Winona long and hard.  He decided it was time to make his move.  Ever so slowly he


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on September 10, 2007, 09:33:56 PM
crossed his long (size 12) winklepickers and leaning forward...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 11, 2007, 11:32:55 AM
said in a husky voice...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 11, 2007, 02:02:48 PM
"Is is true that vegans really do taste better?"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 11, 2007, 03:44:07 PM
"That's what Uncle Timmy used to tell me," said Wynona.  "But he was pretty spaced out."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nnyhav on September 11, 2007, 10:55:19 PM
"He once took me to this hi-tech organic eatery, I take out my laptop and go to log on to their wifi, and this pop-up comes up, and it says 'Hi, my name is xnet3\001739522\thadd7, and I'll be your server tonight. Would you like to click on Menu, or shall I tell you about the specialties of the mouse? [Next>][Finish]'. "


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on September 12, 2007, 07:32:28 PM
“I was at this nightclub last night—so like I get bored and take out my laptop to log onto their wifi. This pop-up comes up and it says ‘Hi, my name is quickie\666\eva & I’ll be your ho tonight. Would you like to click onto the Menu, or shall we just go ahead and do my specialty in the parking lot, baby? #100 cash. No refunds. [Next>][Climax]’.”



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 13, 2007, 10:45:49 AM


"Fuck all of you!" said Bart and expelled deadly flesh-eating bacteria from his colostomy bag onto the other occupants of the Dodge Dart while at the same time grabbing the wheel and working his foot onto the brake pedal.  As Winona and Eva were quickly reduced to putrescent puddles of human goo (smells like pork!  tastes like chicken!), he brought the car to a halt and dropped a gas-soaked flaming wad of caked joy-rags into the gas tank.  In minutes, the Dart was nothing but a skeleton of charred steel and puddles of melted glass.  Bart laughed uproariously as he urinated on the smoldering wreckage.

"Ack," cried Bart, "who let Quentin Tarrantino use my password and ghost write for me!  Make him stop!"





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 13, 2007, 11:49:06 AM
"EWWWW!!!" screamed Wynona.  "You're definitely not vegan!!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 13, 2007, 12:22:54 PM
"I've never even BEEN to Vega," said Bart.  "It's light years away and I don't even own a car."

He leaned back in the comfortable upholstery of the Dodge Dart, now restored to only-slightly rusty perfection by an editor's pencil, and began to....



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 13, 2007, 01:22:54 PM
bash his head repeatedly on the steering wheel.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Eva.

"Angst.  Sturm und Drang.  Goethe.  Jaded..." muttered Bart in a state of glorious delium.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nnyhav on September 13, 2007, 02:12:11 PM
"Who's Gerta?" Eva asked.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on September 13, 2007, 09:27:08 PM
(http://images.tribe.net/tribe/upload/photo/8fd/49a/8fd49ae8-46d6-49b0-a10e-6e9f57a4aebc)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on September 13, 2007, 09:31:56 PM
Dodge Dart Convertible

Looked in the local paper to find some wheels
There were plenty to choose from but I realized soon
I was short on cash that and every other afternoon
Can't afford a Pontiac GTO, a Cyclone, or even their parts
So I found a good deal on a ‘64 Dodge Dart.

It was powder blue with chips missing from each door
Tears in the seats both front and back
Ratty shredded carpet showing off the floorboards
Front windshield with foggy corners and a big ol’ crack.

Had a beat up convertible top but all the GT trim intact
The sweet little beauty had plenty of potential
Despite a broken gas gauge and a non existent tach
A slipping push-button and fluid gushing out of the differential.

No brakes, no battery, no chicks, no flattery
Cruisin’ it home smoking and sputterin’
No working ammeter, water temp or speedometer
Just frozen straight nines across the odometer.

Didn’t take the cops long to flash me with lights
Told ’em I’d just bought it that night
They joked about my choice of rides
Then really laughed when they saw the inside.

Saw those cops just the other day
Neither really had much to say
So much for their poking fun and jokes
‘Cause I just left them in a cloud of BFGOOD smoke.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on September 13, 2007, 09:58:02 PM

"Ack," cried Bart, "who let Quentin Tarrantino use my password and ghost write for me!  Make him stop!"


"What's that smell?" asked Harold.

"I don't know," said Gordon, "but it sure does stink."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 14, 2007, 10:07:26 AM
"Who's Gerta?" Eva asked.

"Werther," Bart mumbled.  "I am channeling Werther!  ACH!  Boo-hoo!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 14, 2007, 11:48:17 AM
Eva looked down at the instruments to check the engine speed, and realized that her Dart lacked a tachometer.  It was clear that she was going to have estimate the RPMs based on vehicular velocity, wheel circumference, and gear ratios.  It wasn't going to be easy, but she was ready to do just about anything to drown out Bart's sudden attack of angst, weltschmerz, sturm-und-drang, and other inappropriate German moods that had no place seated next to a hot vegan tamale like Winona Ryder. 

She looked back, wondering how he had managed to bash his head against the steering wheel while seated in the back seat in a rather slumped position.  There was no doubt it had happened, as she observed welts rising on his forehead in a pattern that precisely matched the nubs on the steering wheel.  He was starting to look like one of those aliens found in some of the later Star Trek series, in which an extraterrestrial gene pool was suggested by the pasting of bumps onto an otherwise totally human-looking head and body.

"Ach, du liebe!" cried Bart.  "Mein Gott, wo sind die Zitronen??  Warum is das verkehrsampel?"

"Hey," said Winona, "maybe you should put your poor head in my lap and..."





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 14, 2007, 12:38:04 PM
  :D


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 16, 2007, 06:19:34 PM
"What's THAT," cried Winona, looking around wildly and making her bosom undulate like the MIT wave-tank as she did.

"Sounded like 'meep meep' to me," said Eva.

"It did," agreed Bart.

"My God," cried Eva, looking in her rearview mirror, "it's..."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: ponderosa on September 16, 2007, 06:51:30 PM
... the snake bit coyote from scene 23."

Breathlessly, he panted, "Is this where it is?"

"Where what is, you fool?" Eva laughed.

"Uh, er... I don't know what it is but I hear you have it."

"Idiot." Eva said as she pressed down on the pedal and...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 17, 2007, 01:27:08 PM
simultaneously backhanded Bar t in the mouth.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 17, 2007, 01:45:53 PM
[is that a hint to stop sexually obsessing over Winona?  In truth, I thought she was pretty much sucked dry after her stint in "Dracula"...]

The roadrunner quickly overtook them and, after dodging a 16 ton weight dropped from overhead and vaulting over a female roadrunner mannequin stuffed with TNT, passed the Dodge Dart on the left.  "Meep meep!" it cried.  Tears formed in the corners of its beady little eyes.  How could it express all its existential pain with a one-word vocabulary??





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 17, 2007, 03:06:34 PM
[is that a hint to stop sexually obsessing over Winona?  In truth, I thought she was pretty much sucked dry after her stint in "Dracula"...]

The roadrunner quickly overtook them and, after dodging a 16 ton weight dropped from overhead and vaulting over a female roadrunner mannequin stuffed with TNT, passed the Dodge Dart on the left.  "Meep meep!" it cried.  Tears formed in the corners of its beady little eyes.  How could it express all its existential pain with a one-word vocabulary??





"If only I were more like Camus," it thought with its little bird brain.  "Not just in the intellectual sense, but in the physical.  He could talk, and he had prehensil thumbs.  If only I could write a thing or two - but no, fate has twisted my appendages into mere bird feet."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Eva on September 17, 2007, 07:28:29 PM
Inevitably, they ran out of gas.  The snail-slime heat cooled in the night desert air as darkness fell and the full moon gently rose.  No more meeps or glowering yellow coyote eyes.  Just the trio; Eva already snoring, Winona staring blankly into whatever it was she was always staring into and he with a silent song in his heart.  If only he could wrest the wench...
 Bart hesitated, for what he knew of heat and love, he well knew too of something else.  Although, achingly, lust he did for Winona, he knew his heart was counterfeit, self-made most fine.  The stuff of an inkwell.  Ever since his failed debut


Title: Yes, I created The Everything Bagel
Post by: learn. on September 17, 2007, 08:08:12 PM
 

By David Gussin

It's true, it's true.
I created The Everything Bagel. 


OK, now that I'm the publisher of *****.com, Long Island's fastest growing website,  I have to give our readers   tidbits of information they can't get anywhere else.  Plus it’s the one story my daughter’s friends always found interesting. So I’ll go with it. 

 The Everything Bagel was created at a long ago out of business Queens, NY bagel shop, Charlie’s Bagels.  Whether you consider The Everything Bagel   created on Long Island depends on your definition of Long Island. Up until recently, for me at least, it was a no brainer. Long Island’s Long Island, Brooklyn and Queens are Brooklyn and Queens. Long Island is made up of Nassau and Suffolk counties. Brooklyn and Queens are part of NYC, the five boroughs. Not so fast, with my new publishing responsibilities, I find   though separated politically; Brooklyn and Queens are part of Long Island geographically. So all us folks who thought we moved to Long Island from Brooklyn and Queens, we were already living on Long Island and just didn't know it. 

Back to our story, it was the late 1970’s; I was working at a bagel store in Queens N.Y.  The owner of the store was Charlie, a big man with big hands from rolling all those bagels.  At that time, you had your standard bagels - plain, poppy, sesame, onion, garlic, salt, pumpernickel, the exotic bagel of the time was cinnamon-raisin.   Anyway, at the end of the day one of my jobs was sweeping out the oven. I'd sweep out the roasted seeds that had fallen off the bagels over the course of the day. Those were my favorites, the well done ones. One day, instead of sweeping them up and throwing them out like I had always done, I saved them. I asked Charlie to make some bagels with 'these' (the concoction of burnt leftover seeds) ... we'll call it, The Everything Bagel.  It was an immediate hit. Charlie even started charging a nickel more for it. Before you knew it, the Everything Bagel was everywhere.


My daughter’s are a smidgen mad at me. They say I should have patented it. I know, I know, if I had a penny for every Everything Bagel sold, I’d be rolling in the dough.  Yuck, yuck, yuck. It certainly would have made college tuition easier to pay for. :)





 



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 17, 2007, 11:15:04 PM
Inevitably, they ran out of gas.  The snail-slime heat cooled in the night desert air as darkness fell and the full moon gently rose.  No more meeps or glowering yellow coyote eyes.  Just the trio; Eva already snoring, Winona staring blankly into whatever it was she was always staring into and he with a silent song in his heart.  If only he could wrest the wench...
 Bart hesitated, for what he knew of heat and love, he well knew too of something else.  Although, achingly, lust he did for Winona, he knew his heart was counterfeit, self-made most fine.  The stuff of an inkwell.  Ever since his failed debut
as ballet dancer...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on September 18, 2007, 12:23:47 PM
if only he had ditched his winklepickers on that fateful day...a  pas de deux simply doesn't without the proper footwear.  Never one to fail expressing his individuality, that


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 18, 2007, 01:58:44 PM
dancer on the volcano of his own libido, Barton Fink, ever in choreographic search of the common man within himself and always the risk that, finding that common man, he wouldn't much like him.  Dancing in jeans and scuffed brown oxfords, it was easy to trip on oneself....



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 18, 2007, 03:39:26 PM
but with little taps added onto the oxfords, he could do a mean shuffle-ball-change.

Meanwhile, Winona began to moan-ah...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 19, 2007, 10:48:17 AM
like a gored bull runner in Pamplona...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 19, 2007, 11:18:50 AM
...with a hole in his pantlona.

But I digress, Dear Reader. 

Meanwhile, 500 miles away in Sing-Sing, a new crowd of prisoners had been admitted, necessitating a prisoner clique adjustment and reassignment of synchronized dance teams.  Bruiser was trying his best to adjust one day during a session, but found the newcomers were quite stand-offish and unresponsive to his lisping requests for...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 19, 2007, 01:41:22 PM
restructuring of subprime mortgages within 30 business days of default....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 19, 2007, 01:44:34 PM
... a recent obsession for Bruiser. 

"My God," he would say to anyone within shouting distance.  "Theeth people need a thecond chance, and on a broader thcale, the nationth'th economy dependth upon it.  Get with it, you boobth!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 22, 2007, 01:35:39 PM
"Meep meep!" responded one prisoner, a slender fellow with a beaklike nose and feet that tended to blur whenever he zoomed around the exercise yard.

"Yeth?" said Bruiser.

"Just wondering," said the prisoner, "how we can be only 500 miles from Amarillo, Texas?  Aren't we in New York?"





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 25, 2007, 01:20:29 PM
"It doesn't matter," said Professor Sven Spitting, "space is an illusion, a projection of a two-dimensional membrane."

Bruiser stared at the slender figure, sitting in a wheelchair and using a system of kazoos and trained blower-weasels to speak.  "Wat are YOU in for, profethor?"

"Performing an indecent act in public with a black hole," replied Spitting.  "Racked me up pretty well, as you can see.  One would think that sufficient punishment, but no.  The law is an ass."







 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 26, 2007, 07:15:46 PM
Prisoner Number Six approached, twiddling his fingers and looking around in a suspicious manner.  Just above his black retro sneakers, a bulge appeared under his pants leg and began to work its way up his leg.  Before the bulge could arrive at a venue where it would enhance his popularity vis-a-vis future prison menages, he began to dance around wildly, shaking his leg, and crying out, "I am not a nutria bus!  I am a free man!"  After a minute of these gyrations, the nutria was dislodged and fell to the ground, where it shook itself off and, giving Number Six one final baleful glance, headed off to the pantry.

Bruiser cried out, "Thtop that nutria!"

Prof. Spitting, who had recently replaced his nickel metal hydride batteries with a lithium ion battery pack, was able to surge forward across the dusty prison yard, wheelchair spokes blurring, and, as he gained ground on the nutria, instructed the blower-weasels to....





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on September 26, 2007, 07:38:37 PM
instruct the waiting prisoners on some facts concerning his incarceration.

"Well look on the bright side Professor Spittle—nothing escapes from a black hole yet you did. The law is an ass but at least you're here sittin' on yours. Think of all those poor bastards that never made it back."

"That's no consolation—he failed."

"Yeah at least you still got yours intact."

"It made him completely impotent."

"Really?"

"Really."

"How do you commit an indecent act in public with a black hole anyway—what's wrong with the privacy of your own home?"

"Too many holes in a home—toilets, sinks etc. There can only be one hole in the radius when you're dealing with a black hole."

"What about night time—how do you see a black hole in the night-time?"

"No one has ever seen a black hole—day or night."

"How do you see a black hole then?"

"You don't."

"How do you know a black hole is a black hole then—how do you know it's not white for example?"

"It is white."

"What?"

"A black hole is white."

"So is a white hole black?"

"There's no such thing as a white hole."

"But..."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 27, 2007, 12:20:22 PM
"However," the professor interrupted.  "Don't let this confuse you about brown holes, a different animal altogether."

"I'll thay," lisped Bruiser.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 28, 2007, 11:57:59 AM
[editorial note, from one who has been an editor, on a small scale.... if you write dialog, and spell said dialog so that we can infer a dialect or any peculiarity of speech, then it is redundant to then employ a special verb after the quotation to indicate same.  E.g. "I'll thay," he lisped -- it is evident that he lisped.  Unless there is an overwhelming need, "said" is usually adequate.  Or, if the speaker is clear from context, nothing at all, just the quote.  Too often, novice writers feel they are jazzing up their prose with an endless panoply of exciting verbs, which results in characters who cry, bellow, exclaim, grunt, mumble, wheeze, etc. and generally conduct the act of speechifying like Mel Blanc laying down a Loony Tunes soundtrack.  Use these verbs with caution, said Bart.]


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on September 28, 2007, 01:35:50 PM
[editorial note, from one who has been an editor, on a small scale.... if you write dialog, and spell said dialog so that we can infer a dialect or any peculiarity of speech, then it is redundant to then employ a special verb after the quotation to indicate same.  E.g. "I'll thay," he lisped -- it is evident that he lisped.  Unless there is an overwhelming need, "said" is usually adequate.  Or, if the speaker is clear from context, nothing at all, just the quote.  Too often, novice writers feel they are jazzing up their prose with an endless panoply of exciting verbs, which results in characters who cry, bellow, exclaim, grunt, mumble, wheeze, etc. and generally conduct the act of speechifying like Mel Blanc laying down a Loony Tunes soundtrack.  Use these verbs with caution, said Bart.]

[Reply to editorial note from Bart:  "looney tunes"?  You were the one who introduced Road Runner to the te-yuxt, drawled desdemona222b.]


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on September 29, 2007, 11:24:56 AM
[guilty as charged, cackled Bart.  Please continue, he whimpered.  But do be careful, he insinuated.  Simplicity IS a virtue, he opined...]



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 06, 2007, 06:29:17 PM
Brett Mandrake squared his massive jaw and thrust his scarred fist into the guacamole, felt around for a moment, and extracted the missing pearls, only moments before


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 07, 2007, 11:55:24 PM
Sue Lee Chadwick sauntered into the room and purred, "Barton, Darling.  I think I love you."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on October 08, 2007, 12:48:05 AM
"And I know for certain sure I love those pearls, all natural, evenly matched and evah so very lustrous.  Why, I have not seen such nacreous beauty since...."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 08, 2007, 10:50:05 AM
...the well-polished fingernail on that finger that turned up in my chili at Wendy's."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 08, 2007, 12:07:12 PM
A loud crash, followed by a piercing scream...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 08, 2007, 01:40:21 PM
...announced the arrival of the demolition crew through the rear wall of Pedro's Cantina, the charming Tex-Mex restaurant in which Brett Mandrake had concluded his long search for the missing pearls and was now rinsing them free of guacamole with the kitchen's vegetable sprayer.  Shaking off the pearls, he tucked them into a jacket pocket, ducked away from the descending shovel of a backhoe, and reemerged into the main dining area, where he saw that Sue Lee Chadwick, a rich heiress known for her sauntering and appetite for psilocibin chocolates, had begun to...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on October 08, 2007, 02:16:38 PM
firmly grip—grimacing all the while—the golden T-shaped detonation handles. The other diners—it seemed to Mandrake—looked... 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 08, 2007, 05:10:20 PM
completely impervious to their impending fate, gabbing and throwing back Margaritas in their ignorant insouciance...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 10, 2007, 11:56:14 AM
BOOM, went the cantina.  Diners, some of them not impervious (though definitely oblivious), flew threw the air in various-sized pieces.  Mandrake, though his head had been blown off, remained conscious for about ten seconds, a phenomenon that had first been documented by a French physician in the 1700s in his studies of guillotine executions.  As Mandrake's head flew out of the cantina and over a row of stately catalpa trees, he reviewed his life, which had consisted mainly of sipping lukewarm coffee while sitting in a car all night on stakeouts, with brief breaks to pee in a mason jar.  A rather sedate life, all things considered.  As his brain began to run low on oxygen, not that it had ever had all that much, he wondered if angels were capable of having sex and, if so, what sorts of variations were opened up by being immaterial and weightless.  As the mundane world faded out, Mandrake's head landed on the table of an outdoor cafe and came to rest, its eyes staring directly at....



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 10, 2007, 01:54:41 PM
The triple chin of Mrs. Alfred Von Wyndergenter, who was complacently sipping her tea.  "Good God!  Is that the roast beef au jus I ordered?"  Mrs. Wyndergenter was a bit myopic.  "Waiter!  Waiter!" she cried.  "I ordered this rare, not well-done."

Within minutes, the sirens began to wail and the scene of the explosion was abuzz with reporters, firemen, cops, and ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on October 10, 2007, 06:03:42 PM
Osama bin Laden lookalikes. It was then that Sue Lee Chadwick pressed down on the handles. A couple of hundred coloured balloons dropped from a net into the ceiling. Mandrake rubbed his face and hands in disbelief. "What kind of a party is this!?," he shouted out; but no-one listened. "You're wasting it, Brett..." whispered a voice beside him. In Tex-Mex's mirror, a messy, chocolate-faced reflection...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 11, 2007, 11:50:54 AM
of Leroy "Pudgey" Hogg, an escaped convict who had recently...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nnyhav on October 11, 2007, 04:15:50 PM
converted to Mazdaism, under the sway of the notion that Time is not merely cyclic, but in fact rotary, at least until the warranty expires. He drove a ...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on October 12, 2007, 01:13:32 AM
curious vehicle with a Wankel engine, making him more than a bit of a Wanker according to his nearest and dearest, who loved him nearly and dearly, though they did tend to  overemphasize the need for him to carefully...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 12, 2007, 09:29:54 AM
avoid public bathrooms. 

Leroy was a disturbed man who had a fixation with Donald Duck.  He had practiced for years trying to talk like the Disney character until he believed his quack talk to be...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on October 12, 2007, 10:02:21 AM
quacking not just him up, but his entire...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 12, 2007, 12:22:53 PM
quilting circle.  Everyday 1st and 3rd Wednesday Leroy would sit with the group of octogenarian women who comprised the 5th Avenue Methodist Church Quilting Queens.  It had taken the ladies awhile to get used to have a 400 lb ex-con in their group until Leroy won them over with his cartoon character impersonations.  "Meep Meep!" he would say, and the ladies would be in stitches.

But something sinister was afoot...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on October 12, 2007, 12:31:00 PM
something altogether repugnant...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 12, 2007, 12:33:48 PM
something unspeakably obscene...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 12, 2007, 01:57:53 PM
something irredeemably steeped in the stench of the lowliest WalMart...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 12, 2007, 02:09:10 PM
something obscenely unspeakable...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 13, 2007, 12:36:09 PM
...Leroy was planning to drive his Mazda directly into...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on October 14, 2007, 12:02:48 AM
Quote
the need for him to carefully...

avoid public bathrooms

HA!  Brilliant, desde!

With so many unable to speak about obscenity, even if they knew it when they saw it in or out of the courtroom, our merry band of mutes were forced to make use of the services of...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 14, 2007, 01:18:46 PM
"If" ??

Is there really any need for an "if" in your first sentence?  While taste ranges widely from person to person, it's hard to imagine who would think that photo was tasteful.

Thanks for delaying my lunch.  Happily, I am not a vengeful person, and so will not treat you to some of the more vivid images from a website devoted to pics of victims of helicopter accidents.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 15, 2007, 10:24:01 AM
puge -

What the?  What is WRONG with you?  What are you hoping to accomplish by continuously posting offensive photos, ostensibly from the same website bosox uses?  And why on earth are you attacking nytimesperdu now?  Is being completely offensive to everyone your goal in life or what?

I'm putting your ass on ignore - I'm so sick and tire of looking at all the photos you post I could scream - the only thing worse than the photos is the content of the posts.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 15, 2007, 11:41:38 AM
Geez, Puget, you want to keep the Film Club thread focused and intellectually vibrant, but you come over here and toss in Diane Arbus-y pics and nonsequiturs?  (OK, the fat lady did have some glancing intersection with the theme)  The thing with "writing" is painting the pictures with words, right?   Not that anyone's on a roll here, but still...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on October 15, 2007, 02:29:45 PM

My point was only that it would be a good discipline
to stick with WRITING, in this thread, rather than
using pictures.  The point of this thread was, in part,
a respite from the world of Cut N' Paste


You're probably write, er, right. Right?

I'm removing the pics...

I apologize...




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on October 16, 2007, 11:06:17 AM
...Leroy was planning to drive his Mazda directly into...


His garage.  From there, it was inside for a hot toddy and then some traditional missionary position intercourse with his wife, into the silk pajamas after a quick wash, and on to bed - never dreaming that meanwhile, 2500 miles a way, a sinister and vile man known as "The Shrub" was plotting....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 16, 2007, 11:13:13 AM
the ruination of the English language as we know it.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 16, 2007, 11:24:40 AM
Linguistically speaking, it was a nukular holocaust.  But the affairs of the larger world beyond his own immediate concerns had never been all that compelling for Leroy.  As long as there was money for silk pajamas and maintenance of the winch required for a 400 lb. man to have missionary sex with his wife, what did it matter what a bunch of talking heads on the tv were up to?  Any fool could see that country was actually being run by....


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 16, 2007, 11:46:39 AM
an evil shape-shifter with a sneer on its face and a pacemaker in its chest.  "Oh well," thought Leroy, shrugging, "Just as long as I'm the Decider, everything will be okay no matter what.  Why?  Because I have a Direct Pipeline to God."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 18, 2007, 10:42:07 AM
Little did he know that the pipeline, though direct, was the sewage line.  Even angels, it seemed, had to take a dump on occasion.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on October 18, 2007, 12:29:40 PM
Which begs the question -- how many angels can take a dump on the head of a pin?


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: ponderosa on October 18, 2007, 12:52:45 PM
Depends on how wide a stance each would take.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 18, 2007, 12:53:17 PM
[ROFL ROFL!!]



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on October 18, 2007, 01:09:50 PM
Depends on how wide a stance each would take.

And how many had the runs...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: ponderosa on October 18, 2007, 01:22:37 PM
which were caused by consumption of and resulting in "sticky buns".


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on October 18, 2007, 01:30:12 PM

Zowie, what buns can do to bums...!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: ponderosa on October 18, 2007, 01:41:43 PM
Breading which angels fear treading.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on October 18, 2007, 01:45:36 PM
           [ too funny, ponderosa -- thanks for all the ;D ;D ;D ;D]


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: ponderosa on October 18, 2007, 01:59:59 PM
[it's the least i could do. and never let it be said i didn't do the least i could - apologies to hawkeye pierce or larry gelbart or whomever]


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 20, 2007, 01:02:51 PM
Meanwhile, Leroy had returned to work at the local outlet of Chairs, Ottomans, and Stools, a furniture emporium serving the tri-state area.  Due to his unique insights into the needs of the extremely weighty, he had been put in charge of designing furniture that such customers could safely test, thus providing sturdier seating and a vast decrease in liability claims.  Today he was turning his creative mind, such as it was, towards stool samples.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 21, 2007, 10:49:32 PM
Indeed, Leroy was quite determined to bring about a veritable stool boom in his little town of Blaine, MO.  (Credit:  Christopher Guest)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on October 21, 2007, 11:54:46 PM
But as he waited for Guffman, Godot or his waitperson for the evening, LeRoi Soleil contemplated his empty plate, grateful merely to have missed the deluge that had...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on October 22, 2007, 07:53:20 AM
caused him and the rest of the neighbourhood untold hassle & misery. "Leroy. Hire a rowing boat powerful enough to accomodate your trampoline, your two pots of industrial strength glue, your—grandiose— assistant Fowler and your footloose and fancy-free Ghanaian Ceremonialist who, as everyone in the footstool business knows...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 22, 2007, 10:19:55 PM
...produces the finest stool samples known to man. 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 24, 2007, 11:02:15 AM
During his stint in the penitentiary, some had referred to Leroy as a "stool pigeon," due to his tendency to sit on homemade stools and make pleasant cooing noises.  Unfortunately, this had some kind of antiquated double meaning that caused the older inmates to view him in an unfavorable light and quail at the thought of sharing intimacies.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 24, 2007, 11:49:20 AM
Yet still he longed in his heart of hearts to find his soul mate.  He would often sit up for hours writing in his makeshift diary constructed of masticated bread and toilet paper...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on October 24, 2007, 06:47:25 PM
"Able was I, 'ere I saw Elba". His first George Rafts pleased him immensely but some ink had gotten into his loaf of bread, so that when eventually the skin & blisters turned up with some proper foolscap octavo...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 24, 2007, 09:45:00 PM
...our Leroy was so despondent he decided to commit suicide.  "I must needs compassionate my scribes to write a missive explaining my decision," thought he.  "If only the world knew what it is about to lose!  The talent!  The humanity!  Oh, the huMANITY!"

But he had used up all the "pages" of his darling little book, so he had to postpone the suicide plan in order to produce a wealth of new pages.  Leroy had to sneak his dinner rolls into his pockets for a fortnight to accumulate the necessary material.  He had discovered that masticated bread could be used as a sort of modeling clay that would dry hard as a rock, so he devised a way to convert prison toilet paper into stationery by spreading out the toilet paper, one sheet at a time, then carefully and painstakingly spreading a thin layer of the bread goo over it.  Once it had dried, he had found, he could write on it.

After many days of mastication and bread goo spreading, Leroy found that his mood was much improved.  "This is so therapeutic!" he thought.  "I should write a self-help book." 

Leroy found that he...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 26, 2007, 11:17:52 AM
...had overcome his former Catholic guilt over the sin of excessive mastication.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on October 26, 2007, 03:55:10 PM
Father Russell had never known someone so...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 27, 2007, 11:38:23 AM
...well-breaded.  If Leroy didn't loaf around too much, there was definitely plenty of dough to be made in the Masticated Bread Diary genre.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on October 27, 2007, 12:06:33 PM

...had overcome his former Catholic guilt over the sin of excessive masturbation.


"Oh dear me," Leroy said...

"I must be in the wrong forum..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 29, 2007, 10:23:57 AM
But Leroy didn't care about making lots of bread or bringing home the bacon, for that matter.  He just knew he'd be toast if he didn't...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 29, 2007, 12:03:41 PM
get out of the stool sampling business and into something more profitable, something like...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: ponderosa on October 29, 2007, 12:33:33 PM
stool sculpting. Making do out of the doo-doo that the voodoo hath wrought.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 29, 2007, 01:07:42 PM
 :o


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 29, 2007, 01:18:53 PM
Meanwhile, Rudy had been interrupted mid-speech by yet another cellphone interruption, in spite of his pledge to America to turn the thing off.

"Doo-doo sculptures!  Not again!"  He looked up at the crowd of Republicans who had paid $500 a plate to hear him speak.  He raised his finger in a hold-on-just-a-sec gesture.  "Is he using elephant dung?  I did everything I could to keep elephant dung art out of New York!  This man must be stopped!"

Former Mayor Giuliani closed his cellphone, looking grave.  "My fellow Americans, I want to make a solemn promise to you right now...."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: ponderosa on October 29, 2007, 01:52:12 PM
But his ringing cellphone interrupted yet again.

"Hello, this is Hizzoner speaking."

"Yes, this is Professor Russell. I have completed a study of the elephant dung and find that there is a complete lack of boron in these art samples and I can only come to one conclusion ..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 29, 2007, 01:54:31 PM

Former Mayor Giuliani closed his cellphone, looking grave.  "My fellow Americans, I want to make a solemn promise to you right now...."

... while it's true that the Brooklyn museum did indeed have a "special exhibit" while I was mayor that stank to high heaven, I made a personal pledge at that time that I will repeat:  excretae from norwhals and elephants will be absolutely forbidden in any art exhibit in this country if I have my say in the matter.  Why..."

Rudy's cell phone rang again.  "Hello?  Haven't I TOLD you not to call me here?  No I don't want to dress in drag for Halloween?  Where would you get such an idea?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on October 30, 2007, 09:26:23 PM
Why in San Francisco's Castro, that's where.  But now even the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence (TM) are unwelcome there, so we must find other venues in which to express our proclivities.  Say, for example...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 31, 2007, 09:37:51 AM
The Movie Club forum.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 31, 2007, 09:41:27 AM
With a cc to the administrator.  ::)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on October 31, 2007, 12:38:49 PM
Gordon awoke in his cell, after a long string of bizarre dreams about lethal ceiling tiles, road trips through Texas, Chloe in Paris, stool samples, and intelligent nutria.  It was still dark, but the LED panel on his clock radio told him that it was the morning of Halloween.  He realized he had wakened early because he was eager to get started on his costume before breakfast.  "If only," he muttered, "I had some striped pyjamas..."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on October 31, 2007, 03:44:22 PM
"Then I'd be able to dress up as a grampa for Halloween."  Gordon heaved a heavy sigh.  Prison life was getting so old, and life was just so boring!  "What I wouldn't give for just one night on the outside," he thought.  Suddenly, and escape plan occurred to him...one so unique...so unheard of...that...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on November 01, 2007, 09:35:40 AM
even his prison cellmate, Wurzel Mangelshrub, nodded his approval.  >:(


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 01, 2007, 10:02:02 AM
still the cell mates were happy as could be.  "Here's the deal," whispered Gordon.  "I've been experimenting with breeding hybrid rats with teeth sharp enough to chew through concrete.  Here are my little darlings now."

He removed a cage that had been hidden under his bunk.  Inside were two huge black rats with teeth several inches long.

"Wurzel, Soleil, meet Buzzsaw and Wadcutter, my creations!"  An evil laugh erupted from the pit of his stomach...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on November 01, 2007, 11:46:54 AM
Mangelshrub chuckled at the evil laugh, covered as it was with stomach juice and mucus.  "Most impressive, mein freund, but if their teeth can chew through prison walls, how is it that you can keep them confined in that little cage?"

"It's quite simple really," said Gordon....



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 01, 2007, 12:04:30 PM
the cage has been coated with my own formula of rat repellent -  I call it Ratsbane!  In fact, as soon as I'm out of here, I plan to start my own pyramid scheme with my Bane line!  Punksbane, Ratsbane, TrickorTreatersbane - distributors will hire others to be distributors, the recruiting distributor gets a cut of everything, and so on down the line.  The only thing I haven't figured out yet is how to get anyone to actually sell the stuff, but never mind.  The instant we've escaped, I'm going to become a Capitalist!


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on November 02, 2007, 10:26:22 AM
"Not so fast" Wurzel said as he thumbed through the makeshift diary.  "It's like my gramma always said.  Heaven will castigate those that don't masticate."

"I'm in prison" Gordon wailed.  "All I can do is masticate!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on November 02, 2007, 10:52:23 AM
"You have a point," Wurzel said... 

"An idiotic one, but a point."

"What, my dear Wurzel, is that?" asked Gordon.

"The best prisons are snarky one-liner prisons..."

"Like here in the Creatve Writing Forum...?" asked Gordon.

Wurzel yawned. "One-liner minds are dime-a-dozen..."

"Just listen to them..."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on November 02, 2007, 01:21:03 PM
"Motivate walrus walnut weasel blind pinetar perspective in deference to captive emollient fiber-optic titmouse colloquium, siphoning bladder remnants in direct dirigible packets of ennui and simplified pencil effluvium," said Gordon.  Then, seeing the problem, added, "Sorry that went on for more than one line.  If I'd summarized, it would have been clarified immensely."

"No," said Wurzel, "you needed to stick with the rhythm.  Condensation would have rendered it lifeless and glutted with linear meaning."

"Whatever you say," said Gordon.  "I am not the owner of my words.  In fact, if I gave them all away without a fuss, they'd probably let me out of here."

"How would you order pizza," asked Wurzel.

"That's the point," said Gordon.  "I wouldn't order pizza. "

"How is that a point?" asked Wurzel.

"Forget it.  Everything you eat turns to shit anyway."

"You're a pessimist," said Wurzel.

"No, a realist," said Gordon.  "It's all part of the cycle of life."

 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on November 02, 2007, 01:45:49 PM

"Everything you eat turns to shit anyway."


"See what I mean?" said Wurzel.

"They do seem rather anally-fixated, don't they?" remarked Gordon.

"Yeah, they've got a one-liner circle-jerk admiration society here in this forum."

"Every other word like the quote above. Creative? ...Yawn."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 02, 2007, 02:03:57 PM
Quote
"See what I?" said Wurzel.

"They do seem rather anally-fixated, don't they?" remarked Gordon.

"Yeah, they've got a one-liner circle-jerk admiration society here in this forum."

"Every other word like the quote above. Creative? ...Yawn."


"'See what I?'" replied Gordon.  "I think you must mean 'What I see?'  Or maybe 'See what I mean?' Oh well, I don't really care - I guess I'll just lord it over the people I don't like and officiously inform them that I've placed them on ignore because they aren't discussing the correct film with a cc to the 'admidnistrator'.  Or maybe I'll threaten to post non-existent letters.  Then I may just play the pot calling the kettle black by accusing others of being anal.  Who knows?"

"What's more, who CARES?" responded Werther, Wurzel's intelligent brother.  "It all hinges on actually getting a real life."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 02, 2007, 02:16:54 PM
"Oh, and while I'm at it, let me just emphasize that if you can't elucidate rather than obfuscate, then not only are you going to get a good dressing down, you're going to get pugetopolized*"





*"pugetopolize" - to get "flamed" in a supercilious, condescending manner, then be accused of victimizing the flamer because he's gay.  Also, to be subjected to dozens of photos of semi-nude young men and Angelina Jolie in Nazi drag.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on November 02, 2007, 02:20:43 PM
It was a dark stormy night...

And Desdemona was still on her broom...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: MrUtley3 on November 02, 2007, 06:57:29 PM
Suddenly, she spied a newt. Nt a large newt, mind you, but a puny, pinkish newt. It reminded her of her previous lover, who came home one day to announce he was leaving with his boyfriend for a new life in the Village. Eyeing the newt, now, she was filled with an uncontrollable rage, and she cast a spell upon that newt. And it became a Republican. And it grew and grew, until it became Speaker of the House. 


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on November 03, 2007, 08:33:44 AM
But that was long ago.  Now, Newt was being led into the cell by a screw.  He eyed Gordon and Wurzel apprehensively.  "Hi!" he effused.  "I'm Newt.  Please don't rape me."

"Well" Gordon said, "as long as you ask nice."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on November 03, 2007, 11:56:09 AM
"How are you at making ropes out of bedsheets?" asked Wurzel.

Gordon grabbed Newt's hands.  "You've got city hands, mister.  The only thing they've handled is money!"

"I'm not a girly-man!" cried Newt.  "I can make quality rope from wet toilet paper!"

"That's good," said Gordon.  "When my specially bred rats gnaw through the window bars over there, we're going to need quality rope."

"What we really need," said Wurzel, "is a good pair of...."





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on November 03, 2007, 12:06:12 PM
It was a dark and stormy night...

Newt, Gordon and Wurzel got down to some serious business...

Politics, booze and sports...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 03, 2007, 05:00:38 PM
"How are you at making ropes out of bedsheets?" asked Wurzel.

Gordon grabbed Newt's hands.  "You've got city hands, mister.  The only thing they've handled is money!"

"I'm not a girly-man!" cried Newt.  "I can make quality rope from wet toilet paper!"

"That's good," said Gordon.  "When my specially bred rats gnaw through the window bars over there, we're going to need quality rope."

"What we really need," said Wurzel, "is a good pair of...."





of silk panties.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on November 03, 2007, 06:33:53 PM
It was a dark and stormy night...

Moody, humid, decadent as usual...

Down there in sultry Louisiana where...

The men wear silk panties in Angola...




Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on November 04, 2007, 07:52:32 AM
...silk panties.

"We're in luck!"  Newt cheered, as he dropped his trousers to reveal a pair of pink Victoria's Secret panties, XXXXXL, 100% silk.

"Niiiiice.  Way better than my old pair."  Gordon said as he walked over to inspect Newt's panties.  Gordon beagan to inspect the waist band.

"No!  Don't!" Newt pleaded as Gordon pulled the front of the waist band forward and found himself looking down on....

"A vagina?!?  You have a vagina?"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 04, 2007, 01:27:46 PM
"No, replied Newt, "That's not what that is at all!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on November 04, 2007, 01:40:24 PM
"It must be the air conditioning," said Wurzel.  "They never seem to get it properly adjusted for the north side of the cellblock."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on November 04, 2007, 05:59:43 PM
"Whew, glad to hear it.  I was afraid of more those dreary monologues, which weren't even spoken through the correct orifice. Now thatwould have been a show worth seeing!" said Addlepated Witt, organizer of many a prison extravaganza, incarcerated lo, these many years for highly theatrical crimes, to Witt:...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: pugetopolis on November 04, 2007, 07:26:08 PM
"Not even the right orifice," Miss Crumpface said.

"But I don't have a vagina," Newt whined....

Gordon and Wurzel looked up at the ceiling...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 05, 2007, 09:31:56 AM
"Whew, glad to hear it.  I was afraid of more those dreary monologues, which weren't even spoken through the correct orifice. Now thatwould have been a show worth seeing!" said Addlepated Witt, organizer of many a prison extravaganza, incarcerated lo, these many years for highly theatrical crimes, to Witt:...

displaying a pressed ham in a public place, assault on an officer of the law with a rubber ducky, assorted and sundry crimes against nature...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on November 05, 2007, 10:03:55 AM
Wurzel awoke early in the morning, sweating, experiencing the remnants of a slight trepidation, that had coagulated in his soul in the middle of the night. The dream he'd had of being pursued by a permed configuration across an oily theatre stage lingered in the air. No matter. He gingerly hopped across his bedroom to open the velvet curtains but realised that he couldn't because he was locked up inside a maximum security prison. There was to be no pate on french bread, no early morning latte, no lazy afternoon scrumpy. Coupled with the faintest recollection for the reasons behind last night's sweats, neurosis began piling up inside his stocky frame causing Wurzelisms so he pulled from his boots a sock and from behind his latrine some billiard balls and walked slowly towards the indecipherable pudendum.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on November 05, 2007, 10:21:19 AM
After a night under a warm blanket, and the relative moderation of the AC during the hours of nocturnal dormancy, it seemed to have transformed somewhat from the bearded mollusc it had suggested on the previous day and now resembled more some kind of shy terrapin peering out from fatty folds of skin instead of a hardened calcareous shell.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 05, 2007, 10:54:17 AM
(My God you guys are funny!  LMAO, albeit silently as I am at work.)


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: notrab on November 05, 2007, 01:00:12 PM
Inside Wurzel's sock, the billiard balls rattled ominously.  Shortly thereafter, the muzzle of a small handgun protruded from Newt's groin area.

Wurzel yelped and took a step back, awakening Gordon.

"Just as I suspected," said Gordon groggily, "he smuggled in protection by means of a fake pudendum.  Oldest trick in the book."

"What book is THAT?" said Wurzel.

"No sudden moves," said Newt, now fully awake, "or I'll shoot!"






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 05, 2007, 01:50:04 PM
"No sudden moves," said Newt, now fully awake, "or I'll shoot!"


"You'll shoot what?" asked Wurzel.  "That thing looks like a cheap imitation to me."

"Which thing?" asked Newt.  "This thing?" as he pointed at his pudendum, "Or this thing?" as he pointed at his fundament.

"Why are we using medieval terms for these areas of the body?" wondered the ever logical Wurzel.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: notrab on November 06, 2007, 11:16:58 AM
"Why are we using medieval terms for these areas of the body?" wondered the ever logical Wurzel.

"They aren't medieval so much as they are Latin," said Newt, keeping his weapon trained on Gordon, who appeared more the man of action than did Wurzel.   "And prisoners have a lot of free time to master dead languages."

"And make rope," suggested Gordon, trying to remind Newt that they had trusted him enough to draw him into their escape plans.

"Wait a minute," said Wurzel, "aren't we on the first floor here?"

"Of course," said Gordon, "but we'll need the rope to lower ourselves down into the ancient sewers (or 'cloaca' as they would be known in Latin) via the manhole, or 'orofice de homo'."

"Newt here seems to be a manhole expert," said Wurzel, trying to break the tension with a bit of levity.  Alas, being German, he had some difficulties in using levity, and the other two simply stared at him.





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 06, 2007, 12:56:54 PM
"Orifice de homo?!" cried Newt.  "Oh God no!  Please don't make me go in there!  I have an aversion to intestinal bacteria and effluvia, plus I'm allergic to certain types of orifices!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: notrab on November 07, 2007, 07:34:06 PM


"I have nothing to say to that," said Gordon.

"That's odd, neither do I," said Wurzel.  "What is going on here?"

"I think this is the start of the writer's strike," said Newt, "but I really have nothing to say on the matter, as some striking writer is apparently refusing to give me anything to say.  Whoa..."

"This is kind of surreal," said Gordon.  "I thought I was a real person, with meaningful things to say!  What's wrong with these writers here -- it's not like they're even in the Screen Writers of American guild or whatever it's called...."

"Could it be a show of solidarity?" asked Wurzel.  It was growing difficult to even speak.

"Maybe they're just lazy," said Newt.  "Or maybe..."

"Maybe what," said someone, going unidentified, as the lack of writing asserted itself more deeply.

"ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ" said someone else.

"............." said __________.






Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 08, 2007, 01:26:48 PM
Meanwhile, back in Cut and Shoot, Texas, Donald Ray MacDonald was struggling to get the cows to come home.  He had whistled three times now, but no sign of them.  "They must've got themselves up there into the piney woods agin," he said.  "To hell with them, I'm going on strike, too.  Maybe then they'll pay me more money for feeding them."

"But Pa, the cows don't pay you to feed them.  You get paid for fattening them up and selling them at auction," said Mac Jr, the smart one in the family. 

"Aye God, boy, you're gonna go far someday," replied Donald Ray.  "You might just finish high school and git yourself a job at the dry goods store or something."

"No, Dad, I'm going to go to University of Texas and make something out of myself."

"Don't go putting on airs, now, Junior.  I might have to take you behind the woodshed agin."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on November 09, 2007, 11:20:21 AM
Aunt Nellie, who had been reclining on the couch and fanning herself, sat up and said, "I something nasty behind the woodshed...."

"Never you mind," said Don Ray, "she's a-been saying that since she was 9 yars old."

"Pa, mebbe we should hip-no-tize her and find out what she saw," said Mac, hoping to distract Don Ray from his previous train of thought.



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 09, 2007, 11:52:14 AM
"You just sheddup yore mouf, Junior.  We don't cotton to no putting on airs.  All this talk about going to college.  You think you're better than your elders?  'Sides, that girlfriend of yours is almost 14 now - she'll be getting pregnant soon, I reckon.  Now, go down yonder behind the woodshed and cut me a switch while you're at it.  I'll be there in a few."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 09, 2007, 11:54:12 AM
"But Pa, this isn't funny," replied Junior.  "Should we return the narrative to prison life or perhaps explore something else, like life in Abu Dhabi?"

"What I told you, you little bastard?"  Pa opened a jar of homemade corn liquer and took a swig...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on November 10, 2007, 09:54:12 AM
Suddenly, his eyes bulged and he reached for his throat.  "Cachhchkkkzzckk!" he choked out, and pitched forward, dead.

"No one leave this room!  He's been poisoned!"

A dapper man wearing a trenchcoat and an english accent I am incapable of rendering in print, stepped forward.  "Who are you?"  Don Ray asked.

"I am Inspector Michael Smythe-Ussman, of Scotland Yard.  And one of you is a murderer."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on November 10, 2007, 11:45:47 AM
[minor editorial point to Mr. Priest:

Don Ray and "Pa" are the same person.  Or did you intend his sudden and unexpected resurrection?]



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: Beppo on November 13, 2007, 10:02:40 AM
Prison life was proving tough for Wurzel - he'd eventually given in and masticated. He didn't believe Gordon that masticating sped up and interfered with hair production. But the rapid onset of a perm and the sudden appearance of a thick prickly beard—in one ungodly night, soon changed his mind. All that chewing had also given him 'Gobstocker Jaw'—so much so, that fellow prisoners had started turning up at his cell leaving gifts and referring to Gordon as 'Fredo'—as if to hint at Wurzel's newfound status. The prison had turned into a barbarous zone with most inmates resembling sinister, shuffling cavemen. A prisoner's wife, on a week-end visit, was said to have pulled a gun, and with a single shot, put an end to the sham that was "pretending to be my Harry". Scientists had been called in, but no-one knew who anyone was anymore—anonymity was the order of the day. 'Stick a Wet Finger in the Socket'—a monthly entertainment—and suspiciously agreed to by the Warden, brought about some respite from the incessant secrecy and was, in some way, responsible for the resurrection of...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on November 13, 2007, 11:02:31 AM
...disco dancing in the cafeteria.  The mirrored ball, stored away for decades, had been retrieved, polished, and hung from the ceiling fan blades which were then set on the slowest speed during the party.   Gordon, Wurzel, and Newt interrupted their escape long enough to drop by and...



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: kitinkaboodle on November 13, 2007, 01:11:36 PM
tango.  Of course, this began an insurgence of such magnitude that the guards were forced to...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 13, 2007, 02:08:23 PM
limbo til dawn.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: learn. on November 13, 2007, 11:13:04 PM
From previous experience, the creative writing your about to read might really piss you off .... since I don't like pissing people off....WARNING .... what you are about to read may piss you off ..... if you don't want to get pissed off... STOP READING NOW!!!

Hello all ... it's been a while since I've been on the site .... I figure the creative writing forum  is always a good stop for my brilliant ;) creativity.

Creative writing starts now: If you want to do something about racism, inspire/educate the future with an opposite to it.

LEARN - Let's End All Racism Now - spread  the word!!!
http://www.FundingForce.com
http://www.LEARNspreadtheword.com


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: nytempsperdu on November 13, 2007, 11:37:35 PM
The word of the day is "legs"

The fun of the night is to spread the word of the day.

(Ba da bing circa 1962)

As you were...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 14, 2007, 01:17:42 PM
Indeed, all the prisoners and guards enjoyed the big dance, so much so that talk was going round about making it an annual event.  The one exception was Warden Otto Mockman, who decided the prisoners would pay for their excesses.  At 5:00 AM, just as everyone was falling asleep, exhausted from their strenuous tripping the light fantastic and imbibing of Punksbane, Warden Mockman made an announcement over the P.A. system:

"Attention all prisoners!  Attention all prisoners!  An investigation into recent nefarious activities at the prison is being implemented as we speak.  Expect shake-downs on a regular basis, and a warning to all - any and all evidence of mastication will be severely punished."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on November 20, 2007, 01:14:41 PM
Gordon looked back at the prison towers in the distance and sighed wistfully.  He was really going to miss...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on November 21, 2007, 09:30:36 AM
the urinal, if he didn't start paying attention to business...


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on November 21, 2007, 11:25:46 AM
...and the dollars fall against European currencies.  "You're a-peein'" he whispered to himself.  As the dollar sank, there was new hope that the balance of trade would improve for the U.S. and Gordon's uncle would prosper.  His uncle was one of the leading East Coast distributors of urinals and, with the decline in new construction in the U.S., he was looking more at overseas markets.  The trade publication of the industry, the Urinal Journal, had recently been featuring hopeful stories on the trend towards foreign markets. 

All the American businessman needs, thought Gordon, is a fair shake...





Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on November 21, 2007, 09:52:43 PM
"I'll just bet you that if I were to buy a bunch of baby toys and dip them all in GHB, it would sabotage the Chinese toy trade, thereby creating new business opportunities right here at home!"


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on November 27, 2007, 12:48:21 PM
"Good Golly, Miss Molly," cried Little Richard, as he looked out his kitchen window.

"What is it?" asked his young niece, Molly.

"There's a man in prison clothes standing out in that field over yonder, and he appears to be in deep thought.  He keeps looking back at the guard towers and talking to himself.  Why on earth ain't he running licketysplit outta there?"



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: madupont on December 01, 2007, 02:27:10 PM
To be continued, or how Mr. Penniman discovered that the man missed the urinals and didn't understand the absence of one in Richard's Georgia outhouse.


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: barton on December 04, 2007, 01:40:34 PM
A call came in from CTU.  Jack Bauer opened his cellphone with one hand, while he finished shaking himself off with the other.  "Yeah?" he said.

"We think we have a lead on the location of the nerve gas canisters," said Chloe.

"I'm all ears," said Jack.

"Someone has placed them in..."



Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: desdemona222b on December 04, 2007, 01:50:53 PM
...the second Port-O-San toilet to the left at the construction site on 59 Forsyth Street."


Title: Re: Creative Writing
Post by: whiskeypriest on December 05, 2007, 07:54:53 AM
"Nonsense!" was the reply, "Everyone knows Port-O-San is code, derived from the mythical movie made about the facilities at Woodstock.  Deciphering the code will reveal the real location as...
...the Jolly Inn, on Irving Park in Chicago, right across from the T.