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BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction

Little Hawk 29 Jul 11 - 05:27 PM
GUEST,Eliza 29 Jul 11 - 05:43 PM
Jack the Sailor 29 Jul 11 - 05:47 PM
Will Fly 29 Jul 11 - 05:53 PM
GUEST,Eliza 29 Jul 11 - 06:08 PM
katlaughing 29 Jul 11 - 07:05 PM
Lonesome EJ 29 Jul 11 - 07:21 PM
Little Hawk 29 Jul 11 - 07:55 PM
Jack the Sailor 29 Jul 11 - 07:55 PM
Little Hawk 29 Jul 11 - 08:02 PM
Jack the Sailor 29 Jul 11 - 08:04 PM
Little Hawk 29 Jul 11 - 08:08 PM
Jack the Sailor 29 Jul 11 - 08:16 PM
Jack the Sailor 29 Jul 11 - 08:19 PM
Little Hawk 29 Jul 11 - 09:04 PM
Lonesome EJ 29 Jul 11 - 09:07 PM
gnu 29 Jul 11 - 10:31 PM
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Jack the Sailor 29 Jul 11 - 10:37 PM
Rapparee 29 Jul 11 - 10:42 PM
Lonesome EJ 29 Jul 11 - 11:12 PM
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JohnInKansas 30 Jul 11 - 02:47 AM
GUEST,Eliza 30 Jul 11 - 03:04 AM
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Jack the Sailor 30 Jul 11 - 12:12 PM
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DrugCrazed 30 Jul 11 - 07:34 PM
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autolycus 31 Jul 11 - 07:42 PM
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Jack the Sailor 04 Aug 11 - 06:20 PM
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Little Hawk 04 Aug 11 - 06:46 PM
Jack the Sailor 04 Aug 11 - 06:50 PM
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Jack the Sailor 05 Aug 11 - 07:26 PM
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Subject: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 05:27 PM

Are you up for the challenge? Are you ready? Here goes....

Chapter 1: The Flood

The extremely wet, fluid water poured in a streaming cataract of tempestuous liquidity, mercilessly and cruelly inundating everything visible as far as the eye could see. Jake Tillington clung grimly to the rail that circumscribed the perimeter of the upper observation deck on his luxury penthouse apartment and reminded himself for the umpteenth time that they had all been warned! Yes, many warnings had been issued by many prophets, pundits, climate-control experts, and janitorial staff as to the inexorable and unavoidable changes that were occuring in the world and which would alter forever more the casual tenor of our times, these times in which we all live and conduct our day to day lives. But who had listened, cocked an ear, given a serious measure of quality time, payed heed, and been receptive to those warnings? Who among us had had the wit, the presence of mind, the maturity, and the sang froid to bear down, bite the bullet, and face the inevitable and inescapable truth? These were the thoughts that passed through Jake's mind, rather like half-empty buses passing through an overcrowded intersection, shouldering aside for a moment the lesser vehicles around them as a giant pachyderm shoulders aside a herd of wildebeest before it is lost in the approaching denoument of darkness and of night.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Eliza
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 05:43 PM

Chapter 2: Chaos and Cataclysm

Dolores Sylvester clung to Jake's arm, her mind in a turmoil of angst and terror.
"Oh my God!" she cried, "Oh my God Jake! How do we get outta here?"
"Stay calm, Princess!" he replied, "I can be strong for both of us!"
Her wet silk drss clung tightly to her shapely form. Her scarlet lips pouted as she gripped his arm with her well-manicured talons.
Suddenly a gunshot rang out, followed by another. And another.
"Someone is shooting!" cried Jake. Dolores screamed.
At that moment, Sam emerged form the patio doors behind them. His face wore a strange expression, his eyes rolled wildly.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 05:47 PM

Kenya and Brazil tumbling hot and oily into white styrofoam. Hot sweat and machete distilled and refined, one lump then two. Mechanical suction until teats are dry, long gray highway to pasteurization one squirt then two.

"Roll up the rim." She screamed.

"I'm rollin'! I'm rolling!" he moaned. Turning the paper revealing the sacred script he screamed. "No prize!"

"You are the prize." she purred.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" He whimpered. "Oh God! how I love Tim Hortons!"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Will Fly
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 05:53 PM

While Sam continued to blast away with his gun and his rolling eyes, and Kenya and Brazil fornicated desperately on the balcony,    staring down into the murky, dark, swirling depths, Jake discerned something indefinable and intangible struggling against the cataclysmic torrent - indefinite yet vaguely familiar to his jaundiced ken. Screwing up his eyes and peering further, he could dimly discern the outlines of a human form, the passing likeness of a face, a figure in an undulating, flaring, dark-colored dress making tortured, unsteady progress with ungainly, uncoordinated strokes and arm movements towards the edge of the penthouse observation deck. He reached for a light, wooden ladder which, with careful forethought, he had deposited at the side of the deck for just such an emergency. Jake lowered the ladder down to the surface of the water and towards the emergent swimmer. In a frenzy of wild movements, the girl - for it was a she - clung on to the lower rungs of the ladder and then feebly, tortuously, rung by rung, ever upward and towards him, slowly made her way to the rail and, as by a miracle, fell into Jake's arms.
    "Phoebe! he cried, "dear girl - can it be you?"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Eliza
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 06:08 PM

Chapter 5: Phoebe Pulls It Off

"I say chaps!" finally gasped the new arrival. "Rather wet today, what?"
"You can say that again!" replied Jake. "Come into the apartment and take your wet things off. Sam, put that pistol down, old son. You've been on the booze again haven't you?"
"Say," muttered Dolores, who's this broad, Jake?"
"Oh, an old flame, Princess. She's an Olympic swimmer from England."
Phoebe meanwhile was disrobing in the drawing room. Her lithe body glistened and her muscles rippled.
"What about building a raft, you people? Have it done in a jiffy!"
She turned the velvet sofa over and began to construct an ingenious craft. One by one, they all climbed in.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: katlaughing
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 07:05 PM

Suddenly there was a banging on the door (and it wasn't Kenya and Brazil going at it. It was real banging...er, knocking, real loud knocking. Someone was yelling on the other side, "Open up! Let me in!" (Huffing and puffing came to mind, but I digress.)

Sam jumped out of the sofa-cum-raft (it was a futon sofa, so would work well? That Phoebe knows her stuff!) and ran over to the door. Fumbling with the slide bolt, the dead bolt, the chain lock and one or two others, he finally was able to fling it open to reveal...


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 07:21 PM

A rude wizard wearing a complete outfit of blue robes dappled with golden stars, Saturns, moons, and other numerous celestial bodies. He was obviously a wizard, and obviously rude because his floppy wizard chapeau was crowned with a a giant glittering phallus inscribed "Honolulu 1958". For a moment he stood peering in at the assembled unfortunates, then tossed a handful of gold glitter into the air, and entered saying "I am the Great Dildoni, Master of the Dark Arts, Seer of Truths, Deviner of Random Probabilities, Estimator of Karmic Inheritances, and Ukelele Professional."
From beneath his robe he produced a uke and strummed a D flat. then said "who's in charge here?"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 07:55 PM

"I am," replied Jake smoothly, passing a comb through his dark pompadour with careless abandon, Elvis-style. Jake was an Elvis fanatic. He had collected mint condition copies of every Elvis album ever released on vinyl. They were arranged in historical order on a long series of shelves, each one encased in protective plastic dust cover. Most of them had only been played once on Jake's state-of-the-art turntable, and transferred digitally to compact disk and hard disk for replay. "It was a good thing", thought Jake, "that I had the forethought to seal all those dust covers and prevent slow oxidation from occuring, because those same covers will protect my collection against this flood..."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 07:55 PM

Kenya, deep and flavorful, Brazil, dark and robust, pleasuring each other until the simultaneously creamered. "Good to the last drop they exclaimed!"
"Knock it off you two. Yer in a public place! Stop doing that in the drive through!" She exclaimed as her heaving breast popped the button of her brown grimy roach stained uniform."
"Fer Gawd's sakes Cherryl quit screaming at the customers or I'll fire ye so help me."
"Fire me. Fire me? Fire me!!"
"Sheat ye can't fore me. H'im de h'only one what knose owe to worth da microwacallit!
"H'I sheer cain fore ye! I can get me knephew h'i from da turd grade ta read da manual."
"No ya can't! I burnered da manual."
"I gotcha dere fer sure I do! He can look it up on da Googles."
"What are you talking about Googles? dis is 1978 da Googles ain't been invented yet!"
"Yeah well he will use a time warp!"
"Yer a time warp!"
"Kiss me you fool!"
"MFFGERFFPPnt"
"What was that?"
"I said "Me farts a lot cause I'm pregnant."
"No I mean the smell."
""
"Hey are you peeing on me?"
"Do you like it?"
"No."
"Then no. I am not."
"Yes then, I am peeing."
"Why for God's sake."
"Do you like it?"
"No! For God's sake.!"
"Then it must be because my feet are wet."
They both look down to see the water rapidly rising. Styrofoam cups float by. Cockroaches make origami sailboats out of paper cups and paddle them away using coffee stirring as oars.
"What is all this?
An halucination by the Author."
A booming disembodied booms out the following colloquial sentence. "Shut the fuck up you two! Get back to the story!"
"What was that?"
A booming disembodied booms out the following colloquial sentence. "It was me."
"Who are you?"
"I am the omniscient narrator."
"The hell you are!"
"I am the omniscient narrator."
"Yeah If you are so omniscient, what am I going to say next."
"Lucky guess."
"Lucky guess!"
"No it wasn't I am the omniscient narrator."
"No it wasn't I am the omniscient narrator."
"Do not mock me! Or else!"
"Do not mock me! Or else?"
"I am warning you! Do not mock me! Or else!"
"I am warning you! Do not mock me! Or else!!!!"
"I am warning you! Do not mock me! Or else! I will cut your character out of the story."
"I am warning you....

Suddenly the character not involved in the dialog with the omniscient narrator realized that she had been working alone the whole time and the previous scene had not happened. She thought of some character on Dallas, a show she had never watched dreaming a whole season. A whole fucking season over some contract dispute.

"Why does the road look like a river she wondered?"

Sam floated up to the drive through window on a sofa.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 08:02 PM

Jack?

There is something seriously wrong with you. You're deranged. Your "literary" style matches the rest of us like bright day-glo pink and lime green polka dots would match a discreet plaid pattern on a beige background. You're clearly mentally fucked beyond redemption. ;-)

If I were chief editor of this unfolding drama, I'd edit you out of it. Permanently. Alas, I am not.

(the above is not text in our story) (Please carry on, people.)


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 08:04 PM

There are typos in the above. But aren't unedited typos a necessary part of truly rotten prose?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 08:08 PM

It wasn't the typos that concerned me. It was your way of expressing yourself. Your style of telling a story. But what the heck? That's life. ;-) We just seem to be on a very different wavelength much of the time, you and I. I have a hard time relating to your sense of humour, and I suspect you have a hard time relating to mine.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 08:16 PM

'Who is this character "Jack?"' asked the Omniscient Narrator and what the fuck! is he doing in my fucking story? Story! Story? Why don't I know that already? Am I nothing but a limited first person? I could at least switch to third person to give myself a patina of authority.

And he did.

"What will is be Sam? The usual? Double double?" She asked?
"Yeah. Double double."

Kenya and Brazil tumbling hot and oily into white styrofoam. Hot sweat and machete distilled and refined, one lump then two. Mechanical suction until teats are dry, long gray highway to pasteurization one squirt then two.

"Tim Horton's coffee is so sexy." She cooed.
"Yep." Said Sam."
"Are you going to roll the rim Sammy?"
"I think I'll wait. Delayed gratification is the best."
"You can roll up my rim any time Sammy."
"I like your rim just the way it is."
"Yeah, it is better this way."
"That's what SHE said!"
"She was right."
"Yes. Yes she was."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 08:19 PM

Your style of telling a story.

I did say that I had recently seen howl?
And that it was horrible?
I'm going for horrible.
Do you want to settle for bad?
I can do bad.
But I recently saw Howl.
Horrible is my current Mileux.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 09:04 PM

God, what dross! Someone else had better rescue the situation soon, throw Kenya and Brazil down a cosmic wormhole and get this thing back on track. If I was Jake, I'd get Sam to shoot them. ;-) Your writing isn't just bad, Jack...it's horrifying!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 09:07 PM

"Let us go now, you and I" quoth the Rude Wizard "where the night lay prone before us like a patient etherized on the table."
"Literally?" replied Jake.
"No of course not literally fer chrissakes," said Dildoni. "I am speaking in figurative terms. Somebody had to enter this story and give it some frigging class. EE frigging Cummings anyone? No? I thought not."
"Now look Bilbo.."
"Dildoni,"
"Dildoni. We are in a bit of a pickle here. Obviously, our comfortable way of life is crumbling around us. And here you are with platitudes."
"What do you expect. I have a frigging English degree. Do You know what that makes you fit for? I didn't think so. Substitiute teaching or Wizardry. I chose the latter. And believe you me there's only one frigging way out of this mess."
"We're listening."
"Escaping to a parallel universe."
"Jesus. What's that like?"
"It's sort of like a trip to Bosnia. Do you speak Bosnian?"
"Of course not."
"There you go again. that was supposed to be a joke. You are way too frigging literal."
"But are you serious about the parallel universe deal?"
"Yes. Literally. Everybody get back in the raft, including the rabid fornicators. This is going to take some true wizardy. But first, my ukelele version of Led Zeppelin's No Quarter."
The wizard proceeded to play this as the troubled folks climbed into the raft. "What the ..." said Kenya, and Jake replied "you got a better plan?"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: gnu
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 10:31 PM

Soooo... Dildoni is in a pickle... now, THAT is a truly bad piece of porn fiction.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 10:37 PM

you aint seen nothin yet


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 10:37 PM

ee couldn't make it. i'm archie i'm a cockroach, i just rowed in on a paper cup origami boat using stir sticks for paddles. it was dark. it was stormy. i was rowing. deal with it.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 10:42 PM

"Yes," said Kenya.
"What is it?" asked Jack.
"It's better than this," said Kenya.
She attached a multirandomized ficton generator to the sofa/futon/raft. Then she removed it, inserted half a dozen AAAA-size batteries, and reattached it. It vibrated, buzzing merrily. She turned it off and detached it.
"Damned pocket dildoes," she observed wryly. "They look just like a MFG." And she attached different device, larger, and which used "D" cell batteries.
Meanwhile, the waters were still swirling darkly, rising, and the first piranha skeletonized a dead cow which was placidly drifting by.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 29 Jul 11 - 11:12 PM

"SHAZBALAAM!" Shouted Dildoni, and a blinding flash shot out of his wand like a burst of blinding wand-rays.
As the smoke cleared, he realized he had scorched off his eyebrows again, and his eyes beheld several vibrating balls of fire. Gradually these abated, and he realized he was seated on his ass on the curb of a busy street.
Standing up and brushing off his robes, he recognized the street as Zmaj ad Bosne Avenue in the Bascarsija section of Sarajevo. Glancing at his wristwatch he muttered "espresso time" and wandered off toward Stari Grad Square, vaguely recalling a dream he had had regarding several urbanites stranded in a raft.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Amos
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 12:19 AM

I decided I couldn't stand anymore. I picked up a large glass statue of the Archangel Michael from my coffee table and hurled it through the 50-inch screen of my HD TV, swearing I would never watch Midnight Movie Cable again as long as I lived. It was very effective. A screech and an explosion of glass shards, and I had heard the last of Dildoni, Kenya and the irredeemable ragamuffin characters who slopped around with them.

I walked into the kitchen in my bare feet and threw back another shot of Jack Daniels, thinking I might be able to sleep now. But I knew, deep inside, that the pictures weould come back. Not the glitzy moronic tales from the television; the pictures of her. Of Glenda.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 12:20 AM

Then, there in the gutter, he saw the skeletonized body of a dead cow, skeletonized as only piranhas could skeletonize a dead cow, and he realized it wasn't a dream.

Then the wall of water hit him and he sank into its turgid depths, fighting for the surface, for air, precious air. His wand, heretofore his saving tool, sputtered and went out when he tried to cast sparks or anything else to save his life. The the swirling water hit him in the head with a grand piano and he sank into the soft and silent depths, where he found peace even though his skull was crushed like a rotten watermelon caught between two freight trains colliding as over 160 kilometers per hours. His penultimate thought was "Splat?" and then he knew no more. His last thought, his last thought ever, was thankfulness that his eyebrows were no longer ablaze and that except for his damaged head he would make a lovely corpse should his body ever be found.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 12:36 AM

With a sudden startled movement, he sat straight up in bed, grasping his crushed melon with both his hands. For a second it still seemed real, the flood, the skeletonized cow, his crushed head. But as his fists slowly released their trembling grip on his prefrontal lobes, he heard her. She was making breakfast, and he could already tell bacon was involved. On the night stand, a nearly empty bottle of Four Roses Bourbon and two glasses stood as if an admonishment.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared into the hotel bedroom mirror. On its surface, someone had drawn a crude wizard figure. "Crude.." he mumbled. "Rude!" he said "The Rude Wizard!" He leapt from the bed, grabbed his robe on, and practically ran into the kitchen. "Magda," he said,"honey I dreamed about the Rude Wizard again!"
She turned, licking a drop of butter off of the tip of a long brown finger. God, her eyes were green like spring aspen leaves, and her long black hair ...did she wake up and look like this naturally? She had obviously just showered. She had a bath towel wrapped around her and he could smell the scented soap on her skin from across the kitchen. She smiled, looked back down at the eggs she was preparing, and said "Dildoni?"
"What?" he responded.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 12:38 AM

Let me get caught up on this...I'll try a couple of cents worth...until then, maybe 'Don Figment' will jump in...he's GREAT at fiction!!

Wink...
GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 12:40 AM

OOOPS, I forgot my 'cut and paste'.................

Little Hawk: "Jack?
There is something seriously wrong with you. You're deranged. Your "literary" style matches the rest of us like bright day-glo pink and lime green polka dots would match a discreet plaid pattern on a beige background. You're clearly mentally fucked beyond redemption. ;-)"


Let me get caught up on this...I'll try a couple of cents worth...until then, maybe 'Don Figment' will jump in...he's GREAT at fiction!!

Wink...
GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 01:30 AM

Aha! Things are picking up. Will they discover if there is balm in Gilead? Or will they not? Tune in tomorrow for the next riveting installment of "Jake Tillington Meets the Rude Wizard and Invents Jellobabies"!!!!!!!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: JohnInKansas
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 02:47 AM

Jake's mind turned like the vanes of a wind-powered turbine, chopping his sparrow-like thoughts into bloody pieces that fell onto a growing pile of forgotten memories.

[shamelessly plagiarized from the 2011 winner of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest - just to add a little class here, and setting up for a new change in direction if someone desires to do so.]

John


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Eliza
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 03:04 AM

Dismissing Magda, Glenda, Phoebe, Dolores, Kenya, Brazil, Sam, the skeletonised cow and the desperately-rowing cockroach from his wind-turbine dismembered mind, Jake strode purposefully towards the town square, Dildoni at his side. Their mission was clear. Find Ali-bin-Risotto, the Italian-born Arab, and eliminate him. Then discover the whereabouts of his cronies, the fearsome Bosnian Plumbers' Gang. Dildoni quietly drew his throbbing wand from his pocket and they melted into the shadows...


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Ebbie
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 03:34 AM

sob I just now discovered upon returning from a night of music making that I had not posted my deathless contribution to the travails of the water borne protagonists.

I cannot let it go to waste so consider this a a prologue or a prequel or a sidebar; to my mind those lovely people are still out there fighting for their lives or at least for their story.

Insert wherever:

"The sofa moved elegantly enough as it lumbered down the stream, a stream that was more like a waterfall than a cataract. Jake held the vessel upright as best he could but from time to time and inevitably the side slipped downward and the occupants were drenched again, wet to a degree that could not have been forecast. Finally, and with finality, only four were left in the sofa boat; the rude wizard was clinging with one hand to one leg but his face was untroubled."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 08:57 AM

Standing there, waiting in the shadows like shadows of shadows, unseen and unmoving except for the wizard's throbbing, turgid wand, they were surprised when the tsunami crashed onto their heads, shorting out the wand with a wall of water and bringing the building in the shadow of which they had been waiting down upon them them, burying them under tons of concrete and steel and flattening their corpulent corpses like they were water balloons filled with blood dropped from top of the Eiffel Tower upon the crowds below.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 09:07 AM

A bedroom in Southern California, there is pink sky over the ocean from the sunrise AMOS rubs his eyes.

                           AMOS

         Who is that sitting on the foot of my water bed?


                           LEO
                        (Jauntily)
         The seventies called. It wants its water bed back.


                           AMOS
                         (demurely)
         Leo? Leonardo DeCrappio?


                           LEO

       Yes it is I, Leonardo DeCrappio star of such movies as
       Perception and Gangs of New Jersey!

AMOS picks up a TIM HORTONS COFFEE MUG, blissfully drinks some, turns it so that the label is clearly visible.

                         AMOS

         So this is a dream? Brazil and Kenya don't exist
         and I busted my TV for nothing?

                         LEO

         Brazil and Kenya exist all right. But the are only
         Coffee Beans.

                         AMOS

          But Brazil is so robust and Kenya so rich and dark.

                         LEO

         Exactly!

                         AMOS

       But the hot sweat and machete distilled and refined,
       one lump then two.

                         LEO

       Sugar. and before you ask, the other bit was just milk.
       You know, Double double. Its a Ginsberg thing."

                         AMOS

      But there is nothing about cocks and balls.

                         LEO

      OK, Ginsberg lite. This is a Disney Film after all.
      Didn't you wonder why you were being played by Justin Beiber?

                         AMOS

      Don't you mean JUST IN BEAVER? I am the notoriously       heterosexual porn star. You should have read the opening
credits more carefully. Its Dicksmeat Studio and that castle
      is a collection of dildoes.

                         LEO

      I was wondering why Tinkerbell wore chap and
      her wand was a whip.

                         AMOS

      "Tinkerbell is copyright of Disney. You were looking at Ring Her Belle."

                         LEO

       Now that's just goofy!

                         AMOS
      
       You are violating copyright again. In this movie you
       have to say gorshy.

                         LEO

       That's just stupid.

                         AMOS

       That's Hollywood.

                         LEO

       Don't I know it.


LEO awakes on the beach by a vast ruined cityscape on a lonely shore which could only exist in the dreams of one suffering from years of CGI addiction. All of the buildings have an odd texture, red and white almost pinkish. He looks out to see. Now the ocean is coffee with wisps of latte foam where the white would be on the breakers.

                           LEO

       If piranhas are bad what is worse?

                        AGENT SMITH

                           Me.

Agent Smith clones him self into a billion copies. There are so many that they are piled up around the edges of the scenes. You can still see the shapes of the buildings in the distance, but like an old southern mansion covered in kudzu, the buildings have a patina of Smith.

                           LEO
                     (Yawns and sighs)
                        No. Not you.

There is a long and involved boring fight scene. Boring because, having seen Agent Smith in several previous movies, and knowing LEO is the opted for one we know that LEO will prevail. The only thing keeping us from switching of the BlueRay and going out and interacting with some real people right then and there is a few clever effects sequences and the fact that we would have to shave and put on pants.

                      AGENT SMITH

                      You have won.

                         LEO

                   What else is new?

                      AGENT SMITH

       Before I die there is one thing I must know.

                         LEO

       As long as there are cheezy immature directors
       With too much time and money and too few original ideas
       you can never die.

                      AGENT SMITH

       Shut up kid. I haven't had a decent special effects
       since LOTR. Let me have my moment.

                           LEO

                           OK

                      AGENT SMITH

       What is worse than piranhas?
                              
                         LEO

       Piranhas on caffeine.

They look down the beach and see white gleaming cow bones.

Behind that they see white gleaming sea cow bones.

Behind that, the bones of a blue whale, the largest animal never to roam the land.

Behind that, hundreds of feet high, the bones of what must have been the entire population of the Tokyo metropolitan area. Godzilla pokes her head around that pile, burps, covers her mouth and giggles.

                           LEO

       I have had enough of this.

He covers himself in Old Bay seasoning and swims out into the ocean of Piranha infested coffee to meet his fate.

Push back to the beach, Push in to one of the ruined buildings on the shore. The only building material was coffee mugs. Perfect, steaming Tim Hortons coffee mugs with the label clearly displayed.


             Reality. Brewed fresh, every 20 minutes.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Eliza
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 09:23 AM

As the dust settled and the water gradually subsided, Ali-bin-Risotto and six of his Bosnian Plumbers joyfully regarded the mangled corpses of Jake and Dildoni, and toasted their success in non-alcoholic beer.
"Now," gloated Ali, rubbing his hands in undisguised glee, "Now, my friends, Phase Two of our foolproof plan begins." Brandishing flight tickets and false passports, they hurried off to their boat, and guided it skilfully towards the airport.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 09:24 AM

"The sofa moved elegantly enough as it lumbered down the stream, a stream that was more like a waterfall than a cataract. Jake held the vessel upright as best he could but from time to time and inevitably the side slipped downward and the occupants were drenched again, wet to a degree that could not have been forecast. Finally, and with finality, only four were left in the sofa boat; the rude wizard was clinging with one hand to one leg but his face was untroubled."

The look of relaxation on the wizard's face could only mean one thing. He was relieving himself in the water. The only question was "How would the caffeine infested piranhas react?"

The answer came soon enough. Having been exposed in the dangerous water, his participle was no longer dangling.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 09:39 AM

And what of Glenda?
Cock and Balls
Yes
Balls and cock
Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes!
Machete and mangoes
Maybe
baton and globes
Of course
Banana and oranges
Why not?
Is that Glenda?
Now, yes
Was that Glen?
Not any more
In the pickle jar
Kosher Dill and cauliflowers
No
Cock and balls?
Yes
Glenda used to be Glen.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: katlaughing
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 10:18 AM

(Just a gentle aside: to each his own character(s). it's always good to try to keep the continuity without usurping someone else's character(s).*bg*)


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 11:23 AM

Jack, when it comes to prose, you possess the subtlely and good taste of a drunken Australian Brahma Bull careening obscenely around a china shop, scattering spittle, urine, and dung in its wake as it goes.

None, that is. ;-) You are an embarrassment to the entire civilized world, rather like a snot-nosed downtown urchin, a rap star wannabee who insists on spraying "cock and balls" on the walls of all the municipal buildings with a red paint spray can, thinking it is hilariously funny each time he does so. He is amused, but no one else is.

********

Could this be the end for Jake Tillington? Surely not! After 17 bestselling volumes of Jake's incredible adventures his public would not stand for the author(s) bringing an abrupt end to Jake's storied existence.

No, it was not the end for Jake Tillington.

"Rumours of my demise," he said brightly, "are as exagerrated as Cher's last touring outfit and as unlikely as Lady Gaga's next stage presentation. In short, I am undaunted and firing on all cylinders. Now, let's see...where did I put my tourist's guidebook to cataracts, inundations, and unexpected plot twists?"

(reaching into his L.L.Bean backpack) "Ah, here it is! Capital!"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Eliza
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 11:25 AM

But, unnoticed under the rubble, a turgid, throbbing wand stirred... small sparks flew from the pointed end. Tiny pieces of flesh moved towards eachother. An eye slipped back into a socket. A hand attached itself to an arm. After several minutes, Dildoni and Jake Tillington once again stood blinking in the sunlight of Bosnia. In Dildoni's hand was a bag of jellybabies and his faithful ukulele. "Onward and upward!" pronounced Dildoni, seizing Jake's hand. They flew into the air and headed for the airport together.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 11:29 AM

Off in the distance a shot was heard and another drunk by another drunk. Then another and another, until an entire fusillade had punctured the drunk like a hot ice pick through melted butter. "Ah," said the Mysterious Stranger as she blew the gunsmoke from the muzzles of her twin customized ivory-handled M1911A1 .45 caliber semiautomatic pistols, "that finishes The Man Who Corrupted Hadleyburg. Mark well that I shot him in twain."

And she moseyed off into the yellow-grey fog that sat like a cat on Baker Street and swallowed the feeble attempts of the gaslights to dispel the gloom of the early London evening and muffled the clip-clop of the horses' hooves as the pulled ennui-soaked rakes and soiled doves in hansom cabs to unknown and unspeakable dissipations.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: olddude
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 11:34 AM

One word "Rap" His version of Moby's Dick is still a classic to Spaw. I bet he can rewrite some other great works for us


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 11:40 AM

I haven't read Spaw's "Moby Dick". Dare I hope that it isn't about a gigantic seaborne phallus?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 11:49 AM

Amos stares fondly at the picture of Glenda next to the hand lotion on his night stand. The there are crusty Kleenexes everywhere.

"Damned cold! I wish I could stop blowing my nose." looking down at the dry weathered lunar landscape that had once been his smooth pink guitar calloused hands he thinks that he needs to moisturize again.

He wonders for the millionth time how he could have fallen for Glenda how does one notice one well disguised Adam's apple when all the other parts are perfect.

He picks up the picture frame and smashes it on the table. "How could you?" he screams. How could you do this.

The image of Glenda starts to talk to him as only it could where the the character's mental illness is obvious and the author's excused as 'art.'

"Amos my love, I didn't do it. It was someone else."
"But who? How?"
"Amos my love. I have been usurped!"
"No you have been castrated"
"ME too!" Squeaked in the wizard action figure on the shelf between the Teribus the Troll doll and the Rick Fielding bobble head!
"Stop being rude Wizard!" Admonished Amos from his position of moral authority. "Hey didn't your voice used to be lower?
"That's what I am talking about!"
"Ohhhhh Dude! that's cooold! Who would do such a thing?!"
"You know who."
They all look up.
"Yeah, It was me."
"Omniscient Narrator!" Amos, Glenda, Wizard, Rick and Teribus exclaim!
Why are you all acting so surprised? You invoked me!
"Awkward exposition." Amos, Glenda, Wizard, Rick and Teribus say in unison. This section of the story is based upon the works of Kevin Smith. You know, the Auteur behind such classics as "Mall Rats" and "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back"
"I know who Kevin Smith is. You know I have often wondered, is it clumsy writing or is it something he has to do so that his weed addled audiences can nap through random parts of his films and still have half a clue what is going on."
A magazine on the table, "Sing Out or Shut the Fuck Up The Monthly Magazine for Politically Active Songwriters" magically opens to a page featuring a picture of Kevin Smith and the headline. 'This bit is a nod to Woody Allen.'
Smith fidgets a little considering. He contemplates whether such a question is worthy of response. His whole body of work flashes before his eyes, seeing some exceptions, but none he has written himself as sighs "Yes."

Then Smith looks at Amos and Glenda and the castrated wizards. He gathers himself for one of those long winded lecturing cameos he sometimes does as Silent Bob in his own movies. If fact, he dons the black trench coat grows the required facial hair to become Silent Bob.

"Yes Omniscient Narrator has castrated you Glenda and you too little Wiz. And Amos, he's screwed with your love life and displayed total ignorance of your virile and ebullient ultra heterosexual masculinity. And Teribus he's made you into a troll! Obviously the truth of your characters is the polar opposite of the Van Goghian, Daliesque costumes he has made you wear.
By the way Rick, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Croce want to jam tonight. Its at Little John Cameron's Pub of Eternal Guiness. Don't look so jealous Amos. You'll get there soon enough.
Where was I? Oh yeah, Well the Omniscient Narrator isn't such a bad guy. He's just kidding and he is cloaking it all in dream sequences. So all you have to do is have your characters wake up.
Close the page will you? I'm working on a fantasy movie. Its a world where Woody Allen can have a healthy, normal sexual relationship with any living being and where Jerry Seinfeld doesn't complain. I am going to have to eat a lot of mushrooms to envision that reality. Robin Williams is signed on to play Allen and Travolta as Seinfeld. They will take any roles with pay checks after "old dogs."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 12:12 PM

A dark stage and the staccato of bongoes.
A muted trumpet plays an incoherent Jazz riff.

A single spotlight shines on a young man on the stage. Is if Franco? If yes he is wiping espresso foam off his chin. If it is Ginsberg, trust me, you don't want to know.

What is that he is saying?

"with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, al-cohol and cock and endless balls," (Actual quote from Howl Oh how how I hate having to explain my breferences!)

I heard the best voices of the Mudcat silenced with endless streams of Bull Shit.

I heard the editing of editors who said they would not edit.

I saw the complaints about the writing of others when the writing of the others had ceased.

I howled! I Howled I howled!!
Do you want to write bad fiction or not?
Ask not for whom the cursor blinks. It blinks for you.
It blinks for you. It blinks for you. It blinks for you.
And in closing this poem, this epic, this self-indulgent ode to bad poetry invokes the spirit of the Poet laureate of this hallowed forum our one and only Catspaw VD the only one worthy of the letters VD after his name. (Doctor of Vulgarity) I say in this humble epic poem to you!


Shut the fuck up and write your own shit!
Shut the fuck up and write your own shit!
Shut the fuck up and write your own shit!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 01:50 PM

Continuity is overrated anyway


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: WalkaboutsVerse
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 02:17 PM

"Fancy a Fisherman's Fiend, Jake" boomed Dolores...no answer was the stern reply.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Ebbie
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 02:29 PM

What a job! I copied and pasted the story onto a document - JtS's contribution amounted to just one line - and it is just barely coherent. I have read snippets of books just about as bad.

Incidentally, there are 2,543 words in that document, or I would post the story right here.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 03:00 PM

Off in the distance, a glacier calved with a resounding "THUD."

"Odd," observed The Mysterious Stranger. "But then, with global warming, the Barents Sea has dried up. Too bad about all the fish."

Suddenly out of the night a shot cracked and one leg of the wicket flew off.

"Oy!" screamed a voice. "If ya can't bat any better'n that git off the pitch!"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 04:32 PM

Jts's contribution amounted to just one line - and it is just barely coherent.

He couldn't help it. God made him that way. Naked, alone, dancing in front of the mirror, singing to the hair bursh. Oh Ga Ga I love you as I sit here alone in the unvisited alternate universe mentioned in a previous chapter. Such a cruel world is literature where a cruel non-editor can non-edit one out of a story at will. What will become of my lonely orphan characters. Oh the ones that were metaphors for coffee are OK. They have new lives in the "other" reality. But what will poor DeCrappio do without a story in which to dwell.

Will his literary existence wash up on some surreal DouglasAdamsinain landscape like bones on a beach?

(BTW You know that people are dying to know which line.)


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 05:52 PM

"What did he say Martha?"
"What did who say."
"The voice. the unidentified voice coming from the direction of the pitch."
"Oh that."
"Did you hear it clearly? Do you know what he said?"
"Donno Stanley, sounded like 'that bat's voice has a very high pitch."
"Well of course it does! It's a bat isn't it"
"I suppose it would wouldn't it?"
"Yes, Yes, I suppose it would."
"They use it to find bugs you know."
"Who does?"
"The bats."
"The bats. The bays use their voices to find bugs."
"Are you kidding me?"
"No I heard Terry Jones say it on some nature program."
"Who is Terry Jones?
"The Monty Python Terry Jones."
"You heard it from a snake called Terry on a nature show, that bats find bugs with their voices.
"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!"
"It was produced by the BBC."
"Ah yes the BBC."
"With funding from PBS."
"Well that explains it then."
"Really?"
"Well America is full of those Creationists and they must be paying the BBC to fill our youth with the mistaken notion that bats find bugs with sound. It is obviously a forbidden fruit thing."
"Forbidden fruit?"
"Yeah a talking snake giving forbidden knowledge to naive people. It happens in America all the time. They call it "Conservative Talk Radio."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: katlaughing
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 05:59 PM

Ya think? LeeJ?

(I have to admit my earlier thought that this might actually turn out "good" was highly optimistic. LH asked for truly back and he got it!)


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 06:12 PM

LH asked for truly back. But Truly had been truly great. She had bended and contorted and made him look good as he learned his wizarding ways. He wasn't a real wizard like Dildoni. No he was just a fresh faced kid with a basket and a rack of swords who depended on the Ontario medical system to clean up his messes. She barely whimpered when he put the sword into the wrong hole. The one hole, the one sword that could not be avoided. The audience had no clue about LH's fuckup until they saw the ashen body and the blood pooling on the floor. LH asked for truly back. But there was no coming back for Truly.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:03 PM

Um....mildly amusing. Keep at it. At least it's keeping you off the street, right?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: katlaughing
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:15 PM

back bad and it is truly awfull!(sic)


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:20 PM

Jack seems intent on utterly trashing this thread for some reason. (shrug) Not that it really matters... ;-)

But what about the rest of you? Has no one the time or the imagination to contribute another glorious chapter to the Jake Tillington story? Or has it been fractured beyond repair by a series of inane and lurid nonsequitors from he who was born upon the bright blue sea?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: DrugCrazed
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:34 PM

Chapter X

Stuff happens in this chapter, that you don't need to know about. Honest.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:44 PM

"If only you spent the same effort writing your own parts as trashing mine." Jake complained as they slid down the berg to the icy sea.

"If only you would spend as much time writing as combing your hair." sneered Dolores. "I wish you were dead!"

"given how disjointed this story is. I may well be!"

"Kiss me you fool!"

" No! You kiss me!"

"mmmffgggmmmm"


"mmmffgggmmmm"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: katlaughing
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:50 PM

LH, I think it's FUBAR. Too bad, it looked like fun.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Amos
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:59 PM

Truly Grayte sat in her avocado-tinted fiberglass bathtub as the hot water grew cold and the high hills of snowy bubbles diminished into a thin, soapy scum. She could not take her mind off the sailor, and her mind was far, far away. Come to think of it, so was he. The sailor. Coincidence? I don't think so. The cooling of the waters around her eventually caused her to begin puckering in several sensitive spots and brought her attention slowly back to the present. She guessed it was time to get out of the bath, and had just raised one perfect leg out of the drippy soap scum in order to do so when the sound of a loud explosion came through the bathroom window with a silver spoon in its mouth.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:59 PM

"Stuff happens in this chapter, that you don't need to know about. Honest."

He is right. The subtitle is Ginsberg meets a Tea Bagger. Not that there is anything wrong with that.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 08:05 PM

Arrgh, we 'ad just rounded Pirates Bluff haulin a thousand tons of Mentos and collided with a super tanker full of Diet Coke. Oh! The humanity of it all! As the skipper lay crushed in the rigging his last words were "Take 'er home boys! Take er home!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 09:19 PM

Thigibhe le niebhiehpu grathche elenik! Schiabie! Schiabie! Zgoto nael binsmacher.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 09:33 PM

"Due to strategic management planning at the highest level," said Jake, "we are facing an urgent need to leverage the measurable parameters of our discourse here significantly." He paused for a moment to adjust the flow chart.

"We need to evolve from a push process, in which most content production is propelled by the previous stages of production, toward a pull process."

He cast a significant look at his audience as he uttered the word 'pull' and made invisible quotation marks in the air. He took the blank silence that followed as approval and went on.

"To clarify the dimensions of this: In a pull process, substantiation is produced by the need for a visible presentation of concepts spontaneously generated in the context of the cerebral matter of the participants. I sincerely hope we are able to recalibrate our motivating factors in order to facilitate the implementation of this essential goal. If we fail in this, we are in danger of alienating a significant faction of our...."

A loud crash came from the back of the room as Jack the Shit, lowest man on the company board of directors totem pole, fell off his chair, sprawled on the floor, and quickly scrambled to his feet, adjusting his tie wildly. He looked around in a guilty fashion..."Umm...sorry! I must have drifted off..."

"Of....our...constituency!" concluded Jake, frowning severely at Jack the Shit.

"Are there any questions?"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Ebbie
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 10:17 PM

It's OK- I think JtS is just in an alternate reality in a VERY different story. One of these times I'll copy and paste and I'll bet it will turn out to be a good story. If he starts NOW.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 30 Jul 11 - 11:09 PM

A woman screamed somewhere in the dark. The Mysterious Stanger? The Lone Ranger? Who knew why? She fell into the limpid pool of gaslight, a large black hound licking her face, his paws on her shoulders.

"Dammit, Gluon! You scared me out of six years growth!" she exclaimed.

Suddenly, a 'rang shot out, swinging along the fronts of the buildings.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 02:11 AM

You're clearly mentally fucked beyond redemption. ;-)

"How would you feel if you saw that in a memo addressed to you?"

As they sat, pale and nervous around the board room table Jake looked sternly into their blank faces. "Eliza?"

"I wouldn't like it."

"But it has a smiley face. It must be a Joke right?"

"It seems like a pretty cruel joke."

"Will Fly, How about you?"

"If someone said that to me. He'd better be joking."

EJ looks a little bit puzzled. "Why would anyone say such a thing?"

"Apparently someone had a writing style he didn't like."

"Did he write about murdering babies or something?"

"Nope. It was two people making out in a coffee shop during a flood."

katlaughing, seated at the chairwoman's seat tilts her head to the side and asks "Didn't he ask him to to stop?"

"Nope." Jake said, shaking his head, "The first clue this guy got that he was doing wrong was insults to his writing style and his sanity."

"Harsh" Whispers Drugcrazed.

Ebbie looks around the table at the downturned heads and says, "That is personal attack. Isn't it?" The eyes drop lower. They all look at katlaughing.

"Winky face! Doesn't count." Says Jake.

"But the guy's feelings?"

"Winky face! Winky face."

"Did he end it there?" Asked Gnu.

"No. he went on to say this."

God, what dross! Someone else had better rescue the situation soon, throw Kenya and Brazil down a cosmic wormhole and get this thing back on track. If I was Jake, I'd get Sam to shoot them. ;-) Your writing isn't just bad, Jack...it's horrifying!

"But at least this critic must be some sort of premium example of flawless, reality centered writing." Rapparee chimed in.
"Not really." said Jake. "His idea of good literature is writing about American Politics from the point of view of a made up monkey.
And Look at the horse shit he had me say."

"Due to strategic management planning at the highest level," said Jake, "we are facing an urgent need to leverage the measurable parameters of our discourse here significantly."

"What a stinking pile of horse crap." They all say.

"But surely to deserve such harsh treatment he must have disobeyed, clearly understood rules."

Jack the Shit picks himself off the dirty stinking cockroach infested board room floor. He has been so withered by Jake's stare that he can't even bring himself to wipe the roach turds off his suit. He says, "Look. It was me. As far as I knew the only rule was "write bad fiction." I did that. But it was evidently the wrong kind of bad fiction. I was hurt alright. But he was winking. So he was kidding right? So I continued to play, on my own. I was having fun. I was outside the story. Some played with me. Some pointedly didn't.

But this boardroom shit is going a bit far. Isn't it? I am not part of anybody's boardrooom. I am just Jack the Shit. The guy who resisted when George the Gentleman called him deranged. I am out of here. Jake, you have the floor."

Jack the Shit takes a chair and breaks out the picture window. It takes several tries, but the end result is very satisfying. He plummets a hundred and thirty stories to the ground and dies. But that is OK. He was a shit anyway. He goes to Johnny Cameron's pub and Rick shows him that in Fiddlers Green there are no scars. Amos drops in now and then.

Jake says "Good riddance to bad rubbish. He is in a better place now. Come back from that window all of you. The party is over. This board has work to do."

"First order of business mission, goals, rules and limits. We either have them or we don't. We DO NOT jump down someones throat for breaking rules we have not made clear.

Second, if someone is doing something that bothers us, we ask nicely. We do not make personal attacks with or without winky faces.

Third, we think about our own history before we attack a writing style for being surreal, for instance, if we habitually put on a metaphorical Gorilla suit we cannot accuse someone else of "bright day-glo pink and lime green polka dots" Our derangement horse has clearly left the barn many many years ago.

"The fourth order of business is more personal. This is Jake talking here. I didn't want to to treat Jack like that. He was an asshole, yes, maybe deserved it. I am a not cruel guy. I am not mean. This is not a playground and I am not four years old. The *Omniscient Editor who is not an editor but deletes anyway* put those words in my mouth and made me take those childish actions. Who will be the next victim of the winky faced insults? Are any of you safe? I will be a part of this no more. I hereby resign form the board and also from the story."

"The only way out of the story seems to be this one. 'If I was Jake, I'd get Sam to shoot them.' These are the omniscient editor's own words. I trust he will honor them."

"Sam come in here please." Sam walks in carrying a 457 magnum. The room gasps. Sam raises the pistol taking careful aim at Jake's third eye chakra.

A tear wells in Sam's eye. "I can't." he cries "You are such a beautiful and well rounded character, the product of so many hands."

"You must!" I have become and instrument of evil and I cannot live this way."

Sam lowers the gun and bows his head. "I can't...."

Jake takes the gun and places it in the middle of the boardroom table.

His final words were. "Will one of you do it? Please."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Ebbie
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 03:29 AM

Ahhhhhhh.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 04:51 AM

So are these supposed to be individual stories???..or someone whose head is wobbling in the gutter, hallucinating??....before I either wobble with you, or work a separate gig, I just wanted to know!

Trying to catch my breath, bouncing...almost on the floor,

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Eliza
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 07:38 AM

Well, I for one gave up about twenty postings ago! Not sure if this was meant to be a continuous piece of bad fiction (as I thought) or different people shoving themselves in, a propos of nothing, and scuppering the admittedly loose, plot! Bit sad, as I was enjoying it tremendously. Never mind. Have a pile of ironing to do. Good luck to Jake Tillington and his fellow characters. It was an excellent idea Little Hawk, but I suppose not everyone has the same agenda!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,livelylass
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 08:17 AM

Though I didn't follow all the references, I found Jack's pastiche of ludicrously hip self-involved writing, pretty entertaining myself. Keep up the bad work Jack, in the words of Ricky Gervaise "because, the regime don't like it man!"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 10:30 AM

As always, Eliza, too many cooks have spoiled the soup! ;-) But then, it only takes one bad apple to spoil the whole barrel, right? We have had story threads that managed to work pretty well in the past, but sometimes they work, sometimes they don't.

Anyway, all people really come here for every day (whether or not they know it) is to express themselves and while away a bit of time.

And in that sense this thread is serving the purpose as well as any other, isn't it?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 10:37 AM

Jack, I must say that your last bit of writing on this thread was hilarious and inspiring! It was well-constructed, witty, and memorable.

I think I see the possibility of a promotion in your near future. ;-)


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Amos
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 10:55 AM

George the Gentleman, dressed in gray flannel pajamas with red trim and a wine-dark silk dressing gown, wearing Army boots on his delicate feet, took the dirty shuddering freight elevator to the buildings top floor. He liked top floors. They always made him feel superior. When the stained old box cvame to a halt, he climbed out between the jammed-open halves of the freight doors, landing lightly on the 21sr floor of the Boredom Building. The floor was cavernous, dark, and smelled of World War I business associates.

He made his way to a fire escape and pushed it open, blinking in the sudden inpouring of bright daylight. He stepped out onto the cracked tare-and-gravel surface, his feet making little crunchy noises as he walked toward the balustrade. Leaning over, he stared down into the street below, where shards of boardroom window-glass were still glinting in the sunlight, reflecting the colors of the remains of Jack the Shit's blood, guts, and over-priced jewelery.

He definitely felt superior up here. The fleeting thought entered his mind that he should jump, join Jack in redecorating FOurth Avenue and giving folks something doubly exciting to discuss over breakfast.

But he didn't. He never did. He just looked down.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 11:04 AM

Oh, wait...I guess it'll have to be a posthumous promotion for Jack the Shit.

Oh well, perhaps it's better that way. Dead heroes can't screw up the company agenda, can they? ;-)

Now, where were we?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 11:19 AM

Behind George a hand covered with orange-colored fur grasped the ledge and then another did so. The orang-otang (for such it was) quietly pulled itself up and padded noiselessly across the roof. In one hand was a bolo knife. With its free hand it seized George the Gentleman from behind and lifted him well clear of the roof. With the bolo it cut the laces to his boots, which fell off.

"Urk!" said George suspensefully. "Urk!"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 11:30 AM

After the "Mentos Incident" The Flying Dunceman became a ghost ship, plying her trade in the Seas Melville in search of that most elusive prey, a comprehensible plot.   As they rounded Belabored Point into Latte Bay they saw a stirring in the water and the piranha cleaned skeletons of previous victims of sundry and assorted mayhem climbed on board and join the crew.

A tall, skinny set of bones climbs up the rope ladder, he materializes into some sort of half man, half pinniped critter with two huge teeth, and a cheesy mustache, think of Tom Selleck with his two front teeth missing.

A tall zombie with an eyepatch, hook and wooden leg clomps over to him. Arrrgh! I be Captain Ascab! 'oo might ye be?

Leo, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflective surface of a cutlass 442, lowers his head and say's I used to be Leo DeCrappio, handsome star of such classic films as "The Nave He Ate Her" and "Catch Me by the Can."

"Who be ye now?"

"Apparently.... I am the Walrus."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 11:39 AM

Heeeeellllloooooo!!!
Heeeellllooooooo!!!

Its Jake here! All aloone in the booored room! Is anyone gonna shoot me or not?

Oh look there's George! Over there on that building looking down on Mr. Shit.

Geeeooorrgee, Oh Geooorgie! I am out of the closet now! We can be toooogeeeether! Come on and shoot me with that big pistol of yours Georgie!

Gasp!!! Oh my! What is that big orange ape doing to George?

Nothing, sinful I hope!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 02:04 PM

Coupled together, or individual??

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 02:27 PM

Answer the question yourself. Write whatever you want. Since Little Hawk has switched from writing to critiquing, the thread could use some more writers.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 07:21 PM

As his shoes fell to the roof, George screamed. The ape shook him and he stopped, his brains all but scrambled. From somewhere Jack was calling that he had finally come out of the closet, but the Orang-otang still held him off the floor of the roof. As the bolo pared away his toenails, George wished that he had worn socks.

From the stairway to the roof, Belize, unseen, raised her rifle and suddenly a tranquilizer dart blossomed in the primate's gluteus muscle. It screamed and dropped George, cropping his hair rather shorter than he liked with a swing of the bolo. Then the drug took effect and he (it was most definitely a male) fell like a rolling stone, seriously cracking some of the roof joists as he did so.

In the distance music was playing. "Night Train," murmured George as he lost consciousness.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 07:22 PM

I switch seamlessly as I please from one to the other, Jack. Why? Because I can! ;-) And it pleases me to do so. I am perfectly happy to let others contribute to the story as long as their habituation to the idea of doing so compells them to...and I note that you seem more compelled than most...simply by the number of your posts here.

So go to it. Have fun. Your next contribution awaits.

Then ask yourself: "Will I still be doing this a month from now?"

My guess would be...no....but there's no way of being completely sure about that. It all depends on how deeply your ego has bitten down on this particular chance to exercise itself. If very deeply...then you could well still be posting on this thread a year from now.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: autolycus
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 07:42 PM

The next thing he knew [if I remember correctly], the door opened, and a gun came in carrying a man.

It fired the man who slunk off muttering oaths like "I swear I'm never going to be employed by a gun again".

[My writing teacher said always remember to address the reader from time to time, like Jane Austen.]

Dear reader, I hope you're following all this and write back to me with any comments you have, especially as I feel my plot construction isn't all it should be. Before I send thisd off to you, perha[ps you'd be kind enoughto send me your address, so i know where to send this note. Ta.

The gun put itself down; well, when I say 'gun', I mean write 'gun' I mean, OF COURSE, a hired gun, aka as bloke who looks dodgy and carries a gun, for doing stuff like asking questions afterwards.

"Where's Jake?" he queried, doubtfully [c in a circle, Agatha Christie.]

"Who's Jake?" I mumbled,as i wasn't sure of my ground. And because of that flood earlier in the book where there was a flo....oops, not supposed to ruin your disbelief - sorry.

At that point, the gun was stuck (luckily for me) for his next line [luckily for me) ( damn, repetition's not good, is it?)

"I quite like repetition" said the gun [still actually a man, dear reader - hello - er, dear reader - oh - dear reader's buggered off. Well I think i may just slope o....ahhh

End of chapter - um - um - shptrfotnieigh-ty.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,livelylass
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 07:49 PM

Aarghextra!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 10:46 PM

"A year from now? A year from now? If anyone is writing on this thread a year from now then Tolstoy will have been replaced in maximus verbatude." The Omniscient narrator opined.

"Jack is dead." Said Jake. "His closet remains unexplored while mine is scrumptious!!"

He then picked up his iPhone and fingered the display.

Hey Paraguay, can you and Uruguay get over to Belize's lair and keep that ape from defiling my paramour?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 31 Jul 11 - 11:35 PM

"What kind of a world would we have if apes didn't defile paramours?"

Chongo asked himself this as he downed a third shot glass of scotch and regretfully put aside his worn paperback copy of "Thuvia, Maid of Mars". Boy, could that Edgar Rice Burroughs write! You'd practically think he was part chimp with the amazing stories he came up with. Surely he shared some extra genetic coding with the great apes beyond that of most of these sorry humans?

However, more prosaic matters were pressing. Such as the rent. And the new case. It involved the mysterious disappearance of one Jake Tillington, a corporate employee who had vanished shortly after a conference meeting discussing marketing strategies for 2012. Chongo wouldn't have been much interested except for the fact that Jake's sister Agatha had turned up at his door and offered him a cool $30,000 to find Jake with a $5,000 advance. That got Chongo's attention right away.

Agatha was an odd one. She looked like a cross between Olive Oyl and the traditional skinny spinster librarian with the rimless glasses. She looked, in fact, like she had just tasted a pretty sour pickle. But she was obviously loaded, therefore definitely worth listening to from Chongo's point of view.

He had little to go on. Nothing but an email that said, "I will be home late, so if you call, do it after 11 pm. - Jake"

Jake had been a bit later than that...three days had gone by with no further word, and Agatha was in panic about it.

So, it was time to buckle down, question possible witnesses, follow up on hunches, and oil up the old tommy gun...just in case.

You never could tell.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Janie
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 02:27 AM

A small, inflatable raft appeared from seemingly nowhere, floating on what...a torrential river? The ether? a raging sea? The apocalyptic flooding of the Chicago sewers that had been prophecied by the Great Dildoni? (you know, he who is also prophecied to Rise Again) a raging tide of passion?

No matter. At least not to the slim maiden, (or depending on the light and one's inclination, the plump matron.) In any event, she is the only and obvious commander of the little craft. To a careless observer, especially to those not concerned with where paragraphs should begin and end, she seems placid, even oblivious to all the turmoil around her as she paddles and sings, slightly off-key, "Row, rho, roe yer boat, gently down the stream...."

As she passes any given point, all action briefly ceases, as folks, even the Chimp, stare, dumbfounded, and little cartoon balloons appear over their heads, containing lines like "what the f*ck?"

There is one, however, with much more keen powers of observation than the rest. That person, and that person alone, notices the maid (or is it matron? or perhaps it is the raft itself?) is actually gathering up anything or anyone that could or has been labeled "turgid," hauling the same from the waters around into the raft, and dropping all that turgidity into little jewelled boxes with tight clasps.

Was that Agatha sitting back in the shadows, watching and pondering?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: autolycus
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:12 AM

No.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:21 AM

The following post is copyrighted (1991). Do Not Enter, unless you agree to only read it for your own enjoyment(I hope). It is the first intro scene. Do not copy or in anyway use without my permission.
Other than that....enjoy!

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:22 AM

SCENE #1

MICHAEL'S HOUSE -- NIGHT

House in wooded area, Santa Monica Mountain's. (Topanga Canyon)            

TITLES:   "35 Years Ago"

Though window, gathering of late teens, early twenties, sitting, smoking, laughing, passing pipe, and tossing an occasional beer. About 200 miscellaneous types of candles flickering on shelves, and various furniture etc. Stereo in the background.

SFX --MUSIC: Rises in volume on opening of scene. "BRING OUT THE ROSES"

MICHAEL
Michael, early 20's. beard, accompanying the music with a guitar.

                                    VOICE
         Hey Mike, toss me a beer……damn !..got my Zig-Zags wet, anybody got any papers?

WIDER VIEW

He reaches over, grabs a beer, tosses it across the room. He resumes playing.

SPFX --- Suddenly an ultra bright light blasts through the windows. Curtains blowing wildly. (As if a police helicopter has its spot lights on the house and flying low).

Michael flings off the guitar, bolts up, and begins shooing people out of the house.

                                    MICHAEL
       Quick!! Everybody out!! It's a bust!

Guest scatter. Light through window ceases as room clears. Complete silence. Michael runs to the door, looks both ways for safety, bolts out.

EXT. BACK OF MICHAEL'S HOUSE

He scrambles up and over a retaining wall. Keeping low to the ground, he runs up the hill, through the bushes.

MICHAEL IN WOODED AREA AND BRUSH

SFX --Distant sounds. Pursuing dogs and panting and barking, sirens shouted orders, crunching of twigs and footsteps through the brush.

Michael ducks under the brush, and rests behind a large rock. AD LIB.

SPFX -- Ultra bright shaft of light comes near him.

He evades the illumination. Light moves away.

SFX -- Background ambience of chaos increases….as if it getting nearer.


                                    MICHAEL
                           (Horrified and nervous)
       Hell has finally arrived! Shit!

SFX -- Gun Shots, machine gun fire, major police action.

                                  MICHAEL
       God! They're actually shooting at each other. We've gone too far!!

Michael rises to see what he can Expression reflects horror, shock and disbelief. He ducks for cover ..looks up …ducks again.

                                 
                                  MICHAEL
       Guess it's too late to go home!

He thinks, looks as if he is deciding, the rises up.

                                  MICHAEL
             (Shouting at the top of his lungs)
      THIS IS BULLSHIT! THOU SHALL NOT KILL…DOESN'T THAT MEAN ANYTHING TO ANYBODY ANYMORE!??

                                  MICHAEL
                     (Whispering to himself)
       Jeez, they've been trying to do away with that.

                                  VOICE (O.S. in distance)
       Tell 'em , brother!

SPFX -- Suddenly the shaft of bright light blasts down on him. Within the circling whirlwind shaft of light everything is illuminated .
SFX --Great whirling rushing sound, increasing in volume.

SERIES OF SHOTS -- Holographic miniatures, different locations.

#1: Kids stealing car parts and rummaging through car; man runs out of house, after them with a shotgun.
#2: Man entering house, …partially clad, holding his pants up, trying to exit window.
                              
                                 VOICE:
          I want your wife…..she doesn't love you anymore!!    (SFX --Gunshot)

#3: Burglars working on a window.
#4: Man standing guard on his porch with a rifle; wife in window, holding two children.

                               MAN
                           (Angered)
          Since the collapse, people just think they can take just about anything they want….and nobody is
          going to stop them!

#5: Policeman running into his house looks at his wife.

                                 POLICEMAN
          I had to see if you were alright
                                 WIFE
                (Shaky frightened)
          It's gone mad. .all mad.

                                 POLICEMAN
          I'm staying ….I'm guarding you and the house, quick, get my revolver!

Michael moves behind the rock, for cover …away from the scene. Slowly rises above the rock to look. Suddenly he rises up and declares.

                                 MICHAEL
          This is ridiculous, everybody's gone nuts! ..I'm tired of running! Either I need help ..or you do! In any
            event, I'm coming down!

SPFX -- Instantly the light extinguishes.

SFX -- Ambience returns to that of a normal wooded area at night. Michael walks down the hill in disbelief, looking around, as if to say, 'Where is everything? What happened?'

He approaches his house, the door is still open, and the candles still burning. Everyone is gone. Puzzled, curious, he walks down the driveway approx 20 yards, sees a stranger. (PAUL, late thirties, tall, friendly, calm standing alone under a tree. Michael's quickens pace, as he approaches.

DRIVEWAY
MICHAEL & PAUL

                                 MICHAEL
            Is it over?

                                 PAUL
             (Knowingly)
            For you it is.

Michael hugs him, the draws away, slight distrust and curious.

                                 MICHAEL
          Who are you??

                                 PAUL
          Your neighbor. That your house? ..with all the candles??

                                 MICHAEL
          That's funny…I've never seen you. How long have you lived here?

                                 PAUL
          Quite a while. Why don't you come down to my house? …Oh, by the way, my name is Paul.

                                 MICHAEL
                (cautiously)
          Yeah,….. Okay.

INTERIOR --- PAUL'S HOUSE

Michael entering into the front door and into the living room. There is no furniture. A woman, early 20's walks into room.

                                  WOMAN
         May I get you some water?

                                  MICHAEL
         No… No thank you…… How come I've never met you two before?
He turns, looks at them as he is inquiring. They are silent.

                                  MICHAEL
         Well???

Michael snaps around, rushes to window, looks astonished.

SPFX --From out of the window, he is looking at the North American continent, from approximately 200 miles southwest of Southern California, over Pacific Ocean. 150 miles above the earth's surface. In the darkness, he sees 'mosaics' of lights, clustered together in various locations, stretching for hundreds of miles. These are NOT city lights, but lights transposed over the earth's surface. Red's clustered together, yellows, blues, greens. They appear to be at war with each other. They are conscious and madly evil, driven by an aggressive nature. Then small 'bubbles', clear, as if visible radio waves, form and rise up from the land mass. First one, then another, then two more, then four more, then eight, doubling in binary fashion. When they reach an altitude of approx 100 to 130 miles, above the earth's surface, they burst, from them, concentric circles, (as ripples from a pebble tossed in a still pond) spreads out. The swells collide with other 'bubbles', then burst that bubble, which sends out more concentric circles, bursting yet more 'bubbles', till the sky above America looks like boiling water.

BACK TO SCENE

Michael, speechless, turns to Paul ..opens his mouth to speak…

                                  PAUL
       They're going through a cleansing process. The circles that open the other 'bubbles' is the word of the
         Law, which will govern the planet from hence forth.

Michael's jaw drops open in astonishment.

                                 MICHAEL
          Man! Like this is major earth history!
                              
                                  PAUL
                ( Smiles and says nonchalantly.)
          It happens periodically, when it needs to. They do that for a while, it settles down, they forget, then it
          happens again. This isn't the first time.

                                 MICHAEL
          Well, who gives the law??

                                 PAUL
          It comes from where Life comes from. When they ignore the Law, it causes and 'indignation' within
          them, because things get so far out of hand. Even though they know better, they choose not to follow
          it, that in turn creates the heat,…which makes the 'bubbles' Like desparate 'prayers'.

                               MICHAEL
          Are there many of 'you guys' around?
                                 PAUL
            Well, actually there's quite a few, where ever we can find them…. Perhaps tonight, we found one more.

Direct eye contact between the two of them. Paul smiles at Michael, as Michael turns to look out the window. Everything has returned to normal. Michael, dumbfounded, suspicious, and curious, steps to the door….. Opens it.

                               MICHAEL
            Maybe I should head home

                               PAUL
            Feel free.

                               MICHAEL
                                 (unsure)
            Yeah…yeah, I think I'll do that… Good night. Thank you. I gotta' get .

                              WOMAN
            Good-bye.

                              PAUL
            Yes, Good-bye, we'll see you later.

                              MICHAEL
            Yeah ….maybe. See ya'.

Michael shuffles out the door.

INT. MICHAEL'S HOUSE --EMPTY, QUIET

Michael, candles still burning, plops down on couch, and gazes.

NEXT MORNING

Michael waking, runs his hands through his hair, staggers to the door, takes deep breath of fresh air.

EXT. PAULS HOUSE

Michael knocks on the door, sees "For Rent" sign, cups hands and and rests his face on them, to look through glass. Nobody there. It is vacant, dusty. He walks to the edge of the porch, in thought, and stares across the canyon.

                         MICHAEL
                      (Exhaling exasperation)
            JEEZ!!!
****************************************

INTRO MUSIC.

End of scene one.

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:39 AM

For all those who are not familiar with a 'shooting script'.
A shooting script is the one the Director uses, while filming. There is little description in it(as Directors like to do that). To fully get the picture, your mind is the camera...what you read, is what takes place. It is YOUR imagination(or the Director's) that fills in anymore.

Terms: SFX...Sound effects
       SPFX..Special effects
       Wider View...Camera backs away, revealing a wider shot of scene.
       POV...Point of View...As if the camera is your eyes.
       Titles..Words or super-imposed over the scene or on screen
       EXT...Exterior, where shot is filmed to take place (Outside)
       INT...Interior where shot is filmed to take place (Inside)
       O.S...Off screen, usually a voice, but character is NOT in scene.

I think I got most of the ones used in this scene. Any questions?..just post them.
Musical score, and soundtrack was also composed by yours truly!

GfS

Legend:


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 09:26 AM

Congo's iPhone rings the ring tone is "Its raining men." He fumbles with it and tries to answer it but Ape fingers ain't built for touch screens. A single 38 caliber slug silences the phone.

Brriinnng rinng...Brriinnng rinng...Brriinnng rinng...

"Chongo."

"Hold on! Hold on, calm down Madam."

"You say you are not a woman. Could have fooled me." In fact the high pitched shrieks of the voice on the other end of his classic black 1930's desk phone with earpiece on a string and mouthpiece on the base had fooled Chongo.

"You say that you are Jake Tillington. You are in the boardroom. You have been there the whole time. You just talked to your sister on the phone. The case is solved."
"What about the 30 grand?"
"Yes I do think I deserve it."
"No I do not think that I am a dirty money grubbing gumshoe."
"I will not do that to myself, even though for a chimp it is anatomically possible."
"I'm gonna find your sister and get my moolah!"
"No I don't know where "Gentleman" George is."
"No I will not send two of Chicago's finest up to the boardroom to tide you over. Not that there is anything wrong with that."
"Good Day sir, or madam, whatever you are. Good day!"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 10:30 AM


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 10:32 AM

Out at the Department of Agriculture's Sheep Experimental Station, the water was rising. In a panic, the shepherds drove their flocks to the highest ground they could find in that flat desert-like land and soon Janie's Nipples* were white with wool.














*These are real, honest-to-God, hills in the USDASES. I'm not making this up. See a good topo map if you disbelieve, sinner and a heretic.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 10:33 AM

GfS, Please parse the following sentence and rephrase it in your own words.

"Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction."

Please do not post the answer here. This exercise is for your own edification only.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 10:46 AM

As the flood rose and the ground heaved, tongues of water lapped at the tips of Janie's Nipples, a geological formation in power county Idaho, USA not to be in any way conflated, by inuendo, or otherwise with any body parts of anyone involved with the writing of this story.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 10:49 AM

Meanwhile, Jake's nipples were red and throbbing, hot and nasty after having received the attention of two of Chicago's finest. 'Finest what' you may ask?

You may ask, but don't expect a coherent answer.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 11:45 AM

This story is so bad it's like an aggressive virus for which no cure has been developed.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Amos
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 12:30 PM

"Can we find a cure, b efore its too late?", Sandy asked tearfully.

"I don't know," Ernesto told her. "It's a fast multiplier, and no immune systems yet found have any resistance to it."

"Oh, my god! My god!! What have we done???!!!"

"What do you mean exactly, ma'am?"

"Oh, no!! I can't tell you. We never should have...oh, gosh...I can't...NEver mind. We HAVE to find a cure...we HAVE TO!" She grabbed his lapels and shook his natty blue pinstripe suit jacket, disturbing his color-coordinated tie.

"Settle down, ma'am. Looks like you know more than you're telling me. Why doncha sit back, have a stiff drink, and spill the beans," Ernesto said, smiling with his pearly teeth, but not with his steely gray eyes.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 12:39 PM

JtS: "Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction."

What's the matter with you? If a story is true, wouldn't it be 'bad fiction'?..or..I didn't think you'd be asking for 'inspiration'.
Actually, I don't know what you mean.....(Was it too 'good'?)

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 12:51 PM

Well, I found it interesting. We could use a cleansing like that at present.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 12:52 PM

I remember it well. It was back in the days of the cold war and Commie infiltrators like Ayn Rand, Allen Ginsberg and Chongo the Chimp were poisoning the minds of our youth. We had to fight back but how? Shooting them would make them martyrs and there was only so much that the heroes of flag waving literature could do. Thank god for loyal Americans like Paul Verhoeven!

The NSA (National Story Agency) was commissioned to construct a meme which would be a fail safe against all dangerous literature leading to total destruction of the work it is deployed against and a certain degree of "mind rot" in the authors. Unfortunatly, once an author is infected, his or her works are often tainted for many years thereafter. The meme is deployed automatically against Canadians trying to inflict free healthcare upon the US public.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 12:54 PM

100... Hey Hawk, should I go on to scene two?

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 01:22 PM

"Let's" as in "let us" write as in we are all writing a story together. Anything you include here is part of the story. If you agree to become part of the story, you contribute to the story.

Separate works, being separate, are not part of the story. Following your caveats, I have not read your "shooting script." I doubt that anyone participating in the "truly bad piece of fiction will." Said Chongo, the Chimp to Saney The Screenwriter.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 01:47 PM

I don't know, GfS. It depends on what you really want to do with your time today, I guess. I think you're akin to a musician playing to an almost empty arena here. You look about and there are five, maybe six people scattered about in the stands. One is asleep. Another pair are talking loudly and laughing. Another is yelling "WHOOOO!" every now and then and swigging his beer, but he doesn't really know why. And Jack is over in the corner spraying "cock and balls" on the walls with his spray can.

You have to ask yourself whether merely practicing your craft is justification enough for carrying on with the gig regardless of the largely oblivious public, just to hone your skills. It's your call.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 02:07 PM

That was the strangest rejection letter he had ever received. Was the not-editor drowning in an ocean of coffee flavored self pity?

"I'll have a double shot of ennui on the rocks with a chaser of defeatism." he said as he walked into the bar.

"No long faces in here Mr. Kerry." said the barkeep. "If you don't let me cut off your chin, you will have to leave.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 02:11 PM

You think Kerry had a long chin? Ha! Remember Brian Mulroney?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 02:16 PM

Mulroney isn't allowed in the bar either. Or Mr. Ed.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 02:22 PM

Pegasus, being freed from his pen by Belize (who was now in Greece), flew gracefully into the evening sky, bound for Janie's Nipples to rescue the sheep from the shepherds, who, having been trapped with them for so long, were starting to yearn for the ewes and, in a few cases, each other as well.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 02:29 PM

Ennis: "I jest cain't get over you Pennis."
Pennis: "I jest cain't get over you."
Ennis: "That's why we keep comin on back to Brokeback Nipples."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 02:33 PM

Well I kept asking.....I figured YOU'D be the one to ask. The 'other guy' rarely makes sense....except to 'other guys' who don't make sense!
If this is going to be a hodge podge, that's OK with me....BTW, the other one is a mind blower, as it unfolds. I've gotten about half way through the scene two, on this computer....I don't need to post it....or(?)

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 02:51 PM

Jake say alone at the counter of the Tim Horton's, sippin on an Ice Cap, wallowing in self pity. He was ashamed of all he had said and done. George wasn't such a bad guy. He hadn't deserved all that. The thought of the pictures of what Belize and the monkey had done to that man still sent shivers down Jake's spine.

Once more Jake stared up into the valley, triangle shaped, heavily wooded, framed by the convergence of mountains, locally called "The Mother's Legs" which, so lithe, strong and shapely, must have been held in place by the boundless stirrups of nature herself. The sun was crowning in the crack between the mounds. The water had broken. The flood had receded.

Weary, chastened, yet relieved and more sexually alive and self aware, Jake Tillington witnessed the birth of a new day.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 04:17 PM

Why all the sexual innuendo, Jack? Not getting enough lately?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 04:19 PM

Just the opposite. I think that overuse of sexual metaphors is bad writing.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 04:21 PM

truly bad fiction
starts with a dick son.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 04:28 PM

BTW that was a rebirth metaphor.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 04:33 PM

"I think that overuse of sexual metaphors is bad writing."

Oh, I see. ;-) Okay! I get your point and I now understand why you are doing what you're doing.

I also see that I should have worded the title of this thread a bit differently. ;-) I had not meant to provoke bad writing along the particular lines you seem to be pursuing. It just didn't occur to me that anyone would go along those lines. I had something rather different in mind.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 04:35 PM

I think you should have been specific and given guidelines.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 04:44 PM

You're absolutely right. (sigh) I should have done it in the first post. Too late now. This train wreck has taken on a life of its own.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 04:45 PM

By the way...how come you have this much time to BS on Mudcat? You unemployed or something?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Eliza
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:22 PM

It's interesting to see the sort of things each person chooses to write on this thread. 'Bad fiction' seems to have resulted in a psychotherapy analysis session, with each person letting rip with their inner self. My own (feeble) contributions seem to have been drawn from some PG Wodehouse-type personality. Do you think each contribution tells us a bit about the inner personalities of the posters? Or am I reading too much into this?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:24 PM

Yes, I think so, Eliza. You could say that about this whole forum. It's like a giant (but very disorganized) exercise in psychotherapy.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Eliza
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:30 PM

I agree, Little Hawk, that the forum as a whole is a bit like psychotherapy, but the other threads give a more restricted field, as they specify a topic. However the 'free association' of writing any 'bad' fiction gives unlimited scope, and people really let it all out! (I occasionally did this with my pupils, let them write just anything, a paragraph or so. Take away the constrictions and you get a glimpse of the person inside the head. Quite fascinating!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:35 PM

I'm pretty sure that all it says about me is that I watch a lot of movies and I like to make silly things up. Oops, gotta go Omniscient Narrator is calling.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Amos
Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:57 PM

In a dark alley in the shadows of the fluorescent bar signs along the avenue, Omni N., as we will call him, lurked, waiting. His dark raincoat was blown around his long, knobby legs by a cold wind off the river, and scraps of old newspaper and abandoned hypodermics rattled in the grimed edges of his awareness. A porkpie hat sat tight on his over-sized head, shadowing his all-seeing, all-knowning beady eyes. He had been waiting in the dank, chilled shadows of the alley for hours, knowing what was coming and prepared to wait patiently for it. He glanced at his watch, a thin Swiss brand on a leather strap that was sweatstained and sun-darkened. 1:30 AM. Ah, well. The night was young. Sooner or later, he knew, Jack would show up, no matter what had to happen to make it occur. It was unavoidable; this much, he knew with absolute certainty...


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 11:30 AM

Empty auditorium?? Sexual references and innuendos?? Psychotherapy??...
Boy! Wait till scene two!!

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 12:27 PM

It says a great deal more about you than that, Jack! ;-) But I shall maintain a discreet silence about it. The revelations could be quite disturbing...


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: autolycus
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 12:36 PM

Speaking as a Gestalt therapist,........


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 01:24 PM

Gestalt the Rapist, was your typical serial psychopath, lurking in the long ominous shadows, of the Great Omni wading through the Freudian muck of lesser people's minds biding his time, letting out the psychological rope. There would be some self inflicted hangings soon. Jogging in the Jungian dreamscape, armed with nothing but devious thoughts and a gallon ziploc freezer bag full of counterfeit Mexican Prozac. He was lurking. He was ready. He was biding his time.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 03:01 PM

Batman and Robin were lying in bed together smoking a cigarette. They hadn't done anything sexual. They didn't swing that way. Not that there is anything wrong with that. They had only been cuddling.

A ring tone rang out. "Bat out of Hell." What else?
"Holy technological upgrade Batman! Is that the Bat Phone?" Robin inquired.
"No just my iPhone."
"But you glued little black wings on it like you did with your dildos. Right?"
"Robin! Have you been looking in my drawers?"
Robin winked and said "Nice drawers they are too."
"You need to get your own place."

Tired of the ringing, Batman turns his attention to the phone. "Its the Batman here. State your business." he rumbles.
"Stay calm commissioner."
"Who did you say has come to Gotham to spread mayhem and 18 year old amateur screenplays?"
"The most diabolical foe of them all, known for excessive and constant questionable use of exclamation marks?"
"The Punctuator!!!!"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 03:06 PM

Ha! ;-D I like it!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 03:16 PM

Jake was in it up to his neck now. In a dirty Brownsville jail busted by the Border patrol for smuggling counterfeit Mexican generic Prozac (Prozacito) into the country. He knew the charges wouldn't stick. It was a trumped up charge in a hypothetical situation and the evidence was placebo.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 04:06 PM

SCENE #2                                                                                                                                              (AFTERNOON)      
SFX --SOUNDTRACK --'Dangerous Days'                                                                                    PRESENT DAY                      EXT. AERIAL VIEW --JOY"S BACK YARD

TITLES:   " YEARS LATER"

Woman lounging, sunning, relaxing. JOY, mid 30's, blonde wearing a one piece black bathing suit, sunglasses, hair wrapped in towel.                      (At the time, Michelle Pfeiffer was slated for the part)

WIDER VIEW
Old truck on street, in distance, approaching house.

EXT. JOY"S FRONT DOOR

MICHAEL & SCOTT

SCOTT -- Tall thin, curly haired, somewhat of a 'professional inheritor'. Reserved.

Michael knocks ..waits .. Knocks again.

                                 MICHAEL
               They'd better be ho…..

The door opens. They are greeted by HEATHER, mid-teen, very cute, perfectly beautiful girl, long blonde hair, blue eyes. JOY"S daughter. Dead ringer for a younger version of JOY.
                              
                               MICHAEL
               Hi, we're here for the paint job.

                               HEATHER
             Oh, wait, let me get my mom.

She turns, disappears. Scott and Michael are watching her closely.

                                 SCOTT
             Shit!! Did you see that?! What an 'Erector Set'!!

                                 MICHAEL
            Look, we're here to paint, so if you don't think you can keep at least one of your minds on - -

                                 SCOTT
            Don't worry, you know me better than - -

Door swings open. Joy appears wearing no make up, towel and sunglasses. Very covered up.

                                  MICHAEL
            Hello, my names is Michael, the painter. Your friend Jean sent me over to look at your house. I
            believe she told --

                                  JOY
            Oh yes… My name is Joy, come on in.

                                  MICHAEL
            Yes Ma'am.
They enter the house.

INT. JOY"S HOUSE

                                  MICHAEL                           
                This is Scott, one of my helpers.

                                  JOY
                I had a painter before, but he was so slow and hardly spoke any English. He did the walls, but I
                need to get the doors and trim finished.

SERIES OF SHOTS

Michael and Scott looking at work to be done, meanwhile taking lustful, but cautious notice of Heather..   (AD LIB)

BACK TO SCENE

                                  MICHAEL
                     (While figuring the costs)
                So, you want just the baseboards, door casings, and doors, right?

                                  JOY
                Right.

Heather walks by.

                                  MICHAEL
                I could do it for $575.

                                 JOY
                         (Surprised)
                Sure! Your price is very reasonable.

Heather walk by.

                                  MICHAEL
                No problem. This should take only two or three days anyway. When do you want us to start?

                                    JOY
                How about tomorrow, or the next day?

He jots down his number on a piece of paper.

                                  MICHAEL
                   Fine. Here's my phone number.

                                  JOY
                   That will be great! See you then!

He turns, opens door, Scott, then Michael exits.

EXT. FRONT OF JOY"S HOUSE
Heather giggling, calls from door as Scott and Michael leave.
                                  HEATHER   (O.S.)
                              (Giggle, Lilting voice)
                   G'Bye…..

Michael and Scott turn together, enter truck, and drive off.

INT. SCOTT'S TRUCK

While driving down the street, a few moments of thick silence, together at the same time:

                                  MICHAEL & SCOTT
                              (Together, in unison))
                  Did you see - -

                                  SCOTT
                  - -The …Daughter?!

                                  MICHAEL
                  - - how ….little there is to paint?

They look at each other, and start laughing.

                                  SCOTT
                  What a babe!! Don't tell me you didn't check her out!

                                  MICHAEL
                  Sure, but she's a little young, don't you think ?

                                  SCOTT
                  Well, maybe for you…..

                                  MICHAEL
                  I'm NOT getting involved with her, even if she were older….or foxier!

                                  SCOTT
                  Why not?

                                  MICHAEL
                  As a man gets older, he begins to know what is good for him…..and so should his woman! - -

                                  SCOTT
                You could easily use having a woman around. Think of the kids…..

                                  MICHAEL
                Yeah, that's all I need….a mom for the kids who's about a year or two older than my duaghter!

                                  SCOTT
                         (In a conniving tone)
                  You could always hit on the mom

                                  MICHAEL
                  Gimme a break! Besides, I have too much work to do, not only that, did it ever occur to you that
                  she might already be married???

                                  SCOTT
                     I doubt it. I didn't see a ring on her finger.

                                  MICHAEL
                     Look! I'm not up for starting any sort of relationship with ANYONE, especially nowadays. Too
                     much work for so little return. This is just another paint job, and not the first one I've done,
                     when there is some fox in the house. Usually it's a bored, middle aged house wife, hangin'
                     around just waiting for you to hit on 'em! It's bullshit! It's all bullshit! L.A. is full of 'em. They
                     get together and encourage themselves to be single and bored. They just get older and more
                     bored, and boring….did I mention older? Next they get bitter, and blame it all on the all the men
                     they've had in their lives. It's all bullshit!!

                                  SCOTT
                     O.K ..Okay Don't get pissed!

                                  MICHAEL
                     Sometimes I just can't help it..Then guys like you, my friends, come along and wonder why I
                     don't go for them. All you do is invite their bitterness into your life. Then they spend years
                     playing games, testing you, to find out if you are going to be as big as an asshole, as their first
                     four or five ol' men, that they threw out. I wonder if it occurs to them, that THEY are the biggest
                     reason that all their men turned into assholes!

                                  SCOTT
                     Yeah, but I know some ladies that are alright, and it was the guys they married that were the
                     assholes.

                                  MICHAEL
                   Then why marry them in the first place?! I'm not saying that it's the woman's fault, necessarily,
                     Nor the man's, that pisses me off ….. What gives me the ass is STUPIDITY, no matter what sex
                     it comes through! …and then I might add, that YOU, thinking about getting strung out on some
                     Cute teenage chippy-fox, just because she's so fuckin' cute, is part of that STUPIDITY of which
                     I speak!

                                  SCOTT
                              (Acquiescing )
                     OK…..Shit, don't get pissed! Don't forget, I offered to help you for nothing.

                                  MICHAEL
                   I just want to make sure that you and your infatuation with the customer's daughter don't get
                   in the way of the job getting done….JEEZE!!

INT. MICHAEL'S STUDIO
Michael and Scott enter. Richaed sitting on stool, playing bass.

RICHARD: Tall, loud, somewhat jaded, being divorced, and having custody of his two children , but very intelligent and articulate, from New Jersey, and a serious student of music. Speaks with Jersey accent.

                                  RICHARD
                   So, how'd it go?

                                  MICHAEL
                   OK, We got it.

                              
                                     RICHARD
                     GOOD! Every buck counts!

                                     MICHAEL
                     I'm going into the house to check on the kids and grab a bite. Back in a bit.

Michael exits. Just then Richard looks up at Scott.

                                     RICHARD
                     So, how much is he going to charge?

                                     SCOTT
                           (Disgruntled)
                   About five seventy five, or something like that.

                                     RICHARD
                   That's not much!

                                     SCOTT
                   I know. I don't even know why he's wasting his time.

                                     RICHARD
                   You seemed bummed out.

                                     SCOTT
                   Yeah.

                                     RICHARD
                   What's wrong?

                                     SCOTT
                   Aw …. It's Michael ..He's been raggin' on me.

                                    RICHARD
                   How come?

                                    SCOTT
                   I don't know. We go over to this house and meet this lady, who's got this daughter, a mega-fox,
                   and ever since, he's been chewin' my ass, just because I was attracted to her.

                                    RICHARD
                                     (laughs)
                   Well, he's probably right, you know.
                                    
                                    SCOTT
                               (thoughtfully)
                     Yeah, I suppose so.

                                    RICHARD
                      Don't let it get you down, besides you know Michael. He's got so much to do all the time. The
                      thought of re-directing his time and energy into chicks probably conjures up nothing but
                      hassle! He's probably freaked out that you're going to get hooked onto her daughter in the
                      middle of a project, and waste time.

                                    SCOTT
                You think that was bad? You should have heard him after I brought it up to him, that maybe HE
                should consider hooking up with a woman!

                                    RICHARD
                  Can you blame him?? He's been through a lot, and still crankin'. He's cautious about women,
                  And doesn't want them hangin' around for nothing'.

                                    SCOTT
                   I thought it was something else.

                                    RICHARD
                   Hard to understand him, ever since he had this experience quite a few years ago.

                                    SCOTT
                   Bad relationship?

                                    RICHARD
                   He says it's a dimensional thing….spiritual or mystical vision thing…I don't know…but no
                   matter what he goes though, he seems to always land on his feey. His 'luck' is uncanny. He's
                   been different, ever since.

Just then Michael enters the studio.

                                    MICHAEL
                   Am I interrupting something?

                                    RICHARD
                               (changes tone)
                   No. Get your guitar.

                                    MICHAEL
                   Oh, OK…Why don't we work on that song we started last week.

As he walks across the room, to his guitar stand….

                                     MICHAEL                                 
                     Just got off the phone with Joy,..lady with the paint job…She's leaving in the morning…leaving
                     me a key in the flower pot, by her front door…..

                                    SCOTT
                            (Somewhat timidly)
                     I was thinking' about what you said earlier..about Heather, the daughter..I think you might be
                     right…I shouldn't be over there, I'd probably screw things up.   

                                    MICHAEL
                     You don't have to be…Don't worry about it.

                                     SCOTT
                      Yeah, and I'm going on that trip anyway. It's not that I don't want to work --

                                     MICHAEL
                      I said 'Don't worry about it'. It's not a big job that I can't handle.   

EXT. JOY'S HOUSE --MORNING

Old pick-up paint truck pulling into driveway.
Michael on porch reaching into hanging flower pot ...finds key.


INT. JOY'S HOUSE

SERIES OF SHOTS

#1 Michael looking around to make sure nobody is there.   
#2 Stirring paint in can.
#3Michael painting
#4Breaks for lunch.

LATE IN AFTERNNON :

#5 Michael looking tired, begins packing up.

NEXT DAY : MORNING:         

#6 Michael driving up Joy's street, passes Joy who is driving and old oxidized BMW. He waves.
    very quick …. He does not get a good look at her, nor tries. (NOTE: Up to this point, he never has really
    seen her.)
#7 Michael on Joy's porch, searches for key, gets key, enters front door.

INT. JOY"S HOUSE

#8 Sees note on table, picks it up, and reads it.

                                    NOTE (Voice over: Joy's voice)
                      Please keep this key with you. (signed) "Joy"

Michael pulls pen from pocket, writes "O.K", the chuckles.

Michael painting. …STOPS…He looks around, as if he thought he hears something…he stares a moment, shrugs it off….repeats….

                                    MICHAEL
                      Get back to work, FOOL!

Later, pouring paint in a bucket…STOPS…as if an unseen voice is calling him. He appears slightly dazed. Shakes his head, as if to shake himself out of it, and returns to working.

AFTERNOON:

INT. JOY'S SERVICE PORCH

Michael painting baseboards
SFX -- (O.S.) -- Front door opens then shuts. Sounds of high heeled footsteps hurriedly crossing room.

He peers around corner, sees back of Joy disappearing into hallway.. Returns to painting.


                                     JOY (O.S.)               
                  Looks good, I've got to leave…I'm in a hurry… lock up .

                                    MICHAEL
                                  (monotone)
                  O-KA-A-A-A-Y

                                     JOY (O.S.)               
                               (slight lilt in voice)
                  Thank you-u-u-

SFX --(O.S.) -- Front door shutting..footsteps leaving…car starting…pulling out, leaving.

INT. JOY'S LIVING ROOM

He slowly walks in, partially in a daze, head turns, slowly, as if trying to identify something unseen that he is 'hearing'….. snaps out of it.

SFX --(O.S.) -- Joy's car pulling up into driveway..

He snaps to, and hurries to the service porch, as if he was working the whole time.

SFX --(O.S.) -- Front dorr opening briskly…footsteps…

                                     JOY (O.S.)
                   I forgot something

                                     MICHAEL
                               (under his breath)
                   Ding-bat.

Michael stands up ..rounds the corner of the doorway, only to see the back of a neatly dressed Joy, exiting the front door……He goes into a light daze…snaps out of it…gathers his tools…leaves.

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 04:10 PM

SCENE# 3

MICHEAL'S STUDIO

Michael enters, Scott at piano,..Richard looking over music charts.

                                     SCOTT
                   How's Heather?

                                     MICHAEL
                   Haven't seen her yet.

                                     SCOTT
                   How's Joy??

                                     MICHAEL
                   Don't know, I barely see her in passing.

                                     SCOTT
                   I leave tomorrow night…I'll be gone for a week or two.

                                     MICHAEL
                   Swing by when you're back..I should be done by then

                                     RICHARD
                                    (impatient)
                   That would be nice…I thought you said it would be only a couple of days..been over a week

                                     MICHAEL
                     I'm going as fast as I can… funny thing though, there's a strangeness about that place. I start
                     working, then I get hit with an odd feeling… and I just stand there like a spaced zomboid.

                                     RICHARD
                     Don't get TOO spaced out.. You have a couple of laser projects waiting to get started. Just keep
                     banging it out. ..you can't afford to get sidetracked, and waste time.

                                     MICHAEL
                     No problem.. I'll just use whatever is 'zoning me out' to inspire me to write SOMETHING
                     altogether NEW… you watch! .. What have you done today?

                                     RICHARD
                      I just got in.. Thought I'd go over these charts.

                                     SCOTT
                      Not much…. Just tinkering around on the piano. You think I'm thinking about Heather? I'm not.

Michael rolls his eyes, shakes his head, sighs, as to say, "Yeah, sure!"

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 04:13 PM

Scene two might appear to be before scene three...depends how you came into the room. Check first.

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 04:14 PM

Batman had a cramp in his finger. His scrolling finger. He had had to scroll through a seemingly endless stream of unknown quantity. He knew how to read copyright warnings. He knew how to keep his word. He refused to be drawn into The Punctuator's trap.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Janie
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 07:56 PM

The young woman in the professional suit walked down the avenue at as fast a clip as she could manage, painfully, even frightfully aware of how much attention she was bound to draw, dressed as she was in a business suit and carrying an expensive leather briefcase. Why in the world had she agreed to this meeting, under these circumstances?

"Because I'm desperate idiot, that's why!" She came to a sudden stop, reconsidering her options. Keep going? Turn back and hope she made it safely back to the car? Hail a cab? What would Jake do if she didn't show up? She turned and looked back down the sidewalk in the direction from which she had come, and glimpsed a man in a pork pie hat leaning against the wall in the shadows not 5 feet from where she was standing. "Is he looking at me? I can't tell. Better keep moving." Tightening her grip on the leather case, she stepped out again in the same direction she had been heading, trying to ignore the way her heart was pounding in her chest.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 08:07 PM

"Tillington!" Bellowed the guard "visitor."
Jake walked out to the table and sat down. He eyed the young lady across the glass and picked up the phone? "Nice Suit."
"Thanks, I guess."
"Are you my lawyer?"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 08:11 PM

"Naww", he said.."I'ze be a pimpin' fool!...You wanna' do bidness?"

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 02 Aug 11 - 10:15 PM

"Public defender." The young woman in the professional suit said. "And I don't like drug smugglers. I'm only taking this job because I lost my job at the FAA."
"Don't sweat it sweets." Said Tillington, "The drugs were bogus and so was the charge. If you lawyer half as sharply as you dress you'll have me outta here in no time."
His charm was working. Her nerves were settling. Maybe she would get through this after all.
He looked her up and down and said "I'll bet you a smoke I can tell you were you got them shoes."
"You're on! buster."
"On yer feet toots. on yer feet."
This seemed like the beginning of an adequate working relationship. She took out a smoke and lit it then tossed it over the glass. The lit end barely grazed the ceiling. It then tumbled down end over end until the filter end was balanced perfectly on his ample, waiting, lower lip.
"You got style honey!"
"You too Jake. You too."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 03 Aug 11 - 02:50 AM

Gosh....gotta go to 'scene #4'....'tis a lotta' work.....but somebody's gotta do it!...
wink!

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 03 Aug 11 - 08:27 AM

"Holy batshit! Batman! That's a lot of punctuation."
"It.. is...Robin..."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 03 Aug 11 - 10:56 AM

So she got him off. Legally. My word you readers have dirty minds!

Rick Perry met Jake in the hot, dusty Texas sunlight outside that hot dusty Texas holding facility.
"We don't like your kind here in Texas."We don't have enough on you to execute you so we're kicking you out. Here is a bus ticket to... " Perry retches a bit on each syllable but he finally gets the words out. Boston, Massachusetts. Now get on up there with them Brady lovin' Yankees where you belong.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Donuel
Date: 03 Aug 11 - 05:27 PM

Meanwhile Tropical Storm Don swept into craklin dry Texas scrubland and wrung esactly one drop of rain right down into Rick Perry's eye.
The megatron showed the drop like a tear of real emotion as he stood on the podium. The crowd of 204 recovering alcoholics all began to tear up and started chanting Rick Perry's name, in between beers.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 03 Aug 11 - 05:34 PM

"We have prayed for rain and we have received it. Our prayers were answered in equal measure to our prayers for intelligent guidance for the Republican Party!"

The crowd, potential Republican Congressional leaders every one, takes a wide stance and starts to chant, "more Dick! more Dick! more Dick!"

Meanwhile Jake's bus has left Texas and is traveling up I30 toward Hope, Arkansas.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: autolycus
Date: 03 Aug 11 - 07:04 PM

[So anyway....]

.....overcrowded intersection, shouldering aside for a moment the lesser vehicles around them as a giant pachyderm shoulders aside a herd of wildebeest before it is lost in the approaching denoument of darkness and of night.

Jake was desperate for a change in the weather. Whether the visible vehicles were bothered by the inundation seemed the most moot ofpoints one might imagine.

It seemed to Jake that he was caught among a variety of parallel universi that were going to take a lot of sorting out, what with THE FLOOD lapping round halw-way up the condiment wear he lived, and what-not. The approachingness that seemed so very very very characteristic of the dawn/sunrise/sunup * (*dleete is inapplicable - sorry, as inapplicable) was sacting a fresh light, well any light, really, on this horrendous neigh frightening situation amidst which Jake [you remember Jake] found himself entrenched.

"Of course," he vouchsafed. "Under this inundation there'll be a trench, like what they've got under the pacific somewhere." He retreated into his flat apartment in search of his trench coat which was verily to be retrieved for this inclement disaster.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Aug 11 - 07:11 PM

"Keep them dogies rollin'...Rawhide!!! Don't try to understand 'em, just feed 'em, rope, and brand 'em....Rawhide!!!!!"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 03 Aug 11 - 07:41 PM

Gentleman George, Evidently the only person ever to successfully breed a mare and a giraffe, any to ride it through the Mudcat, gazing downward, ever downward. For when he trades insults he uses winky face ;-)


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Aug 11 - 07:43 PM

That's right. ;-)


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: autolycus
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 02:17 AM

{And there was me trying to get the novel back on track. Ck!]


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 02:11 PM

"Reality is tenuous." thought Jake. "Few things have been firmly established, except that I flit around the continent with an ease of teleportation that would make Scotty blush and that flood waters reached my penthouse flat apartment, leaving the city's infrastructure intact."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Amos
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 03:00 PM

RICHARD
                                    (eyes glazed with lustful thoughts)
                  Are you kidding? I'd go for her even if she had a bag over her head!
                                     MICHAEL
                   You are such an unmitigated crap-moinger, I'm surprised your mother didn't throw you back in the cesspool.

                                     RICHARD
                   YEah, fuck you too, man. You just don't understand passion. It's part of life you will never get in touch with.

                                     MICHAEL
YEah, well, so is dysentery, but I ain't out begging for it like you are.
                     
                                     RICHARD
                     You effing dweeb. I bet your mother wears second-hand Goodwill panties.

                                     MICHAEL
                     
Great. I'm calling Heather. Two bucks says I get a date tonight with her.

Richard rolls his eyes, shakes his head, sighs.

                                    RICHARD
Yeah, right. I'll look for a noose on the door if you get lucky.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 04:08 PM

Michael stands in the shower admiring the steamy reflection of his well defined painter's muscles, soaping then sensually rinsing. Soaping then sensually rinsing, balls, dick, ass crack, everything.

               MICHAEL (V.O.)
    Good luck getting this crappy film on Disney now. You will be    lucky to get and "R." Nope this is NC-17 all the way. And what about that little Lolita? Just think about it 35 years ago I was scared and stupid enough to run out of my own house when the cops were coming, leaving all the evidence there and risking a fire with two hundred different kinds of candles. Not to mention that I was anal enough and gay enough to have 200 different kinds of candles. Just imagine, it collecting candles for years. Votive candles, birthday candles, tapered candles, roman candles, scented candles 200 different kinds. It boggles the mind. And now, her I am 35 years later, I gotta be at least 45, I had my own house then after all. Nearly 50, being hit on by a 16 year old at that age after having turned down a lucrative career as a cosmic dispenser of justice, who do I think I am Kevin Spacey? I gotta tell ya. I hope not. I hope I am not telling this whole story from a pool of blood having been shot by the jealous gay father of my dope dealer. There is no way that story should have won one best Screenplay Oscar, let alone do it again for this one. But the only way this gets on TV is on HBO. I wonder can we get some mobsters or vampires in this story. That's what they are buying at HBO. We could call it Forgetabloodit. Now were talking! That's a story.

Michael continyes to admire the steamy reflection of his well defined painter's muscles, soaping then sensually rinsing. Soaping then sensually rinsing, balls, dick, ass crack, everything.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 04:15 PM

Jack, you're really putting me off my food with all this tawdry and salacious sexually laden crap you insist on burdening this poor thread with. I want you to stop doing it, but I suspect you don't care. You probably enjoy annoying me in that fashion. Therefore I have a question for you.

Do you like sex and travel? ;-D


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 04:22 PM

Hey I was just following Amos' lead. Also I wanted to make the NC 17 joke and I thought it would be more tasteful to portray a man in the shower than to have a 45-60 year old man having sex with a 16 year old.

But don't blame me or Amos. Blame Gfie, s/he started it with the flirting.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 04:23 PM

Yeah, yeah.... ;-D


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 04:24 PM

Hey??? What is sexual about a man taking a shower in the privacy of his own movie script?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 04:40 PM

That's a subjective question, Jack. Anyone's answer to it would be right from their point of view.

What I want to know is, are you still spray painting "cock and balls" and "ass and crack" on the sides of downtown buildings in the middle of the night? If so, aren't you afraid you'll get caugjt eventually?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 04:58 PM

A real man can look at a man in a shower and not get queasy.

A real man defends 16 year old girls (even made up ones) from 60 year old house painting letches (even made up ones) by taking the story in an unexpected direction.

A real man knows the difference between >>"cock and balls" and "ass and crack"<< and "balls, dick, ass crack, everything."

A real man knows how to cut and paste when quoting!!!! Wink!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 05:55 PM

Well, jack, you steered the story to fit your own fantasy....interesting!

if you read accurately, the character 'Michael' was not interested in either one of them....but after all...it's your imagination, that's taken over you....interesting!

Gfs


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 06:05 PM

"A real man" is whatever people think a real man is. They make all this stuff up as they go along. If enough of them can agree on something they've made up...like money, for instance...then it becomes effectively "real" within their experience, whether it was real or not at the start.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 06:13 PM

"if you read accurately, the character 'Michael' was not interested in either one of them"

If you read correctly you would see that it was Amos who put the thought in the character "MICHAEL's" mind.


But yes, my "fantasy" is to get my bits clean when I shower. It is a "fantasy" that always comes true.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 06:15 PM

A real man cleans his dick, balls, ass crack, thoroughly


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 06:16 PM

How do you know this? ;-)


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 06:20 PM

A real woman wants her man to have clean bits.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 06:37 PM

Generally speaking, that is so, Jack. There are some very rare exceptions to the rule of women who wnat their men to have clean bits, but I stay clear of them sorta dames! ;-) Yew kin maybe find 'em in "Deliverance" country.

There's a gal here in town, a songwriter, a fine musician, and she wrote this one creepy song entitled "I Don't Like My Men Too Clean". It horrifies me. I get queasy and want to leave the room when she sings it.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 06:43 PM

Hmmmmm a pattern perhaps?

"I get queasy and want to leave the room when she sings it. "

Do you think that she does it just to annoy you.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 06:46 PM

To the contrary. ;-) She's a very nice person, a fine musician, and I've never given her even a hint that I don't like that song, because I wouldn't wish to hurt her feelings. My only fear is that she may end up reading this post. If so...well...our friendship will probably survive it! ;-)

I mean, hell, she might not like one or two of my songs either. If so, she hasn't said anything about it. Nobody's perfect.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 06:50 PM

So she does a song that annoys you because it has, in her view, some artistic merit. But when I write something that annoys you it is because I want to annoy you?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity
Date: 04 Aug 11 - 10:26 PM

JtS: "If you read correctly you would see that it was Amos who put the thought in the character "MICHAEL's" mind."

I stand corrected..you are correct.....
I apologize for the boo-boo!

....but 'Heather' sure is cute!!!...(wink!)

GfS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 01:36 AM

Her song annoys me because I find the idea of being attracted to a man because he's not "too clean" downright creepy! She obviously had something in mind that makes sense to her, though, and I think I even know what it is, but she didn't express it in a way that I find appealing. I think what she really means is that she is attracted to men who are sort of rugged and straightforwardly masculine...like a firefighter, for example...or a cowboy...but not a slick type of sophisticated guy with sort of an Ivy League Errol Flynn type manner...or an artsy type of guy who chats about artsy things...you know? That's probably what she meant.

I'm not sure if you want to annoy me or not, Jack. Sometimes I think you do, because you can get rather combative or catty at times over this or that. But it seems that you think I'm the one who's getting combative or catty? Well, maybe we both thought the other guu did it first, and we both just imagine we're defending ourselves against a prior attack by the other guy. I think that's the crux of it right there. I get the impression often that you're taking a little shot at me, so I usually take a little shot back, but I try to do it with a smile on my face. Hence the old ;-) symbol.

You remember when the cowboy would say to the other cowboy: "Smile when you say that." ? If the other guy smiled, then it wasn't a fighting issue, it was a bit of joking around.

That's what I'm doing. I'm smiling to let you know that although it's a shot, it does not mean that I hate you. It's just a bit of joking around, that's all.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Amos
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 03:49 PM

This is NOT bad fiction. It is pathetically bad NON-fiction!

Jake pulled the thick Norwegian wool sweater over his muscular chest and giggled when it tickled his six-pack. He pulled on the springy bright blue leotard pants and slipped his feet into an over-sized pair of Ugg boots. "Ugg!" he murmured with disgust. "I guess its showtime!".

Checking the address of the ritzy but decadent "Horseshow Fork" LGBT bar on his laptop, he slipped out the door, locking it behind him, checked his pocket for the new packae of condoms, and headed out for a night on the queasy part of town.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 03:56 PM

Here is a tip concerning your view of things here.

"There is something seriously wrong with you. You're deranged."

You say that to someone in the real word, you are probably going to lose some teeth. Say it with a smile and you are a lot more likely to lose teeth.

It was a personal attack and I let you do it four times before I responded.

Little Hawk I don't think you are joking. More is the pity if you don't know it.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 03:58 PM

"Ah, Fuck the condoms!" Thought Jake. "This dialog will kill me long before aids does!"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 04:18 PM

(shrug) I think you're being very thin-skinned about it, Jack. I don't see why we can't have some banter back and forth without taking it as personally as you seem to be taking it. I have banter like that with Amos and Rapparee all the time, and they don't get furious about it...nor do I get furious when they do it to me. In fact, they take it as a joke. And so do I. But if it really troubles you that much that I said those things, even with a smily face behind them, then I'll take it all back. Okay? I do NOT actually think you are deranged. Hardly! I think you are a smart, capable, perfectly normal human being who defends his opinions vigorously, specially when challenged. I don't think there's anything wrong with you either. Okay? Look, if I tell someone on this forum that they are deranged, I've got to be joking, for heaven's sake!

If I really thought someone here was literally deranged and had "something wrong with them", I wouldn't say a word to them about it. I would remain silent and avoid tangling with them. Deranged people are quite possibly dangerous, and it's best not to bother them, in my opinion.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,999
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 04:23 PM

TRULY BAD FICTION, Part Deux.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 04:34 PM

One of Jake's fondest memories was the time he attended the Compleat Festival of Woody Allen films at the Paradise Theatre in Manhattan....an entire month of nothing BUT Woody Allen films, in chronogical order, from the very first to the very last, from the Alpha to the Omega...capped by a personal appearance by Woody Allen on the final night, at which the Master had played the clarinet and talked for over 3 hours about sex, New York, existential despair, psychoanalysis, angst, women, God, atheism, death, and jazz.

It had been a Kafka-esque experience. His significant other, Angela, had unaccountably bailed out on their relationship halfway through that marathon, citing "unusual cruelty" as her reason for leaving him. That had puzzled Jake tremendously, but it had only slightly dimmed his excitment each night as the lights dimmed and the Master appeared once again on the silver screen, lifting Jake's mind into unrivalled realms of thespian grandeur.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 04:39 PM

Banter back and forth?

You called me insane 3 times. Insulted my writing 3 times. then called me a shit, and tried to kick me out of the thread before I reacted in kind.

Banter?

Its all there in the thread, except for you, I don't see anyone in their right mind calling that banter.

Somewhere you decided it was more fun to badger me then to write your own "bad fiction." That is what you have been doing. I have been trying to write "bad fiction."

And no I don't think you think I am deranged. I don't even think that you believe that I am a bad writer. I think you said those things to punish me and to make me go away. I didn't think that the first time. I thought you were simply "bantering." But when you persisted, the second time, the third time and then creating the character of "Jack the Shit" and bullying that character like you were the biggest 4 year old in the feces covered litter box, I became convinced that it was not banter. What I wonder is why didn't you just ask? politely? Preferably in a PM. But you never once asked me to stop even on this thread. Even as you called me deranged. Even as you tried to bully me.

I am not talking all of this all that seriously. You are poking me. I am poking you back. There may have been a question in the past. But there certainly is no doubt on this thread. On this thread, you certainly struck first. Apparently because you think that I would rather annoy you rather than write things that I enjoy.

This thread has taught me that when you use the winky face. It is just to get an insult by the moderators. In further interactions with me, it might save confusion if you keep that in mind.

Now why don't you quit talking about me and go back to your story?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 04:50 PM

So...are you telling me that you're angry at me, and you'd rather stay angry than let just go of your anger? I'm not angry at you.

I have extended an olive branch to you and taken back what I said. What else would I have to do?

And you're also then telling me that you're "not talking all of this all that seriously" after all that? That's a little hard to sort out...it doesn't seem to match the tone of the first half of your post.

Well, anyway, I don't have a magic solution...so I shall take your advice and simply contribute to this story henceforth, and trouble you no further. My promise. It's all Jake Tillington from here on in. My contributions will probably be occasional, as I'm a bit busy here, but I'll be sure they are about Jake, not Jack.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 04:53 PM

Jake, being a responsible writer even of his own internal monologues looked up the Alpha to the Omega of Woody Allen on IMDB the alpha being easy enough, almost certainly "What's new Pussy Cat." The Omega, being "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" because it has the funniest title among his recent films.

Jake had a feeling of unease. He wanted to do something: solve a crime, kiss a gal, cure a disease, even get a disease, even talk about getting a disease. He feared this would never happen. He despaired. But Jake was optimistic. He'd learned a lot in the past few days. For Jake, there was always hope for a new adventure.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 04:57 PM

So...are you telling me that you're angry at me, and you'd rather stay angry than let just go of your anger? I'm not angry at you.

No... I am telling you that there is strong evidence that you were angry and that what you are saying now is fluff. I am telling you that what I do from now on will depend on what you do.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 05:00 PM

Despair and optimism circled the punch bowl of Jake's fevered mind like two Tiger Sharks closing in remorsely on a bikini-clad starlet with a 42-inch bust and an I.Q. to match it....any minute the shit would hit the fan...and Jake would have another truly inCREDible idea! And after that? Hard to say...


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,999
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 05:13 PM

As the shades of night fell the Brothers Alpha and Omega continued their struggle to write bad fiction . . .


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 05:19 PM

It's no struggle at all. You just hit the keys and blather on. Anyone can do it.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 05:37 PM

Jake had quite an imagination, for circling the bowl as he looked were not tiger sharks but the remains of two tacos and an egg salad sandwich from the day before.

His phone rang.

"Yeah."
"Oh Hi Larry. Thanks for calling me back." Larry the Law Dawg had been on retainer for Jake's family for years.
"Yeah, I'm fine. But I'm strapped for cash. Gotta pay off the flood damage to my penthouse and my sister took my last 5 grand out of the bank and gave it to some chimp."
"You say legally I can't touch him? Why not?"
"No. he doesn't have an owner."
"So he is not subject to the laws of the state of Illinois."
"Look I know this restaurant. They sell the meat of endangered animals for big bucks."
"Yeah, that's the one. Panda Expressly."
"I'll bet they would give me a fortune for some talking chimp meat."
"Would it be illegal to hunt him."
"Only in his natural range eh?"
"So under the el train would be fine?"
"As long as someone doesn't own him. OK, I'll check on that."
"Thanks Larry! Give my love to the family."
"I will, good luck and God Bless you to."

He knew it wasn't foolproof. But Jake had the stirrings of a plan.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Amos
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 07:04 PM

HE put his cellphone back under the elastic strap of his leotard, hoping it would vibrate at the right moment rather than play the Star Wars theme it seemed to choose randomly when it needed attention. It made a nice bulge, with his big ski sweater pulled down to disguise the squarish shape. Next yearm he promised himself, he would get an i-Phuqye. MEanwhile, his eyes lit up as he made his way out of the restroom and intot he smokey corners at the back of the Horseshoe Fork Bar. The place was crawling with night life, some of it literally in the last stages of inebriation. There were gay men, bored lesbians, self-pitying transvestites, and a couple of transgenders who were arguing about when who had the right to do what and with which and to whom on a first date. He straightened up and flexed his leotard. Jake was on the prowl.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,livelylass
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 07:18 PM

An aged midget entered the room, he was walking and talking backwards.. (this was because one of the viewers thought it must be time that a midget entered the room).


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 07:26 PM

"Anyone for transgender dwarf tossing?" The Midget would have said had he/she been talking forwardly.

"Day every get don't you offer an that's" Said Jake.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,999
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 07:33 PM

And just as WC Fields began to write the screenplay . . .


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 07:34 PM

WC: Go away kid... Yuh bother me...


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 09:08 PM

Jake's face went blank. His body relaxed. His eyes rolled up into his head.

He was receiving a call. It was Chongo.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Amos
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 09:45 PM

He could never say whether the calls from Apelandia were imaginary or actual trans-species telepathy but the image in his mind of the leering, flea-bitten degenerate ape would not go away until he mentally answered it. He put his Tropical COckteaser--a specialty of the house--down on the bar (despite her whines of protest) and went back to the men's room, locking himself in a booth where he could concentrate on his ugly telepathic link or neurotic obsession, whichever it was. Just as he sat down the cell phone in his crotch went off like a hussy's two-dollar dildo and he doubled over in shock and pain.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,999
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 09:48 PM

. . . and Lord Greystoke spun throw upping fast in his grave.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 09:58 PM

Chongo was sitting at his desk talking into his antique rotary dial candlestick phone. He thought of a distant time in far away California. He thought of two hundred different kind of candles threatening a new vacant abode. Then he was connected to the party to whom he was speaking.
"Jake?" "Is that you?"
"I can't hear you very well over that pulsing throbbing music."
"You want to meet?"
"At the Horse Fuck?"
"I told you I couldn't hear."
"How about under the el instead?"
"OK then, Fishies Chip Stand on the Loop. At midnight."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 10:01 PM

Chongo remembered Graystoke, or Graystroke as he liked to call himself when he was alone with a young chimp. Stroke me he would say! Stroke me here, and here, Stroke harder! Stroke!! Stroke!!! Stroke!!!!!!!!!!!!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 10:14 PM

Which more than once left him miles from where he'd started, the chimp using the oars like a galley slave.

In the meantime, the man in the fedora turned to his client. She was a chimp, and a good-looking one. She sat with her hair-covered legs crossed, her ruby-lipsticked mouth promising delights no human could offer -- and her very expressive canines told the onlooker not to even think about it.

He said, "He's goin' to da Loop. Ya want we should make the snatch there?"

"Please," she smiled unpleasantly. "That...brother of mine is gonna pay for what he did to our mother and me. I assume the ten grand is sufficient downpayment?"

"Okay, honey," he said, "You got it."


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 10:14 PM

Jake wondered if it would void the warranty of his cell phone if he glued a dildo to it. Then he entrenched himself in his trench coat. It was a beauty that he had bought from Victor Victoria's secret, with the quick snap buttons which he could open and close in a "flash." He checked the Baretta in his pocket. He was happy to see it. Then he checked his weapon, a Glock 9 millimeter. She said it was too small but he always thought that the motion of the ocean was what counted.

Jake showed his ticked to the conductor as he boarded the train. The conductor poked Jake with hi wand and said, "You don't need a ticket to ride this train big boy."
Before long Jake had come......to his stop. He disembarked and went to down the stairs to hunt bush meat at Fishies Chip Stand, on the Loop, under the el.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 10:25 PM

"Graystoke, Gaystroke, ya only gotta change the location of ome measly letter and its funnier that way." Chongo muttered to himself. Why does that idiot Jake want to meet me at Fishies Chip Stand of all places? At midnight no less? At least its across the the street from that endangered animal restaurant I like so much. I can get me some Siberian frozen Mammoth jerky to chew on on the way home. I hope Jake gives me the 25 large that he owes me, I could use it to pay off my sister.

Sometimes I feel guilty about what I did to her and Ma but I am a chimp. I got not taboos on my loins. It's a good thing that human laws don't apply to me though.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 05 Aug 11 - 10:49 PM

One happy bowling ball

Dwarf tossing and Joan Jet.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 06 Aug 11 - 08:22 AM

AT last! A sport that Shane and Don McBride could excel at...Dwarf tossing! I bet it would go over big in Blind River.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 06 Aug 11 - 08:38 AM

Shane and Don McBride sauntered in to the Horseshoe Fork Bar, they wore red "roots" track suits with maple leaves on them. Shane calls to the Bartender. "A beer for me and my friend here." A large woman with a face like a dream and body like a line backer sauntered up to them, invading their customary Canadian 1.5 meters of person space by about 1.49 meters.

"What brings you lumberjocks to a gay bar in Chicago?" (s)he asked.
"We want to try something morally taboo back home."
"But can't gays get married in Canada." (s)he asked.
"No.. No.. not that!!! Dwarf tossing!!"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 06 Aug 11 - 08:47 AM

200th post recap.

The flood of chapter 1 has receded but Jake's recovery has not begun. Chongo, who may or may not turn out to be the villain of the piece has has an appointment with Jake under the el train tracks.

Somehow word has got out and various and sundry nefarious entities are racing to the appointed place, including a thug in a fedora, to literally and figuratively get a piece of Chongo.

One of them is a famous TV chef who says "Bam!!" to much who wants to make his most elusive creation, pan seared, blackened monkey fingers on the hit food channel/Comedy Central co-production, Iron(ic) Chef.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,999
Date: 06 Aug 11 - 09:40 AM

PART TROIS


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 06 Aug 11 - 01:35 PM

The man in the fedora drove down the Miracle Mile in Al Capone's 1930 V16 Cadillac. There seemed to be some mysterious force surrounding those who entered the orbit of that nasty chimp brash natural primate that he was, which exiled those who got too close into Film Noir characters from the last century.

The man in the fedora saw a blue light flashing in his mirrors. "Oh Oh he thought. (ironically) This is gonna be fun.

The Chicago policeman tapped on the man in the fedora's window and motioned for him to roll down and window and said "Can I see your license and registration and your parade permit?"
"Parade permit?" asked the man in the fedora?
"Well that car is 80 years old and does not have any signal lights or brake light. Hey, is this right? is your name really Sham Spayed?
"Yeah, that's my name. Don't wear it out."
"Weeelll Be gosh and be gorin Mister Spayed. I'm soo please t' meet ye. May the blessing of the Emerald Isle be upon you."
"Thank you officer Fits Patrick."
"Hey what's happenin to me hat? Its turnin into a wee helmet and me buttons are gettin bigger and brassier. I'm turnin all Keystone!!"
"The officer's sleek Dodge Charger police interceptor has changed into a boxy 1930s paddy wagon and to the accompaniment of a tinkly piano, a madcap chase ensues. Officer Fits Patrick chases the paddy wagon and dives into it wiithe the 20 other officers as it passes him by. This chase can only end at one place Fishies Chip Stand, under the el.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: gnu
Date: 06 Aug 11 - 01:45 PM

Excellent thread idea LH.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 06 Aug 11 - 03:02 PM

Gentleman George was munching on a haunch of wildebeest gazing out the window of the Panda Expressly, thinking about how much he loved gnu-veau cuisine, when he saw an ape dressed like a 1930's mobster under a street light. Approaching from one side was a man in a trench coat with a gun. From the other side crept a man dressed in nothing but a fedora carrying bottle of chloroform and a hanky. With 47 keystone cops, walking on their tippy toes creeping behind him.

"Something is afoot" Said George.
"No the haunch is the thighbone." said the waiter oblivious to the tableau outside the pitcher window. "By the way the owner wants to make an offer on the Giraffe/horse of yours. What do you want for it."
"But then how will I look down one people?"
"You can do what the yuppies do ride in and SUV with tinted windows. He'll trade you a Hummer for it. The car I mean, not the other thing. He don't swing that way. Not that there is anything wrong with that."
George pondered for a minute as he sprinkled some cinnamon on his gnu meat. "Yeah, yeah, that'll work!"


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Little Hawk
Date: 06 Aug 11 - 08:06 PM

Isn't it, eh, gnu? :-) (smile, but no wink, and directed at gnu only) It seems to have taken on a life of its own, but you could say that about most threads on Mudcat. They go wherever they decide to. If they are political threads, that's usually right down the crapper. This is definitely more fun.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 06 Aug 11 - 11:51 PM

Suddenly a shot rang out. In the distance a door slammed shut, cutting off a woman's scream as the thunder rumbled overhead like a demented freight train running on the ties instead of the rails.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,999
Date: 06 Aug 11 - 11:53 PM

I eagerly await the denouement.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Janie
Date: 07 Aug 11 - 02:35 AM

By George, mission accomplished!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 07 Aug 11 - 10:23 AM

A train running on the ties of a hundred thousand investment bankers tied to those very tracks by greed and ambition. The recession of 2008 had begun. Their one hope of redemption, Good Hearted Hank and The Bailout Bunch. Robbing from the tax payers to give to the reckless.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 07 Aug 11 - 12:30 PM

Meanwhile, back at Fishies Chip Stand.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,999
Date: 07 Aug 11 - 12:36 PM

PART QUATRE


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 07 Aug 11 - 07:10 PM

He kissed her cheek and said, "I've got to run, sugar. Nazi Zeroes are inbound to attack London. It's just we few, to whom so many owe so much, that stand between Mussolini and his invasion of Britain."

As he buttoned on his flight jacket she thought how dashing he looked. Then she shouted, "Wait! You forgot your trousers!" but it was to no avail.

He was gone to meet his fate amidst the clouds.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,999
Date: 07 Aug 11 - 07:22 PM

Now, there's a twist. Gone to heaven wearing his FotLs. Folks, don't go away; the wurst is yet to come, and the beer.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 07 Aug 11 - 07:26 PM

"That's what happens when an American Airlines pilot gets too close to Chongo." Thought Sham Spayed. Being down wind he caught a whiff of something and winced. "Do all chimps smell that bad?" he wondered.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Rapparee
Date: 07 Aug 11 - 11:05 PM

From the source of the odor came what appeared to be a mudball, brown and semi-solid. It hit him in the ear and he cursed vividly. Then, to his dismay, came another and another. As one hit him squarely in the face he realized in an instant that these were brown and semi-solid, they were most assuredly not mud.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Omniscient Narrator
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 07:33 AM

The brown mud balls, I think we all, from the first time we saw the words of Chongo all suspected that it would come down to brown mud balls. For a monkey of any size is never completely unarmed as long as he is not wearing pants. To find out why Chongo had no pants we must look in the other direction at Jake.

Jake carefully leveled his 457 Magnum centering the laser site on Chongo nose. "Do you feel lucky chimp?" He asked.
"No I don't." whimpered Chongo, oozing fear from every follicle of his straight black hair."
"In about ten seconds you'll be the main course across the street." Snarled Jake, over explaining like a hapless Bond villain."
"Can I have one last request? Can I die in my natural state? With no clothing?" Begged the shivering ape.
"OK but make it quick and no sudden moves!"
So Chongo quickly disrobed, in a smooth but not sudden manner.
Now people think that voiding one's digestive system in times of great danger to be a cowardly act. But Chongo thought of it merely as prudent self defense. In fact he had mastered the art of Kung Pooh while still at his mother's breast. In fact, it his rumoured that he threw his meconium at the midwife when she slapped him. Suffice it to say that if pooh flinging was a professional sport, he would hold all the records for volume, stickiness and accuracy, and for reasons to be explained later, stench.

Jake and Sham were immediately reduced to blinded, retching catatonic vegetables. Maybe it was the near death experience, maybe it was removing the human clothing, including the too tight briefs. Chongo scrambled up the girders of the el and started to scream in apeish triumph. He had reverted to a more natural state.

Across the street The Panda Expressly owner who was aiming a sniper rifle at Chongo with the Chef spotting for him wrinkled up his nose and said "What the 'ell is dat smell."
"Zut Allor! I donno!" said the Chef. "But dere is no way dat ting his gittin in my kitchen dead or alive!"

With the field of weirdness around Chongo diminishing long distorted pocket of reality were reverting to their true state. Sham went back to being Sam, fully clothed, dressed normally. The Keystone cops went back to being officer Laquisha Hernandez Ginsberg, who immediately went to the paddy wagon as it changed back into her police interceptor and radioed for backup.

The Panda Expressly went back to being just Panda Express, where if there is mystery meat. it is not advertised.

The pilot woke in London, having joined the RAF, but instead of fighting the kamikaze of the luftwaffe he would be dropping propaganda leaflets on Tripoli.

Michael joined the Fundamentalist Latter Day Saints and married Heather and her mother in a joint ceremony. He later changed his name and is now running for the GOP presidential nomination.

Shane and Don returned to their point of origin.

The Fire department came and hosed down the victims of the "brown mud ball" attack. They hosed down Chongo from the girders and kept the hose on him until all the smell and all detectable traces of living as a human were swept down into the sewer. Jake was not so lucky someone had put a mask on him to "save" him but how were they to know that his proud Tom Selleck mustache would be his undoing.

It only took one person to put the straight jacket on Jake. It took 22 to subdue Chongo. Mostly because his arms were nearly as long as the sleeves and he kept undoing the knots with his prehensile feet. But once they put fireman's boots on him and duct taped them together, they finally got him under control.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Omniscient Narrator
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 08:40 AM

So you wonder, What happened to Chongo? What happened to George? What happened to Jake?

Jake was in a very bad mental state when they took him to the nut house. The smell had been trapped in his mustache, which I feel obliged to point out, is directly under his nose for about 36 hours until a male nurse, a 6'6", 325 pound former Michigan State defensive lineman, pulled off the mask and fainted dead away.

The human mind's defenses are many and wondrous. Jake had managed to survive by convincing himself that he actually liked that smell. While in the asylum he spends his days watching tivo's of Ape week and reading about Chimpanzee feeding habits and carefully restricting himself to the same foods, and every morning his wakes up, walks to the corner of his padded cell, poohs into his own hand and smells the result. But he never gets it quite right. Because he is not a chimpanzee you ask? No not entirely.

The staff knows a lot about Chongo. This was the closest nuthouse on the ambulance route. At one point, 2 floors of the south wing were dedicated to the "Chongoids" as they called them. You see every one who comes into close contact with Chongo becomes a little bit nuts. But those who have to put up with his shit? Full bleeding bonkers!!

Every night all up and down the corridor the calls would ring out. "What died in there?" "Who died in there?" "Lord Almighty save us from that stench!!"

Yes the staff knew what gave Chongo's emissions that extra zing. But they had more sense than to tell Jake.

George the Gentleman can be seen every Tuesday night at Cameron's pub in Fiddler's Green hosting the "Bill Shatner Impersonator Night." There they all are in their tight yellow tee shirts over pot bellies, "singing" MacArthur Park. No one ever shows up but George and the counterfeit Bills. But they don't seem to mind.


The authorities were at a loss as to what to do with Chongo. The law couldn't touch him. They couldn't put him in the nut house with humans. He couldn't make a living, especially wearing human clothing.

Then one day they called me. "Mr Allen." they said.
"Call me Woody." I said.
"Woody you are a creative guy. We have this situation...."

Chongo seems pretty happy in his own exhibit at the Bronx zoo. He doesn't need a lot to stay happy. Healthy food warm place to stay. A Hotel quality toilet and bidet. He likes seeing the visitors, especially the dames.   We gave him an iPad so he could go online and keep in touch with his old friends. Zoo visitors see him using it. They think it is cute. If they knew he was ranting about American politics and Apes rights, I wonder would they throw him so many cigarettes. Once a week, I go there dressed in my Che fatigues and beret and toss him a Cuban cigar.

I worry about him though when he goes online and pretends to be an imaginary mouth harp playing folk singer from Gorillia, Canada.

But what makes him happiest of all is that every Tuesday a keeper goes across the street to a vendor and gets him a great big nitrate laden, bacon chili cheeze dog with extra onion, a side of sauerkraut and two pickled eggs, as long as on the following day he plugs in the air fresheners, lights a candle and flushes twice.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Oliver Stone
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 10:22 AM

I don't get it. I really don't get any of it. But I've been talking to Mel Brooks and Jack Nicholson, and we want to collaborate and produce & direct the movie version! (no, that GfS guy can't write the screenplay! He's much too organized))
   How could it fail with writers like these and our conceptual skills? We envision something like "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" done in the style of "Silent Movie", but with a setting like "Platoon". All... Most of the 'dialogue' would be held up (in view of the cameras) on cue cards, and characters would read the cards closest to them.

Now- off to sell this to MGM!

(Oh... need suggestions for actors!)


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Oliver Stone
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 10:23 AM

NO! Not Woody Allen! We CANNOT have him anywhere near this. He makes too much sense!


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Sharon Stone
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 12:29 PM

PART CINCO


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Amos
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 12:59 PM

Jakelowered the hardened-steel Gilette double-edge razor with an air of grim determination. He had somehow succeeded in convincing Gloria she had to smuggle it in to him, and now his Tom Selleck moustache was gone. And with it, the lingering maddening traces of simian excreta were gone as well. He took a deep breath--IN through the mouth, OUT through the nose--and sighed in relief.

He walked quietly back to his private room in the asylum, the razor resting his bathrobe pocket. HE lay under his sheets until well past midnight, listening to the sounds of the madhouse--the rubbery squeak of the night nurse's shoes, the rattle of the security guard's keys, the quiet snore of the dried out alky who managed to pretend to be the night orderly. Everything settled into the silence of deep night, and he slipped from his bed, tiptoed to the window, and slipped the handle of the razor under the lock device,

It took awhile, because he had to be quiet, but eventually the ancient steel staples moved and he was able to lever the lock out of the casing. With a soft creak, the casement swung open. Jake smelled the outside world, free of monkey shit, like a new man rediscovering reality. QUickly, he ran double bowlines into his bedsheets and joined two of them together, anchored to the leg of his sturdy hospital bed. Squeezing his shoulds to get through the narrow window, he rode the bedsheets down the wall of the imposing brick building, dropping the last ten feet, and, still in his bathrobe and bedroom slippers, he slipped quietly through the hydrangeas and into the night.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Amos
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 01:09 PM

shoulds =shoulders


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Getting Stone D
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 01:13 PM

PART VI


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 01:13 PM

"The Night", happened to be the nickname of the 6'6", 325 lb football player from Michigan State.

"Oh no little buddy." he said "You're going back in side." I got in enough crap when that Indian busted out of here by throwing the fountain through the window. You know it's been bottled water ever since? And do you know who has to give them their water? Yeah. Me!."

"And you just know you will have to sleep without bedclothes from now on!.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Nein Nein Nein
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 01:34 PM

Its a wrap!

The fat lady has sung.

It is not pining for the Fjords! It is dead! Wake up Polly!!!!!

Turn out the lights... the Party's over.

Th th th that's all folks!

Stick a fork in it!

It is done!

C'est Fini

Its over!

The End

Fin


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Pedantic git who's running out of papers . .
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 01:36 PM

Ah. But for the want of an apostrophe in its.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Nein Nein Nein
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 02:40 PM

It 's a wrap!



The fat lady has sung.

It is not pining for the Fjords! It is dead! Wake up Polly!!!!!

Turn out the lights... the Party's over.

Th th th that's all folks!

Stick a fork in it!

It is done!

C'est Fini

Its over!

The End

Fin


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,pgwroop
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 02:52 PM

C'est Fini

Its over!    I missed the first one. I meant this one.

The End


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: Don Firth
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 03:55 PM

That should be "C'est finis." The "s" is not pronounced.

Don Firth (three years of high school French, most of which has gone down the tubes through lack of opportunity to use it.)

P. S.    Kaput?


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: gnu
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 04:17 PM

How Parisienne.


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Nein Nein Nein
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 04:37 PM

sigh.. you want any more, add them yourselves.....

It 's a wrap!



The fat lady has sung.

It is not pining for the Fjords! It is dead! Wake up Polly!!!!!

Turn out the lights... the Party's over.

Th th th that's all folks!

Stick a fork in it!

It is done!

C'est Finis

It's over!

The End

Kaput!

Fin


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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
From: GUEST,Nyet, nyet, nyet.
Date: 08 Aug 11 - 08:10 PM

BRAVO, Nein, nein, nein.


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