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Grex > Accordions > #188: Don't be foolish if you can be asinie, brainless, or cockamamy. | |
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cloud
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Don't be foolish if you can be asinie, brainless, or cockamamy.
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Oct 31 01:58 UTC 1998 |
We need a new item, so I'm giving you a new item.
We need a subject, so let me think.
Got it. I'm going to give the first paragraphs of a story,
off the top of me own pink little head,
and you will then right another few.
Or, more likely, y'all will ignore me completely, and
I'll end up feeling like a hamster without a wheel to
run on (although I am running on), and may or may not end up
finishing the story myself.
Lets get started...
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| 6 responses total. |
cloud
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response 1 of 6:
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Oct 31 02:04 UTC 1998 |
"I don't often go to bars," I said over the top of my glass, "I'm only here
right now because I'm supposed to meet someone." The beer-mat I was talking
to sat still in sympathy. It had been doing that for a while.
Actually, it had been doing it since I came in, about two hours ago.
I can only imagine how it must have been dancing and partying before, but I
dare say something about my demeanor upon entering must have calmed it down.
Laid it out flat, really.
"Yeah, he said to meet him here, sometime this eavening," I was
starting to feel sweaty. Drinking has that effect on me. Most people have
to go to the bathroom, I just sweat. "I don't know when,
though. Shouldn't be *too* much longer...
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snowth
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response 2 of 6:
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Oct 31 05:31 UTC 1998 |
I trailed off. It was about then that I realized that the beer-mat was
begining to look at me oddly.
"What? You think I'm kidding?" I demanded of it, "What do you think
I am? Some sort of creep who just wanders in here to get drunk after work?
You think I don't have a life? Well, Who The Fuck Are You to tell me what to
do? I don't have to listen to you. Go fuck off."
The beer-mat didn't move.
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cloud
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response 3 of 6:
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Oct 31 15:22 UTC 1998 |
The cussed little thing had it in for me, obviously.
"Fine," I exclaimed, "Then *I'll* move!" I got up and promptly sat
back down, realzing that my stomach didn't feel like moving at quite the same
pace as I did. I sat there, breathing, trying to keep what went down from
coming back up. I looked up to see my contact sitting accross the table from
me. He did not look happy. Come to think of it, neither did I, so at least
we agreed on something.
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snowth
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response 4 of 6:
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Nov 1 04:43 UTC 1998 |
"I am *Not* drunk!" I said, trying to look him in the eye.
Unfortunately, being as there were now three of him, I was having problems
with this perticular manuver. It was then that I noticed that my chair had
also become bored of it's spot on the floor and had relocated itself to a
different part of the room. I hit the floor, hard, and decided that me and
this inanimate object thing just wasn't working out the way I had planned.
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cloud
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response 5 of 6:
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Nov 1 16:58 UTC 1998 |
The man, a tall russian guy named Bela, raised one eyebrow and said
"I had expected more from you than a slobbering drunk," his accent was almost
imperceptable, "you are not in a state where I can talk to you. Come here."
he motioned me towards a darkened corner of the room, and I wobble after him.
This was probably not my brightest move, but then, few of my moves are.
Fact is, following him could be concieved as downright stupid, is what I 'm
getting at, because the last thing I saw for the next six hours was a big
russian fist coming straight towards my face. I think I fainted before he
even hit me.
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maus
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response 6 of 6:
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Aug 28 15:55 UTC 2006 |
Waking up with a pounding headache, I looked around, trying to
figure out where I was and how I got there. Flourescent lights glared
down from behind metal cages on the otherwise featureless, stark white
ceiling. I tried to turn my head, but it felt like it was being pinched
in place by a vice. A man with a hint of a Slavic accent, whose voice I
did not recognize, began to speak.
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