"Old Man" and a Girl

Jamie Dawn's Story
Old Gepetto was used to making little wooden boy puppets. For some reason, he never paid much attention to females. Then, he saw Hannah. He was mesmerized by her beauty. He hugged her and tried to drag her into his workshop. She struggled and refused him until he offered her twenty bucks to pose naked. Now, he makes little wooden girl puppets, and Hannah drops by to pose naked once a week. Her fee has increased to fifty bucks, though, because Gepetto's sales have greatly increased.


Viruswitch's Story
I did it. I did it because they asked me to do it. I didnt want to do it. But I did it. And the worse part of it: I enjoyed doing it. If they had asked me yesterday, I wouldnt have done it. But today, I did it. In a moment of weakness, I forgot my principles. Two strangers in disneyland asked me to take their picture, and I just ... did it!


Mushroom's Caption
"I may be old and oddly-constructed, but by damn, I can still pick up the girls."


Miles to Go's Story
"C'mere honey and let me scratch the itch off your cheek."

Gyp's love has become so banal where he really has lost love's meaning long ago. He is bitter, though it is hard to tell with his painted on face. It is only there to show the world he can make a buck without his son Poker-chip and continue to stick a finger into Mattel's eyes. Outside his adult toy shop he appears okay and he is determined to show he is not lonely while he hocks his feather mustaches for ...well you know... faint memories of kindness, respect, sensitivity and affectionate treatment in what once was his definition of love.


Young at Heart in San Diego's Story
After his 65th birthday, Michael Jackson had finally decided to let his hair go naturally white. The last of his plastic surgeries had left his face virtually immobile, but at least his nose now had a more human aspect to it for the first time since the early 2000’s. And best of all, his eyes were now clearly European blue thanks to new corrective laser surgery, even if it didn’t cure his near-sightedness. Still he felt that wearing reading glasses was much easier to do while sporting big baby-blue eyes rather than the brown ones he was issued at birth. And life was good as he eased into his golden years. The last of the lawsuits were finally settled and he traded the rights to the Beatles songs to the Disney folks for exclusive use of Main Street in Anaheim with one stipulation: he would not pose for any public pictures with young men under the age of 18. So he had to be content with secretly groping flat-chested young girls. All in all, it was not a bad gig.


My Story
Robbing the cradle! That's what they thought when they saw the two together, pretty girl, fresh as a peach, with that weathered old husk of a man, face wizened and hair grizzled with age. She should have selected someone of a similar vintage. After all, they would be together the rest of their lives, and how long would that be? Five thousand, six thousand years? The immortality serum had introduced new social problems into the midst of the dating and growing-old-along-with-whoever-game. Add to that the complications of the serum itself, which caused the men to gray and bloat with age, while the girls remained as sweet as they ever were at sixteen. Perhaps it was the difference in metabolism, perhaps the fact that the serum was invented by a lady scientist. But love is blind, as they say, and so it wasn't so unusual to see men at the tender age of sixteen hundred going around with girls more than twice their age, in spite of what people said.

Big Clock on Bookcase

Pansi's & Weirsdo's Story
Barbierella had drunk a little to much punch at the ball, so it wasn't till sometime after midnite that she noticed the change!!!! The Prints was just a ordinary guy in unstylish close, and his dad looked like a white-hared neanderthol!!!!! The other guests were just as looser-looking, and worst of all the ball room had turned into a LIBERRY!!!!!
Barbierella just stood at the top of the liberry steps and screamed!!!!!!
The paranormal investigator on the other side of the clock just stared blankly from his extrasensory eyes. He could not understand why the owners of the house had asked him to examine the Barbie doll lying at the top of the library steps. Why didn't they just pick the thing up?


Miles to Go's Story
Looming over them is an archaic symbol of time seemingly ignored but whomever inhabits its space is made aware of their own time and their possibilities or regressions.

At this very moment, the man in the white shirt's fleeting thoughts of sexual intimacy was denied again and this time by the flooded white flash of intrusion.

And there the man in the gray shirt has been living a life of mired indeterminacies. There is an underlying rage about his unconcious thoughts. Thoughts reacting to flows of sensless wanderings and are bubbling near the surface to hurt those around him.

The person with the white hair has thought of the mistake at dinner when her son chose not to live there anymore. Her wide eyes displays angst about facing time alone without the son and it feels like the dusty caked mouths created by the desert Santa Ana Winds.

Separate and disparaged lives brought together by this symbol of time. To satisfy any yearning for them, one must continue to visit this archaic symbol and who knows you may share where they would go or end up.

Doug's Story
Morale had been poor at Biddle, Bottle and Sons Accounting. The stenos, book-keepers and accountants were upset that management wouldn't give them computers so they could blog ("only when it's slow",) wouldn't give them calculators on which to type 0.7734 or other upside-down messages and wouldn't allow straws for the occassional spit-ball contest. In such a serious environment, the staff sat at their desks, watching the clock and wishing for a distraction that might make the day move a little faster.


Viruswitch's Story
The students of Dresden Technical University where obliged to attend lectures in the Museum that day. It was a fabulous museum that showed the advance of the mechanisms of clocks and watches, through the ages. There was also a section with some very old telescopes, maps and glasses which everyone found breathtaking. Sebastian was also looking at all clocks he found, holding his breath, placing his hand over his mouth, almost as if he was greately shocked. "What is it?" asked him Tonja, "Dont you like the design or what?". "No, thats not it" replied Sebastian, slightly laughing. "Its just that all clocks show that its time to urgently visit the Mensa, and yet we are stil here, waisting our time looking at a bunch of old clocks." Both of them laughed and decided to secretely find their way out, without letting the lecturer notice them.


Mushroom's Story
Hans had a huge clock. He was very proud of his mighty clock. He'd invite friends over, direct them to his library, sit in a chair and point to his enormous clock. Men and women were equally astounded by his clock, and while men were envious of Hans' clock size women would stroke the side of his tall hard clock. Hans didn't mind if women touched his clock, as long as they used a tissue to wipe it afterwards; men were rougher and would beat his big clock to test its sturdiness. What other people didn't realize was that his gargantuan clock didn't actually work... when he knew people were coming to see it, he'd move the hands to two minutes forward of the moment they rang the bell, then by the time they got to the library they'd see the correct time. He would spend about one minute showing off his clock, basically flashing his guests with his huge clock so they wouldn't get a close look, and whisk them off to another room which was more hospitable. As impressed as people were with the size of his clock, the people who adored it were not aware it was functionally impotent.


Jamie Dawn's Story
Time. It haunts us, laughs at us, and binds us. No one escapes its confines. The rich cannot buy more time. It is the master. We are all its slaves.


My Story
Tick.... tick.... tick.... The colossal clock hurled its living echoes into the room. Unseen. Unheard. At the first tick of twenty past midnight the professor of mysticism began an impromptu lecture on the meaning of time, clarifying concepts the guests may have sensed, may have tapped along the edge of, but of depths eschewed for fear of losing one's orientation. Tick.... tick.... tick.... The instrument of chronology celebrated the seconds in its steady mechanical way, issuing moments that fell like specks of sand from a point infinitely above to a destination far below - the dunes of eternity. Those with vision might snatch a kernel out of the invisible, synchronized stream, and live it, before its occurrence. The professor expounded the concept of projecting one's mind minutes, days, years into one's future and returning with premonitions retrieved out of a remembrance of the gap between that new time and the past. Tick.... tick.... tick.... The person so projected would perceive only a minute discontinuity as insignificant as the momentary loss of vision when an eye is blinked. Upon return, the sudden presence of a new idea would distract from its origin in the times unborn. Tick.... tick.... tick.... The professor spoke his engrossing lecture extending into hours, if anyone present had made inventory of the ticks of that massive mechanism that is always among us, unseen and unheard. After uttering the final syllable of his thesis, the professor glanced at his listeners and vanished. Tick.... tick.... tick.... It was exactly twenty past midnight.

Two Girls and a Dummy

Doug's Caption
Red Cross CPR Class, Amsterdam


Mushroom's Story
Tom's mother always told him as a kid not to look at naked women, or he'd turn to stone. There was a time or two when he merely thought about naked women and felt the process of firming (temporarily, to his relief) take place. But his mother never warned him about what would happen if the women made the decisive move, especially if there was more than one. He dummied up.


Sunray's Story
"Dr. Woo m3n Itorture from China was looking proudly at his new achievement. He had eventually managed to isolate certain parts of the human DNA that were responsible for the reproductive urges. His experiments with mice had never been successful but when the government fired him due to his obsession with those specific genes, he had to bring forth a result that would be his long awaited success, but revenge as well.

He had used the special cocktail “Em.Pty2. 0W.0rds” to seduce a female employer. The coctail had amazing results! The girl became 10 years younger! He could not believe how effective his new weapon was and started to sell these cocktails to the public. All of his customers, men mainly, were delighted by the results. Suddenly, all women stopped demanding emotional satisfaction from their relationships and were only interested in the.. reproductive urges!!!

Men threw big parties, songs could be heard in crazy rythms in all parts of the country and the whole population seemed be lost in an unusual bliss. They held concerts, danced day and night and practically worshiped Dr. WooM3n Itorture from China for his new invention. They were finally free. Everything was perfect until…

until one cloudy day special agents of the secret services unveiled the whole illegal operation of Dr. WooM3n Itorture. They had produced an antidote called “tru. UTHis inth3H3/art5”, which started that which remained known in the history as the “Great Selfdiscovery”.

This is how this sad story ended, leaving everyone unsatisfied. We never found out what happened to the Doctor. Rumours said that he escaped the wrath of the angry women and sailed to the Antarctic. Last time he was seen feeding the penguins with a strange conctail…"


My Story
For weeks now I'd had these strange but enticing visions. They'd appear before me, two nymphets, blocking me left and right. I saw in their faces that conspicuous grin of conspiracy. Some spell stalemated my motions. Soft features loomed before me closer and blurrier. Then a mouth was upon mine, and the tongue of a girl began its magic dance. My hands and feet felt numb, nonexistent. The visions took turns while I trembled like a bowl of pudding with tides of desire rippling through it. The harmonic sensation on my tongue and lips spun itself into some sort of cyclone that whipped through my mind. And then they were gone, swept away unseen. This time I heard a giggle in the distance. "We shall return," one of the visions promised between notes of that fading music. But I could not wait for their reoccurrence. I stumbled after them like a marionette, strings tensed in their imagined direction. It's what a fish feels, as the fisherman reels him in. Then I saw them in the distance, at the side of a house. I moved in upon them, wanting to call out to them, tell them I was there, but as they grasped that dummy and began their play that familiar vision furled its thick blanket of silk around me.

Three Girls in a Plastic House

Doug's Story
It was Mormon Day at Disneyland. The rides and lines for rides filled with polite people evangelizing each other. Jenna and her two friends had heard the good news so often it put them in bad moods.

That was when Karly, the Bishop's daughter remembered the hip flask in her car. "Wait here," she instructed Jenna and Susan who did so. Karly went to the parking lot, on a mission for contraband.

On her way back in, she was spotted by an alert Sleepy. On his in-mask radio, he called for backup and soon, unbeknownst to Karly, she was being watched by all the cartoon characters and several Mormons. Snow White, Pluto and two elders followed her at a distance.

Karly found her friends and the three of them went over behind the Thunder Mountain Express, believing themselves unobserved. The moment Karly opened the hipflask, servants of the lord and figments of imagination descended in droves upon them.

They were taken to the Disneyland jail to await trial and the contacting of their parents. The march to the jailhouse was shameful as Daffy Duck lead a detachment of all seven dwarves and four bicycle-riding missionaries formed a pattern around them, blocking any deviation of course and singing "Hi-ho, Hi-ho it's off to jail we go, to save their souls and Mickey's hole, Hi-ho, hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho!"

Once incarcerated, Jenna, Karly and Susan were asked to pose for a group mug shot.

Based on a true story


My Story
Once upon a time of loveliness, in the days when even the magic mirrors couldn't agree who was fairest, there lived three little sisters. The first little sister built herself a house of hanging silks, which did not go unnoticed by the Wind. The curtains billowed boisterously in his breath, awarding that airy observer tasty glimpses of intimate skin. Finally the Wind huffed and puffed so out of control that the silks fluttered away towards the Sun. As the girl perceived the lack of walls she bolted shivering to her sister who lived in a house of matchsticks, tiny wooden bundles woven together, phosphorous tips lending a ruddy red appearance to the walls and roof.

The Sun, brushing the silks from his face, caught with his last rays the two sisters hugging hello. The sibling beauties chatted deep into the night, until their eyes grew weary and the soft fabric of the satin sheets beaconed them to sprawl in the bed. The next morning the Sun awoke after a night of fiery dreams. Especially attracted to the sight of sisters in satin, he peered down intensely at the hut, trying to see through the window. Poof! The entire house combusted into a big smoky cloud drifting away in the Wind. There the two sisters stood, all alone, huge sunny eye on them. At least they weren't shivering. But the sudden attention brought forth beads of nervous perspiration, which the Wind licked from their faces. The two little sisters had a third sister who lived in a plastic house on the edge of the forest, and there they fled, Sun and Wind at their backs.

In the forest resided a Big Bad Voyeur, who hid in treetops, spying with his binoculars on whatever sights as might delight him. The girls put on the radio and danced unknowingly for him, giving him ideas for the night. He plucked a basket of apples from the tree in which he hid, prepared them with a sleeping substance, then wandered over to the hut, to offer his present of welcome to his lovely new neighbors. -- "No! I can't read this to you children," the swine mother grunted to her set of pink triplets. These fairy tales about people are always so depraved.

Skelletin in Stone Wall

Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
At first it seemed the Catacombs Cafe would be a success. It had it all: spooky atmosphere, shadowy nooks for lovers, and a great bones man doing the music. He really knew how to tickle the ivories, and could play marimba too.
Unfortunately it transpired that he knew only one song: The foot bone's connected to the--
Ankle bone!
The ankle bone's connected to the--
Shin bone!
etc.


Jamie Dawn's Story
You think YOUR knees are aching?


GPV's Story
Tup tok tup tok tup.....The old clock kept sounding off the time passing by as some flies whizzed across the living room where he sat unmoving, eyes fixed on the pendulum shining to in fro behind the glass, tok tup tok.....aside of this no other sound was heard in the appartment.
He sat in the old armchair from morning 'till noon and the chime went 'dongg' 12 times and he stirred and shuffled his feet and his eyes turned to the window, the
day was gloomy and grey, it would not be happier with sunshine not for him, since Marie had gone six months ago there was only stillness
in the house and dryness in his heart, the place was dirty, unkept
beyond description and he didn't do anything about it.
What to do? Nothing....or maybe...
Yes one last thing.
He got up and wend to his room,opened the closet and dressed up, walked back to the living room
and shut the window, went to the door, walked over piles of letters he didn't read anymore and locked the door turning the key twice.
He didn't even look around when he went to the cave door and he locked
that door too once he was in.
They didn't find him for years.


Mushroom's Story
Bob came to realize just how bad the service was at the new restaurant in town, the Cask Of Amontillado.


Doug's Story
He'd waited a long time for the audition. Finally he heard his name called. Time to warm up he thought. "..." "....." "."

In panic he insisted: I couldn't have waited this long only to lose my voice!


My Story
That Eve of All Saints, Halloween, was the worst time of the year for George. It was then that he was reminded of just how alone he was, nothing but bones without that magical element that translates will into motion. He was forced to sit propped in his little stone niche in the wall, watching impassively as the living strolled by. No one decorated any pumpkins with him. No one invited him to the costume balls. And saddest of all, no one offered to have him along on their trick or treating romps. That was bitter. They'd whisk on by, winsome witches, ghastly ghosts and gruesome ghouls, eating the candy they'd collected, and tossing the empty wrappers straight into his rib cage. How awful and cruel life had been. How awful and cruel was death.