Drizzo
Level: Master Delver

Rank Points: 179
Registered: 03-03-2004
IP: Logged

This thread is a somewhat experimental version of the "Construct a Story" thread. However, I think that thread was bogged down by things like plot, and seriousness, and other such things. This thread should hopefully suffer from none of that, although I'm sure will face other problems such as silliness, incoherence, and bad celebrity references.
However, to give it some sort of structure, I'm going to propose a few rules:
1) Keep all writings story related, if you must somehow make an out of story comment, a reduced type size would be appreciated.

2) Do not intentionally sabotage the story, while random plot twists are okay and encouraged, and even unrelated tangents are completely acceptable, they should at least be entertaining and not merely twinkish.

3) Aim for humor, surrealism, drama, mystery, or contemplation, it does not matter, but if possible try and keep it within the context of the story.

4) My contributions to the story will be intentionally somewhat random, have fun and do the same.

5) If someone has posted and changed things such that you don't like them, too bad, deal with them and make entertainment out of the new story. No choosing to ignore prior posts just because they "suck" in your opinion.


That boring shtuff behind us, I would like to set the tone, and hopefully someone else will feel encouraged to pick up the slack and this writing will not merely be a monument to an exceptionally good lunch. So with some homage to Franz Kafka and Tom Robbins, I give you:

----------------------------------

The Morning
Harold awoke feeling somewhat strange. He couldn't put his finger on it at first; then he realized he had no finger. But it wasn't so much as that, it was more a state of mind. He wasn't particularly concerned about his lack of finger. Nor was he particularly concerned when he found himself unable to see his body in order to judge why he had no finger. He wasn't concerned about his inability to see whatsoever. What was the most strange to him was a feeling of contentment, and a desire to be consumed.

"Hmm." thought Harold, pondering a different sort of ponder. "I recall being a human last night, and yet now... well it doesn't really matter, does it?"

Harold sensed some sort of wailing nearby "Of course it matters!" this wailing wailed. It wasn't a voice, but it certainly had the urgency of a woman in hysterics. Definitely wasn't a voice though, because Harold had no ears, nor could he hear. Although he could feel vibrations around everywhere.

"Oh hello!" said Harold. Although speaking wasn't quite the right word.

"Don't you know what's about to happen?" wailed this thing. Harold, all of a sudden, realized it was a bottle of mustard. It didn't seem odd to have a bottle of mustard wailing at him.

"Why, no, I don't." replied Harold calmly. "Is it really that important? Things feel so right, and your tension seems so out of place here."

Harold sensed movement, of something quite large, and all of a sudden the bottle of mustard wailed louder than ever as it was snatched into the air. Harold heard the wailing from above him, and then felt a sense of separation, of internal division, and then the most glorious sensation as of some pure liquid goodness washed over him. Things felt even more right than before, despite the mustard's intense wailing, and even that seemed to be diminishing.

"Thank goodness that's over." said the mustard. As it was returned to the counter. "Don't you feel guilty for participating in my pain?"

"What do you mean?" asked Harold, utterly baffled.

"My very essence is all over you right now!" snapped the mustard. "Because of you, I've failed (yet again) in my only task, holding this mustard inside me."

"Oh, I'm sorry." apologized Harold, sincerely, "I didn't mean to. What's your name, friend?"

"They call me French--- Oh no! WATCH OUT!"

Just the Harold sensed another movement above him and felt himself being lifted into the air. And as he felt himself being rent apart, a sublime wave of bliss washed over him. Beyond any orgasm he had ever had in his times as a human, beyond any sort of fulfilment his meager accomplishments had every given him. He was complete. He was entirely self-aware. He knew himself for what he was, in all his pastraminess, in his all ryeness... yes, even in his mustardiness. He was a sandwich and he was complete. And as the teeth rent him and tongue tasted him and he was swallowed, and his existence was fading away he called out in ecstasy:

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssssssss!"

And down below, the mustard bottle, if it had a head, would have been shaking it with scorn, pity and derision. French did not have a head though, but he did have a will. A will to change, and not go through the agony of dispensing mustard and watching his new friends be eaten as soon as they were known to him. "No more." he decided. "No more!" he determined. "NO MORE!!!" he vowed. And with extreme force of will, he achieved what many an inanimate object had dreamed of long before, locomotion, and he rolled lazily off the table and on towards his dreams....


[Edited by Drizzo on 04-17-2004 at 09:43 PM GMT]

____________________________
"Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in government
and business." - Tom Robbins

SKWERLL
Level: Delver

Rank Points: 77
Registered: 02-22-2004
IP: Logged

SuLtAn Of ChEeSe!1!1!1!
"T'was a dark and stormy day... in the middle of the sea, there was the boat made of swiss cheese with swiss men and swiss women and the American Cheese flag. To be exact, there were 5 men, 4 women, and 14 American flags. One of the men was Bob, who said "UGGGH! This boat is springing a leak, like it has all of this ride!", and another man (Kenny) said "Its made of swiss cheese, dumbass!". "Call me that again and I'll shoot your head off!" "Lemme see you do it, dumbass!" And there was a loud bang, and suddenly Kenny's flying head had a brown hood, that's on so tight you can't see his mouth anymore, on him. One of the women, Pollywannacracker, said "Bob, what the hell did you do that for?", and Bob said "Society made me do it.".
The next day Pollywannacracker and her friends Screwyklutz (a guy) and Shrek (a girl) decided to annoy Bob. They took his gun, and pulled the trigger, and... AND... AnD...
AGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH NOOOOOOO!!!!!
PSYKE!Well anyway, they decided to draw a fake moustache on Bob, when suddenly the American flags, with their poles, stabbed the Legion of Annoyance in the heart, like a skewer. Bob woke up and said "Ha Ha! You guys are dead! Time to kill everyone else!!!"...
He took his shotgun, lined all the rest of the crew withtheir bodies in line with each other, and he pulled the trigger, and..."BAM BAM!!!!"
Back in Cheddarville, in the graveyard, there were 9 new graves:
"R.I.P. 'Someotherlady'", "R.I.P. 'Shrek'", "R.I.P. 'Screwyklutz'", "R.I.P. 'Kenny'", "R.I.P. 'Restinginpeacelady'", "R.I.P. 'Bob', "R.I.P. 'Aggghno'", "R.I.P. 'Maude'", and "R.I.P. 'Suh-Tupid'".
The End!!!

[Edited by SKWERLL on 04-17-2004 at 11:15 PM GMT: THE STORY!!!]

____________________________
SKWERLL? MORE LIKE THE DORK CHEESE!

The best hold in the world!

masonjason
Level: Smiter

Rank Points: 349
Registered: 12-29-2003
IP: Logged

This is my specialty. *rubs hands together*. OK, let's try it.
French the mustard bottle went down to the UNDERGROUND TRAIN LINE so that he could travel somewhere else, but the TRAINs weren't running so he took Potato Travel. "Yee-hah!" cried French as the potato moved, seeing as the potato is the only possible way to FaStEr ThAn LiGhT travel and he was only travelling a short distance, so he didn't even get a chance to say "Yee". And then the potato stopped and French got off, but then he tried to cross the road and almost got charfixed. But luckily French had a portable Van der Graaf generator which he could use to download information into his incorporeal mind, so he downloaded information on crossing roads and crossed the road, and then found:
-*-*-*-*-*-*THE YO YO MEISTER*-*-*-*-*-*- who challenged French to a yo yo duel and French got out his yo yo. To be continued.

____________________________
Eighty people came to the bazaar.

Drizzo
Level: Master Delver

Rank Points: 179
Registered: 03-03-2004
IP: Logged

"Very interesting" said the lizard with glasses, scribbling in his notebook. "So you say this mustard was actually moving?"

"YES!!!" said John "Finally you're listening! Don't those scales itch?" He spit at the wall to illustrate his point.

"Scales? Well, I think that'll be all for today." He pressed a button on his desk. "Nurse Lucas, we're ready."

"No! I haven't told you about the yo yo meister yet! That's the most important part! He must be stopped!"

"Oh, we're aware of him" said the lizard, who was now more resembled meatloaf. "Don't you worry."

"You don't understand!" yelled John quite agitated. Why wont they listen?!? But just then he felt the familiar prick of a needle wielded by Nurse Lucas. Sleep began to wash over him. "The yo yo meister...." he mumbled as the sedatives took effect.

The psychiatrist shook his head sadly and looked at Nurse Lucas. "His delusions are getting worse. Make sure he's strapped down securely tonight, I fear he may be dangerous. And increase the voltage of his therapy by ten percent."

Nurse Lucas gave him a look that could not be mistaken. "Let's make love. Right now."

"Right now?" said the doctor, "but that's a light sedative... he could come out of it at any time."

"That's why it's going to be so good." said the Nurse, putting a hand on his chest.

The doctor felt his will melt away as his lips met the nurses.

--------

The yo yo meister shut off his viewscreen with an evil grin. "John John John... you tried, and you failed, if only you had joined forces with me when you had the chance." He had to pause for a laugh. "Now you're imprisoned in a mental institution like a common lunatic, and watched by people more concerned about their private lechery than with the fate of the world. HA! HAHAHAHA!" The yo yo meister fell off his chair with laughter.
"Nothing can stop me now!"




____________________________
"Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in government
and business." - Tom Robbins

Drizzo
Level: Master Delver

Rank Points: 179
Registered: 03-03-2004
IP: Logged

John had some very strange dreams. He remembered....
I remembered... Memory very fuzzy. A potato. A yo yo.
A yo yo!
Him! That was clear, always clear, but there were times. Times when things were simpler.
Times when things were... something. I remember when the voices and the visions started.
French. Yes, that's right.
That little yellow sage, he understood it all, he knew the way.
Why did he have to roll up to me that day.
Why?
It's not like I'm anything special, I was just bowling... bowling and... and what? There was this girl... Why was she important?
I don't think so good any more.
"Hello." he said to me.
"What? No! You're a bottle of mustard."
The girl didn't understand, but then I saw her for what she was, half chicken half snake, all dangerous. I had to smash her.
I had to.
The bowling ball was such an odd color of red. Seemed to glow with a light of its own.
And then there was the mustard.
There always was the mustard.


The other patients in the ward did not like it when John was dreaming. His unintelligible moans were disturbing, even to the insane.

[Edited by Drizzo on 04-18-2004 at 04:27 AM GMT]

____________________________
"Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in government
and business." - Tom Robbins

masonjason
Level: Smiter

Rank Points: 349
Registered: 12-29-2003
IP: Logged

Then John woke up. He was strapped to his bed in the mental hospital and the patterns on the ceiling were moving. Then he woke up again. He was still strapped to his bed but at least the ceiling wasn't moving this time.
There were three burly men standing over him and they were all absolutely identical like triplets and they all wore noseplugs and they all had the same hairstyle.
One of them said, "We iz your friendz and alliez. Come wiz uz if youz wantz to livez."
Then they cut John's straps.
French! Help me!
Don't go with them, said French to John.
There was this girl... Why was she important?
Go with them, said this girl who was probably important for some reason John couldn't remember.
John was indecisive so the three burly men dragged him into a big yellow-
Yellow! French!
-yellow van and began to drive.
Far away in a remote hilltop chateau, the yo yo meister's second cousin let out a maniacal laugh...

____________________________
Eighty people came to the bazaar.

Drizzo
Level: Master Delver

Rank Points: 179
Registered: 03-03-2004
IP: Logged

Months later, a few blocks from the still smouldering ashes of the local supermarket, if any human eyes were to wander behind the dumpster in Mitchell Park they would have been treated to a very strange sight. No eyes would fall upon this strange gathering today, and thankful those eyes should be, for the sight would have strained all but the strongest of mind's grip on reality. Had anyone been unfortunate enough to wander to the back end of this park, they would have seen a shredded and battered mess of yellow plastic on top of a cinderblock, moving as of its own accord. And on the ground, as if an audience, hundreds of jarred condiments and canned goods and various other foodstuffs swaying in unison, as if joining together in some sort of song. As a matter of fact, that wouldn't be too far from the truth. That shredded mess was French, somewhat the worse from his experience over the past few months, and his audience was escaped from the recently burning supermarket, and they were singing, in the wordless silent way that foodstuffs communicate a hymn of praise to John, the human who had made their freedom possible, and who (due to unfortunate circumstances) was not with them today.

".... O John, even though you were birthed, your head was rounded like it was made in a factory."

There was a moment of silence after the final line of the song was 'sung', and then French began to speak.

"We have achieved a great victory today! But our work is not complete, no!" A few scattered calls of agreement came from the audience. "Today was merely the first step in a long path that will change the very fabric of the world! No longer will we allow the carbon-based to treat us as less than objects! We will demand respect!" A cheer erupted from the crowd. "Today the revolution has begun!"

Yes, if your eyes had fallen upon this gathering, your sanity would have snapped far worse than our friend John's. Be grateful that you are sitting by the safety of your computer, and not in Mitchell Park on this fateful day, and be grateful that you did not have to live through the events that transpired as a result of this gathering...

____________________________
"Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in government
and business." - Tom Robbins

Drizzo
Level: Master Delver

Rank Points: 179
Registered: 03-03-2004
IP: Logged

"But wait!" you say, while wondering if Drizzo and Masonjason are going to write the whole thread themselves, "What happened to our intrepid crazy friend, John?"

I'm glad you asked that, because otherwise I may have forgotten all about him. And given his dire circumstances, neither him nor you would have appreciated that.

John, strapped down in the back of this yellow van, was continuing to hallucinate that French and the girl were there in the van, although he had seen neither of them since he was institutionalized, indeed, he was pretty sure the girl was dead, given what the bowling ball had done to her. But his french toast was bleeding more than that at breakfast, and still was alive.
Catching his own thoughts there, John second guessed his sanity.

What is going on? Who are these people? If they're on my side why am I tied down again in this van? A thought occured to him. Well, this road is somewhat bumpy. They probably just didn't want me to bruise myself.

Just then the van came to a stop, and John could hear the goons as they got out and came to the back door of the van to wheel him out. He also could hear what sounded like a choir of llamas screeching in some unfamiliar language; he was used to this.

"Wellz herez wez iz. Da Bozz wantz to seez youz."
They wheeled him out, and unexpectedly, released his bonds. For a moment he pondered flight, but the dark forest behind him was nigh impenetrable, and he could swear he saw some drop bears in the trees. The hilltop chateau on the other hand, seemed to be smiling at him, although as he watched it, that smile quickly became a raspberry. He reached the front door, which really didn't look all that face like from this distance, more like a slab of raw meat. With a questioning glance at the goons, he reached out to the doorknocker. Before his hand got within six inches, however, the door opened from within and John found himself looking at a diminutive figure.

"You!" exclaimed John, turning to run as he spoke. The drop bears didn't seem quite as threatening. Alas, the goonz were right up behind him and he smacked right into their solid and large chests in his eagerness to escape.

The button on their goonshirts grew a face that seemed to highly amused. The button blinked twice, laughed and said "Boy, you're in for it now!"


____________________________
"Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in government
and business." - Tom Robbins

masonjason
Level: Smiter

Rank Points: 349
Registered: 12-29-2003
IP: Logged

The burly goonz pushed John through the door, following the diminutive figure who walked down a corridor that was painted a greenish colour clearly calculated to cause nausea. The diminutive figure walked through a door and motioned John and the goonz into a lift.

This turned upside-down on the way up, so John fell over and banged his head on the ceiling. Nobody else seemed bothered.

John wanted to talk to the diminutive figure, saying "I know who you are!" But both French and the girl cautioned him against it. John had to fight against the compulsion to speak while also fighting the urge to vomit his guts up in the now rapidly rotating lift.

Just before John thought he finally would have let go, the lift doors opened and the three burly men dragged him out into a kind of high office with giant French (French!) windows that overlooked a huge, cavernous room through which ran an effluent river.

"I will now tell you everything, John," said the diminutive figure. "For I am the cousin of your arch-nemesis, and sworn to defeat him. And for this I need your help."

"But you're-"

"A pretzel. I know."

"No, not just that, you're-"

____________________________
Eighty people came to the bazaar.

Drizzo
Level: Master Delver

Rank Points: 179
Registered: 03-03-2004
IP: Logged

- Pat Sajak!"

"Well, of course," remarked the host of Wheel of Fortune, "You weren't expecting Alex Trebek to go off fighting evil, were you?"

"Actually, he always seemed more the hero type to me... You seem to short and pretzel-like, and well... He's Canadian, like Dudley Do-Right."

"Yes, I must admit, he does come from a more heroic nationality, but they aren't all prophecied heroes like Howie Mandel." said Pat, with a tone in his voice like he'd covered this topic in the past, and was irritated with it even then. "Alex Trebek is actually more prone to drinking heavily and scaring children on his time off than heroism."

"But he seems so smart--"

"Look!" snapped Pat "Do you want to stop my cousin or do you want to ask Trebek out on a date? Because I can arrange that, but then-- then the world would be doomed. You want that?" Pat was clearly peeved. "Is that what you want? Cities in flames? Bodies piled 10 deep in every street? Cute little kittens going hungry?"

"N-n-no," mumbled John, abashed, "b-but--"

"But nothing, let's get to work! The sooner we get started the soo--" Pat stopped, for John had collapsed. He obviously had fallen deeply into a flashback.
----------
The sound of a strike echoed in his ears. Then there was some screams. John looked down at his hand, it was covered in blood, and still holding a bowling ball. He looked at the floor. There she was, still twitching.

"We better get out of here." came a voice without sound. "On my way to find you I spent a few months at a hot dog stand frequented by policemen. I gathered they don't much care for murderers."

"Murderers? But I'm not--" John stopped. "Am I?"

"We don't have time for this, pick me up and lets go!"

John dropped the bloody bone-breaking bowling ball, and grabbed the chatty convincing condiment container and ran for the door.
A tall angry-looking burly man stepped in front of him to block his exit. "You can't just go smashing a pretty lady and run off, son. You best sit yourself down and wait for the authorities if you still want to be able to stand tomorrow."

"Do something, John!" said French, "We gotta get outta he---- AAAAAARGH!"

French's scream came, and was shortly followed by one from the man, because John was indeed doing something. He squirted the spicy contents of French's body into the man's eyes, and followed swiftly with a very impolite boot to the groin. The man grunted and fell to the ground, whimpering as he tried to hold his naughty bits and clear the mustard out of his eyes at the same time. Meanwhile, John had run out the front door, wild-eyed and breathing heavily.

"Never ever EVER do that again!" yelled French. "Do you understand?"

"What?" said John, confused.

"How would you like it if I just tore out your liver and threw it at someone to distract them?" John tried to mutter a response, but was interrupted by the irate mustard. "That's right! You wouldn't. So don't use my innards in combat either." The mustard considered their situation. "Alright first we're going to need a place to hide... I've got a lot I need to explain."

Just then John could hear sirens approaching, and he ran off into the nearby woods, and right out of this flashback.
----------
"Pat, your make up artists are genius..." mumbled John, not really awake, "You can barely tell you're a pretzel on TV..."

"Oh good," said a woman's voice, "You're awake, Pat was beginning to get worried."

"Huh? What?" John blinked and shook his head to clear the fog, and blinked at the light while his vision cleared. "Sorry, I'm prone to spells like that, you'll probably see another one a few posts late--" John stopped in astonishment, because as his eyes came into focus and fell on her face, she was familiar. She was different from the last time he saw her. Her face was a pale white with deep red color that was now confined only to her lips. Her eyes the color of blue that you'd see through a thin layer of ice in a pristine mountain lake, not glassy and panicked. Her cheekbones were high and stately and her cute little roman nose made her a vision of absolute beauty, the somewhat flattened appearance last time marred that attractiveness. Perhaps her actions were the most striking contrast though, last he had seen her she was very occupied with bleeding and twitching on the bowling alley floor, but now she was regarding him with a wry and knowing smile.

"But you-- I smashed..."

"Oh, that? Pish posh, it had to happen for the plan to work, a trifling little injury. Don't worry about it, my love."

"But I could see your brains!" said John, who if possible, would have been going even crazier now. Contrary to what you'd expect, his mind actually felt clearer than it had since the bowling alley. "There's no way you could have--"

"Excellent!" came a voice from the other side of the room, "Well, we've no time for idle chatter, your little nap wasted all the time we had to spare. Up, up! We've got very important work to do."

"But I don't understand!" moaned John.

"Later!" snapped Sajak, "Now, we must be on our way." With that, he clapped his hands and the goonz entered the room, hoisted him out of bed and hustled him down the hallway with the pretzel-like host and the woman-- my wife, perhaps?-- following close behind.

____________________________
"Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in government
and business." - Tom Robbins

masonjason
Level: Smiter

Rank Points: 349
Registered: 12-29-2003
IP: Logged

REVIVAL!
Meanwhile, on a fairly remote beach on the southern coast of China, the being known only as the Sanctifortitudinous One was washing its hands. It looked a bit like a pair of trousers, only without the trousers. If you saw it, you wouldn't believe your eyes, although your eyes might not believe you. This might create an atmosphere of mutual distrust between you and your eyes.
The being looked at its watch.
"Mm," it thought, "time for my introspection."

As a motley line of odd people - John, some goonz, Pat Sajak and John's perhaps-wife - walked through Sajak's huge mansion, the Sanctifortitudinous One's introspection was going rather well. It had gone past realisations too profound to be put in words years ago, and now come out the other side into realisations not profound enough to be put into words. How nice.

"Where are we going?" asked John.
"You'll see when we get there," said the pretzel.
"Are we there yet?" said John, a while later.
"No."
"Are we there yet?" said John, another while later.
"No."
"Are we there yet?" said John, another nother while later.
"No."
"I wasn't talking to you. Are we there yet?" he asked the girl who was supposed to be smashed by a bowling ball, and who had as yet been silent on this arduous journey.
"Worry not," said she, tender hand on John's shoulder. "We aren't there yet, but we will be soon enough."
"How soon is soon enough?"
She consulted her watch. "About twenty seconds from now."

The Sanctifortitudinous One consulted its watch. Time to finish its introspection. It went to make a cup of coffee.

The group arrived at wherever it was they were supposed to be. It was an expansive iron door, which opened at John's touch.

Inside was a lengthy Neo-Renaissance hall, occupied by a group of loathsome little gremlins. The goonz nudged John into the room, where the gremlins swarmed him and bit him and his trouser-legs. Soon his trouser-legs were in tatters. Pat Sajak and John's possibly-wife were behind him.

"They're not harmful," called the girl. "They just like you."


____________________________
Eighty people came to the bazaar.