tell me a story
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miss buenos aires
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tell me a story
I'm bored. Somebody tell me a story in 200 words or less. Please.
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A rope leash
- Posts: 1835
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Challenge
I could give you a story right now, but for the word limitation.
Give me a while, maybe I can come up with something.
It's noon somewhere, isn't it?
Give me a while, maybe I can come up with something.
It's noon somewhere, isn't it?
story: deathboy
this morning i sat next to deathboy on the bus. or rather, he sat next to me.
he looked normal, as much as i looked at him. glanced, like you would on a bus when someone sits beside you. he was talking to himself, but i figured he had one of those phone thingies that make you look like a loony who talks to himself. but no, he *was* talking to himself.
he had a whole monologue; two key sentences were, whole thing said in a southern preacher style, "death's gonna get you" and "i wanna kill myself."
then he stopped, then said in a slightly different voice, "i think someone's channelling! somene's channelling here!".
then, wacko southern preacher style monologue starts up again.
he wasn't actively scary. but i did try hard to not listen to him. that'll really start the day off right, all that death chatter.
praise be that the bus ride from that point was short.
that's my story. someday i'll even write you a letter.
he looked normal, as much as i looked at him. glanced, like you would on a bus when someone sits beside you. he was talking to himself, but i figured he had one of those phone thingies that make you look like a loony who talks to himself. but no, he *was* talking to himself.
he had a whole monologue; two key sentences were, whole thing said in a southern preacher style, "death's gonna get you" and "i wanna kill myself."
then he stopped, then said in a slightly different voice, "i think someone's channelling! somene's channelling here!".
then, wacko southern preacher style monologue starts up again.
he wasn't actively scary. but i did try hard to not listen to him. that'll really start the day off right, all that death chatter.
praise be that the bus ride from that point was short.
that's my story. someday i'll even write you a letter.
... name the stars and constellations,
count the cars and watch the seasons....
count the cars and watch the seasons....
Last night I was sitting in the back of my brother's car getting a lift home. I was looking out the window, saw a face a recognised trying to walk around the car and then went through the brain motion of :
I know that person => How do I know that person => I know this person because they are famous => It's Paul Weller => Get excited!!!
He went into an Indian restaurant, then I realised that I don't really like Paul Weller enough to get as excited as I did.
Not really a story, but not worthy of its own thread either.
DrJ
I know that person => How do I know that person => I know this person because they are famous => It's Paul Weller => Get excited!!!
He went into an Indian restaurant, then I realised that I don't really like Paul Weller enough to get as excited as I did.
Not really a story, but not worthy of its own thread either.
DrJ
Tlentifini Maarhaysu
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selfmademug
Yes, Cope, er, I mean ElV?
A story: once upon a time there was a little girl and she decided she wanted a steak with lots of black pepper, and a cold glass of water, because she thought no one would ever offer her cheesecake. When she was offered cheesecake, she was so amazed she didn't hesitate to take it. Later she realised she really would rather have had the steak and water. But it was too late. The end.
Signed,
One of Poppet's Crazy T-Riding Neighbors (see??)
A story: once upon a time there was a little girl and she decided she wanted a steak with lots of black pepper, and a cold glass of water, because she thought no one would ever offer her cheesecake. When she was offered cheesecake, she was so amazed she didn't hesitate to take it. Later she realised she really would rather have had the steak and water. But it was too late. The end.
Signed,
One of Poppet's Crazy T-Riding Neighbors (see??)
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A rope leash
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The Old Road to Albuquerque, Part 1
When the Interstate came through, the old road to Albuquerque was left virtually ignored. Miguel tended the herds of sheep on the red ground under the blue sky along the wide open stretches of the old road to Albuquerque, and mended the fences, and sang a lonely song of a lonely cowboy.
His lovely wife Maria, tired of the boredom that lays across a desert ranch, left him for the city last winter, and took with her his heart and mind. Miguel worked the fences in a sort of dazed worry, singing and thinking, singing and wailing, singing and talking to himself as if he were a person next to him, working fences.
Miguel hadn’t seen a car in days. All he had seen was red dirt, wooden posts, sheep and barbwire, next to the mountains under the blue sky beside the old road to Albuquerque.
Miguel was very lonely. He had often masturbated in the open desert, fantasizing about his departed wife and her probable city-sex adventures, but he was now finding that activity to be rather unfulfilling. He had often admired the soft wool and plaintive bleat of the mutton puffs in his charge, and of late he had been recalling old cowboy tales told to him by old cowboys who had long ago rustled the ranges on the red dirt under the blue sky along side the old road to Albuquerque,
His lovely wife Maria, tired of the boredom that lays across a desert ranch, left him for the city last winter, and took with her his heart and mind. Miguel worked the fences in a sort of dazed worry, singing and thinking, singing and wailing, singing and talking to himself as if he were a person next to him, working fences.
Miguel hadn’t seen a car in days. All he had seen was red dirt, wooden posts, sheep and barbwire, next to the mountains under the blue sky beside the old road to Albuquerque.
Miguel was very lonely. He had often masturbated in the open desert, fantasizing about his departed wife and her probable city-sex adventures, but he was now finding that activity to be rather unfulfilling. He had often admired the soft wool and plaintive bleat of the mutton puffs in his charge, and of late he had been recalling old cowboy tales told to him by old cowboys who had long ago rustled the ranges on the red dirt under the blue sky along side the old road to Albuquerque,
Last edited by A rope leash on Sat Dec 13, 2003 7:55 am, edited 1 time in total.
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lapinsjolis
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Elvis Costello Fans Harlequin Romance
"Turn on the light", she whispered
He reached for the switch but settled back and said, "I prefer the dark."
"But then I can't see you properly."
"When have you ever really seen me?"
"Don't be figurative, it's no time for that."
She became silent and held on to him tightly half afraid he would vanish. She could hear his breathing become deeper as he faded into sleep. Wakeful she kept watch until sunlight illuminated the room.
She could see his face now so innocent in sleep. She'd like to slap him and jolt him into the day. Instead she kissed him gently. She slipped quietly out of bed and left him alone.
The End
Edited for clarity
PS- Happy Birthday Poppet!
"Turn on the light", she whispered
He reached for the switch but settled back and said, "I prefer the dark."
"But then I can't see you properly."
"When have you ever really seen me?"
"Don't be figurative, it's no time for that."
She became silent and held on to him tightly half afraid he would vanish. She could hear his breathing become deeper as he faded into sleep. Wakeful she kept watch until sunlight illuminated the room.
She could see his face now so innocent in sleep. She'd like to slap him and jolt him into the day. Instead she kissed him gently. She slipped quietly out of bed and left him alone.
The End
Edited for clarity
PS- Happy Birthday Poppet!
Last edited by lapinsjolis on Sat Dec 13, 2003 1:22 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"Be yourself; everyone else is already taken."
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Gillibeanz
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Mr. Misery
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LJ, I loved your story! She smiles sweetly when she wants to slap him. But happily romance wins out in the end.
Mug, pepper? What about salt?
A Rope Leash, I liked the sheep's "plaintiff bleat." Miguel would obviously be the defendant.
Here's my story, it's sad but true.
My representative has asked me not to describe his physical characteristics and I honor that wish. One afternoon both his television and VCR remotes died at the same time, fresh batteries didn’t help. A radical solution was indicated so he decided to read a modern novel. It made no sense and he had at times the paralyzing suspicion that the author was trying to be funny. Evening fell. Morning broke. At last he slept. Never again!
The next day he walked to Target with a mission. The sky was that horrible color which heralds sunset. In the electronics department he found something enchanting called a Universal Remote which all by itself would replace both his dead devices. The cashier fielded a call throughout his purchase, and gave a hard look accusing him of eavesdropping.
He programmed the Universal Remote and it worked perfectly. If this was a story by Borges something magical would happen at this point, but I must be truthful and report that the Universal Remote simply did what it was supposed to do. When he went to bed he thought ordinary thoughts, and replayed his day. But when he thought of the Universal Remote something magical did happen. The secret of the universe was revealed to him. But what it is, and what it means, hardly matters. It belonged to only one man, only once, and that one dying.
Mug, pepper? What about salt?
A Rope Leash, I liked the sheep's "plaintiff bleat." Miguel would obviously be the defendant.
Here's my story, it's sad but true.
My representative has asked me not to describe his physical characteristics and I honor that wish. One afternoon both his television and VCR remotes died at the same time, fresh batteries didn’t help. A radical solution was indicated so he decided to read a modern novel. It made no sense and he had at times the paralyzing suspicion that the author was trying to be funny. Evening fell. Morning broke. At last he slept. Never again!
The next day he walked to Target with a mission. The sky was that horrible color which heralds sunset. In the electronics department he found something enchanting called a Universal Remote which all by itself would replace both his dead devices. The cashier fielded a call throughout his purchase, and gave a hard look accusing him of eavesdropping.
He programmed the Universal Remote and it worked perfectly. If this was a story by Borges something magical would happen at this point, but I must be truthful and report that the Universal Remote simply did what it was supposed to do. When he went to bed he thought ordinary thoughts, and replayed his day. But when he thought of the Universal Remote something magical did happen. The secret of the universe was revealed to him. But what it is, and what it means, hardly matters. It belonged to only one man, only once, and that one dying.
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A rope leash
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Writer's remorse
Ooops! I picked the wrong word from the spelling list! Please see edit.
Mr. M, I see that you also have trouble with endings. 200 word stories are impossible!
Mr. M, I see that you also have trouble with endings. 200 word stories are impossible!
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selfmademug
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lapinsjolis
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laughingcrow
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A young lad bounded into a chip shop and requested a plate of the vendor's finest french fries. Having paid for them, he made his way home across the fields, eating his chips as he walked.
Suddenly and to his horror, he noticed that his bag of chips was filled with maggots, and he had been eating them along with his chips. He started to throw up in the field, spewing up his dinner into the deep plowed furrows, until he started to retch blood. He fell to the ground in shock, and as he lay there that night, he died a horrible convulsive death.
The next morning the chipshop owner was walking through the fields, and coming across the boy's corpse, plucked several potatoes that had grown from his dead body over night and placed them in a large bag.
''These'll do nicely to make some chips..''he laughed.
Suddenly and to his horror, he noticed that his bag of chips was filled with maggots, and he had been eating them along with his chips. He started to throw up in the field, spewing up his dinner into the deep plowed furrows, until he started to retch blood. He fell to the ground in shock, and as he lay there that night, he died a horrible convulsive death.
The next morning the chipshop owner was walking through the fields, and coming across the boy's corpse, plucked several potatoes that had grown from his dead body over night and placed them in a large bag.
''These'll do nicely to make some chips..''he laughed.
Oh God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son"
Abe says, "Man, you must be puttin' me on"
God say, "No." Abe say, "What?"
God say, "You can do what you want Abe, but
The next time you see me comin' you better run"
Well Abe says, "Where do you want this killin' done?"
God says, "Out on Highway 61."
Well Georgia Sam he had a bloody nose
Welfare Department they wouldn't give him no clothes
He asked poor Howard where can I go
Howard said there's only one place I know
Sam said tell me quick man I got to run
Ol' Howard just pointed with his gun
And said that way down on Highway 61.
Well Mack the Finger said to Louie the King
I got forty red white and blue shoe strings
And a thousand telephones that don't ring
Do you know where I can get rid of these things
And Louie the King said let me think for a minute son
And he said yes I think it can be easily done
Just take everything down to Highway 61.
Now the fifth daughter on the twelfth night
Told the first father that things weren't right
My complexion she said is much too white
He said come here and step into the light he says hmm you're right
Let me tell the second mother this has been done
But the second mother was with the seventh son
And they were both out on Highway 61.
Now the rovin' gambler he was very bored
He was tryin' to create a next world war
He found a promoter who nearly fell off the floor
He said I never engaged in this kind of thing before
But yes I think it can be very easily done
We'll just put some bleachers out in the sun
And have it on Highway 61.
Copyright © 1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music
Abe says, "Man, you must be puttin' me on"
God say, "No." Abe say, "What?"
God say, "You can do what you want Abe, but
The next time you see me comin' you better run"
Well Abe says, "Where do you want this killin' done?"
God says, "Out on Highway 61."
Well Georgia Sam he had a bloody nose
Welfare Department they wouldn't give him no clothes
He asked poor Howard where can I go
Howard said there's only one place I know
Sam said tell me quick man I got to run
Ol' Howard just pointed with his gun
And said that way down on Highway 61.
Well Mack the Finger said to Louie the King
I got forty red white and blue shoe strings
And a thousand telephones that don't ring
Do you know where I can get rid of these things
And Louie the King said let me think for a minute son
And he said yes I think it can be easily done
Just take everything down to Highway 61.
Now the fifth daughter on the twelfth night
Told the first father that things weren't right
My complexion she said is much too white
He said come here and step into the light he says hmm you're right
Let me tell the second mother this has been done
But the second mother was with the seventh son
And they were both out on Highway 61.
Now the rovin' gambler he was very bored
He was tryin' to create a next world war
He found a promoter who nearly fell off the floor
He said I never engaged in this kind of thing before
But yes I think it can be very easily done
We'll just put some bleachers out in the sun
And have it on Highway 61.
Copyright © 1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music
This morning you've got time for a hot, home-cooked breakfast! Delicious and piping hot in only 3 microwave minutes.
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lapinsjolis
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He couldn't sit still and stared at his shoes. "I should look up, I should look at them", he thought. "Something must be very wrong with me."
"Do you want me to introduce you?", he heard his sister ask.
"No, no."
"You can't sit here all night."
"I can sit and be ignored forever".
"Ah but you sparkle with possibilities!"
"Wonderful, I'm sparkling."
She patted his hand in feigned sympathy and rejoined the party. He looked at his shoes. Next time he'd buy a more interesting style.
The End
If we can rhyme and have potatoes growing from corpses.. . Edward Lear mixed with Poe:
The suitcase that was under grandma's bed,
Contained an assortment from various heads
An eye from a man of great renown from the east
An ear from a lady she didn't like in the least
Some looked familiar the others were strange
Features sans faces are subject to change
When she died she left me both case and key
What a strange heiress she made out of me
"Do you want me to introduce you?", he heard his sister ask.
"No, no."
"You can't sit here all night."
"I can sit and be ignored forever".
"Ah but you sparkle with possibilities!"
"Wonderful, I'm sparkling."
She patted his hand in feigned sympathy and rejoined the party. He looked at his shoes. Next time he'd buy a more interesting style.
The End
If we can rhyme and have potatoes growing from corpses.. . Edward Lear mixed with Poe:
The suitcase that was under grandma's bed,
Contained an assortment from various heads
An eye from a man of great renown from the east
An ear from a lady she didn't like in the least
Some looked familiar the others were strange
Features sans faces are subject to change
When she died she left me both case and key
What a strange heiress she made out of me
"Be yourself; everyone else is already taken."
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SoLikeCandy
- Posts: 499
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- Location: Indianapolis, IN
- Contact:
My blind date seemed like a good man. Too bad I had to kill him.
You see, he was a winker. You know what I mean, ladies—that man in a nightclub who sees you from across the room, smiles, points…and winks.
It was unforgivable. He would see a pretty young woman and—out came the finger gun, the tongue click, and the wink.
Horrors. The horror of being seen with a man whose pick up line is non-verbal and cheesy.
He was waiting for me near the door. I knew him immediately—my best friend Michelle had told me he was a tall, bookish type. He was tall, alright—but the slicked back, blonde hair and little glasses with purple lenses didn’t say “bookish”. They said “creepy”.
“You must be Sharmin,” he said, extending a hand. Big hands. A little too soft, like he’d never done dishes or worked on a car.
“Hi, Patrick,” I said. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
He put a hand on the small of my back—a bit too low—and led me to the table, chatting me up about the restaurant and its menu.
“Oysters,” he purred in my ear. “Good for stamina.” He grinned with his perfect white teeth. All the better to eat you with my dear.
We sat at a table near the bar—thank heaven for small favors—and I ordered a Jack and Coke.
Then, it happened.
A tight, pneumatic little redhead walked by on hot pink heels and a matching “fuck me” halter top. Patrick shot her a look and…winked.
I snapped.
You see, he was a winker. You know what I mean, ladies—that man in a nightclub who sees you from across the room, smiles, points…and winks.
It was unforgivable. He would see a pretty young woman and—out came the finger gun, the tongue click, and the wink.
Horrors. The horror of being seen with a man whose pick up line is non-verbal and cheesy.
He was waiting for me near the door. I knew him immediately—my best friend Michelle had told me he was a tall, bookish type. He was tall, alright—but the slicked back, blonde hair and little glasses with purple lenses didn’t say “bookish”. They said “creepy”.
“You must be Sharmin,” he said, extending a hand. Big hands. A little too soft, like he’d never done dishes or worked on a car.
“Hi, Patrick,” I said. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
He put a hand on the small of my back—a bit too low—and led me to the table, chatting me up about the restaurant and its menu.
“Oysters,” he purred in my ear. “Good for stamina.” He grinned with his perfect white teeth. All the better to eat you with my dear.
We sat at a table near the bar—thank heaven for small favors—and I ordered a Jack and Coke.
Then, it happened.
A tight, pneumatic little redhead walked by on hot pink heels and a matching “fuck me” halter top. Patrick shot her a look and…winked.
I snapped.
If there's one thing you can say about mankind--there's nothing kind about man
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A rope leash
- Posts: 1835
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- Location: southern misery, USA
Justified...?
Pneumatic redhead...mmmmm...
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Misha
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Lapins & SLC----brilliant, brilliant!!!
Hmmm...
He stood staring at the casket, full of love and adoration. He had pulled off a coup. His son was at peace, a teddy bear in his limp arm. The child looked as sweet and pure as is possible from any human creature. He couldn't cry and he couldn't move. He stood transfixed...in love with his son and the idea of his life...happy with his power to deceive the system with the teddy bear. Something so innocent itself.
His wife had woken two years before, her huge pregnant belly still. After worrying herself to the doctor they had found their daughter dead inside the womb. The birth of his daughter had been very long and very painful, in more ways than ever should be. They had held their daughter, and then had her turned to ash.
He smiled at me, sweetly, and with cleverness, then looked back at his son. He looked at me again...I couldn't hold back, "What? What are you looking so clever about?"
He looked back at his son, "See that teddy bear?" He was grinning, superior and proud.
"Yeah..." I was being kind and patient to a dead boy's father.
"She's in there." He was smiling under his hand, blocking others from seeing his glee. His eyes were glistening.
"What?" I saw his son, and was worried he was cracking up.
"My daughter, she's in the bear." A rogue tear found it's way out and down.
"Does anyone know?" I had lowered my voice to prevent any of the staff and guests from hearing.
"My wife, and you." He shared a look of trust and love with me. Tears sprang from my eyes. I nodded, knowing such a moment would not come again. I stood transfixed, looking at the coffin. From my friend, the boy, to the teddy bear. Aware that there was nothing I had endured in my life that was remotely close to the feelings this man had at this moment, here, with me, with his son. His wife came up and we held each other as they locked the casket. We drifted outside, holding one another, happy and crying. The hundred other people there figuring that it was all too much for us. I never saw them again.
Hmmm...
He stood staring at the casket, full of love and adoration. He had pulled off a coup. His son was at peace, a teddy bear in his limp arm. The child looked as sweet and pure as is possible from any human creature. He couldn't cry and he couldn't move. He stood transfixed...in love with his son and the idea of his life...happy with his power to deceive the system with the teddy bear. Something so innocent itself.
His wife had woken two years before, her huge pregnant belly still. After worrying herself to the doctor they had found their daughter dead inside the womb. The birth of his daughter had been very long and very painful, in more ways than ever should be. They had held their daughter, and then had her turned to ash.
He smiled at me, sweetly, and with cleverness, then looked back at his son. He looked at me again...I couldn't hold back, "What? What are you looking so clever about?"
He looked back at his son, "See that teddy bear?" He was grinning, superior and proud.
"Yeah..." I was being kind and patient to a dead boy's father.
"She's in there." He was smiling under his hand, blocking others from seeing his glee. His eyes were glistening.
"What?" I saw his son, and was worried he was cracking up.
"My daughter, she's in the bear." A rogue tear found it's way out and down.
"Does anyone know?" I had lowered my voice to prevent any of the staff and guests from hearing.
"My wife, and you." He shared a look of trust and love with me. Tears sprang from my eyes. I nodded, knowing such a moment would not come again. I stood transfixed, looking at the coffin. From my friend, the boy, to the teddy bear. Aware that there was nothing I had endured in my life that was remotely close to the feelings this man had at this moment, here, with me, with his son. His wife came up and we held each other as they locked the casket. We drifted outside, holding one another, happy and crying. The hundred other people there figuring that it was all too much for us. I never saw them again.
Where are the strong?
Who are the trusted?
Who are the trusted?