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MacAl Stone
07-28-2004, 09:24 AM
It's easy--you just add a single line--but it starts with the next letter of the alphabet from the letter that begins the previous line...And all the gods pity the poor sucker who gets stuck with "Q"

Extra points for actual continuity...

Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Lori Basiewicz
07-28-2004, 10:14 AM
Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

maestrowork
07-28-2004, 11:11 AM
Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Lori Basiewicz
07-28-2004, 08:21 PM
Ding dong.

Yeshanu
07-28-2004, 08:23 PM
I'm gonna cut and paste so that when it gets down to "M," people don't get lost...

Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

batyler65
07-28-2004, 08:37 PM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

LiamJackson
07-28-2004, 08:41 PM
"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your..."

Yeshanu
07-28-2004, 09:04 PM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

mammamaia
07-28-2004, 09:04 PM
As boys can do every foolish, gory horror in jest, knowing little, mankind now operates poorly. Quite ridiculous such trivial undertakings--very wasteful, xenogenetic, yet zealous!

i couldn't help myself!

LiamJackson
07-28-2004, 09:07 PM
And the purpose of that little editorial?

Lori Basiewicz
07-28-2004, 09:31 PM
Each word started with a new letter of the alphabet, in sequence.

LiamJackson
07-28-2004, 09:32 PM
( It was a tongue-n-cheek post... it would seem my sense of humor is only clicking on 4 cylinders, today)

Lori Basiewicz
07-28-2004, 09:39 PM
Sorry, LJ. I think I'm still recovering from last night and the resulting lack of oxygen this morning.

Lori Basiewicz
07-28-2004, 09:41 PM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

MacAl Stone
07-28-2004, 09:51 PM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

Betty W01
07-29-2004, 02:37 AM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

maestrowork
07-29-2004, 06:58 AM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

MacAl Stone
07-29-2004, 07:34 AM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

Yeshanu
07-29-2004, 08:21 AM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

batyler65
07-29-2004, 07:39 PM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

"Oh," said Evan when Adam answered the door and saw not one, but two people standing outside. "Did I forget to mention that Laura was with me? Oops!"

reph
07-30-2004, 11:26 AM
Ignore this post, please.

maestrowork
07-30-2004, 12:27 PM
Eh, Reph... it was up to "O."

reph
07-30-2004, 12:53 PM
That is strange. I thought I'd read clear to the bottom. Will redo.

reph
07-30-2004, 12:59 PM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

"Oh," said Evan when Adam answered the door and saw not one, but two people standing outside. "Did I forget to mention that Laura was with me? Oops!"

Poor Adam!

spooknov
07-30-2004, 07:00 PM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

"Oh," said Evan when Adam answered the door and saw not one, but two people standing outside. "Did I forget to mention that Laura was with me? Oops!"

Poor Adam!

Quite a sticky situation he managed to land himself in.

batyler65
07-30-2004, 09:00 PM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

"Oh," said Evan when Adam answered the door and saw not one, but two people standing outside. "Did I forget to mention that Laura was with me? Oops!"

Poor Adam!

Quite a sticky situation he managed to land himself in.

Realizing there was nothing he could do about it now, Adam ran a hand through is unkempt hair, and tried not to look so naked.

maestrowork
07-30-2004, 10:34 PM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

"Oh," said Evan when Adam answered the door and saw not one, but two people standing outside. "Did I forget to mention that Laura was with me? Oops!"

Poor Adam!

Quite a sticky situation he managed to land himself in.

Realizing there was nothing he could do about it now, Adam ran a hand through is unkempt hair, and tried not to look so naked.

"So!" Laura chirped. "What were you doing waiting for me in only your birthday suit?"

reph
07-30-2004, 10:40 PM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

"Oh," said Evan when Adam answered the door and saw not one, but two people standing outside. "Did I forget to mention that Laura was with me? Oops!"

Poor Adam!

Quite a sticky situation he managed to land himself in.

Realizing there was nothing he could do about it now, Adam ran a hand through his unkempt hair, and tried not to look so naked.

Suddenly he sensed that the dose of Viagra he had taken in anticipation of Laura's visit had taken effect.

maestrowork
07-30-2004, 10:41 PM
(I like Reph's version better)

Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

"Oh," said Evan when Adam answered the door and saw not one, but two people standing outside. "Did I forget to mention that Laura was with me? Oops!"

Poor Adam!

Quite a sticky situation he managed to land himself in.

Realizing there was nothing he could do about it now, Adam ran a hand through his unkempt hair, and tried not to look so naked.

Suddenly he sensed that the dose of Viagra he had taken in anticipation of Laura's visit had taken effect.

"That's impressive!" Adam purred.

reph
07-30-2004, 10:51 PM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

"Oh," said Evan when Adam answered the door and saw not one, but two people standing outside. "Did I forget to mention that Laura was with me? Oops!"

Poor Adam!

Quite a sticky situation he managed to land himself in.

Realizing there was nothing he could do about it now, Adam ran a hand through his unkempt hair, and tried not to look so naked.

Suddenly he sensed that the dose of Viagra he had taken in anticipation of Laura's visit had taken effect.

"That's impressive!" Adam purred.

Until then, he had never realized how many of the people who might be passing beneath an urban balcony at a random moment during rush hour would happen to have brought binoculars.

maestrowork
07-30-2004, 11:42 PM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

"Oh," said Evan when Adam answered the door and saw not one, but two people standing outside. "Did I forget to mention that Laura was with me? Oops!"

Poor Adam!

Quite a sticky situation he managed to land himself in.

Realizing there was nothing he could do about it now, Adam ran a hand through his unkempt hair, and tried not to look so naked.

Suddenly he sensed that the dose of Viagra he had taken in anticipation of Laura's visit had taken effect.

"That's impressive!" Adam purred.

Until then, he had never realized how many of the people who might be passing beneath an urban balcony at a random moment during rush hour would happen to have brought binoculars.

Viagra had a strange way of affecting one's ego. Suddenly he felt very confident and grinned at Laura. Evan'd have to wait.

reph
07-30-2004, 11:49 PM
(Ray, did you mean Evan'd have to wait? Adam's the one with the pharmacological enhancement.)

maestrowork
07-31-2004, 12:54 AM
(Fixed)

reph
07-31-2004, 01:04 AM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

"Oh," said Evan when Adam answered the door and saw not one, but two people standing outside. "Did I forget to mention that Laura was with me? Oops!"

Poor Adam!

Quite a sticky situation he managed to land himself in.

Realizing there was nothing he could do about it now, Adam ran a hand through his unkempt hair, and tried not to look so naked.

Suddenly he sensed that the dose of Viagra he had taken in anticipation of Laura's visit had taken effect.

"That's impressive!" Adam purred.

Until then, he had never realized how many of the people who might be passing beneath an urban balcony at a random moment during rush hour would happen to have brought binoculars.

Viagra had a strange way of affecting one's ego. Suddenly he felt very confident and grinned at Laura. Evan'd have to wait.

"Watch this, Evan! Who needs a crummy pulp magazine when you've got the real thing?" said Adam as he pulled Laura into his apartment while using one foot to block Evan's entry.

maestrowork
07-31-2004, 01:40 AM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

"Oh," said Evan when Adam answered the door and saw not one, but two people standing outside. "Did I forget to mention that Laura was with me? Oops!"

Poor Adam!

Quite a sticky situation he managed to land himself in.

Realizing there was nothing he could do about it now, Adam ran a hand through his unkempt hair, and tried not to look so naked.

Suddenly he sensed that the dose of Viagra he had taken in anticipation of Laura's visit had taken effect.

"That's impressive!" Adam purred.

Until then, he had never realized how many of the people who might be passing beneath an urban balcony at a random moment during rush hour would happen to have brought binoculars.

Viagra had a strange way of affecting one's ego. Suddenly he felt very confident and grinned at Laura. Evan'd have to wait.

"Watch this, Evan! Who needs a crummy pulp magazine when you've got the real thing?" said Adam as he pulled Laura into his apartment while using one foot to block Evan's entry.

"'Xactly what you're going to do with that thing pointing at me?" Laura asked as Adam slammed the door shut.

reph
07-31-2004, 01:51 AM
(Ray, that's cheating!)

LiamJackson
07-31-2004, 03:13 AM
Adam looked out over the sea of churning humanity in the street beneath his balcony.

Below him the crush of people might be milling about aimlessly, but his heart knew only one purpose.

Counting back from a hundred, he heard the name Laura over and over in his head...

Ding dong.

Evan was at the door. Oh, crap!

"Forget it, Evan," Adam shouted. "I'm not letting you back in!"

"Good! I didn't want to come in. I'm only here to return your...

Hot Babes magazine. But if you don't want it...

I'll just give it to Justine to cut up for scrap."

"Justine?! Oh god, no! She thinks I'm gay--you can't blow my cover like that!"

"Keep refusing to let me in and it's blown, bro!"

"Laura will be here in a minute. I can't let you in now. I'm naked."

"Maybe you'd like Laura to see what kind of reading material you really keep around the house--instead of all those Steinem treatises and Susan Faludi feminist tomes you leave laying around just to impress her!"

"Nooo! Hold on a minute. I'm coming."

"Oh," said Evan when Adam answered the door and saw not one, but two people standing outside. "Did I forget to mention that Laura was with me? Oops!"

Poor Adam!

Quite a sticky situation he managed to land himself in.

Realizing there was nothing he could do about it now, Adam ran a hand through his unkempt hair, and tried not to look so naked.

Suddenly he sensed that the dose of Viagra he had taken in anticipation of Laura's visit had taken effect.

"That's impressive!" Adam purred.

Until then, he had never realized how many of the people who might be passing beneath an urban balcony at a random moment during rush hour would happen to have brought binoculars.

Viagra had a strange way of affecting one's ego. Suddenly he felt very confident and grinned at Laura. Evan'd have to wait.

"Watch this, Evan! Who needs a crummy pulp magazine when you've got the real thing?" said Adam as he pulled Laura into his apartment while using one foot to block Evan's entry.

"'Xactly what you're going to do with that thing pointing at me?" Laura asked as Adam slammed the door shut.

"You really have to ask?" said Adam, grinning wickedly.

Yeshanu
07-31-2004, 03:34 AM
Zephyr-like breezes swirled around as Laura's clothing dropped to the floor, and here on the balcony of their apartment, we will leave our two protagonists and go on to bigger and better things.

reph
07-31-2004, 04:29 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that.

ElonnaT
07-31-2004, 04:57 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that.
But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

maestrowork
07-31-2004, 05:33 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that.
But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

MacAl Stone
07-31-2004, 05:49 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that.
But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

maestrowork
07-31-2004, 06:13 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that.
But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right band from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

Yeshanu
07-31-2004, 06:32 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that.
But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.


(Ray, I'm assuming you meant "hand" instead of "band.")

reph
07-31-2004, 09:26 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that.
But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

Yeshanu
07-31-2004, 10:31 AM
Ooooh, Reph! :lol

Love it!

reph
07-31-2004, 12:40 PM
(Thank you.)

(Somebody do H, somebody please do H. We're becalmed here.)

Pthom
07-31-2004, 12:56 PM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

batyler65
07-31-2004, 08:32 PM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

Yeshanu
07-31-2004, 10:56 PM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

reph
07-31-2004, 11:47 PM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

maestrowork
08-01-2004, 12:22 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

reph
08-01-2004, 01:21 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Betty W01
08-01-2004, 09:07 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

Pthom
08-01-2004, 02:10 PM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

On the other hand, I saw the ale bottle was empty. Connie poured out what was left in the gin bottle and reached for--oh no! Not Worchestershire sauce!

reph
08-01-2004, 02:43 PM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

On the other hand, I saw the ale bottle was empty. Connie poured out what was left in the gin bottle and reached for--oh no! Not Worchestershire sauce!

Poor girl couldn't mix a proper drink any more than she could talk. Too late, though – by the time I'd swallowed three glasses of her original concoction, I was in no shape to reflect rationally on just how original it was. I felt as loose as a lubricated crash-test dummy riding a roller coaster, and as competent as one when it came to complex tasks such as standing up.

Yeshanu
08-02-2004, 07:42 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

On the other hand, I saw the ale bottle was empty. Connie poured out what was left in the gin bottle and reached for--oh no! Not Worchestershire sauce!

Poor girl couldn't mix a proper drink any more than she could talk. Too late, though – by the time I'd swallowed three glasses of her original concoction, I was in no shape to reflect rationally on just how original it was. I felt as loose as a lubricated crash-test dummy riding a roller coaster, and as competent as one when it came to complex tasks such as standing up.

Quartz tends to look like diamond under such conditions. That's about all I can say to explain the mistake I made next.

reph
08-02-2004, 09:01 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

On the other hand, I saw the ale bottle was empty. Connie poured out what was left in the gin bottle and reached for--oh no! Not Worchestershire sauce!

Poor girl couldn't mix a proper drink any more than she could talk. Too late, though – by the time I'd swallowed three glasses of her original concoction, I was in no shape to reflect rationally on just how original it was. I felt as loose as a lubricated crash-test dummy riding a roller coaster, and as competent as one when it came to complex tasks such as standing up.

Quartz tends to look like diamond under such conditions. That's about all I can say to explain the mistake I made next.

Rocks of any kind would have looked alike to me under the influence of Evil Mac's vile mixture. I know that sounds strange, coming from a man with his own rock collection. Not to mention a father of three who's always warned his offspring of the dangers of drinking.

MacAl Stone
08-02-2004, 09:31 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

On the other hand, I saw the ale bottle was empty. Connie poured out what was left in the gin bottle and reached for--oh no! Not Worchestershire sauce!

Poor girl couldn't mix a proper drink any more than she could talk. Too late, though – by the time I'd swallowed three glasses of her original concoction, I was in no shape to reflect rationally on just how original it was. I felt as loose as a lubricated crash-test dummy riding a roller coaster, and as competent as one when it came to complex tasks such as standing up.

Quartz tends to look like diamond under such conditions. That's about all I can say to explain the mistake I made next.

Rocks of any kind would have looked alike to me under the influence of Evil Mac's vile mixture. I know that sounds strange, coming from a man with his own rock collection. Not to mention a father of three who's always warned his offspring of the dangers of drinking.

Still, even though I damn well knew better, I took my jeweler's loupe that I got off Ebay for thirteen bucks plus shipping, stuck it in my eye and settled down to examine Connie's stone.

reph
08-02-2004, 10:43 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

On the other hand, I saw the ale bottle was empty. Connie poured out what was left in the gin bottle and reached for--oh no! Not Worchestershire sauce!

Poor girl couldn't mix a proper drink any more than she could talk. Too late, though – by the time I'd swallowed three glasses of her original concoction, I was in no shape to reflect rationally on just how original it was. I felt as loose as a lubricated crash-test dummy riding a roller coaster, and as competent as one when it came to complex tasks such as standing up.

Quartz tends to look like diamond under such conditions. That's about all I can say to explain the mistake I made next.

Rocks of any kind would have looked alike to me under the influence of Evil Mac's vile mixture. I know that sounds strange, coming from a man with his own rock collection. Not to mention a father of three who's always warned his offspring of the dangers of drinking.

Still, even though I damn well knew better, I took my jeweler's loupe that I got off Ebay for thirteen bucks plus shipping, stuck it in my eye and settled down to examine Connie's stone.

To make a long story short, my buddies in the mineralogical society used to call me Semiprecious Sid, but it's been Semistupid Sid ever since word got out that I called the cops that day to report finding a "large, valuable gem, probably stolen."

Melina
08-02-2004, 01:38 PM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

On the other hand, I saw the ale bottle was empty. Connie poured out what was left in the gin bottle and reached for--oh no! Not Worchestershire sauce!

Poor girl couldn't mix a proper drink any more than she could talk. Too late, though – by the time I'd swallowed three glasses of her original concoction, I was in no shape to reflect rationally on just how original it was. I felt as loose as a lubricated crash-test dummy riding a roller coaster, and as competent as one when it came to complex tasks such as standing up.

Quartz tends to look like diamond under such conditions. That's about all I can say to explain the mistake I made next.

Rocks of any kind would have looked alike to me under the influence of Evil Mac's vile mixture. I know that sounds strange, coming from a man with his own rock collection. Not to mention a father of three who's always warned his offspring of the dangers of drinking.

Still, even though I damn well knew better, I took my jeweler's loupe that I got off Ebay for thirteen bucks plus shipping, stuck it in my eye and settled down to examine Connie's stone.

To make a long story short, my buddies in the mineralogical society used to call me Semiprecious Sid, but it's been Semistupid Sid ever since word got out that I called the cops that day to report finding a "large, valuable gem, probably stolen."

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have touched this one with a ten foot pole. But, something in that drink made Connie strangely attractive, and I couldn't stop myself from wanting to help her.

maestrowork
08-02-2004, 07:39 PM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

On the other hand, I saw the ale bottle was empty. Connie poured out what was left in the gin bottle and reached for--oh no! Not Worchestershire sauce!

Poor girl couldn't mix a proper drink any more than she could talk. Too late, though – by the time I'd swallowed three glasses of her original concoction, I was in no shape to reflect rationally on just how original it was. I felt as loose as a lubricated crash-test dummy riding a roller coaster, and as competent as one when it came to complex tasks such as standing up.

Quartz tends to look like diamond under such conditions. That's about all I can say to explain the mistake I made next.

Rocks of any kind would have looked alike to me under the influence of Evil Mac's vile mixture. I know that sounds strange, coming from a man with his own rock collection. Not to mention a father of three who's always warned his offspring of the dangers of drinking.

Still, even though I damn well knew better, I took my jeweler's loupe that I got off Ebay for thirteen bucks plus shipping, stuck it in my eye and settled down to examine Connie's stone.

To make a long story short, my buddies in the mineralogical society used to call me Semiprecious Sid, but it's been Semistupid Sid ever since word got out that I called the cops that day to report finding a "large, valuable gem, probably stolen."

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have touched this one with a ten foot pole. But, something in that drink made Connie strangely attractive, and I couldn't stop myself from wanting to help her.

Very attractive indeed. With her eyes resembling those of a cat fish out of Three Mile Island and an (melted) hour-glass figure, I found myself incredibly aroused, wanted to see her with nothing on except for the gem in a very strategic location.

reph
08-02-2004, 11:43 PM
(Ray, keep your mind on your work. We've got to wrap up the plot in only four more steps.)


Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

On the other hand, I saw the ale bottle was empty. Connie poured out what was left in the gin bottle and reached for--oh no! Not Worchestershire sauce!

Poor girl couldn't mix a proper drink any more than she could talk. Too late, though – by the time I'd swallowed three glasses of her original concoction, I was in no shape to reflect rationally on just how original it was. I felt as loose as a lubricated crash-test dummy riding a roller coaster, and as competent as one when it came to complex tasks such as standing up.

Quartz tends to look like diamond under such conditions. That's about all I can say to explain the mistake I made next.

Rocks of any kind would have looked alike to me under the influence of Evil Mac's vile mixture. I know that sounds strange, coming from a man with his own rock collection. Not to mention a father of three who's always warned his offspring of the dangers of drinking.

Still, even though I damn well knew better, I took my jeweler's loupe that I got off Ebay for thirteen bucks plus shipping, stuck it in my eye and settled down to examine Connie's stone.

To make a long story short, my buddies in the mineralogical society used to call me Semiprecious Sid, but it's been Semistupid Sid ever since word got out that I called the cops that day to report finding a "large, valuable gem, probably stolen."

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have touched this one with a ten foot pole. But, something in that drink made Connie strangely attractive, and I couldn't stop myself from wanting to help her.

Very attractive indeed. With her eyes resembling those of a cat fish out of Three Mile Island and an (melted) hour-glass figure, I found myself incredibly aroused, wanted to see her with nothing on except for the gem in a very strategic location.

Well, there's nothing like a surprise visit from a fifteen-year-old daughter to end that kind of reverie. Xanthippe ran into my office, looked at me, and said "Daddy, how did you find your birthday present so early?" Evil Mac stared at her and screamed "That's the girl!" I was too drunk to run, so I opted for burrowing instead. I slid under my desk faster than a bait-and-switch appliance salesman shows a little old lady who came in for a one-burner hot plate to the top-of-the-line range with convection oven.

Yeshanu
08-02-2004, 11:49 PM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

On the other hand, I saw the ale bottle was empty. Connie poured out what was left in the gin bottle and reached for--oh no! Not Worchestershire sauce!

Poor girl couldn't mix a proper drink any more than she could talk. Too late, though – by the time I'd swallowed three glasses of her original concoction, I was in no shape to reflect rationally on just how original it was. I felt as loose as a lubricated crash-test dummy riding a roller coaster, and as competent as one when it came to complex tasks such as standing up.

Quartz tends to look like diamond under such conditions. That's about all I can say to explain the mistake I made next.

Rocks of any kind would have looked alike to me under the influence of Evil Mac's vile mixture. I know that sounds strange, coming from a man with his own rock collection. Not to mention a father of three who's always warned his offspring of the dangers of drinking.

Still, even though I damn well knew better, I took my jeweler's loupe that I got off Ebay for thirteen bucks plus shipping, stuck it in my eye and settled down to examine Connie's stone.

To make a long story short, my buddies in the mineralogical society used to call me Semiprecious Sid, but it's been Semistupid Sid ever since word got out that I called the cops that day to report finding a "large, valuable gem, probably stolen."

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have touched this one with a ten foot pole. But, something in that drink made Connie strangely attractive, and I couldn't stop myself from wanting to help her.

Very attractive indeed. With her eyes resembling those of a cat fish out of Three Mile Island and an (melted) hour-glass figure, I found myself incredibly aroused, wanted to see her with nothing on except for the gem in a very strategic location.

Well, there's nothing like a surprise visit from a fifteen-year-old daughter to end that kind of reverie. Xanthippe ran into my office, looked at me, and said "Daddy, how did you find your birthday present so early?" Evil Mac stared at her and screamed "That's the girl!" I was too drunk to run, so I opted for burrowing instead. I slid under my desk faster than a bait-and-switch appliance salesman shows a little old lady who came in for a one-burner hot plate to the top-of-the-line range with convection oven.

Xanthippe (thanks for the name, reph) screamed as Connie grabbed the rock and the cops came crashing in through the door.

reph
08-03-2004, 01:18 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

On the other hand, I saw the ale bottle was empty. Connie poured out what was left in the gin bottle and reached for--oh no! Not Worchestershire sauce!

Poor girl couldn't mix a proper drink any more than she could talk. Too late, though – by the time I'd swallowed three glasses of her original concoction, I was in no shape to reflect rationally on just how original it was. I felt as loose as a lubricated crash-test dummy riding a roller coaster, and as competent as one when it came to complex tasks such as standing up.

Quartz tends to look like diamond under such conditions. That's about all I can say to explain the mistake I made next.

Rocks of any kind would have looked alike to me under the influence of Evil Mac's vile mixture. I know that sounds strange, coming from a man with his own rock collection. Not to mention a father of three who's always warned his offspring of the dangers of drinking.

Still, even though I damn well knew better, I took my jeweler's loupe that I got off Ebay for thirteen bucks plus shipping, stuck it in my eye and settled down to examine Connie's stone.

To make a long story short, my buddies in the mineralogical society used to call me Semiprecious Sid, but it's been Semistupid Sid ever since word got out that I called the cops that day to report finding a "large, valuable gem, probably stolen."

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have touched this one with a ten foot pole. But, something in that drink made Connie strangely attractive, and I couldn't stop myself from wanting to help her.

Very attractive indeed. With her eyes resembling those of a cat fish out of Three Mile Island and an (melted) hour-glass figure, I found myself incredibly aroused, wanted to see her with nothing on except for the gem in a very strategic location.

Well, there's nothing like a surprise visit from a fifteen-year-old daughter to end that kind of reverie. Xanthippe ran into my office, looked at me, and said "Daddy, how did you find your birthday present so early?" Evil Mac stared at her and screamed "That's the girl!" I was too drunk to run, so I opted for burrowing instead. I slid under my desk faster than a bait-and-switch appliance salesman shows a little old lady who came in for a one-burner hot plate to the top-of-the-line range with convection oven.

Xanthippe (thanks for the name, reph) screamed as Connie grabbed the rock and the cops came crashing in through the door.

Yes, that was a day full of lessons for me. Lesson #1: Think of your family first. I'm ashamed to say it never occurred to me that my own sweet teenagers might have planned to give me that chunk of quartz for my rock collection. Lesson #2: Never drink anything Connie mixed. Lesson #3: When you're in a spot, it's convenient to have kids with names near the end of the alphabet. Right behind Xanthippe and the cops, in rushed my two boys – Yancey and Zack.

batyler65
08-03-2004, 01:47 AM
Good ending Reph!
:rofl

maestrowork
08-03-2004, 01:47 AM
Ale and gin don't mix, everybody knows that. But I guess I wasn't paying attention on that particular day in Life's Lessons 101.

Connie Macintosh entered my office with her hands behind her back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be my day.

"Dang it, Connie--that better not be another live tarantula you're hiding--these practical jokes are getting pretty stale," I told her.

Evil Mac, as they all called her, simply looked at me with a bland expression. She slowly pulled her right hand from behind her back. I gasped when I saw what was in her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Connie! Where on earth did you get a diamond that freakin' huge?" I said.

"Guy give it to me last night, I guess," she said. For her, that was articulate. Connie utters a coherent sentence about as often as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings backup for 50 Cent.

"Heavens," I said. "You don't remember?"

"I'm s'posed to remember something?" she asked. She screwed her face up in concentration. It looked painful. I hate to see her in such misery so I decided to help her out.

"Jack," I said helpfully. "Was it something to do with Jack?"

"Kid," she said. "Jus' one a' them kids. Was two kids by the market – um, three kids countin' the girl. I went for crackers an', um, that butter stuff that don't jam up your tubes, ya know. Not the possibly-high dragon-ate-it kind. I can count the girl, right? Yeah. Three. They was three. He gimme this" – she held up the diamond – "and said to hide it good. And then they run off." I sighed. The day Connie learns to say margarine will be the day my deceased paternal grandmother takes a job as a forklift driver.

Losing her mind seemed to be a favorite pasttime for her. I took the diamond from her hand and told her to make herself a drink while I examine the monstrous gem closely.

"Make me one too, while you're at it," I said. Big mistake.

Never drink ale and gin while doing something important. Temporary alcohol-induced blindness does not make examining a diamond an easy task. It also gives you one heck of a headache the next morning.

On the other hand, I saw the ale bottle was empty. Connie poured out what was left in the gin bottle and reached for--oh no! Not Worchestershire sauce!

Poor girl couldn't mix a proper drink any more than she could talk. Too late, though – by the time I'd swallowed three glasses of her original concoction, I was in no shape to reflect rationally on just how original it was. I felt as loose as a lubricated crash-test dummy riding a roller coaster, and as competent as one when it came to complex tasks such as standing up.

Quartz tends to look like diamond under such conditions. That's about all I can say to explain the mistake I made next.

Rocks of any kind would have looked alike to me under the influence of Evil Mac's vile mixture. I know that sounds strange, coming from a man with his own rock collection. Not to mention a father of three who's always warned his offspring of the dangers of drinking.

Still, even though I damn well knew better, I took my jeweler's loupe that I got off Ebay for thirteen bucks plus shipping, stuck it in my eye and settled down to examine Connie's stone.

To make a long story short, my buddies in the mineralogical society used to call me Semiprecious Sid, but it's been Semistupid Sid ever since word got out that I called the cops that day to report finding a "large, valuable gem, probably stolen."

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have touched this one with a ten foot pole. But, something in that drink made Connie strangely attractive, and I couldn't stop myself from wanting to help her.

Very attractive indeed. With her eyes resembling those of a cat fish out of Three Mile Island and an (melted) hour-glass figure, I found myself incredibly aroused, wanted to see her with nothing on except for the gem in a very strategic location.

Well, there's nothing like a surprise visit from a fifteen-year-old daughter to end that kind of reverie. Xanthippe ran into my office, looked at me, and said "Daddy, how did you find your birthday present so early?" Evil Mac stared at her and screamed "That's the girl!" I was too drunk to run, so I opted for burrowing instead. I slid under my desk faster than a bait-and-switch appliance salesman shows a little old lady who came in for a one-burner hot plate to the top-of-the-line range with convection oven.

Xanthippe (thanks for the name, reph) screamed as Connie grabbed the rock and the cops came crashing in through the door.

Yes, that was a day full of lessons for me. Lesson #1: Think of your family first. I'm ashamed to say it never occurred to me that my own sweet teenagers might have planned to give me that chunk of quartz for my rock collection. Lesson #2: Never drink anything Connie mixed. Lesson #3: When you're in a spot, it's convenient to have kids with names near the end of the alphabet. Right behind Xanthippe and the cops, in rushed my two boys – Yancey and Zack.

Zack said, "Wait until Mom sees this." I looked down and realized, somehow, I wasn't wearing any pants. Instinctively I shoved the rock at my crotch to cover up. And thus, I learned my lesson #4: quartz and crotch don't mix.

batyler65
08-03-2004, 01:48 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

maestrowork
08-03-2004, 01:51 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

reph
08-03-2004, 04:51 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

MacAl Stone
08-03-2004, 05:37 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

Pthom
08-03-2004, 05:46 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

reph
08-03-2004, 07:16 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

sugarmuffin
08-03-2004, 09:46 AM
"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snake in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you really better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on buddy." Bart grinned. He knew she was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

MacAl Stone
08-03-2004, 07:21 PM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snale in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you realy better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on." She was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

"Her--, I mean, She's a she-snake, Jane...you'll hurt her feelings--now that isn't what you want, is it?" Bart grinned.


(POV-shift Lisa? You wicked, wicked woman, you--okay, in ridiculously high-handed fashion, I edited very slightly--because otherwise it was gonna keep me up all night. My sincere apologies.)

Yeshanu
08-04-2004, 05:34 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snake in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you realy better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on." She was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

"Her--, I mean, She's a she-snake, Jane...you'll hurt her feelings--now that isn't what you want, is it?" Bart grinned.

"I really don't care if it's a he, a she, or an it. Get that thing out of my small mammal house before I sic the marmots on you."

reph
08-04-2004, 07:31 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snake in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you realy better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on." She was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

"Her--, I mean, She's a she-snake, Jane...you'll hurt her feelings--now that isn't what you want, is it?" Bart grinned.

"I really don't care if it's a he, a she, or an it. Get that thing out of my small mammal house before I sic the marmots on you."

"Just give me a minute to find a box, Jane. Or some kind of carrier. Here, hold her while I look for something with ventilation holes." Bart lifted several feet of snake off his neck and held it out to Jane. "Look, she likes you."

MacAl Stone
08-05-2004, 04:44 AM
Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snake in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you realy better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on." She was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

"Her--, I mean, She's a she-snake, Jane...you'll hurt her feelings--now that isn't what you want, is it?" Bart grinned.

"I really don't care if it's a he, a she, or an it. Get that thing out of my small mammal house before I sic the marmots on you."

"Just give me a minute to find a box, Jane. Or some kind of carrier. Here, hold her while I look for something with ventilation holes." Bart lifted several feet of snake off his neck and held it out to Jane. "Look, she likes you."

"Keep that snake away from me, Bart, unless you want to be job-hunting," Jane said, "Oh crap! Here come the school kids! That's the first bus pulling up outside. Stuff her in your backpack or something, and smile for heaven's sake--we need the grant money!"

Pthom
08-05-2004, 07:04 AM
Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snake in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you realy better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on." She was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

"Her--, I mean, She's a she-snake, Jane...you'll hurt her feelings--now that isn't what you want, is it?" Bart grinned.

"I really don't care if it's a he, a she, or an it. Get that thing out of my small mammal house before I sic the marmots on you."

"Just give me a minute to find a box, Jane. Or some kind of carrier. Here, hold her while I look for something with ventilation holes." Bart lifted several feet of snake off his neck and held it out to Jane. "Look, she likes you."

"Keep that snake away from me, Bart, unless you want to be job-hunting," Jane said, "Oh crap! Here come the school kids! That's the first bus pulling up outside. Stuff her in your backpack or something, and smile for heaven's sake--we need the grant money!"

Leering with maniacal glee, Bart slipped the snake into his back pack--head first--and zipped up the flap.

Yeshanu
08-05-2004, 05:41 PM
Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snake in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you realy better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on." She was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

"Her--, I mean, She's a she-snake, Jane...you'll hurt her feelings--now that isn't what you want, is it?" Bart grinned.

"I really don't care if it's a he, a she, or an it. Get that thing out of my small mammal house before I sic the marmots on you."

"Just give me a minute to find a box, Jane. Or some kind of carrier. Here, hold her while I look for something with ventilation holes." Bart lifted several feet of snake off his neck and held it out to Jane. "Look, she likes you."

"Keep that snake away from me, Bart, unless you want to be job-hunting," Jane said, "Oh crap! Here come the school kids! That's the first bus pulling up outside. Stuff her in your backpack or something, and smile for heaven's sake--we need the grant money!"

Leering with maniacal glee, Bart slipped the snake into his back pack--head first--and zipped up the flap.

Moments later, fifty kids descended, screaming, from the bus. "Hey mister!" one of them yelled. "Whatcha got in the backpack? It's moving."

Pthom
08-06-2004, 02:04 AM
Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snake in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you realy better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on." She was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

"Her--, I mean, She's a she-snake, Jane...you'll hurt her feelings--now that isn't what you want, is it?" Bart grinned.

"I really don't care if it's a he, a she, or an it. Get that thing out of my small mammal house before I sic the marmots on you."

"Just give me a minute to find a box, Jane. Or some kind of carrier. Here, hold her while I look for something with ventilation holes." Bart lifted several feet of snake off his neck and held it out to Jane. "Look, she likes you."

"Keep that snake away from me, Bart, unless you want to be job-hunting," Jane said, "Oh crap! Here come the school kids! That's the first bus pulling up outside. Stuff her in your backpack or something, and smile for heaven's sake--we need the grant money!"

Leering with maniacal glee, Bart slipped the snake into his back pack--head first--and zipped up the flap.

Moments later, fifty kids descended, screaming, from the bus. "Hey mister!" one of them yelled. "Whatcha got in the backpack? It's moving."

"Nothing much." Bart had a hard time to keep from grinning. "Just a python."

reph
08-06-2004, 04:08 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snake in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you realy better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on." She was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

"Her--, I mean, She's a she-snake, Jane...you'll hurt her feelings--now that isn't what you want, is it?" Bart grinned.

"I really don't care if it's a he, a she, or an it. Get that thing out of my small mammal house before I sic the marmots on you."

"Just give me a minute to find a box, Jane. Or some kind of carrier. Here, hold her while I look for something with ventilation holes." Bart lifted several feet of snake off his neck and held it out to Jane. "Look, she likes you."

"Keep that snake away from me, Bart, unless you want to be job-hunting," Jane said, "Oh crap! Here come the school kids! That's the first bus pulling up outside. Stuff her in your backpack or something, and smile for heaven's sake--we need the grant money!"

Leering with maniacal glee, Bart slipped the snake into his back pack--head first--and zipped up the flap.

Moments later, fifty kids descended, screaming, from the bus. "Hey mister!" one of them yelled. "Whatcha got in the backpack? It's moving."

"Nothing much." Bart had a hard time to keep from grinning. "Just a python."

"Ooh, a python! Can I see 'im?":jump

maestrowork
08-06-2004, 05:27 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snake in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you realy better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on." She was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

"Her--, I mean, She's a she-snake, Jane...you'll hurt her feelings--now that isn't what you want, is it?" Bart grinned.

"I really don't care if it's a he, a she, or an it. Get that thing out of my small mammal house before I sic the marmots on you."

"Just give me a minute to find a box, Jane. Or some kind of carrier. Here, hold her while I look for something with ventilation holes." Bart lifted several feet of snake off his neck and held it out to Jane. "Look, she likes you."

"Keep that snake away from me, Bart, unless you want to be job-hunting," Jane said, "Oh crap! Here come the school kids! That's the first bus pulling up outside. Stuff her in your backpack or something, and smile for heaven's sake--we need the grant money!"

Leering with maniacal glee, Bart slipped the snake into his back pack--head first--and zipped up the flap.

Moments later, fifty kids descended, screaming, from the bus. "Hey mister!" one of them yelled. "Whatcha got in the backpack? It's moving."

"Nothing much." Bart had a hard time to keep from grinning. "Just a python."

"Ooh, a python! Can I see 'im?"

"Please be gentle with her. Yes, it's a she, and she may be having babies."

reph
08-06-2004, 07:36 AM
(I'm reminded of the sentence somebody wrote where I used to work as an editor: "Some reptiles lay eggs, but other reptiles are vituperous.")

Yeshanu
08-06-2004, 08:06 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snake in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you realy better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on." She was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

"Her--, I mean, She's a she-snake, Jane...you'll hurt her feelings--now that isn't what you want, is it?" Bart grinned.

"I really don't care if it's a he, a she, or an it. Get that thing out of my small mammal house before I sic the marmots on you."

"Just give me a minute to find a box, Jane. Or some kind of carrier. Here, hold her while I look for something with ventilation holes." Bart lifted several feet of snake off his neck and held it out to Jane. "Look, she likes you."

"Keep that snake away from me, Bart, unless you want to be job-hunting," Jane said, "Oh crap! Here come the school kids! That's the first bus pulling up outside. Stuff her in your backpack or something, and smile for heaven's sake--we need the grant money!"

Leering with maniacal glee, Bart slipped the snake into his back pack--head first--and zipped up the flap.

Moments later, fifty kids descended, screaming, from the bus. "Hey mister!" one of them yelled. "Whatcha got in the backpack? It's moving."

"Nothing much." Bart had a hard time to keep from grinning. "Just a python."

"Ooh, a python! Can I see 'im?"

"Please be gentle with her. Yes, it's a she, and she may be having babies."

Quite a few of the girls squealed and ran away. Bart was one of those guys who just couldn't resist tormenting squeamish girls, so he opened his backpack, and pulled out the pregnant python.

gabnash
08-12-2004, 03:46 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snake in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you realy better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on." She was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

"Her--, I mean, She's a she-snake, Jane...you'll hurt her feelings--now that isn't what you want, is it?" Bart grinned.

"I really don't care if it's a he, a she, or an it. Get that thing out of my small mammal house before I sic the marmots on you."

"Just give me a minute to find a box, Jane. Or some kind of carrier. Here, hold her while I look for something with ventilation holes." Bart lifted several feet of snake off his neck and held it out to Jane. "Look, she likes you."

"Keep that snake away from me, Bart, unless you want to be job-hunting," Jane said, "Oh crap! Here come the school kids! That's the first bus pulling up outside. Stuff her in your backpack or something, and smile for heaven's sake--we need the grant money!"

Leering with maniacal glee, Bart slipped the snake into his back pack--head first--and zipped up the flap.

Moments later, fifty kids descended, screaming, from the bus. "Hey mister!" one of them yelled. "Whatcha got in the backpack? It's moving."

"Nothing much." Bart had a hard time to keep from grinning. "Just a python."

"Ooh, a python! Can I see 'im?"

"Please be gentle with her. Yes, it's a she, and she may be having babies."

Quite a few of the girls squealed and ran away. Bart was one of those guys who just couldn't resist tormenting squeamish girls, so he opened his backpack, and pulled out the pregnant python.

Roger opened the door from the operating theatre just as Bart was showing the girls his snake. He stood there and smiled - another marmot saved from the ravages of viral Marmot Necrotic Syndrome. It had been touch and go for a while - but she had been a strong one. The work was gruesome but he just had to do it. The feeling or a warm fuzzy Marmot was pure joy.

lastr
08-15-2004, 10:23 AM
"Absolutely not!" Jane shouted through the open door. "Don't you even think of bringing that thing in here."

Bart held out the python and pleaded, "But honey, she has no where else to go."

"Can't you see this is the small-mammal house? And don't 'honey' me, Barton! I'm your supervisor!" Jane set down the bucket and removed her rubber gloves. "Take her over to the Reptile Pavilion and ask Freddie what to do with her. You can't leave her here. The school kids start arriving in droves at 10:00."

"Darn it, Jane. She just came from the Reptile Pavilion. They threw her out. Some flimsy excuse about a contagious viral infection, or something like that. They were going to put her down and I couldn't let that happen--so I took her and went on the lam. Now you gotta help us!"

"Effectively spreading the virus around the entire zoo? No way, Bart." Jane turned back to her desk but Bart's hopeless expression, those Cocker spaniel eyes of his, made her pause.

For a moment, Jane wished for an easier job. It had seemed so wonderful at the beginning, when she was a fresh-faced kid clutching her diploma. She'd thought that working with animals would never throw her a problem an honors graduate in zoology couldn't solve. But that was twenty years ago, and right now she had no idea what to do with Bart. Or with the python draped across his shoulders, raising its head occasionally to look around and flick its tongue. Searching for the scent of mice, no doubt.

"Get him into the clinic out back. But without anyone seeing you. Put the snake in a box or something. I'll examine him myself and then decide what to do. But you realy better watch your step. This is the thinnest ice you've ever been on." She was like a cactus; prickly on the outside, soft inside.

"Her--, I mean, She's a she-snake, Jane...you'll hurt her feelings--now that isn't what you want, is it?" Bart grinned.

"I really don't care if it's a he, a she, or an it. Get that thing out of my small mammal house before I sic the marmots on you."

"Just give me a minute to find a box, Jane. Or some kind of carrier. Here, hold her while I look for something with ventilation holes." Bart lifted several feet of snake off his neck and held it out to Jane. "Look, she likes you."

"Keep that snake away from me, Bart, unless you want to be job-hunting," Jane said, "Oh crap! Here come the school kids! That's the first bus pulling up outside. Stuff her in your backpack or something, and smile for heaven's sake--we need the grant money!"

Leering with maniacal glee, Bart slipped the snake into his back pack--head first--and zipped up the flap.

Moments later, fifty kids descended, screaming, from the bus. "Hey mister!" one of them yelled. "Whatcha got in the backpack? It's moving."

"Nothing much." Bart had a hard time to keep from grinning. "Just a python."

"Ooh, a python! Can I see 'im?"

"Please be gentle with her. Yes, it's a she, and she may be having babies."

Quite a few of the girls squealed and ran away. Bart was one of those guys who just couldn't resist tormenting squeamish girls, so he opened his backpack, and pulled out the pregnant python.

Roger opened the door from the operating theatre just as Bart was showing the girls his snake. He stood there and smiled - another marmot saved from the ravages of viral Marmot Necrotic Syndrome. It had been touch and go for a while - but she had been a strong one. The work was gruesome but he just had to do it. The feeling of a warm fuzzy Marmot was pure joy.

Sunlight flooded Roger’s face, illuminating the widely opened position of his jaw. “What is that thing doing in here?” shrilled forth from his rapidly disappearing form. The python imitated the sibilance and size of Roger’s gape, responding to the peals of laughter that filled the room.

MacAl Stone
08-16-2004, 04:13 AM
Then, of course, the inevitable happened. The damn snake got loose from Bart, whipping itself free in loops and coils from his scabbling hands and the backpack. It disappeared amid the forest of suddenly leaping children's feet at a really impressive rate of speed, for a supposedly sick and pregnant snake.

Yeshanu
08-16-2004, 06:15 AM
Ulysses himself couldn't have prevented what happened next. Quick as a snake, the python insinuated itself into the small mammal pavilion and began gobbling down marmots. Roger's prized patient was the first to go.

Brother Kevin
08-18-2004, 04:35 AM
Desperately keeping my distance, I sought for a way to gobble a few Altoids without her noticing.

Yeshanu
08-18-2004, 06:11 AM
Just an insert here, Brother Kevin. Your next sentence was supposed to start with "V".

Brother Kevin
08-18-2004, 06:52 AM
sorry! Brain lock! I had the reply pane open so long, that I fell behind.

Victims of the snake accumulated in an increasingly bulbuous mass, stretching the hide of the creature and distorting its sinuous beauty.

maestrowork
08-19-2004, 01:00 AM
"Why me?" Roger cried.

lastr
08-19-2004, 05:43 AM
Xanthic tones chased cyanic hues across Roger's face; pulsing yellow, blue, yellow in a bad parody of a neon sign. Roger's breath wheezed in counterpoint to the flushing of his skin. He grabbed franticly at the python, attempting to stop the rampaging reptile's repast of horror.

lastr
08-28-2004, 08:59 AM
"You authors have to help me out here!" Ralph bangs against the computer screen and begs. "Unless someone can wrap this up in one more letter, that snake will eat the entire pack of fuzzie wuzzies and I will be forced to sic it on your threads and posts in revenge of the herds."

reph
08-28-2004, 10:12 AM
"Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah" blared from the orchestra pit as the curtain fell on our hapless menagerie, leaving no conflict resolved. The director strode to the center of the stage and faced the audience. "We're very sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but our regular writers were on strike. You can get your money back at the refreshment stand. Single file, please."

A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

maestrowork
08-28-2004, 11:50 AM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.
Better those than the rocks, he thought.

reph
08-28-2004, 12:47 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.
Better those than the rocks, he thought.
(Coincidentally, the last sentence of the previous story started with the first letter of the alphabet and could therefore be mistaken for the first sentence of a new story.)

(Edited to add parentheses. Material in parentheses isn't part of the story. Go ahead with a C- paragraph if you want to.)

ShinyPenguin
08-28-2004, 09:17 PM
Do you think we should start a new one?
Everyone seems to be enjoying this story.

maestrowork
08-28-2004, 10:31 PM
((First of all, who made the rules here?
Goodness gracious, I think we need to be clear about starting a new story here.))

reph
08-28-2004, 11:43 PM
(MacAl started the game. MacAl rules. See my edited post above.)

lastr
08-29-2004, 02:58 AM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

MacAl Stone
08-30-2004, 01:06 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

(good lord--don't wait for ME to make up rules--I'm an anarchist)

Sledgeh101
08-30-2004, 03:51 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Evereything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

(BTW - this is just me saying hi! :) )

Yeshanu
08-30-2004, 10:21 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

Kida Adelyn
08-31-2004, 12:01 AM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening." Said a voice behind him, making him jump.

Sledgeh101
08-31-2004, 01:10 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening." Said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

Pthom
09-01-2004, 12:14 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening." Said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

Sledgeh101
09-01-2004, 01:22 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening." Said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stagefright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

(quick side note - the BEST the last guy could come up with is "I...I..."?)

Pthom
09-01-2004, 02:04 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening." Said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stagefright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirchwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

(a not-so-quick side note: Who said these stories were to showcase a writer's best efforts? Nonetheless, you did carry on admirably; perhaps the brevity of the "I" line was just the impetus needed to bring out the best of the guy following the last guy. <grin>)

Sledgeh101
09-01-2004, 04:07 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening." Said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stagefright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirchwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tpiiping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixer such as this?"

(Edited because I just realized Pthom was the guy who made the "I... I..." line :lol Oh, well, it's still mindless fun!)

Kida Adelyn
09-01-2004, 08:33 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening." Said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirchwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. hundred bucks?" He offered tentatively.

reph
09-02-2004, 12:06 AM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Pthom
09-02-2004, 04:59 AM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Olifactory acrobatics notwithstanding, it seemed to him that the stranger might have something a lot more than mere Kirchwasser in that bottle.

reph
09-02-2004, 06:02 AM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Olfactory acrobatics notwithstanding, it seemed to him that the stranger might have something a lot more than mere Kirschwasser in that bottle.

"Panaceas don't come cheap, I suppose," he said. "But just what kinds of exotic ingredients are in that little bottle?"

maestrowork
09-02-2004, 06:46 AM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Olfactory acrobatics notwithstanding, it seemed to him that the stranger might have something a lot more than mere Kirschwasser in that bottle.

"Panaceas don't come cheap, I suppose," he said. "But just what kinds of exotic ingredients are in that little bottle?"

"Quaalude for one thing, and other dead stuff from a Chinese place up in Inner Mongolia. But nothing you should worry about. Take a gulp and sing your heart out."

lastr
09-02-2004, 09:25 AM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Olfactory acrobatics notwithstanding, it seemed to him that the stranger might have something a lot more than mere Kirschwasser in that bottle.

"Panaceas don't come cheap, I suppose," he said. "But just what kinds of exotic ingredients are in that little bottle?"

"Quaalude for one thing, and other dead stuff from a Chinese place up in Inner Mongolia. But nothing you should worry about. Take a gulp and sing your heart out."

"Richly appreciated," he slurred around the lip of the upended bottle. "Richly rrrrr..." His tongue thickened, coarse hair sprouted from his chin, his ears grew horrific points, and he struggled with a strong urge to drop to all fours and howl at the full moon overhead.

Sledgeh101
09-02-2004, 01:11 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Olfactory acrobatics notwithstanding, it seemed to him that the stranger might have something a lot more than mere Kirschwasser in that bottle.

"Panaceas don't come cheap, I suppose," he said. "But just what kinds of exotic ingredients are in that little bottle?"

"Quaalude for one thing, and other dead stuff from a Chinese place up in Inner Mongolia. But nothing you should worry about. Take a gulp and sing your heart out."

"Richly appreciated," he slurred around the lip of the upended bottle. "Richly rrrrr..." His tongue thickened, coarse hair sprouted from his chin, his ears grew horrific points, and he struggled with a strong urge to drop to all fours and howl at the full moon overhead.

Suddenly one of the chorus girls for the following act appeared on the side. Our hero took on elook at her heaving chests and flowing locks and immediately pounced, holding her tight.

Pthom
09-02-2004, 01:44 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Olfactory acrobatics notwithstanding, it seemed to him that the stranger might have something a lot more than mere Kirschwasser in that bottle.

"Panaceas don't come cheap, I suppose," he said. "But just what kinds of exotic ingredients are in that little bottle?"

"Quaalude for one thing, and other dead stuff from a Chinese place up in Inner Mongolia. But nothing you should worry about. Take a gulp and sing your heart out."

"Richly appreciated," he slurred around the lip of the upended bottle. "Richly rrrrr..." His tongue thickened, coarse hair sprouted from his chin, his ears grew horrific points, and he struggled with a strong urge to drop to all fours and howl at the full moon overhead.

Suddenly one of the chorus girls for the following act appeared on the side. Our hero took on elook at her heaving chests and flowing locks and immediately pounced, holding her tight.

"That's the spirit," said the stranger, putting the half-empty bottle into an inner pocket of his overcoat.

maestrowork
09-02-2004, 08:39 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Olfactory acrobatics notwithstanding, it seemed to him that the stranger might have something a lot more than mere Kirschwasser in that bottle.

"Panaceas don't come cheap, I suppose," he said. "But just what kinds of exotic ingredients are in that little bottle?"

"Quaalude for one thing, and other dead stuff from a Chinese place up in Inner Mongolia. But nothing you should worry about. Take a gulp and sing your heart out."

"Richly appreciated," he slurred around the lip of the upended bottle. "Richly rrrrr..." His tongue thickened, coarse hair sprouted from his chin, his ears grew horrific points, and he struggled with a strong urge to drop to all fours and howl at the full moon overhead.

Suddenly one of the chorus girls for the following act appeared on the side. Our hero took on elook at her heaving chests and flowing locks and immediately pounced, holding her tight.

"That's the spirit," said the stranger, putting the half-empty bottle into an inner pocket of his overcoat.

"Uvula!" the chorus girl screamed. "You have a huge uvula! Stay away from me, Uvula man!"

Yeshanu
09-02-2004, 09:55 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Olfactory acrobatics notwithstanding, it seemed to him that the stranger might have something a lot more than mere Kirschwasser in that bottle.

"Panaceas don't come cheap, I suppose," he said. "But just what kinds of exotic ingredients are in that little bottle?"

"Quaalude for one thing, and other dead stuff from a Chinese place up in Inner Mongolia. But nothing you should worry about. Take a gulp and sing your heart out."

"Richly appreciated," he slurred around the lip of the upended bottle. "Richly rrrrr..." His tongue thickened, coarse hair sprouted from his chin, his ears grew horrific points, and he struggled with a strong urge to drop to all fours and howl at the full moon overhead.

Suddenly one of the chorus girls for the following act appeared on the side. Our hero took on elook at her heaving chests and flowing locks and immediately pounced, holding her tight.

"That's the spirit," said the stranger, putting the half-empty bottle into an inner pocket of his overcoat.

"Uvula!" the chorus girl screamed. "You have a huge uvula! Stay away from me, Uvula man!"

Very slowly he backed away from the chorus girl. He suddenly realized that even though he was now furry and pointy-eared, he still had a show to do. He walked back on stage.

A Pathetic Writer
09-02-2004, 11:27 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Olfactory acrobatics notwithstanding, it seemed to him that the stranger might have something a lot more than mere Kirschwasser in that bottle.

"Panaceas don't come cheap, I suppose," he said. "But just what kinds of exotic ingredients are in that little bottle?"

"Quaalude for one thing, and other dead stuff from a Chinese place up in Inner Mongolia. But nothing you should worry about. Take a gulp and sing your heart out."

"Richly appreciated," he slurred around the lip of the upended bottle. "Richly rrrrr..." His tongue thickened, coarse hair sprouted from his chin, his ears grew horrific points, and he struggled with a strong urge to drop to all fours and howl at the full moon overhead.

Suddenly one of the chorus girls for the following act appeared on the side. Our hero took on elook at her heaving chests and flowing locks and immediately pounced, holding her tight.

"That's the spirit," said the stranger, putting the half-empty bottle into an inner pocket of his overcoat.

"Uvula!" the chorus girl screamed. "You have a huge uvula! Stay away from me, Uvula man!"

Very slowly he backed away from the chorus girl. He suddenly realized that even though he was now furry and pointy-eared, he still had a show to do. He walked back on stage.

Wow, he thought. That was close.

Sledgeh101
09-03-2004, 03:15 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Olfactory acrobatics notwithstanding, it seemed to him that the stranger might have something a lot more than mere Kirschwasser in that bottle.

"Panaceas don't come cheap, I suppose," he said. "But just what kinds of exotic ingredients are in that little bottle?"

"Quaalude for one thing, and other dead stuff from a Chinese place up in Inner Mongolia. But nothing you should worry about. Take a gulp and sing your heart out."

"Richly appreciated," he slurred around the lip of the upended bottle. "Richly rrrrr..." His tongue thickened, coarse hair sprouted from his chin, his ears grew horrific points, and he struggled with a strong urge to drop to all fours and howl at the full moon overhead.

Suddenly one of the chorus girls for the following act appeared on the side. Our hero took on elook at her heaving chests and flowing locks and immediately pounced, holding her tight.

"That's the spirit," said the stranger, putting the half-empty bottle into an inner pocket of his overcoat.

"Uvula!" the chorus girl screamed. "You have a huge uvula! Stay away from me, Uvula man!"

Very slowly he backed away from the chorus girl. He suddenly realized that even though he was now furry and pointy-eared, he still had a show to do. He walked back on stage.

Wow, he thought. That was close.

"Xavier Cugat wouldn't want me to quit," he thought to himself as he stood in the center of the stage, adjusting his shirt collar under all his hair.

lastr
09-04-2004, 10:28 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Olfactory acrobatics notwithstanding, it seemed to him that the stranger might have something a lot more than mere Kirschwasser in that bottle.

"Panaceas don't come cheap, I suppose," he said. "But just what kinds of exotic ingredients are in that little bottle?"

"Quaalude for one thing, and other dead stuff from a Chinese place up in Inner Mongolia. But nothing you should worry about. Take a gulp and sing your heart out."

"Richly appreciated," he slurred around the lip of the upended bottle. "Richly rrrrr..." His tongue thickened, coarse hair sprouted from his chin, his ears grew horrific points, and he struggled with a strong urge to drop to all fours and howl at the full moon overhead.

Suddenly one of the chorus girls for the following act appeared on the side. Our hero took on elook at her heaving chests and flowing locks and immediately pounced, holding her tight.

"That's the spirit," said the stranger, putting the half-empty bottle into an inner pocket of his overcoat.

"Uvula!" the chorus girl screamed. "You have a huge uvula! Stay away from me, Uvula man!"

Very slowly he backed away from the chorus girl. He suddenly realized that even though he was now furry and pointy-eared, he still had a show to do. He walked back on stage.

Wow, he thought. That was close.

"Xavier Cugat wouldn't want me to quit," he thought to himself as he stood in the center of the stage, adjusting his shirt collar under all his hair.

"Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away," he started singing accompanied by a Xylophone playing counterpoint to his strong tenor. Suddenly he stopped and glared at the band. "Where is the Glockenspiel, I specifically requested a Glock, not that wooden thing!" A member of the band stood up and pulled out a gun and took aim. "Well it is a nickel-plated Glock," he muttered as his ducking and weaving started all over again.

Sledgeh101
09-06-2004, 01:40 PM
A soft tomato hit him, then another and another.

Better those than the rocks, he thought.

Carrots joined the rain of vegetables hitting the stage. I hope they don't start firing off artichokes next, he grimaced, tucking himself into a tight ball as the barrage of produce continued.

Ducking and weaving, avoiding the pelting of fruits and vegetables as best he could, he made for the relative safety of the wings.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that night - first his wife ran off with his best friend, then his birds flew the coop, and to add insult to injury, his mother was in the audience, throwing stuff at him.

Fine way to start my career singing Swahili opera hits, he thought to himself.

"Good evening," said a voice behind him, making him jump.

"Having a bad night, I take it," the stranger said, taking off his hat and walking up to our hero with a smile on his face.

"I ... I ... "

"Just as it looked onstage, then - a case of stage fright," the stranger said, pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Well, my friend, I have just the remedy for you!"

"Kirschwasser! My favorite," he said, drooling.

"Look, it's got my own seal of approval on the label as well," the stranger continued, tipping his cane at the bottle, "just like your mom used to make, I'm sure. Now, how much would you be willing to pay for a priceless elixir such as this?"

"Maybe... I dunno. Hundred bucks?" he offered tentatively.

"Naah. You must understand, sir, I ask only a fair price. Of course, considering my unique formula for this mixture and the difficulty of obtaining its exotic ingredients, there might be some, er, some slight disagreement over just what price is fair." The stranger blinked three times. The third time, his nostrils participated.

Olfactory acrobatics notwithstanding, it seemed to him that the stranger might have something a lot more than mere Kirschwasser in that bottle.

"Panaceas don't come cheap, I suppose," he said. "But just what kinds of exotic ingredients are in that little bottle?"

"Quaalude for one thing, and other dead stuff from a Chinese place up in Inner Mongolia. But nothing you should worry about. Take a gulp and sing your heart out."

"Richly appreciated," he slurred around the lip of the upended bottle. "Richly rrrrr..." His tongue thickened, coarse hair sprouted from his chin, his ears grew horrific points, and he struggled with a strong urge to drop to all fours and howl at the full moon overhead.

Suddenly one of the chorus girls for the following act appeared on the side. Our hero took on elook at her heaving chests and flowing locks and immediately pounced, holding her tight.

"That's the spirit," said the stranger, putting the half-empty bottle into an inner pocket of his overcoat.

"Uvula!" the chorus girl screamed. "You have a huge uvula! Stay away from me, Uvula man!"

Very slowly he backed away from the chorus girl. He suddenly realized that even though he was now furry and pointy-eared, he still had a show to do. He walked back on stage.

Wow, he thought. That was close.

"Xavier Cugat wouldn't want me to quit," he thought to himself as he stood in the center of the stage, adjusting his shirt collar under all his hair.

"Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away," he started singing accompanied by a Xylophone playing counterpoint to his strong tenor. Suddenly he stopped and glared at the band. "Where is the Glockenspiel, I specifically requested a Glock, not that wooden thing!" A member of the band stood up and pulled out a gun and took aim. "Well it is a nickel-plated Glock," he muttered as his ducking and weaving started all over again.

"Zowie! This is a tough room!" he thought as he made his exit stage left.

Yeshanu
09-06-2004, 07:56 PM
Akira kept stirring the cauldron as she consulted the recipe book.

lastr
09-06-2004, 09:11 PM
Akira kept stirring the cauldron as she consulted the recipe book.

Boiled bats? How on earth am I going to get a baseball bat soft enough to add a cup of diced boiled bat? Turning the fire down low with a tilt of her nose, she grabbed the Yellow Pages and starting flipping to S - Sports Gear. Akira suffered from the "Spirit is willing, but the mind is weak" Syndrome.

reph
09-08-2004, 09:00 AM
Akira kept stirring the cauldron as she consulted the recipe book.

Boiled bats? How on earth am I going to get a baseball bat soft enough to add a cup of diced boiled bat? Turning the fire down low with a tilt of her nose, she grabbed the Yellow Pages and starting flipping to S - Sports Gear. Akira suffered from the "Spirit is willing, but the mind is weak" Syndrome.

"Criminy, ain't nobody gonna deliver a bat on a dark and stormy night like this," she muttered. "An' I gotta finish this soup afore midnight somehow."

Yeshanu
09-09-2004, 07:53 AM
Akira kept stirring the cauldron as she consulted the recipe book.

Boiled bats? How on earth am I going to get a baseball bat soft enough to add a cup of diced boiled bat? Turning the fire down low with a tilt of her nose, she grabbed the Yellow Pages and starting flipping to S - Sports Gear. Akira suffered from the "Spirit is willing, but the mind is weak" Syndrome.

"Criminy, ain't nobody gonna deliver a bat on a dark and stormy night like this," she muttered. "An' I gotta finish this soup afore midnight somehow."

"Dark and stormy night... Dark and stormy knight... That's it!" She wiggled her finger and the yellow pages flipped open to "D." "Dark and Stormy Knight Delivery -- All your needs catered to, no matter what the weather. Customers ordering potion ingredients must show I.D.," she read.

reph
09-09-2004, 12:48 PM
Akira kept stirring the cauldron as she consulted the recipe book.

Boiled bats? How on earth am I going to get a baseball bat soft enough to add a cup of diced boiled bat? Turning the fire down low with a tilt of her nose, she grabbed the Yellow Pages and starting flipping to S - Sports Gear. Akira suffered from the "Spirit is willing, but the mind is weak" Syndrome.

"Criminy, ain't nobody gonna deliver a bat on a dark and stormy night like this," she muttered. "An' I gotta finish this soup afore midnight somehow."

"Dark and stormy night... Dark and stormy knight... That's it!" She wiggled her finger and the yellow pages flipped open to "D." "Dark and Stormy Knight Delivery -- All your needs catered to, no matter what the weather. Customers ordering potion ingredients must show I.D.," she read.

"Eye– eye of newt, too, mistress," said Akira's recipe book, stammering slightly. "We've almost run out of those."

Flawed Creation
09-10-2004, 07:43 AM
"fool!" she screeched, "we're using black cat whiskers instead."

Yeshanu
09-11-2004, 01:26 AM
Akira kept stirring the cauldron as she consulted the recipe book.

Boiled bats? How on earth am I going to get a baseball bat soft enough to add a cup of diced boiled bat? Turning the fire down low with a tilt of her nose, she grabbed the Yellow Pages and starting flipping to S - Sports Gear. Akira suffered from the "Spirit is willing, but the mind is weak" Syndrome.

"Criminy, ain't nobody gonna deliver a bat on a dark and stormy night like this," she muttered. "An' I gotta finish this soup afore midnight somehow."

"Dark and stormy night... Dark and stormy knight... That's it!" She wiggled her finger and the yellow pages flipped open to "D." "Dark and Stormy Knight Delivery -- All your needs catered to, no matter what the weather. Customers ordering potion ingredients must show I.D.," she read.

"Eye– eye of newt, too, mistress," said Akira's recipe book, stammering slightly. "We've almost run out of those."

"Fool!" she screeched, "we're using black cat whiskers instead."

"Good gracious me!" exclaimed the cauldron. "Such anger at such an innocent statement. You really should try psychotherapy for your temper problem, Akira."

Pthom
09-11-2004, 01:22 PM
Akira kept stirring the cauldron as she consulted the recipe book.

Boiled bats? How on earth am I going to get a baseball bat soft enough to add a cup of diced boiled bat? Turning the fire down low with a tilt of her nose, she grabbed the Yellow Pages and starting flipping to S - Sports Gear. Akira suffered from the "Spirit is willing, but the mind is weak" Syndrome.

"Criminy, ain't nobody gonna deliver a bat on a dark and stormy night like this," she muttered. "An' I gotta finish this soup afore midnight somehow."

"Dark and stormy night... Dark and stormy knight... That's it!" She wiggled her finger and the yellow pages flipped open to "D." "Dark and Stormy Knight Delivery -- All your needs catered to, no matter what the weather. Customers ordering potion ingredients must show I.D.," she read.

"Eye– eye of newt, too, mistress," said Akira's recipe book, stammering slightly. "We've almost run out of those."

"Fool!" she screeched, "we're using black cat whiskers instead."

"Good gracious me!" exclaimed the cauldron. "Such anger at such an innocent statement. You really should try psychotherapy for your temper problem, Akira."

"Hush, you two, I'm trying to think." Akira turned to her Oxford Unabridged and running her finger across the leather bindings, murmured, "Blue bats, that's what I need. Dark blue bats. Now what's that word ... ?"

Skyraven
02-19-2005, 05:25 AM
Unsure of what to do next, Adam looked at Laura, then at Eve, and then started singing, "I feel pretty, oh so pretty!!!

talkwrite
03-28-2009, 01:01 AM
Akira kept stirring the cauldron as she consulted the recipe book.

Boiled bats? How on earth am I going to get a baseball bat soft enough to add a cup of diced boiled bat? Turning the fire down low with a tilt of her nose, she grabbed the Yellow Pages and starting flipping to S - Sports Gear. Akira suffered from the "Spirit is willing, but the mind is weak" Syndrome.

"Criminy, ain't nobody gonna deliver a bat on a dark and stormy night like this," she muttered. "An' I gotta finish this soup afore midnight somehow."

"Dark and stormy night... Dark and stormy knight... That's it!" She wiggled her finger and the yellow pages flipped open to "D." "Dark and Stormy Knight Delivery -- All your needs catered to, no matter what the weather. Customers ordering potion ingredients must show I.D.," she read.

"Eye– eye of newt, too, mistress," said Akira's recipe book, stammering slightly. "We've almost run out of those."

"Fool!" she screeched, "we're using black cat whiskers instead."

"Good gracious me!" exclaimed the cauldron. "Such anger at such an innocent statement. You really should try psychotherapy for your temper problem, Akira."

"Hush, you two, I'm trying to think." Akira turned to her Oxford Unabridged and running her finger across the leather bindings, murmured, "Blue bats, that's what I need. Dark blue bats. Now what's that word ... ?"

"I feel pretty, oh so pretty!!!sang Adam, unsure of what to do next.

"Jimmy Hendrix, you sound just like JimmyHendrix" Akira whispered in his ear.