tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59064352012-01-23T15:49:40.356-08:00Change of PlansA collaborative fiction by several people with time to *kill*.Erinnoreply@blogger.comBlogger911100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1141428086914200282006-03-03T14:44:00.000-08:002006-03-03T15:26:23.626-08:00At that moment, the left-hand door of the two main doors opened, and Mr. Hooper emerged. He carried a birthday cake, and his old coat over one arm, and the memories of countless delighted children who had visited him in his store over the years.Ah, the store. How could they have taken it away from him? Thyroid cancer and a 20% chance of survival had been low enough odds to get him written out of violetoverflowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13598561894519525799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1139090384993802202006-02-04T13:25:00.001-08:002006-02-04T14:03:07.576-08:00Quite a catch, isn't she? He knew what that meant.The Janitor silently exited from the good Doctor's office and retreated to the elevator. Switching the elevator to the on position, he slowly acended to the first floor. As the car lurched higher he typed Shauna's name into the cell phone. By the time the elevator doors opened he not only had her address and phone number, but also multiple Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1139037800018048832006-02-03T22:40:00.000-08:002006-02-03T23:23:20.080-08:00"Jake's?", Owen blurted, "I-I... what do you mean?""Come now, Mr. Meadows, let's not be bashful, eh? I want to hear all about how your little date. Why, rumor has it you had quite the time!", the doctor said with a wry grin."What? Well, I mean... we talked and had a good time, but...", Owen stammered."We? Ah, you mean you and, ummm...""Shauna", Owen answered quickly."Of course! Shauna!", the Greg Majorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13928516492409918668noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1138994529286043152006-02-03T11:16:00.000-08:002006-02-03T11:30:14.866-08:00Owen stepped through the doorway slowly; his eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room.“Dr. Farrows, I presume.” Owen said more confidently than he felt.A deep, throaty laugh greeted him, followed by the distinct sound of high heels walking toward him.Dr. Farrows reached the dimmer switch and slowly illuminated the room. She was dressed in a plain white t-shirt neatly tucked into blue jeans. Her hair tonyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523450514786683379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1138986562225084182006-02-03T08:23:00.000-08:002006-02-03T09:09:22.283-08:00"Oh, shit!" Involuntarily, her hand went to her chest to soothe the pain there.She spun back around and started her sprint toward the library. The library! It was well-lit and there were always people around. She didn't care who this creep was, nor did she particularly relish the prospect of finding out--best to find a public place and rethink a strategy.Her hand found the source of the Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1138926758730540872006-02-02T15:55:00.000-08:002006-02-02T16:35:58.386-08:00"Dammit!", he growled as he burst into a dead run toward the apartment building. "Exits! North and South.", his mind quickly matching his feet, "Fire escapes? None. Nearby transit? Bus stop fifty yards East and parking lot another hundred past that." Racing through his checklist as he approached the glass doors, one item nearly caused him to stop cold, "Witnesses? None."It wasn't that he was Greg Majorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13928516492409918668noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1138897876712267432006-02-02T08:05:00.000-08:002006-02-02T09:02:39.710-08:00Shauna looked up over her desk and out her apartment window. During these few winter months the leafless trees allowed a clear view to the math building across University Lane. Nestled among ancient Oak trees with wide, bulky trunks and tall Pines that routinely rained hordes of prickly needles and cones, the building was well-maintained, at least on the outside. In front of the building ran a Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1138827819708701372006-02-01T12:24:00.000-08:002006-02-02T15:19:07.643-08:00Dr. Farrows? Owen was only a couple of years into his degree but hadn't heard of anyone named Dr. Farrows. Was he with the Computer Science department?The Janitor's towering frame easily intimidated Owen to retreat, backwards, into the elevator car. Crunching flowers underfoot, he stood there nervously while the janitor turned to the control panel and inserted a bronze key. Rotating it Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1138751483520285172006-01-31T15:13:00.000-08:002006-01-31T15:51:23.583-08:00"Whatziaaah!?", Owen yelped in a falsetto that would make Barry Gibb green with envy. "You heard me, boy!", the grizzled voice replied, "I just mopped that damn floor! Take the stairs or I'll... what the HELL!?"Gradually, Owen's heart made its descent from his throat back to his chest. It wasn't an unfamiliar sensation. He'd experienced a few months ago when he first saw Shauna, the drop-dead TA Greg Majorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13928516492409918668noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1138738884289569902006-01-31T11:47:00.000-08:002006-01-31T13:18:35.546-08:00Grading papers had to be the most underappreciated job a teaching assistant could perform. First of all the pay was crap, if there was any pay at all. Plus, every complaint that a student voiced was given right over to the TA, regardless of whether or not it was their fault. And any kudos given, the "actual" instructors kept for themselves. Heh. "Actual" instructor. As if the TA didn't Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1138733379932302112006-01-31T10:47:00.000-08:002006-01-31T10:49:39.943-08:00Owen grimaced and stepped away from the overpowering smell of urine. His nostrils were under such assault that his eyes began to water, and his mind was flooded with memories of Paris.Ah Paris. He had gone with an overseas work-study group the summer after his freshman year in college. The group of six had arrived in the pre-dawn hours, met their program representative, and taken public tonyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523450514786683379noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1138682705326632502006-01-30T20:28:00.000-08:002006-01-30T20:48:39.613-08:00Pushing the elevator call butto--AAAAHHH!! HE WAS BEING ELECtrocu--... wait.Still alive.Not electrocuteD!!! AAAHHH!! FOR THE LOVE OF Goh--oh...Oh.Maybe he was a little on edge, after all.The cell phone vibrating in the front pocket of Owen's five-day old jeans had really given him a start. Speaking of which, they seriously needed to fix the washing machine at his apartment complex. The entire Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1138668524426457412006-01-30T16:33:00.000-08:002006-01-30T20:48:52.996-08:00His heartbeat shifted from the usual steady drum to a slower, heavier thudding. He could hear and feel the thuds in his ears. He froze, standing in the landing, listening intently.He strained to hear any sound, any person at all. Half of him wished that a competent adult would show up and explain everything. The other, more imaginative half desperately hoped that he would hear no sound of any violetoverflowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13598561894519525799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1138314729318285992006-01-27T12:00:00.000-08:002006-02-02T15:20:30.886-08:00Owen slumped in his chair and stared blankly at the computer terminal, glassy eyes half-hidden by drooping eyelids, courtesy of fourteen straight stinking hours in the stinking math department basement's stinking old-ass stinking computer lab.He was surprised that he could even be glassy eyed, considering how much caffeine he'd had since "oh dark thirty" this morning. Frigging homework.The lab Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1138718823787031742006-01-27T06:46:00.000-08:002006-02-01T13:24:23.140-08:00============= NEW STORY =============Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1068612252303068672003-11-11T20:44:00.000-08:002003-11-11T20:44:17.020-08:00As I neared the corner of Highland Avenue, just two houses away from where I knew lay the most terrifying of destinations in my short 23 year life, a thought occured to me. There was no way I was going to be able to go there alone and be effective in any way to help this woman. Most likely the end result would be two deaths, not one. I looked around at the scuddy neighborhood, thinking to myself Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1068561001864173382003-11-11T05:42:00.000-08:002003-11-11T07:40:55.796-08:00I stood on the sidewalk outside my house and looked around, waiting, as if the sign of what I was meant to do, where I was meant to go, would simply materialize in front of my face.
At least Moses got a burning bush. I smiled bitterly at the weak jest.
There was no sign from the heavens. For all I could tell, it was just another dead of night in the suburbs, another hour in a succession of Bnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1068384982162852952003-11-09T05:36:00.000-08:002003-11-09T05:40:35.256-08:00The woman next to him gasped and started awake. He watched her through lowered eyelids as she scanned the room. He knew she was tracking, trying to figure out where she was. It amused him to watch the pieces fall into place and the recognition dawn. He breathed in deeply through his nose and moved his legs, pretending to wake up.
"Good morning, darling," he said.
He could feel her trembling. Ithannahnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1068088912700197292003-11-05T19:21:00.000-08:002003-11-05T19:24:31.266-08:00As I got off at my stop, it was as though I was in a daze. This woman, a stranger, told me what I had waited my whole life for someone to validate. I thought back on my days as a child, those moments when I knew what was going to happen before it did, to those moments when others whispered behind my back that, "There isn't something quite right about that child." I finally felt as though I could Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1067618693096185152003-10-31T08:44:00.000-08:002003-10-31T08:44:54.706-08:00I was on the bus headed to work. It was a warm morning, the humidity already blanketing the air. Across from me sat an elderly black woman. I found myself studying her. Her gauzy dress frayed at the bottom, probably from too many scrubbings, or perhaps it drug on her earthquake-cracked steps as climbed to the door of her home. I studied her plump ankles and wondered how many miles her feet had Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1067554406888182092003-10-30T14:53:00.000-08:002003-10-30T14:53:28.966-08:00A strange rumble started to erupt from the Pain room. The group paused for a moment, looked at each other, and at the same time erupted into, "RUUUNNNN!!!!!!!!!! They sprinted toward the end of the corridor towards freedom and safety. The rumble grew to an ear shattering roar, the corridor started to quake, dust and debris falling on them as they ran. Flashbacks of Indiana Jones and the giant Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1067419186349865042003-10-29T01:19:00.000-08:002003-10-29T01:23:01.430-08:00Josie knew exactly what she had to do.
"Hoolaballoo! Izzle kizzle, fo' schizzle. My nizzle, what you sizzle? Fo' schizzle bizzle, ha ha!"
She shouted out loud. Stoop Guy a.k.a. Timothy blinked.
"What the....?"
At the ancient Es En Double O Pee chant, Piers jumped up from his submissive position into Hong Kong Phooey mode, his leather G-string and corset shining with a mixture of sweat and tears. j-anoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1067404985702735962003-10-28T21:23:00.000-08:002003-10-28T21:23:17.100-08:00"Oh, I'm afraid that I'll have to put the proverbial kibosh on those plans, my dear."
Everyone turned toward the voice resonating down the basement stairwell.
Jerry was the first to react.
"Stoop Guy!" he yelled, friendly recognition eeking into his voice.
Timothy bristled visibly.
"Not... particularly," he answered smoothly; he toyed with a diamond choker in one hand, a .22 in the other.Erinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1067401051502534052003-10-28T20:17:00.000-08:002003-10-29T07:59:27.410-08:00Harrison laid in such a number of pieces that even Piers couldn't put him back together this time.
Mom and the group moved along the corridor, Salty Pete slinging whiskey from a flask, Josie and Jerry all but shell shocked. They stealthily negotiated the stairs down to the pain room, following the sounds of a wailing Piers mourning the loss of his "baby," Maxicat. As the group descended upon Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1067383531767899052003-10-28T15:52:00.000-08:002003-10-28T15:59:28.380-08:00Mom began, "If you're wondering where those two twisted motherfuckers are, I think the answer lies downstairs."
"I knew we should have left when we had the chance," Josie said.
Whispering now, mom replied, "Well, if you had, you'd be dead now." She led them back out of the room and toward the stairs. "There are four snipers on the roof and they're not playing with rubber bullets."
Josie Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1067318590840358122003-10-27T21:23:00.000-08:002003-10-27T21:23:11.830-08:00There Mom stood, smoking barrel, the sound of spent cartridges clinking, and a look of determination on her face. Maxicat had metamorphsed into a wiry-haired, fang-dripping, red-eyed feline from the depths of hell who could move like lightning and was currently hanging from the ceiling by her taloned claws. She sprung, almost as if in slow motion. Mom rolled her neck, closed one eye, and with theKimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1067287131509474242003-10-27T12:38:00.000-08:002003-10-27T12:40:40.246-08:00Josie, Jerry, and Salty Pete all jumped at the deafening blast of the first gunshot, then turned to look in the direction of the stairs as seven more rattled the nearby windows in their panes.Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1067235388924592562003-10-26T22:16:00.000-08:002003-10-26T22:18:17.770-08:00The door was locked! "How could he have locked the door?" Josie thought madly, scrambling at the knob. He had both hands around his business when he stumbled out! Just as she dashed across the room to the desk in search of a key she heard someone on the stairs outside.
"Josie? Josie, are you in there?" It was Jerry! Josie tore back across the room, beating her palms flat against the door.
"I'm Erinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1067223493387083622003-10-26T18:58:00.000-08:002003-10-26T20:43:05.763-08:00Harrison looked up to admire himself in the mirror. "Damn, you're macho," he thought to himself, shutting off the water at the brushed aluminum sink. "Just a little crooked in the neck area, though. Might have to see a chiropractor about that." He glanced to the frosted glass door and back again as a human scream echoed its way up the staircase and into the marble-lined bathroom. Dr. Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1067086508780364902003-10-25T05:55:00.000-07:002003-10-25T05:55:09.426-07:00Maxicat scratched feebly at the study door. Her human usually followed the rules about closed doors, but not today. Things were definitely off. She heard a scream from inside the study. Her tail puffed as she arched her back in response to the horrible noise that came from her human. It sounded like her name, or his name for her, anyway.
After attempting another scratch, and a piteous meow, shehannahnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1067032960852613472003-10-24T14:15:00.000-07:002003-10-24T15:19:00.100-07:00Jerry paced the length of his cell, fear mounting inside him as he awaited the torture to come. Harrison had led them into a dank corridor lined with steel doors. "You think you know what pain is," Harrison told them, grinning evilly, "but you haven't tasted true pain...not yet!" He shoved each of them into a cell and slammed the doors shut with a loud clang.
Jerry put his ear to the wall. He Bnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066930741060324132003-10-23T10:39:00.000-07:002003-10-23T10:43:28.253-07:00Gert looked at everyone, Mom with a look of astoundment, Jerry and Josie with their jaws hanging, and Chuck nodding his head and muttering, "Awwee-some," to himself and wondering why one cat was frantically licking Piers' face and the other was digging into his pants pocket.
Gert grabbed Mom's arm and said, "Hurry up. We need to get you all out of here. I'll deal with this asshole. Go! I'll be Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-106687773500605522003-10-22T19:55:00.000-07:002003-10-22T19:55:34.470-07:00After stopping at the soup kitchen and retrieving Mom's glock from behind the case of 12-64 oz. cans of lima beans, the soup kitchen dutchess, the tripped-out pot head, and the two tequila-soaked love birds burned rubber in the Cluckin' Chicken Chevrolet, smoke billowing out of the windows and one shapely leg poking out of the passenger side back window. Josie never could sit up straight after Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066773350591684972003-10-21T14:55:00.000-07:002003-10-21T14:55:50.013-07:00"Do you think it's the same Piers?" Jerry asked, turning to face Josie. This seemed curiously convenient.
She shrugged. "How many Pierses do you know?"
Copious amounts of liquor had emboldened them and they spoke, in chorus, "Mind if we tag along?"
"Hop in, dudes."
Jerry opened the rear door and allowed Josie to enter, wondering how wasted he would be by the end of the night, what with the Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066698818907347532003-10-20T18:13:00.000-07:002003-10-20T18:17:41.670-07:00A car emblazoned with the Cluckin' Chicken logo on the hood came barreling down the alley, heading for the embracing trio. Jerry held his wing over his eyes and squinted to get a better look. Since there was no sun in his eyes, it made him look even more drunk than he actually was.
Behind the wheel of the Chickenmobile was Chuck, the stoner cashier where Jerry worked.
"Duuuude, where's my Susannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066624067444554982003-10-19T21:27:00.000-07:002003-10-19T21:27:47.326-07:00"Mom!" they yelled -- in unison. They swung back to each other. "Whaaat???"
Josie looked at Jerry incredulously, "How do you know Mom?"
"I thought everyone knew Mom. She does head-up one of the biggest soup kitchens in town. I volunteer there on weekends."
Josie shook her head, amazed that this guy just kept getting nicer and nicer. "Mom gave me alot of help with a paper I did on the homeless Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066610368077597292003-10-19T16:50:00.004-07:002003-10-19T18:13:17.440-07:00Back at the bar, Jerry downed another tequila shot to steel himself for the task ahead of him. Why had he agreed to play that damn truth-or-dare game? The last time he'd played it had been in high school, and afterwards it had taken him the better part of a day to wash the paint off his willie.
It's been a good life, Jerry thought, and staggered up to the old sailor who sat at the end of the barBnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066599411225145012003-10-19T14:36:00.000-07:002003-10-19T14:36:50.900-07:00Timothy, AKA Stoop Guy, slowly spun his plush black leather desk chair around to face his oversized Hemingway desk, his left index finger on his chin, his right hand idly weaving a quarter from finger to finger. The city skyline twinkled behind him from the massive wall of glass behind him, giving him the appearace of a deity reigning over the unsuspecting metropolis, exactly the effect he had Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066581955048366672003-10-19T09:45:00.000-07:002003-10-19T09:45:54.640-07:00Jerry and Josie were slamming back their fourth tequila of the night, leaning into each other and giggling uncontrollably. Josie challenged him to a game of truth-or-dare, which Jerry accepted.
"So, does it ever get kinda...funky in that chicken suit? I mean, how do you wash a chicken suit?"
Jerry made a face of disgust. "Yeesh, woman...why you gotta talk "down" to me? AHHAHAHA! I made a funny!Susannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066512830982058302003-10-18T14:33:00.000-07:002003-10-18T16:47:02.930-07:00"Well, don't just stand there gawking; come in!" Piers grumbled to the shrunken form in the doorway. Gert the Footman looked up at Piers with sticky eyes and sighed. He hated being a footman. It always put him right in the middle of unpleasant things. Like this. Right now. Gert didn't want to see a man with a snapped-twig neck and two compound fractures. But he was the footman. He went where the Erinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066512603637522252003-10-18T14:30:00.000-07:002003-10-18T14:30:03.396-07:00Josie and Jerry gingerly made their way up to the door of the apartment and put their ears up against the warped psudo-wood. 'All the better to hear you with, my psycho,' was all Josie could think about. Now she had to figure out just who the Big Bad Wolf was.
Inside they could hear Sandee animatedly talking and could intermittently pick up words like Master, Apocalypse, neo-fascism, and Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066399972279080292003-10-17T07:12:00.000-07:002003-10-17T07:43:53.106-07:00Harrison followed Piers down the narrow stairs that led to the basement. He clenched his teeth as Piers opened the door to the pain room. The sight of it always shocked him and turned his stomach a little. And in his injured condition, he didn't know if he could hold back the vomit.
Piers led him to the metal chair lit by the single bare bulb. "Oh, poor Harrison. Sit down, dear. I'll get you hannahnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066350275456049022003-10-16T17:24:00.000-07:002003-10-16T20:17:40.846-07:00Piers sat neatly on the davenport working fervently on his needlepoint. He didn't care much for stitching border but he just loved the little flowers. Maxi sat at his feet, her tail flirtatiously brushing against his shin... brush... brush... brush...
DING-DONG!
Piers groaned. Who on earth could that be? He set his handiwork aside and stood, trying his best to dissuade his erection.
"HarrisonErinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066336101437572532003-10-16T13:39:00.000-07:002003-10-16T13:45:21.756-07:00Ding!
The elevator doors at the end of the lighted hallway opened to reveal a large, yellow chicken. Named Jerry. Well, old buddy, Jerry thought to himself, here you are--in a girl's dorm. Which is cool. Of course, you're dressed as a friggin' chicken. Do you think you should have gone home and changed first? Hello-ooo? Can you say, 'dumbass'?
Great. As if life weren't cruel enough. AllJoelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066328335258765962003-10-16T11:18:00.000-07:002003-10-16T11:18:55.166-07:00"I don't think you should go anywhere," Sandee said through her scary grimace. "You still have to do your paper."
"I know, but I'm just going to run downstairs, I'll be right back." Josie held out her hand. "Can I have that bear, please?"
Sandee's eyes widened at the request. Her smile faded. "Don't you understand?" She looked down at the bear. "This representation of Mother Russia will help hannahnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066299817301616702003-10-16T03:23:00.000-07:002003-10-16T03:25:17.453-07:00Sandee smiled.
"Yes, we need to make sure we're ready for the Apocalypse."
"Er, right. Whatever," Josie said, and she edged towards her side of the room. She'd seen Sandee do 'stuff', but not like this. Whatever she had was clearly affecting her in a way Josie did not feel comfortable with. Sandee's eyes were shining manically and she stepped forward to grip Josie by the shoulders.
"He is coming j-anoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066259801100020102003-10-15T15:37:00.000-07:002003-10-15T16:19:38.113-07:00"So let me get this straight," the cop said, regarding Josie skeptically. "The girl here starts to faint, then Chicken Guy here--"
"My name's Jerry!" Jerry protested hotly.
"--Jerry, Chicken Guy, whatever, catches her, then Stoop Guy--" he paused.
"Stoop Guy's fine," Stoop Guy said.
"--Stoop Guy shows up, then a blond Nordic dude who calls her 'Amanda,' then a red Jag streaks around the Bnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066242610587413042003-10-15T11:30:00.000-07:002003-10-15T12:09:29.070-07:00"I will have her. I will have her soon," Piers said in a low, menacing voice, "And when I finally do, we will be together forever, my love. You will see."
Piers looked away from the wall of Josie and focused his passionate gaze on the Siamese cat perched primly on the edge of the divan.
"I know that it still sounds crazy to you, my love," Piers said, stroking the kitty under the chin. "But youErinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066227931726317892003-10-15T07:25:00.000-07:002003-10-15T07:28:40.403-07:00It was at that moment that Josie started mumbling incoherently. Jerry leaned in closer....
"Piers....no...uhh..mmmm.....no pictures......Vermeer.....STOP CALLING ME!!!!" Josie sat up with a start, breathing heavily, eyes wide and full of fear. "W-w-who are you guys? What am I doing here? I'm so woozy. Why does my head hurt? Oh my God where's Piers? Is he here? You have to get me out of here! So Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066201240604132692003-10-15T00:00:00.000-07:002003-10-15T04:25:39.330-07:00"Er, no, I don't think we should move the body," Jerry said. His mind was full of scenes from CSI. Or was that CSI Miami when the blonde girl was strangled on a beach? But this girl wasn't strangled. She looked dead enough, though.
"I think we should try using her cell phone," Stoop Guy said and he dialled 911. As the bloke was stressing it out with a hard-of-hearing operator Jerry wondered whatj-anoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066156646742251342003-10-14T11:52:00.000-07:002003-10-14T12:46:54.733-07:00Both men turned in time to see the door to a screeching Porsche fling itself open. A Nordic-looking blond man stepped out. He pointed at the trio.
"Amanda! Get your hands off my wife!"
Jerry had had it. His Jerry Campbell Brand Patented Crappy Day did not allow for assholes in luxury cars to either almost run him over or scream at him for helping a defenseless woman. I mean, there were limits.
Erinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066143247553326072003-10-14T07:54:00.000-07:002003-10-14T08:00:02.880-07:00Jerry tore off his chicken head with his free hand and half-turned to face the hecklers. But there was no one behind him. In fact, people were crossing the street to avoid him and the woman, nobody making eye contact. Confused, Jerry looked up and down the street. A few buildings down, a guy in baggy shorts sat on a stoop holding a beer. When Jerry looked at him he waved.
"Colonel Sanders," cricketnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066102653844981502003-10-13T20:37:00.000-07:002003-10-13T20:38:11.250-07:00The squeal of car tires on pavement tore Jerry's attention from this striking young woman to the rapidly accelerating Jaguar on the street, only a few feet away. Jerry watched as the driver, a tall man with piercing blue eyes and perfect teeth, kept a strangler's grip on the steering wheel and sped out of sight.
Lunatic's gonna kill somebody some day, Jerry thought to himself.
Directing his Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066100760905246422003-10-13T19:03:00.001-07:002003-10-13T20:15:01.970-07:00Jerry Campbell was having the latest and crappiest in a long line of crappy days. The day had gotten off to a sterling Jerry Campbell Brand™ Patented Crappy Start when he'd slept through the alarm. Then his car battery had petered out on him, making him half an hour late for his job while he rounded up a neighbor willing to give him a jump start. Then there was the fact that said job consisted ofBnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066087992202719152003-10-13T16:33:00.000-07:002003-10-13T16:33:12.060-07:00A giant chicken was staring into Josie's eyes as she awoke.
"Lady, are you okay?" it asked, extending a feathery yellow arm.
"I...uh..." Josie's eyes slowly came into focus, and she got a clearer look at the large bird. It was apparently a mascot for a chicken place or something. It was holding her cell phone. Susannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066082019900281142003-10-13T15:19:00.000-07:002003-10-13T16:06:24.830-07:00Josie's legs turned to rubber.
"Piers? Is that you?" She barely kept her voice from breaking as she feigned a small laugh, turning in a slow circle to fully take in her surroundings while searching for those all-too-perfect teeth. "How funny, I was just thinking of you."
"I thought you had an appointment." Again, that deep voice; a voice that, earlier, had been so warm and seductive now had Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066065010780056212003-10-13T10:10:00.000-07:002003-10-13T10:10:10.760-07:00Josie sighed and dug into her purse for her cell phone. If she called her roommate Josh and told him what she was currently looking at from her vantage point he would not only be able to tell her exactly where she was, but he could tell her the fastest way back to campus. Josh thrived on coordinates. Just as she was about to punch in the number, the phone rang in her hand.
"NUMBER UNAVAILABLE"
Erinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066062188990511012003-10-13T09:23:00.000-07:002003-10-13T09:31:36.636-07:00"--and what I knew about politics back then would have fit in this." Piers casually waved an empty sugar packet in the air between them.
Suddenly, Josie felt tired. Here we go again. Another fast talking guy with nice teeth. Picked up at the museum--my life is a cliché. I'm too old to keep doing this. She stood up abruptly.
"I'm sorry, I completely forgot--I have an apointment. It was nice cricketnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066040305377927372003-10-13T03:18:00.000-07:002003-10-13T03:18:25.360-07:00"Why are you pointing that camera at me?" she asked Piers. Piers looked at his Canon EOS 200 SLR and then at Josie's startled face.
"I was just thinking.... well, you remind me so much of this person I once worked with when I was in Saudi Arabia. She was an amazing woman, although she could be quite cold. I was wondering if I could just take a photo of you." Piers said, smiling a toothy white j-anoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066035212219089892003-10-13T01:16:00.002-07:002003-10-13T02:02:56.530-07:00Josie sat at a table in the café of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and sipped carefully at her hazelnut latte, as she waited for Piers to return from the men's room. She had only just met Piers not half an hour ago, as she wandered through the Met's collection of Dutch masters. She had been studying Vermeer's Girl Interrupted at Her Music when a voice, cultured and smoothly masculine, spoke closeBnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066026272166617712003-10-12T23:24:00.000-07:002003-10-12T23:24:32.103-07:00Danforth Talbot checked his watch for the fiftieth time, then turned to his wife, who was dozing off over her third vodka gimlet of the evening.
"Just where are those two, anyway?"
THE END.Bnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1066015227178419422003-10-12T20:20:00.000-07:002003-10-12T20:21:10.276-07:00"int hypnogas(char* username)", Nate coded into the mainframe, taking a puff from the gasoline-powered bong in his backpack.
Really, he shouldn't have plugged those plastic thingies into Whorly's (or was it Whorley's?) head, but, hey, what the Hell. He had the round, plastic connectors just sitting around and, besides, it's not like the movies ever made it out to be anything bad anyway.
After Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065988641980362692003-10-12T12:57:00.000-07:002003-10-12T16:40:07.820-07:00General Rothman forced himself to turn the corner safely out of the isolation ward before smirking to himself. That Whorly was so smug, so satisfied with himself. He thought he had all the time in the world.
Little did he know.
The problem with being scientifically involved with hallucinogenic mind controlling hypno-gas (in addition to the obvious) was that you couldn't afford to get cocky. AtErinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065947166580011212003-10-12T00:43:00.000-07:002003-10-12T01:32:43.843-07:00"Is there any change in their condition?"
Dr. Whorley glanced up from his charts. "No, General Rothman. Their vital signs are stable, but there's no sign of consciousness, and brain activity is off the scale."
"Damn shame," Rothman said, and examined each of the patients in their hospital beds. Jeremy Wall and Samantha Talbot. Innocent victims of an experiment gone horribly wrong.
"One of themBnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065841521952342952003-10-10T20:05:00.000-07:002003-10-10T20:05:48.326-07:00What was it doing?
Whorly (or the 90% that remained), with drying rivers of blood and other innards oozing from its neck, stood fully upright. Perfect balance. This could be bad.
Its hands. Still moving.
"Wait," Jeremy interrupted. "Three."
"Yeah," Samantha agreed. "Three. Three words. First word, one syllable."
In unison, each member of the group turned to look at the others. This Joelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17091739208381046793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065836069080398622003-10-10T18:34:00.000-07:002003-10-10T18:34:48.693-07:00"Whoa!" screamed Captain Talbot. "Did you just see that?"
He points to the headless corpse of Whorly, which had been motionless and supine but was now in a sudden upright sitting position.
"Holy shit!" yelled Nate. "That's seriously fucked up! No! Seriously!"
"I sure hope that he hasn't been infected with the Cottontale Virus," muttered the captain, stepping away. "He could be one hard Erinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065820642713470512003-10-10T14:17:00.000-07:002003-10-10T14:22:28.933-07:00"Honey! Get over here. Hurry!" Captain Talbot held his arms out to his daughter. She ran to him with a petulant smirk on her face while fingering her soapy hair. There goes that weave.
The Grand Lepus and Pipkin ran screaming from the pink puddle at their feet, ran in a circle, and BAM! smack into each other, each respectively knocking the other out.
"Damn. All that and they total themselves. Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065807606695316792003-10-10T10:40:00.000-07:002003-10-10T10:44:07.846-07:00The team-- or what was left of it-- was at a standstill. Kehaar relaxed under the stroking, manicured hand of Samantha while Captain Talbot, Jeremy, Nate and Whorly's headless corpse unabashedly stared. With the exception of the headless corpse, which didn't "stare" so much as "list". And then fall over. The wet thump snapped the team out of their horrified reverie.
"Watch my back, boys," Erinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065769877368935532003-10-10T00:11:00.000-07:002003-10-10T00:50:08.560-07:00Kehaar was weighing the pros and cons of nibbling Samantha's head off when Sub-Commander Pipkin burst into the room, his fur matted with blood. Gunshots echoed in the hallway behind him. "Your Excellency!" Pipkin cried, "the humans have breached the inner sanctum! Our base is overrun!"
"I knew we should have invaded the Hamster homeworld instead," Kehaar sighed.
"Whoa!" Pipkin exclaimed as he Bnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065765363023297852003-10-09T22:56:00.000-07:002003-10-09T22:57:32.693-07:00Samantha sat crouched in a bunker, the interim explosive blasts knocking to her knees. She had known that this war was inevitable, and she had always somehow envisioned herself on the side of the victor. Now... she wasn't sure.
"I can't stand this!" she screamed, clutching her helmet to her expensive blond head. "When is this going to be over?"
The Grand Lepus sighed wearily as he reloaded. "I Erinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065752562250706232003-10-09T19:22:00.000-07:002003-10-09T19:29:13.213-07:003 minutes! Not one nano-second was to be lost! Jeremy, Nate, Whorley and the two Captains ran towards the yellow and green speckled Terrapin chopper that the mutant tortoise had parked behind the warehouse. Jeremy immediately took command of the radio control.
"This is Lieutenant Wall, Jeremy Wall, of the AKD, access code NT-ANTHR-CARROT, special emergency code FCK-THE-RBTS, private code for j-anoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065741600845741002003-10-09T16:20:00.000-07:002003-10-09T16:20:00.766-07:00Captain Reynaud was a force to be reckoned with. Although not the fastest guy in the world, once he got you in his jaws, it was all over. He had been a member of the Tortoise Battalion almost since the moment he hatched. He Daddy was a member. His Daddy's Daddy was a member. It wasn't an easy road. Oh, he had pulled some really shitty duty over the years from terminating the Roach Renegades, to Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065727609470405782003-10-09T12:08:00.000-07:002003-10-09T12:26:49.240-07:00Nate and Jeremy had just left the warehouse when Captain Talbot's Mercedes came screeching to a halt in front of them. Talbot leaped out of the car, drawing his silver-plated .45. "You! Identify yourself!" he ordered.
Jeremy snapped to attention. "Wall, sir, Lieutenant Jeremy Wall, of the Anti-Kondarian Defense Force!" he said, saluting.
Talbot returned the salute. "Don't you mean the AEK, boy?Bnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065718144933341622003-10-09T09:49:00.000-07:002003-10-09T09:50:27.630-07:00Jeremy looked around him, trying to get a grasp on the situation.
"Calm down," he told himself, wading frantically around in the quickly warming water. "There has to be a way out of here."
But as he felt along the cast-iron walls he felt his hope flounder; it appeared to be rock solid. Suddenly Jeremy detected a light scratching sound. He stopped his splashing and listened. Sure enough, there wasErinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065691439505283852003-10-09T02:47:00.000-07:002003-10-09T03:06:18.090-07:00Whorley knew he was in trouble. He knew because he could hear the sound of fear in his head - that's right, hear - as he tried to recall what had happened before he had been knocked out. He saw a shrivelled purple carrot in front of him and groaned.
"Oh no, not again."
He remembered now what he was meant to do. He had to track down Emperor Lepus's new bride. But why did Pipkin get there first j-anoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065683526009808562003-10-08T23:44:00.000-07:002003-10-09T01:02:23.950-07:00Captain Talbot hung up the phone, his face an ashen mask. "They've got Samantha," he said. "The blasted Kondarians have kidnapped our daughter!"
"Nooooo!" Edith shrieked, hands flying to each side of her face. "Not our Saaaaam!"
Talbot rose and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Damn it, woman," Talbot cried, "hold yourself together!" But it was too late. Edith's eyelids fluttered like startled Bnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065675082718424852003-10-08T21:51:00.000-07:002003-10-08T21:55:12.360-07:00Jemma turned on her heel and left the room, not before noticing the glance from the young agent. Men. They are so easy. Show a little thigh, play a little dumb, give a little wink here and there and play up that stupid southern accent. She learned all she needed to know from watching American television. That Mary Ann was a smart little cookie.
Munching on her carrot, she tucked all the Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065674235360752742003-10-08T21:37:00.000-07:002003-10-08T21:46:06.960-07:00General Rothman was frowning over the report the young agent by his side had given him half an hour ago. During those thirty minutes, he had made the young man squirm in his black Hush Puppies by walking back and forth, muttering to himself. The dark-suited members of the AEK (Anti Empire of Kehaar) were keeping themselves busy reviewing the statistics for Operation NMC (No More Carrots). Finallyj-anoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065665626873164692003-10-08T19:13:00.000-07:002003-10-08T19:20:26.573-07:00"A what?" Danforth sputtered, sloshing his snifter. He took the phone from the trembling waiter.
"Who is this?" he demanded.
"It's Jeremy Wall, sir." Jeremy tried to calm down. "I don't have time to explain, but I need you to meet me at the boatyard. I know it sounds crazy, but it's a matter of life and death!"
"What?" spewed Danforth. "What in blazes are you talking about, boy? And just where isErinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065656092230438192003-10-08T16:20:00.000-07:002003-10-08T16:55:06.590-07:00"Where the hell is Samantha?" asked her father, Danforth Talbot, as he sat at a table at Le Cheveux, tapping the crisp linen tablecloth with rising agitation. "They were supposed to meet us here over an hour ago!"
"I'm sure they'll be along any moment now," his wife Edith assured him, smoothing down the edges of her napkin. "They probably just got caught in rush hour traffic."
"But it's Bnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065650841681718782003-10-08T15:07:00.000-07:002003-10-08T16:03:25.833-07:00Whorley flew out of bed, drenched in sweat, in complete panic. It's happening again. It's happening again. What am I going to do? How will I fight off the Grand Lepus and that little scrunchy-faced, butt-kissing, buck-toothed Pipkin?
He sat down in his favorite Naugahyde chair, lit a Merit, and ran his fingers through his damp hair, a surprisingly endearing lock of hair falling onto his creased Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065649063834535522003-10-08T14:37:00.000-07:002003-10-08T14:38:09.820-07:00"You'll never get away with this!" Samantha hissed from her cell. Her feet hurt, her hair was a mess and she had no idea what the hell was going on.
The Grand Lepus smiled, his whiskers twitching.
"Have another carrot, my dear," he chortled, tossing a wilted indigo carrot onto the rapidly growing pile inside the cage.Erinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065639213419657632003-10-08T11:34:00.000-07:002003-10-08T11:58:54.053-07:00Sub-Commander Pipkin stood before the throne of Kehaar, Grand Lepus of the Empire of Kondar, his cottony tail twitching with anxiety.
"What news of our agent on the Human homeworld?" Grand Lepus Kehaar boomed into the cavernous audience chamber of the Imperial Warren.
"My Lord," Pipkin squeaked, "we have not heard from Agent W in over a standard Earth year now. We fear he has been taken Bnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065636702464924102003-10-08T11:11:00.000-07:002003-10-08T11:12:39.306-07:00Whorley, AKA "The Rabbit", was their long-ago friend from high school. He got his nickname from a bad acid episode where he spent 14 months in the local mental hospital because he thought he was a purple rabbit sent from the planet Kondar to rid the world of all evil. He's been out awhile, but the problem is, he lapses into these episodes and does some pretty bizarre shit, man. About three yearsKimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065634519796116712003-10-08T10:35:00.000-07:002003-10-08T10:35:54.850-07:00"Dude! I'm eating all of your free pizza!"
"Damnit, Nate," Jeremy thought to himself, carrying the speared doll into the house. Nate was OCD. Once he started eating something he couldn't stop himself from finishing it. Sure enough there he was at the table, black leather gloves smeared with sauce.
"Help," Nate whimpered, and Jeremy took the box away. As he swallowed Nate glimpsed the doll.
"WhoaErinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065631398523371612003-10-08T09:43:00.000-07:002003-10-08T09:43:18.123-07:00His good friend, and notoriously germ-phobic friend, Nate, nervously pulled him aside to get inside. "Hey, Dude, come on in." Just as Nate entered the room another Scream sent them both jumping out of their skins.
"I swear to God if those women don't turn down that TV I''m going to put a foot through it!" Jeremy swore this time he was going to confiscate their copy of Scream. "Have a seat. I'll Kimnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065629008492940102003-10-08T09:03:00.000-07:002003-10-08T09:03:28.640-07:00How could he have forgotten? That horrific time in the mountains... all of those men... Jeremy shuddered. The Rabbit. Could it possibly be him? Was he really back to make good his nefarious promise? Jeremy struggled incredulously to put the pieces together. The doorbell rang again, and a surprised Jeremy accidently threw his car keys into the wall. "I've got to quit doing that," he though to Erinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065620563176637112003-10-08T06:42:00.000-07:002003-10-08T07:00:06.936-07:00"My name? I already gave you my name!" Jeremy yelled into the phone. Stay cool, he thought, remember your training... "My name is Jeremy Wall." The apartment was silent except for the occasional thump coming from the guts of the refrigerator. Damn, I gotta see what's doing that.
"Hello? Did you get it? Wall, W-A-L-L." Jeremy changed the receiver from one hand to the other and loosened his tie. cricketnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065559912599077822003-10-07T13:51:00.000-07:002003-10-07T13:54:56.506-07:00Jeremy's first instinct was to sling off the jacket and investigate, but he managed to temper himself. Five years in the Airbourne Rangers had taught him a thing or two about reflexes, and a souvenir bullet lodged in his tibia had tempered those reflexes with restraint. He knew all too well that the scream was human, and he knew that it was female. Probably young; possibly a child. Jeremy allowedErinnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065558917394370782003-10-07T13:05:00.000-07:002003-10-07T13:35:17.206-07:00Jeremy stood in front of the bathroom mirror, re-tying his tie for the fourth time that evening. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to get the knot to make that perfect triangular shape. So far he had made two barrels and something that looked like a fist. He knew Samantha would be getting impatient about now, and imagining her fixed, unyielding glare only increased his nervousness.
Bnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906435.post-1065556792188798752003-10-07T12:59:00.000-07:002003-10-07T13:00:03.373-07:00Samantha sat in the car nervously playing with the radio. Irritated and restless, she gave up on the reception and flipped the mirrored visor down into view. "Perfect," she thought with familiar satisfaction. Now if only Jeremy would hurry his ass up.Erinnoreply@blogger.com0