This is basically a series of flash stories. I was tagged by my good friend the writer CJT on her wordvamp blog to help continue a project with some great writers, and given the list of previous posts so I could bring it forward. I will add to the story, then tag more people for them to keep it moving. It has gotten interesting, and I hope my taggees can find some time to help it along.
The chain begins here:
I, Spotchy
Then continues at:
Cormac Writes
Then:
Lost in the BoZone
Then:
David Barber’s Fiction World
Then:
Writing The Hard Way
Then:
Not From Here, Are You
Then:
I Can’t Believe It’s Not Better!
And finally:
CJT's wordvamp, before coming to me.
Here is my addition to the story:
The Team, comprising Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder, and Blitzen, or Rudolph's Boys for short, were sitting, red-nosed and bleary-eyed, round a flattened tree stump that served as a card table. There were empty booze bottles lying all over the place, and bowls that might have once held snacks, but now were overflowing with upchuck sat uninvitingly to the side.
"Kris ain't here," said Donder. "Who's asking for him? Oh, it's you Blanco. What the hell, happened to you? You look like you ate some bad fish."
"Where's Kringle? He said he'd get you guys ready to go on a mission to save the world, starting with the Universe Mall."
"Who does he think he is, Doc Savage? We got but one job a year, and we don't feel like donning those frigging reindeer outfits to go saving the world without time and a half for overtime."
"Listen, Donner," said Gary, "Can't you guys...?"
"That's Donder, dicktard. Why does everybody get that wrong?"
"Sorry, I heard it in a song or something," the detective said. "Can't you guys get into the spirit of the season just a coupla days early, and help us out?"
"What's up?" asked Blitzen, and the others gave him a look that said, Don't involve us in anything too taxing.
"Is this all you lamefaces do all the time, sitting around throwing back the hootch?" Blanco asked. As his color was deepening he felt the whole season was falling away to the dogs.
"How do you think we fuel up for the big night?" Dasher said, and that raised laughter from the rest of the team.
At that, Rudolph came out of the back of the barn, wiping his hands like he'd just come from a restroom. "What's up, fellas?" he asked. "Who're these guys?"
"Ummn, you'd better go wake up the Fat Man," said Blitzen, "Looks like we got another job this year. These guys want us to help 'em save the world."
"Scrotum," shouted Rudolph, who suffered from intermittent Tourette's syndrome, "Balls! Ass! Titties," and his nose began glowing redder than a stop sign at a school crossing. "Waddaya want us to do?"
"Don't you think we should wake up Kris..." Blitzen started to ask.
"Nah, shit! Blueballs! Jack-off! We can handle this, and be back in time for the big giveaway. Damn!" He kept rubbing his hands, but now he looked as if he anticipated big adventure.
"I'm not so sure you understand the nature of..." Gary began.
"Just lay out the plan," Rudolph interrupted, "Christ! Mess! We're more than ready for some action and mayhem. Motherfu..." he stopped, as everyone turned to see Kris Kringle, himself, waddling out from the back while zipping up his fly.
"You guys know who's in charge here. Didn't I tell y'all to wake me when these two arrived? Christ, where would this season be without me?"
Now I tag the following:
mkooch
Green Monkey Tales
Bukowki's Basement
Notes from the Überground
The Way It Is
Showing posts with label experimental. Show all posts
Showing posts with label experimental. Show all posts
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
The Sequel
Russell Crowe, walking on deck, meets a woman dressed in the flouncy skirts of Colonial times. He too is dressed in a costume of the past, the outfit he wore in Master and Commander which took place during the Napoleonic Wars and had nothing to do with Colonial America. It suddenly dawns on him he must be in a sequel to that film, or Hollywood’s version of a sequel, which doesn’t always adhere to the conceits of the original story.
A consummate actor up to any challenge, he steps into character and asks the woman, whom he does not recognize, but nonetheless admires for her lack of artifice, if he may help her in any way. She responds in the negative, thanks him for the uneventful crossing, and says she did not experience the mal de mer customary on long voyages. Russell tips his tricorner, says, “At your service, ma’am,” and walks aft. A moment later he recalls there were no women on board in the first film, but figures it will make a nice piece of acting if he turns to quietly survey this attractive female. However, when he pivots, she is nowhere to be seen. There is only the empty deck.
Perhaps she was a mirage, the scriptwriter’s way of letting the audience know although the ship is filled with solitary males, at least the captain still has manly desires. If that’s what it was, Russell applauds the unobtrusive effect.
His reverie is disturbed by the voice of a deckhand coming from one of the portals. It is Chris Rock who says without humor, “Captain, New York is in sight. Shall we prepare to dock and go ashore?”
“Eh?” he responds, thinking that like several comedians before him, Rock must have taken a serious role like this to get his shot at a supporting Oscar. “Why certainly.”
Chris makes a gesture at tipping his hat while saying, “Yes sir,” but bareheaded, his action only parallels Russell’s of a few minutes earlier.
Nice comic touch, he thinks. Everything cyclical but subtle.
Soon all the men are on deck but the focus is on Russell behind the man steering. Through his eyes we see the low skyline of Olde New York coming into view. Though impressively reconstructed, he’s thinking, this is not how the story goes. He cannot remember how the script develops, and doesn’t recall this scene from the O’Brian books, but not wanting to appear difficult or incompetent, he remains in character and displays a look he hopes expresses longing, or better – knowing anticipation.
Blunt cut to the men disembarking. Many are meandering off to discover the place, but a carriage is waiting for Russell and his firstmate, who has no lines. Maturin is not around, must have gone to research the flora and fauna. Chris Rock puts the captain’s things on top of the carriage along with a little bundle which is his own then climbs up to sit next to the driver. He glances back to see the leather bags and his little red kerchief-tied bundle. These things make their own statement through juxtaposition.
Our attention is soon diverted by the authenticity of the town, appearing more real than Scorcese’s Gangs of New York but oddly, though not disconcertingly, anachronistic for the time period we thought we were in. This is New York of perhaps 1870. Playing fast and loose with history, the designers have gone through great pains to make everything look authentic albeit for another story.
The carriage approaches a square. Chris notices a statue he assumes to be a pilgrim and remembers in the present day a statue of George Washington stands there. “Oh my, will you look at that,” he says aloud. However, as the carriage rounds the statue it disappears so only the plinth remains visible, as if the carriage’s movement has brought everyone a little further back in time before there was a monument to either.
The streets of the town are festooned for a coming or recent celebration. There are garlands of flowers strung from building to building. But people in top hats and tails are going about their work as if festivity were the furthest thing from their minds. In a window of one of the wooden buildings we see the face of the woman Russell had met on the ship. She looks sad. The hint of a smile as she eyes the passing carriage tells us she is hoping for release from a desperate situation. These men from elsewhere may be her salvation.
Inside the carriage we see Russell, the face of stoicism. He’s hoping someone will arrive to cue him on his next lines. It is strange indeed no one has called, “Cut,” in a long time, but grown weary of being known as difficult he will not be the one to break the mood.
Cut to the interior of an old building. Chris and a friend, whom we hadn’t seen before, are waiting outside an office where the captain has gone to speak to someone. On the door is a placard with the name B. Luhrman.
Chris says to his friend, “I think this other door leads to the roof. I’m going to see how the place looks from above.”
The other man says, “Better be careful not to change anything. You know how altering the past can affect the future.”
Chris looks at him as if to ask, “What are you talking about?” then shrugs and proceeds through the door.
Alone in the hallway, the man fidgets and paces. Now is when the viewer begins to question the sanity of everyone involved in this piece. We, like him, feel on the outside of knowing. If things are to proceed any further, an explanation has to come from someone, before the fourth wall fully materializes
At that moment, Russell comes out of the office. “Where is he?” he asks.
“Sir,” the man sputters, “Captain, sir, he went through that door to have a look from the roof.”
“Oh my god! He shouldn’t have..”
“I told him, sir, to be careful. I told him he could affect history. I said…”
“Stop gibbering, man. That’s not the problem,” Russell says, “We haven’t gone back in time.”
“Sir?”
“It’s just been made clear to me we’re in a sequel occurring in an alternate universe. I don’t think there’s any way out.”
Suddenly, Luhrman announces from behind his door, “That’s right captain and remember my advice regarding sunscreen,” followed by the voice of a castrato singing something unfathomable offstage.
A consummate actor up to any challenge, he steps into character and asks the woman, whom he does not recognize, but nonetheless admires for her lack of artifice, if he may help her in any way. She responds in the negative, thanks him for the uneventful crossing, and says she did not experience the mal de mer customary on long voyages. Russell tips his tricorner, says, “At your service, ma’am,” and walks aft. A moment later he recalls there were no women on board in the first film, but figures it will make a nice piece of acting if he turns to quietly survey this attractive female. However, when he pivots, she is nowhere to be seen. There is only the empty deck.
Perhaps she was a mirage, the scriptwriter’s way of letting the audience know although the ship is filled with solitary males, at least the captain still has manly desires. If that’s what it was, Russell applauds the unobtrusive effect.
His reverie is disturbed by the voice of a deckhand coming from one of the portals. It is Chris Rock who says without humor, “Captain, New York is in sight. Shall we prepare to dock and go ashore?”
“Eh?” he responds, thinking that like several comedians before him, Rock must have taken a serious role like this to get his shot at a supporting Oscar. “Why certainly.”
Chris makes a gesture at tipping his hat while saying, “Yes sir,” but bareheaded, his action only parallels Russell’s of a few minutes earlier.
Nice comic touch, he thinks. Everything cyclical but subtle.
Soon all the men are on deck but the focus is on Russell behind the man steering. Through his eyes we see the low skyline of Olde New York coming into view. Though impressively reconstructed, he’s thinking, this is not how the story goes. He cannot remember how the script develops, and doesn’t recall this scene from the O’Brian books, but not wanting to appear difficult or incompetent, he remains in character and displays a look he hopes expresses longing, or better – knowing anticipation.
Blunt cut to the men disembarking. Many are meandering off to discover the place, but a carriage is waiting for Russell and his firstmate, who has no lines. Maturin is not around, must have gone to research the flora and fauna. Chris Rock puts the captain’s things on top of the carriage along with a little bundle which is his own then climbs up to sit next to the driver. He glances back to see the leather bags and his little red kerchief-tied bundle. These things make their own statement through juxtaposition.
Our attention is soon diverted by the authenticity of the town, appearing more real than Scorcese’s Gangs of New York but oddly, though not disconcertingly, anachronistic for the time period we thought we were in. This is New York of perhaps 1870. Playing fast and loose with history, the designers have gone through great pains to make everything look authentic albeit for another story.
The carriage approaches a square. Chris notices a statue he assumes to be a pilgrim and remembers in the present day a statue of George Washington stands there. “Oh my, will you look at that,” he says aloud. However, as the carriage rounds the statue it disappears so only the plinth remains visible, as if the carriage’s movement has brought everyone a little further back in time before there was a monument to either.
The streets of the town are festooned for a coming or recent celebration. There are garlands of flowers strung from building to building. But people in top hats and tails are going about their work as if festivity were the furthest thing from their minds. In a window of one of the wooden buildings we see the face of the woman Russell had met on the ship. She looks sad. The hint of a smile as she eyes the passing carriage tells us she is hoping for release from a desperate situation. These men from elsewhere may be her salvation.
Inside the carriage we see Russell, the face of stoicism. He’s hoping someone will arrive to cue him on his next lines. It is strange indeed no one has called, “Cut,” in a long time, but grown weary of being known as difficult he will not be the one to break the mood.
Cut to the interior of an old building. Chris and a friend, whom we hadn’t seen before, are waiting outside an office where the captain has gone to speak to someone. On the door is a placard with the name B. Luhrman.
Chris says to his friend, “I think this other door leads to the roof. I’m going to see how the place looks from above.”
The other man says, “Better be careful not to change anything. You know how altering the past can affect the future.”
Chris looks at him as if to ask, “What are you talking about?” then shrugs and proceeds through the door.
Alone in the hallway, the man fidgets and paces. Now is when the viewer begins to question the sanity of everyone involved in this piece. We, like him, feel on the outside of knowing. If things are to proceed any further, an explanation has to come from someone, before the fourth wall fully materializes
At that moment, Russell comes out of the office. “Where is he?” he asks.
“Sir,” the man sputters, “Captain, sir, he went through that door to have a look from the roof.”
“Oh my god! He shouldn’t have..”
“I told him, sir, to be careful. I told him he could affect history. I said…”
“Stop gibbering, man. That’s not the problem,” Russell says, “We haven’t gone back in time.”
“Sir?”
“It’s just been made clear to me we’re in a sequel occurring in an alternate universe. I don’t think there’s any way out.”
Suddenly, Luhrman announces from behind his door, “That’s right captain and remember my advice regarding sunscreen,” followed by the voice of a castrato singing something unfathomable offstage.
Saturday, July 14, 2001
Who Really Killed Lincoln?
Thumbing through a book about Lincoln, Leon is strangely attracted to a daguerreotype of John Wilkes Booth. There is a magnetism in the eyes. Leon is floating through some strange time warp. He spirals within a cyclone and spins through the years and lands in Brooklyn in the Roaring Twenties. He's Callie, super-blond, super-flapper. Callie lands in 1864 and goes mad because she doesn't understand what has happened. She gets involved in a conspiracy to kill President Lincoln. Slowly Callie (Boots)/Booth realizes what's happening but isn't up enough on her history. The end is inevitable. John Wilkes Booth lands in 1968, and accustoms himself to part of today's world. He is prepared for this because when his fate had been decided he had the picture of himself made and prayed to be absorbed by the spirit of whoever saw the picture after a hundred years, with such a desperation that when Leon, the first to see it in the prescribed time (he was cleaning out his grandmother's attic), magic occurred.
Booth is an 1860's southerner in 1968 Brooklyn. One day while crossing the street, he is killed by a speeding motorist.
Leon cannot be a super flapper. He isn't that friendly with people. The spiralling, that awful dizzying spin, had told him something supernatural had happened. He plans to make a fortune and sell stocks just before the Market crashes and buy property, etc. just after. A jumble. He dies from a heart attack.
Or, all this happens when Booth is in a barn and is looking at a photo of himself. The switch occurs after he sets fire to the barn and Herold shoots him, but the marshals know there is something strange about the dead man's face.
Callie dies, causing a timewarp discrepancy. The two live spirits, Booth and Leon, are in telepsychic battle with each other and only one can win. Leon, who is vain, kept a diary of how either the person who left his body, or Booth, will die through traps...No good, huh?
All right. Forget it. I'm going to bed.
Booth is an 1860's southerner in 1968 Brooklyn. One day while crossing the street, he is killed by a speeding motorist.
Leon cannot be a super flapper. He isn't that friendly with people. The spiralling, that awful dizzying spin, had told him something supernatural had happened. He plans to make a fortune and sell stocks just before the Market crashes and buy property, etc. just after. A jumble. He dies from a heart attack.
Or, all this happens when Booth is in a barn and is looking at a photo of himself. The switch occurs after he sets fire to the barn and Herold shoots him, but the marshals know there is something strange about the dead man's face.
Callie dies, causing a timewarp discrepancy. The two live spirits, Booth and Leon, are in telepsychic battle with each other and only one can win. Leon, who is vain, kept a diary of how either the person who left his body, or Booth, will die through traps...No good, huh?
All right. Forget it. I'm going to bed.
Wednesday, February 14, 2001
Alphabet Story
A, B, C, D, E, F & G are parts of a group.
A & B are lovers, but B has turned his attention to C.
B comes on to C, but C spurns him.
B has himself "killed".
D is killed.
An investigation is set up by A.
C acts suspiciously, but can't be proved guilty because she knows nothing.
E is killed.
F & G begin to strongly suspect C, but can't prove her guilty.
A confronts C, but C admits she is now afraid they will all be killed.
B confronts C and admits how he faked his death to be able to have a "new life" with C, if she'll have him, but says he can't do anything now out of fear because he did not kill D or E and doesn't want to be blamed for it.
For the reader, at this point, the two suspects are F and G.
G learns B is alive and threatens to go to the police and have D & E's murders pinned on him.
In a final appeal to B to give himself up, while B and G are together, A is killed.
B now suspects F, while G suspects both C and F.
C is now scared of all three B, F & G and decides to come forward with what happened between her and B, but F confronts her and says he can't let her do that because he wants all the murders pinned on B. F tries to kill C, but B arrives in time to save her.
G arrives to see B saving C's life and together they get F arrested.
What was F's motive?
A & B are lovers, but B has turned his attention to C.
B comes on to C, but C spurns him.
B has himself "killed".
D is killed.
An investigation is set up by A.
C acts suspiciously, but can't be proved guilty because she knows nothing.
E is killed.
F & G begin to strongly suspect C, but can't prove her guilty.
A confronts C, but C admits she is now afraid they will all be killed.
B confronts C and admits how he faked his death to be able to have a "new life" with C, if she'll have him, but says he can't do anything now out of fear because he did not kill D or E and doesn't want to be blamed for it.
For the reader, at this point, the two suspects are F and G.
G learns B is alive and threatens to go to the police and have D & E's murders pinned on him.
In a final appeal to B to give himself up, while B and G are together, A is killed.
B now suspects F, while G suspects both C and F.
C is now scared of all three B, F & G and decides to come forward with what happened between her and B, but F confronts her and says he can't let her do that because he wants all the murders pinned on B. F tries to kill C, but B arrives in time to save her.
G arrives to see B saving C's life and together they get F arrested.
What was F's motive?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)