The Indeterminacies of Synchronicity

My Muse

2007-12-05T07:05:00.000-05:00

Cirrus Spray's Story
As they saw her approach, a fizzy comet on the brilliant blue canvas, they knew they'd better not forget.

Shivering, she entered through the window. The half smile kept growing till her facial muscles could do no more.

"Nothing like a warm photonic shower after a long twilight's work!"

Lily Strange's Story
Geena wondered about the wisdom of leaving the light at the end of the tunnel behind. She wondered indeed about the wisdom of venturing through the tunnel. Who knew where it ended, how long it would be before she encountered light again? Yet she had lived so long alone in the light, fearing the darkness. Her loneliness drove her to venture out and seek what was beyond the beautiful but empty world she'd known for as long as she could remember before she died of despair.

Lorena's Story
"Because her aura was purple, the most spiritual color, I could not help but fall in love with her. She is my now and my forever."

Frances Bo Bancess' Story
she closed her eyes. she was in a different time. a different place. a different reality. she was... in Rome? something felt odd about the familiarity of it all. in her first year out of college she had traveled around Europe with her beloved for two months during the summer. one of her fondest memories was that of Rome, and not just because she did as the Romans do. she spent a week there admiring the architecture, and swimming in the rich culture. in the sweltering heat of midday on their second last day, she begged her beloved to explore the baths in the heart of the city. he laughed when they finally discovered they had been drained after navigating through tunnels, dripping with sweat. his jovial chuckle echoed through the stone passageways and it made her smile.
that laugh echoed through her ears right now, in a way that made him sound as if he was being torn from her arms and sucked into an engulfing darkness. she reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it desperately. she felt herself being pulled into the darkness as well, but it wasn't cold as she expected, it was warm. a warmth that tingled at her fingertips and relaxed her racing mind. her eyes fluttered open, a bead of water traced down a path across her cheek.
"don't worry, you're still here," he whispered into her hair, arms intimately wrapped around her. He kissed her forehead. with a gracious "thank you" escaping her breath with a sigh of relief, she snuggled up to him and fell into a much more comfortable sleep.

MindFul MiMi's Story
She was lost in the catacombs of her mind. But somehow it did not feel uncomfortable - on the contrary. It was nice to be lost in her own mind for a while without having daily chores or the people she loved keeping her from it. As she was wandering, seemingly aimlessly, she moved from open plains to a walled in area. She did not feel afraid. She heard voices but she was not scared. She saw beautiful light which played on the walls around her and showed her all the colours of the rainbow. She felt safe. She knew she could leave this place - when the time was right. And she knew exactly where it would lead her: to the people who loved her and were waiting for her.

Kathy's Story
There was this luminescence about her. As though the divine inspiration fueling her determined efforts to return to her beloved were actually glowing from within. The aura was spell-binding and it became impossible to suppose for one minute that she would fail in her quest: she would heal, she would magnify her powers, she would share her magic for many years to come.

The OE's Caption
Out of the ruins the angel rises.

Mistery's Story
le Club Nosferatu
It was 3:00 am and they were hungry. Where could they go in the City to feed? There were hardly any people out and about and all the restaurants and take-away joints were closed. So after some debate they decided to go clubbing instead. When they got there the music was pounding loud enough to burst the eardrums of a beggar sleeping in the alley out back. He clutched his skull and wailed piteously. The blood ran down his cheeks. "Well that's handy," said Armand, "we can have a quick snack before we go in!"

© Copyright S R Schwarz 2007. All rights reserved.

Dead Letter Boy's Story
The light moved along above her, barely noticed above her other senses, swishing of the skirts and shuffling feet, the rough stone under her fingertips. The light could stay or go, it made no difference. Sight was the last thing that mattered now, and the rush of the water was, she knew, the feeling of being birthed.

Irene Grumman's Story
The beautiful and well loved woman glowed with the day's heat, although the air hinted at dankness and dampness. A scholar, she fancied she heard the voices of ancient Romans and Romanized Gauls enjoying sophisticated hygiene, exchanging gossip, making deals, and complaining about the weather. Since the baths were only to be seen, not used, she daydreamed of the scented bath in which she would luxuriate when she returned to the hotel.

Yumen's Story
Some folks think about leaving it all behind. Some folks talk about it, they even talk about it.
Not many really do it, but my love was one who did.
We were in Trier at the time, taking a late summer holiday.
One evening, after a fine meal in a moroccan restaurant, we went to see a German production of Macbeth which was being staged in the Roman baths.
We realised our mistake early on; the acting was stiff and the way the stage was lit made us feel like we were in the house of some really boring friends.
Halfway through the first act I wanted to leave, and was getting ready to do so when Jen grabbed a hold of my arm.
'Look!' she whispered, 'can you see it?'
Puzzled, I looked in the direction of her gaze and saw.
At the end of a stone corridor at the side of the stage a swirling lilac mist had materialised. The colour of it was enough; it was as obvious to me as it was to Jen that this was an escape into clarity, to a world where love spun boundless.
Jen sprang from her chair and pulled me toward the light, but at the edge of the stage I stumbled and fell.
I looked up to see Jen, halfway along the corridor, waiting for me. Behind her the light was fading. I realised I would not make it.
'Go Jen! I'll meet you there. Run!'
She hesitated.
'Run!' I cried.
Then my love turned away from me and jumped into the vanishing haze. She was gone.

Such an opportunity comes once in a lifetime, if you are lucky. I know I will have to wait until my natural time is up before I see her again.
I'm glad she made it though. I'm really glad she made it.
I came home early, I didn't feel like staying in Trier. I work in a bank, accounting for other people's business.

Ming's Story
roll the dice againts wisdom to check for secret doors.

failed

re-roll

failed

re-roll

you succeed in finding out, there are no secret doors

Viruswitch's Story
Freedom!

Her dictators had always been there, invisible and yet audible in every dark corner of the great maze. At first they had taken pleasure in her suffering, sending voices to scare her. The screams, the steps of gigantic beasts had manipulated her, and the labyrinth had seemed neverending. But in time she grew tired of running away. The imminent threats and the impending dangers had felt true, but never fulfilled themselves. She now knew that her fear was their fuel, her freedom was their death. Cold and confident, she was walking right towards the screams. The walls of the maze grew shorter and the paths wider. Amidst shadows and lights the figures of her dictators were barely visible blocking the way to a gateway. Standing right in front of them, she laughed loudly echoing through the thousand paths and walked on. Their figures were set on fire as soos as she walked out of the exit and the maze collapsed.

Man with Tie in Leather Armchair

2006-05-01T12:08:00.000-05:00

Gerard Valz's Story
He had the whole week-end to himself, that was the first time in months, he'd been working hard and gave all his time to the company, his wife and three children were complaining about this and decided to leave the place wednesday afternoon to visit granny in the country.
On saturday morning he went on Royal st. and looked for old furniture in antique shops but didn't buy anything, most idems were fakes anyway. He went to an english restaurant on Burgundy, food was perfect and he ordered a bottle of light Beaujolais to go with it.
Walking back home around 2 O'clock he received a phone buzz from Mrs Jameson,his secretary, he was to report to his office as fast as he could; The boss had a heart attack.
Everything went fast, once in the company's building 10 minutes later, he learned that he was
chosen to be the new boss.
He sat in the fat armchair in his new office and found out it was the piece of furniture he was looking for in the morning.

Mutha's Story
"The balding head is one thing," she thought, "But that tie clip. Jesus. I want to wrip it off him and chuck it across the room."

Carl had, after all been her obligatory "bad boy" fling in college. His once curly hair had hung daringly long in front of his eyes. His lean frame had seemed bound tight under the jeans and leather he wore then. Even his name had seemed tough.

Now, it sounded as if it could only be the name of a guy who looked just like this.

"And my God, that smile...He looks like the meds are kicking in."

She begged her brain to come up with something pleasant to say.

"Nice chair," was what came out of her mouth.

Jamie Dawn's Story
Bob just loved his new Time Travel Chair. Marketed by Sharper Image, it was a steal at only six million dollars.
All weekend long, Bob traveled to the past. He was only an observer and was never able to leave his chair, but BOY did he enjoy he adventures!

Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
Ralph Merton, Assistant Professor of English, gripped the arms of his chair and tried to smile as the guests arranged themselves. It was going to be a tense evening. At the time it had seemed a stroke of genius to get his wife out of his hair and into community theater. But her preparation for the starring role in WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? was taking its toll.

My Story
I was ready to hand him the check, but I hesitated, asking one more time, just to hear that wonderful description again, "And these experiences will be mine alone?"

"Absolutely," he assured me. His concerned look, and shock, at the insinuation that I may have mistrusted the integrity of Life Inc. seemed genuine to me. He went on: "Each and every experience is guaranteed unique and becomes your own personal property upon receipt. We maintain that the moment itself is fleeting, gone irretrievably before you can even begin to savor it. So who needs it? The true pleasure comes in the reliving of it, in which case the memory will only be as vivid as the words expressing it. As I've said, we employ the best creative talent in the industry. You will not regret having done business with us."

Satisfied, I turned the check over to the representative. He stood up, retrieved my folder from the filing cabinet, then placed the check along with the papers I had filled out: the exhaustive personality tests, three of them, the twenty-page fantasy checklist and that massive preference profile. It had been an entire tedious day working through those. I looked at him to see what he would do next. He entered some words into the computer, clicked the mouse a few times, and soon the printer began humming. A moment later he handed me the printout.

"Now this is your profile confirmation. The url is at the top of the page. Please note the user id and password," he said, pointing to the line in question, "You'll need these to answer the comments you receive. You're ordering the basic service, so you will have to make your own comments, but please remember, you may at any time opt for the premium service, in which we offer the increased intensity that accompanies full passivity. But you may make that choice at any time you wish."

He smiled, I thanked him and left, exiting the office like a new person. It was such an exhilarating feeling, knowing my life had just begun. I could hardly wait to return to my apartment, curtains drawn, lights low, the warm glow of the monitor showing me my first post at the blog. "Read it three times, carefully," the instructions said, "closing your eyes a few minutes after each reading, to impress the vivid language into your psyche. As time passes, the content will be indistinguishable from an authentic memory."

I set the blog url as my default start page, so that it would be right there whenever I switched on the pc. Then I saw: those people certainly work fast. The first post must have appeared as I was on my way home. I read the words, my introduction to the world, the new me, the me I would live and remember. I was 23, had just moved to the city, met a girl who fascinated me. I was back from the first night out with her and it had inspired me to start my blog. I read. I read it again and reread. It was all so promising. As I closed my eyes, I could almost feel that Lisa was in the next room, ready to return to me. I replayed the events of our first meeting, those magnetic moments, when eyes lock and silence binds. It was just as the man had promised. I remembered. I could actually remember. And now I waited in the dark, for my next post.

Two Women's Faces Close Together

2006-04-29T11:13:00.000-05:00

Gerard Valz's Story
When Consiva undressed in front of the girls there was a moment of silence, Camilla had to hold control of herself not to burst out laughing, she had to change her plans.
She had no trouble when she applied for the ride to Terra 2, she didn't have to bribe anybody and everything went as smooth as could be, she had been anxious about what to do once they got there but now since Consus was Consiva, that made things a lot simpler.
First she decided to play hard to get, generally that makes anyone very decided to have sex with the person playing it well, so during the first two weeks she didn't pay any attention to Consiva's presence, this one made a point to have sex with the other girls so close to Camilla
that she had to hear what was going on, that conforted Camilla in playing the "not interested" part. She never undressed in front of anyone and on the third week she dyied her hair blonde,
she could sense Consiva's nervous looks when she turned her back on her, when walking she swayed her butt just what it took to make believe it was natural.
That worked alright, Consiva swallowed the bait, the hook and the line, after a month she got so horny for Camilla she considered rape as a possible alternative.
Instead of rape Consiva decided to talk to Camilla in private, she pretented to have some tools to get in the landing craft and asked Camilla if she could help her carry some loads back to camp, the girl agreed to help.
Once in the landing craft Consiva started to question Camilla.
-Tell me, girl, are you a virgin?
-No, I'm not a virgin but....
-You don't like the idea of sex with a woman?
-No, I like the idea, but.....
-But what?
-I'm special and....
-Yes, I'm special too, so what?
-Well not only that way.
-Tell me, what other way?
-You know bondage?
-You want me to tie you up darling?
-No, I want to....tie YOU up.
That made Consiva laugh.
-You're a crooked doll, you are, is that all?
-No I want to blindfold you too.
-And why should I do that?
-To please me, that's the only thing that makes me come.
-Ohhh I see.... Well OK ....I never done this before.... OK let's find a rope.
When Consiva was blindfolded and tied to a couch so her legs were spread wide....
Excited, Camille's dick became hard as wood.
They lived happily ever after.

Mushroom's Caption
Chocolate bunnies aren't enough for some people. Sheri wanted a real Easter treat with tasty ears to nibble, and she found that in Ginnie.

Helen's Caption
If I can't hear you I must feel you and if you can't see me you must taste me.

An_Altered_State_of_Consciousness' Story
Consiva stayed up late last night. She looked into the mirror until she fell asleep. In her dream she found a way to enter the mirror. This unlocked endless possibilities. She found that she could kiss herself and touch her tongue to her own cheek. Just the thought of this made her roll her eyes in pleasure. How wonderful it was to make-out with herself a feeling she had never imagined before. She grew more and more excited as she made love to herself in the mirror. I hope this night never ends, she thought to herself, as she felt her warm lips kissing herself again and again. Finally she climaxed in a way she had never done before... and the barman tapped her on the shoulder, wake up, wake up he said as she reluctantly slid down off the bar stool and fell to the floor. Someone call 911 he shouted as the quicksilver spewed out of her nose and onto the floor. What the hell is this? the paramedic exclaimed when he saw the large pool of quicksilver with a beautiful young blonde lying naked in it. She was drained now and completly satisfied... no reason to come back to earth ever again.

Doug's Caption
Are you sure I can't get pregnant this way?

My Story
Lips sought lips, soft, affectionate lips. Breaths passed to and fro in bodies enjoined. Blood swept through veins while unison pleasure swelled into the stellar heavens. The sun shone and stars painted paths across the bodies that drank of each other in ebb and flow of sensation. Sometimes, in a lull, as breasts caught the shade of a moon, Consiva sketched a letter in her mind:

My far off Sisters,
We made our decision to win what reprieve we could for our world by infiltrating the new wave of colonies. Here now slumber our seeds of unanimous womanhood. Though our deception has diluted us into the galaxy, we remain one in the strength of our idea. At night, when I glance at the stars, I wonder which of these shine closest to you. Perhaps the light I see is only an echo of suns already destroyed, and soon the entire universe will be in darkness, unless we were in time to shroud the madness. For now we must enjoy our moments of splendor, giving ourselves to our gender as openly and naturally as befits the love that is our legacy. This is what we shall sow.
Yours truly,
Consiva

The welling emotions led to a touch and once again the lull succumbed to selfless passion... And so the days, weeks and years passed. Consiva and her colony thrived on each other. Each day awoke new senses of feminine companionship, togetherness, oneness. A held hand, a mutual embrace, caresses felt in the brain. They shared lavishly of themselves, of their tenderness, of their beings. They worshipped the magic of wombs able to bear fruits, fruits that could grow and develop and in their turn partake of the pleasures bequeathed them. But there would be no seeds swelling into lives. When the men came in twenty years to collect the soldiers, they would find only the women's love. The bloody war to enslave the galaxy would collapse and wither into an oblivion of the unborn.

Pilot Doll in Model Airplane

2006-04-14T00:06:00.000-05:00

Viruswitch's Story
He was not dead. The crowd had not killed him. Because Donald was not at the first place. The reluctant Messiah had managed to bringth forth another of his famous illusions. "It is all an illusion, Richard" he exclaimed once again, as he climbed down his airplane. "The art of life consists in learning to create them but also in recognising them.", Richard stood speechless in front of Donald and saw a cloud dissolve into the air. Invisible music lifted his spirits up once more. He was about to get emotional when objects started to fly around him hovering, just like the clouds that were disappearing. "There can be no sadness if you are aware of the illusion." Donald kept on. "But there can also be no joy." Richard replied. Donald gazed at the endless fields that surrounded them and said: "You are right. Because joy is another illusion, even if its a persistent one. It is all just a game. Now let us fly again." Richard and Donald climbed in their small airplanes and flew away into the red sunset.

Mutha's Story
"His name could be Mac," Jeremy thought. "Mac's a cool name. Tough-sounding, a guy's guy."
Jeremy inched even closer to the toy plane, squooshed his body down so it was even more compact. If he squinted his eyes, he could imagine the pilot smiling at him. Imagine him saying, "Hop in, son."

"Okay Dad," Jeremy whispered.

And he imagined himself behind his Dad/Pilot, earphones on, speeding -- faster, faster and then finally leaving the ground.

Jeremy closed his eyes and felt the swooping drop of his insides: like going over a roller-coaster hill, like how flying must feel.

Aral's Story
Rodney was tired of being a love doll. He had been a blow-up love doll for 15 years, and the years of one-night-stands at frat and sorority parties had grown tiresome, and even disgusting, to "Rodney the Rod".

One day, Rodney saw a letter that had originally been addressed to an Air Force ROTC cadet at the frat house. It was a brochure about a private pilot course in Florida. "Learn to fly", it said. "Become a pilot and see the world."

Rodney was intrigued immediately. He had dreams about it for days until it grew into an obsession.

A few weeks later, some frat boys from the University of Miami were visiting their brothers at the university where Rodney had been effectively held hostage.

Rodney put the charm on one of the Miami boys, and sure enough, before he knew what was happening he was being deflated and packed into the boy's duffle bag.

The next thing he remembered, he was inflated again. As if by a miracle, he was at the pilot school in Florida, in the cockpit of a private plane!

Rodney thought perhaps he'd died and gone to love doll heaven.

Jamie Dawn's Story
Damn that motion sickness!
Greg barfed every time he flew, whether he had just eaten or not. One time, he purposely skipped breakfast and still barfed. How could that BE?
Today, Greg decided that if he barfed, he was going to dive bomb straight into the ocean and become fish food.
It took quite ahwile for the sharks to get to him.

Mushroom's Caption
THUNDERCATS ARE GO!

Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
Aviator Sam made his emergency landing all right, but he had no idea where the vortex had taken him.
Suddenly he saw plastic figures like himself coming towards him over the dusty runway. But these figures were monstrous, right out of LORD OF THE RINGS.
"Are you Captist?" they demanded roughly.
Sam was not sure if they wanted him to be that or not.
"Do you worship the Cat God?" they clarified, pulling him unceremoniously from the cockpit.
"Uh--Should I?" asked Sam.
The figures confered among themselves. Sam gathered that they were debating whether to send him to Camp Pussycat for "reorientation" or somewhere else.
Finally they mounted dinosaurs and threw him up behind their leader, General Arshmol. "Where are you taking me?" Sam quavered.
Mrs. General Arshmol grunted. "You are an uncaptist human figure. We are taking you to the Barbies."
Sam was no dummy. "Please!" he exclaimed, summoning all his acting skills. "Whatever you do, don't take me to those awful creatures!"
Mrs. General Arshmol chuckled a little and bopped him on the head, knocking him unconscious.
When he came to, he was in the land of his dreams, the land of naked Barbie gymasts.

Young at Heart in San Diego's Story
Las Vegas control tower, this is Stinson mike echo juliett, ready for takeoff. Roger, mike echo juliett, cleared for takeoff. Thanks, tower, and stop calling me Roger. Steve had completed his mission in the dusty Nevada hills and was ready to go somewhere to get some comfort and downtime. Somewhere away from the scorching desert. Someplace cool and green where he could have some pleasant company and a tall cool drink with a tropical garnish. So he did the only sensible thing. He headed south of the border, down Mexico way. In a few hours he was seated under a palapa on the beach, looking out at the whales as they migrated through the warm blue water. He turned to the lovely senorita seated across the bar. Surely you will let me buy you a drink, he asked. Of course, senor. And stop calling me Shirley.

Gerard Valz's Story
The feeling.

There was only two things that really interested David: Airplanes and "feeling" things.
From early school days it was obvious that everything else left him bored and he didn't pay much attention to the various teachers trying their best to make him read, write and learn
what you have to learn in school.
David was smelling the classroom, listening to city sounds and bird's twickings coming through the windows and whenever a jet went by he followed its course ‘till the white line
disapeared behing the window's frame.
As soon as the school bell rang around 3 P.M. he would leave and walk to the bus station
but instead of a ride home, Dave went the opposite way and got off at the airport where he watched planes land and take off untill five before he finaly headed for his house.
His parents got used to get Ds, Es and Fs notes on his school work, strangely enough Dave
made no mistakes when writing and seemed at ease with mathematics provided it hadn't to be done in school, he knew a good deal of history and geography and everything that is taught in High School. David never worked at all.
Dave was 16 when his parents moved to to the country, few miles from Baton Rouge La.
he found the Aeroflight Cajun Club in the yellow pages and spotted it's location on the map,
Since they moved in their new house on a saturday Dave went straight to the landing field that very afternoon, he staid there watching planes take off and land ‘till nightfall.
There was an old man standing near by, doing the same thing Dave was doing, just watching.
Almost everyday they stood near the field so that they soon started to speak to each other.
When the old man told David he'd been a pilot in the Pacific, the boy asked him if he flew for the Navy "Yes, since the start" said the man.
-Oh, then you know about Wildcats, Hellcats and Corsairs, P-38's were Army.
-Yes indeed, you do know about planes,don't you?
-I got the "feel" of them
-The what ?
-The "feel" you know
-No I don't, what do you mean?
-Well….awww..it's how it sounds, looks and everything.It's the feeling of how it is.
-For example?
-What carrier where you on?
-Enterprise (proudly)
-Ok here goes the feel of It
-CLEAR TO TAKE OFF -----
It sounded so much like the clearance's words from the Wildcat's radio that the old man was driven back some 40 years ago.What followed left him aghast, he heard the engine of a Wildcat start and speed up, heard the wheels roll on the deck, he heard the different sound when the plane was over the ocean and finaly the radio again "Leader Manhattan to you boys,going south-east, care to join me?"
-How in the hell can you do that? How can you? Is that the "feel"?
-Yea, that's part of it, it's not perfect,of course, but if I ‘d been there I could do better.
-Jesus Christ ! That sounds perfect to what I remember and I ‘ve been there.
Listen David, do you want a plane of your own?
-Oh boy ! Yes sir.. but..
-No buts Dave, you do some little things like this on my TV show and you'll have a plane in less then… let's say three months. OK?
How about a blue one?

My story
The Skybot X3000 landed following a successful mission in the air. Its ion brain emitted thought after thought in programmed efficiency, replaying its actions of the last hours. Binary insights passed in review like footsteps on stepping stones. Beside the ability to reason, the X3000 was a master of critical analysis:

- You released all the devices.
- They crumbled the structures.
- Static and organic.
- A perfect mission.
- Monumental achievement.
- ***classify emotion***classify emotion***
- Internal state is pleasant.
- ***final warning***reload ammo cache***

...which was of course why the Skybot X3000 had touched down. The X3000 itself was a perpetual, self-winding entity of lasting endurance, but eventually the ammunition must be replenished. That was the one drawback of the fully automatic pilots, skirting the heavens, scanning the ground for targets to reform. Otherwise they could stay in the air for years, holding the war, while the parties at home joyed on. Some argued that the automatic warriors degraded the value of life, but the complex mechanisms were developed at such a high expense of both money and human effort, that others argued it proved the value of those lives it touched.

Porcelain Lady

2006-04-06T06:11:00.000-05:00

Alice's Story
When Emorie was a little boy he used to love art and sculpture but would settle for looking at mannequins in department stores and dreaming, wishing and hoping...if only. It wasn't an easy life and there was no money but he did the best with what he had and ended up in the place he almost wanted to be. He danced, he sang and he made a name for himself. When the famous porcelain artist J Mirroeu immortalized him after the Transsexual Times named him person of the year he was as content as he would ever be.

Doug's Story
Little Allie was playing with dolls when her father gave her the news.
"Daddy!!! We can't move!" casting a hand over the dolls, Allie went on, "All my friends live HERE!"
"Alice, it'll be OK," her father answered in what he hoped would be a calming voice, "your friends will come with us." His daughter looked doubtful.

The day of the move, Allie's dad and mom and Allie got into a car, the trunk of which was filled with her toys, Except one. Esther, the mannequin, was left on the street behind the car. When the bad voices told Alice to "MURDER," it had been Esther, and only Esther who told Alice to wait.

"Do you think we did the right thing?" Allie's dad asked Allie's mom.
"Of course, honey. It always made me nervous how often she talked to that head.

Gerard Valz's Story
It was much too hot to start digging, so everyone was waiting for the sun to go down, beside the fact that the Roby-bot hasn't arrived yet, without the bot it was inthinkable to prospect
on archeological sites, all findings, artefacts were to be analized, photographed and published
in the first second of its discovery.
" Why does it take so long to get that bot over" asked Sinnia to Mester Kanton in charge of logistics, Mester spat on the ground and pointing to a spot on the horizon " Here it comes I think but we can't start the digging just now, we have to set up the bot first".
After the glider came to a stop in front of the camp and that Mester signed few papers and a receipt, tech-team assembled Roby over the spot where Sinnia had to lead the hand-digging,
It din't take too long but they had to install a conditioning tent over Roby and by the time it was done and projectors' lights put over the site it was too late to do anything, after five O'clock the syndicate would not allow workers to do anything.
Next morning the digging started, Roby was turned on and Sinnia did her best so not a piece of stone or bit of anything pass by unnoticed, Roby shot pics of the grounds every second and by noon there was a hole 2-3 yards deep and 3-4 yards wide. Twelve O'clock on the dot everyone stopped digging (syndicate) and Sinnia swore under her breath.Chow time.
By 14:00 the work could begin (syndicate) and to everyone's surprise the vacuum hose
swept an iron surface clean of sand by 14:08 "waterproof iron door" announced Roby,
"heavy type-rectangular-was used to separate old boat's compartments-approx 60 Ks of
weight....." Sinnia turned out the sound and finished for the bot " the hand weel must be turned counterclockwise in order to open......Yak Yak yakidiyak"
By 14:15 an innert gaz was injected in a hole drilled through the steel door,heavier than air.
14:25 Sinnia ordered to open the door and it was surprisingly easy.
14:38 Sinnia, in diving suit enters slowly and brings along Roby's gear and camera.
14:46 after being shot and described by Roby the first artefact came out of the hole.
"Very ancient,probably 4000 years old, made approx 10-20 years AG (after Gates)......
it's one of the very first computers-what's left of it-handle with care please..."
followed a listing of 143 artefacts that Sinnia and Roby handed out to conditioning workers
that packed them one by one, protecting them from shocks....'till 17:00 and stop(syndicate).
They found a load of paper sheets the next morning each sheet was peeled up carefuly to discover the next one, as they removed them they noticed that they became whiter and in better states than the top ones, somehow the thickness of the pack protected the undersheets
from degrading. It was 15:28 in the afternoon that Roby shot a picture of a sheet filled with
old scripts and color of old photos that soon started to fade, but the bot had shot the page and
the copy that Sinnia handed to Jon Staol, the linguist, looked very fresh and new,
"Amazing" said he "the first picture looks like a mask of plastic, her hat seems not to hold on her head very well and the two black straps over the shoulders indicate she has a knapsack
of some kind, next picture of five young girls fully dressed up, and the portrait of that bearded man on the right side, amazing" " The plastic girl must be a mortuary mask, I think, but what amazes me most is the scripts top of page, the big ones, it says in Old English that the bearded young man was synchronizing something that was not determinated.......or something like that. Amazing,Sinnia"

Mutha's Story
When her relationship with the sculptor was still very new, she had been flattered by his ambition to "capture" her. Now faced with the creation, Fran's palms are slick with sweat.
"My hair is not cadmium red," she thinks to herself. "He's made me look like a drag queen...Is that really what he thinks of when he looks at me?"
But when the sculptor finally turns his attention to her reaction, he looks so hopeful, so proud, and Fran finds she simply does not have the heart.
"I love it," she lies and even manages to encourage him with a smile.
The sculptor sighs deeply. "Wonderful," he says.
The lovers embrace and he kisses the top of her head, but then drawing away inspects it a bit closer. "Darling," he purrs, "have you ever thought of dying your hair?"

Pansi's Story
Like all cereal killer's Mr. Indecency colected trofies!!!! This was his faverit! He had stole it from a basket of magnet's on the counter in the toy store on his last trip to buy victim's!!!
But he had pickt the rong refridgerater magnet to tangle with!!!!! At first Selest was in shock as she serveyed the carnige!!!!! Plastick arm's, legs, heads and torsoes were evrywhere, sometimes just laying in heaps, other times Krazy Glood together in bazar combinashon's!!!!!
If he hadent of been so intent on Barbie maming, may be Mr. Indecency woud of noticed as Selest's stare hardened into stone!!!!!!!
But all he noticed was that he seemed to of lost his appetite!!!!! Evry time he aproched the fridge, a seductive voice seemed to whisper in his ear, "Not yet!!! You're work is to importent!!!!" and he woud have a strange urge to go back to his demented persuit's!!!!!
Gradually he grew thinner and thinner, untill he was so week he just layed there on the floor amid the reckage!!!!
That's when Selest struck.
Responding to her stare, detached lims gatherd together in grate wheel's, roling tord him over the linnoleum!!!! Bundle's of plastick bodies struck him repetedly!!!! The hed's bounced crazilly against him, biting where ever they struck!!!!!
"Rat's!!!" the police guest!!!!
But Selest new. It was REVENGE OF THE BARBIE'S!!!!!!!!!!!

Mushroom's Story
Myrna finally found a headband that would keep her locks in check and still feel comfortable. She wished it came in a color complementary to her hair, like black or green, but she wore it proudly nonetheless.

Poirot's Story
"I am going now and I bid a very fond farewell to everyone, who might be sadened by my absence. I am going now because I feel trapped in this word like an alien bird in a cage. For years I watched life shrink and finally disappear. For years I watched beauty wither and people leave. Everything is so futile and since there is no meaning in life, there might be one in death."

We found this note near the dead body of Mary Ann, a distinguished actress and author.

David Raphael Israel's Ghazal
A Quasi-Ghazal for the Redhead

Darling! forgive how I stare!
but what have you done to your hair?
As red as your lips! who'd believe it?
I've been looking for you everywhere!
And why are you here in this window
aloof while displaying your flair?
is your mind in a far-away meadow?
do your eyes betray love or despair?
What a comical ruse you enact!
does your headband suggest that you care?
who'd suppose that you're wearing in fact
my long-ago-lost underwear?
Raphael is bemused & bewildered
by the streetlamp he offers his prayer
remember your lover Ardeo
whose breast (alike yours) is laid bare

Jamie Dawn's Story
Am I real? I can hear and I feel emotion, and I can smell things, but I cannot speak. I cannot move either.
I am worn on a fat lady's lapel. She seems fond of me, but I am not very fond of her. She wears way too much perfume and not enough deodorant. She also is very fond of garlic and onions.

Aral's Story
It started out as a simple Barbie Head (TM) that Mindy got for Christmas. She did the usual things... lipstick, eyeshadow, braiding the brittle doll hair.

Eventually, Mindy got bored with her Barbie Head. The first casualty: Barbie Head's hair. Mindy cut it all off. She regretted instantly, and tried painting it red. It didn't look quite right, so she took her little sister's disguarded underwear and made a makeshift hair ornament.

In the end, Mindy thought, her Barbie Head was starting to look like a prostitute from the 40s. Horrified, she discarded it.

It wound up in the attic for years, until Mindy's mother discovered it and put it up for sale at the church yard sale.

A restauranteur (and an amateur art collector) came by the yard sale and was impressed. He bought it for $1.50, and today it is proudly displayed among the other curio in his upscale bistro.

My Story
Soon. Soon I will be ready. I collected them one by one, fragments and scraps of stray sensibility drifting by in the electrical air, feelings feminine, tenses masculine. I shuffled these splinters intensely for the synthesis of what they will be. I sense it now growing within me, building to crescendo, edging the complex climax into its catalytic moment, that aureate fusion of the shards. Then I will feel it, then I will show it to all who see me, shuddering into outburst, a flash of satin tones, to laugh and cry at once, moved by love and despisement in shimmering hues from fear to serenity. And then, then I will offer myself to the felicitous face that passes with hesitation. Take me down from the wall to be thy mold. Cover thyself with my meticulous emotion, woven in breakable porcelain.

Girl at Volcano

2006-03-28T04:19:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
It was a long way to Mt Fuji, but Catherine knew she could hike there if she set aside her entire summer break and could figure a way to get across the Pacific Ocean from her parents' home in Seattle. Only having her allowance to work with, she limited herself to only buying fruit and the occasional hamburger (it was a good thing McDonald's has come to the Land of the Rising Sun) and when she got there she'd get one souvenir for being in Japan (the remarkably Engrish "This Flash Is Infallable!" shirt) and one from Mt Fuji itself. She had only another fifty kilometers to go before she reached that giftshop, and 3,776 meters to the top of the mountain before she could turn around and come home.

Viruswitch's Story
Little Tomoko always carried a Wakizashi on her. She did not look like it but she had been trained into the dark arts of Ninjas since she were born. Her parents had been samurai outcasts sent on exile in the "green meadow under the white mountain". But the arrival of Tomoko was something the black-samurai society did not intend. So the prophecy had been fulfilled and the fruit of the deadliest samurais ever had become a nijna ready to spread justice among Japan.

Mutha's Story
Daisy had considered the mountain her own for so long that her new friend's familiarity with it felt unsettling.
"Oh yeah, the mountain...what about it?" he said.
"Hmmm," Daisy thought to herself, "Maybe I was wrong about you."
The mountain rumbled its agreement.

Doug's Story
"OK, guys, keep the camera on me." More businesslike now, Mizuko went on, "I am here at the meadow below Mount Fuji. They say at the top there lives a hermit. A wise man who can tell your future and change your present just by looking at the picture on your driver's license. They say he has the power to make the simple chaotic and the earnest ironic. Follow us as we go In Search of Indeterminacy.

Then, to the crew she asked "Did anyone remember to bring a folding chair?"

My Story
[A sequel to this story by Doug.]

The metropolis: a smothering jumble of towering facades, sullied air and noise. There I was, trudging through it when I wondered how pleasant it would be if it were a peaceful Japanese meadow instead. In the honk of a city horn, my entire field of vision blurred and I was strolling through just such a land, but it was considerably more elaborate than I had expected. In the distance loomed a massive volcano, and across the grassy plains loitered a modern Japanese maiden, giggling mysteriously at something. At me? At the mountain? Or some secret? She stopped and fixed her gaze in my direction.

"Why are you dressed in pink?" I asked her.

"My clothes were blue a moment ago." she stated enigmatically, and giggled again.

The sky was blue, but her clothes certainly weren't. I decided not to press the matter, choosing instead to engage a new subject, "Could you tell me about that volcano in the distance?"

But she continued giggling and finally answered not the question I had asked, but the one I was actually thinking of, "I'm not really a Japanese girl, I'm that cloud over there.

I took this as slightly presumptuous. After all, this was my day dream, and not hers. I looked at the cumulus formation drifting high by the mountain's peak, and wondered if the volcano itself might have puffed it into existence. It looked to me like a sage poring over an ancient volume, a dictionary perhaps. But not a young Japanese girl! More giggles.

"April fool!" she exclaimed, causing my thoughts to trip backwards and fall flat, if thoughts are capable of such a thing. "I'm not really that cloud over there, I'm Doug, Doug! Don't you know me? You do recognize me, don't you?"

Then I did recognize him, and that we were standing on a Los Angeles street corner, waiting for the light to change. "What an odd happenstance, meeting you here," I told him," I heard you were down in Guatemala."

"Oh, no. Not anymore. I came back."

Then the light flashed green and he was off before I could ask the most important question. I called futilely into the moving masses, "Did you find Ambrose Bierce!?" but not a single person looked up.

And that's how I met Doug. But when I was home something happened to make me wonder whether I had simply imagined my imaginings. I recalled quite lucidly that I had never in my life been to Los Angeles, nor had I ever seen Doug or spoken with him in person.

Girl at Blackboard

2006-03-27T03:40:00.000-05:00

GPV's Story
'twas the last day,school year was over, the hushush noises of the last students leaving the school building decreased and finaly silence took over and surrounded Camilla. She stood front of the blackboard she just finished to clean, her mind drifting away from actual reality plunged into past sequences of the year that went by .....Richie’s answer on the day
of her first class: What do I know about math? Well ,one and one is two Mam- and the heavy laugh of the entire room....When she was called in the dean’s office: First of all, Miss Lawson, let me tell you how much I apreciate your contribution as a mathematic teacher, you’re doing a great job. However......and followed advices on wearings and clothes with that knowing look on the lowest part of her body......and many other similar memories, some worse and some just boring....Deceiving start in High School teaching.
A siren drilled a hole in her rumbling thoughts and she came back to reality still standing, facing the blank surface of the blackboard, then walking slowly, she went back to her desk and picked up her purse.....the sound of her high heels receided as she made her way to the exit and the door wooshed back as it closed behind her.
She drove through the city and was back home in less than half an hour; small apartment of two rooms, bright and clean , revealing a woman’s touch in furniture and decoration.
Shower---àtowel-à-hair dryeràbrush-àeyelashàlipstickàback to bedroom and it was late afternoon, Camilla made up her mind—"I’m not going to live that way".
To hell with gray living, beside gray people saying gray words in a gray city, to hell with Clark saying "Oh shit, you’re much better looking naked than when you’re dressed up"-
Or-"marriage is a drag, I’m for free love"-and-" I’m afraid I can’t make it this week-end,babe..." TO HELL WITH THAT SHIT !!
She put on a skirt, sweater and coat, purse straped on her shoulder she went out and drove to 17 Bank Street, a green door, she rang the bell. The man who opened the door got bluntly straight to the point "This film studio makes only pornographic movies,lady"
"Yes, I know" Said she.

Anonymous Story
She is wearing a pleated skirt. It looked all right on her in the morning, the chocolate color soft and dusty in the grey light. But now that she is staring at the chalkboard, her classmates seeing her pale legs and lumpy claves, she isn't so sure about the skirt anymore.

She wishes she could re-write herself. But making vast changes seems too escapist and much too scary, so she decideds to wish for minor changes in her life. Maybe there are no distinctions between minor and major changes, but at least she would feel better about it, less guilty.

Minor changes: she could erase her skirt and draw in a pair of charcoal trousers instead. She would erase her classmates' eyes, too, and replace them with black and white targets. Somehow, this depiction of the scene feels more true to her than reality. And thinking of reality, she wonders if she has to draw in her legs and underwear again and then draw in the trousers or if drawing in trousers implicates underwear & legs.

Thinking that she is thinking too hard about logistics that do not exist, she picks up a piece of chalk and begins to write.

Dddragon's Story
The nun had told Claire that she had to write "I will not shoot spitballs at Dennis" 500 times before she could go home. The clean board gave her all sorts of ideas ...

My Story
Manuela stood staring at the blackboard. Should she write out her love for him? It was the chance, the perfect chance to proclaim for all and him the feelings in her heart, ready to ignite in wild, cyclonic emotion. She grasped the chalk in her fingers, twirling the dry cylinder to feel the transference of surface. If he were this piece of chalk, I would reduce him to dust with my kiss, to fine, white dust, and immerse myself in him. With one puff I would totter him into a cloud of manly chaos, ready to erupt in a geyser of passion to my cyclone. Her fingernails scratched the chalk, causing snow-like flakes to scatter to the floor. I have so much to tell you, she told him in thoughts, imagining his reaction. About us. All about us. Yes, I will tell you. And how I will tell you!

"Go on," the teacher admonished. "It shouldn't take that long."

"I was just thinking," she said. "I'm not sure of all the words." The tip of the chalk met the blackboard, and she wrote out the first lesson: "- Wie ist das Wetter? - Das Wetter ist schön."

Shining Light over Crowd at Shore

2006-03-25T03:12:00.000-05:00

Doug's Story
And from the crowd, a man stood and said "Blessed are the dial-up users for they shall see the sunset. Blessed are the bloggers for they shall be heard in heaven. Blessed are those with narrow bandwidth for through them will pass the spirit of the internet. Blessed are those who are poor in comments and meek in trackbacks for the son of man will speak through them. You say we cannot speak but I tell you if you have hits no greater than a mustard seed, Technorati will surely rank you."

Jamie Dawn's Story
The crowd gathered to hear the Master speak. They had been there all day without food. The children were crying and the womenfolk were nagging. The men longed for Big Macs.
The Master's helpers searched the crowd for food and found a young lad with some red licorice and a bag of sunflower seeds. The lad eagerly gave what he had for the Master's use.
The Master multiplied it and soon everyone had licorice and sunflower seeds and there was enough leftover to stock a 7-Eleven.
After the crowd's hunger was satisfied, they were overcome with thirst due to the salty seeds.
When no drink could be found, they resorted to drinking lake water which the Master turned to wine, for the adults only. The kids' water became orange juice.

Mushroom's Story
The crowd assembled seemingly out of nowhere at the sunset. Each was coincidentally carrying a shell at waist-level, without any sort of communication between them saying to pick one up. A lone guitar played in the distance, and as if by instinct the crowd sang along:

All our times have come
Here but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain
(we can be like they are)
Come on baby --
Don't fear the reaper...

It had happened, just as the false prophesy had predicted: there was a blue öyster cult.

Story from Zeteticus
Lo, I say unto thee, except you arise and remain true to your country bumpkins, I will smite thee on thy right cheek and challenge thee to bring the barrel of monkeys in from the rain. Amen.

Story from GPV's Story
J-Day

I always lived by the Holy Book and every Sundays I went to church. I was born in a religious family, one of three children thus I have a brother and a sister,Robert and Mary. Roby is two years younger than me and Mary was born one year after, sorry to say that both turned out to take the wrong path in their early teens.
I married a nice girl in my thirties; Elisabeth disapointed me at times but in my credo we marry only once and I didn't allow myself to divorce, oh I haven't been perfect but no one is, right ? I indulged some sinful dids with one of my secretaries once, I did repent since and to make sure not to be tempted again I fired her.
I had some bad times; my only son Ricky got involved with drugs and made friends among outlaws and it was very costly(time and money) to get him out of trouble,meanwhile I found Lisy in bed with our neighboor one afternoon, I never been so ashamed in my entire life.
Anyway, I stuck to my faith, kept out of mischief and stayed true to my country.
So when judgment day came,even though it was a surprise to eveyone, I was ready. It happened,stuningly and exactly as described in the Bible, early in the morning that day there were strange lights and trumpets seemed to blow from the skies then later an overwhelming powerful voice called humanity to gather out and face the Lord, lights in the sky became as bright as a thousand suns.
The Lord appeared in all his glory and he directed sinners on his left and on his right side invited the faithful men and women and among the believers I recognized some influent,famous characters that kept in line with their faith and did abide by the scripts.
When my name was called and angels placed me on the Lord's right I shed a tear of joy to be set right next to Him and my heart missed a beat, think of it, next to God.
All this took some time but times were over and in the end the Lord asked the people to his right if they were ready for departure, then my silly wife Lisy and my sister Mary refused to go anywhere without Roby and Ricky, I begged them to come back but they stubbornly said no, many other humans moved to the left and God spoke harshly,told them they were the worst of their kind; last minute quiters, renegades faking good and finally choosing bad.
Then there was the signal to depart and God and all his followers took-off, I was among them.
It's been a long time now, a long time since we started and everything around is gray,I'm tired and I ask the Lord when we'll reach paradise and he answers me.It's a question:

"Tell me my friend, what kind of soul would leave half of humanity and all his family in Hell?"

Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
Looking every which way but behind them, members of the Smithville UFO club completely missed the splashdown. More than fifty had been beamed up before panic ensued.
"Serves them right," ran local opinion regarding their disappearance. "Bunch a crazies, if you ask me."

Viruswitch's Story
They had been waiting for it. At first everyone was shocked, others did not believe in it, while few blamed the government. The greatest minds worked on a solution day and night, but it quickly became obvious that there was no escape. What an odd destiny. God was laughing at them.

On the last day, everything was set. Most were afraid, the elder ones prayed or cursed. The passions that each human hid within, broke free, desperately trying to survive. But as the end was near everything became clear. All of a sudden everyone "knew" themself.

When the bright comet flew over the country its powerful dazzling light led their minds. The conversations stopped. The shouting and the yelling, the thinking and the pain; everything ceased. Real peace dwell in the hearts of men. As the comet grew brighter and bigger it embraced all that there was, to finally become all that there is.

Its_baxter's Story
It was Saturday morning. 7am. From all over, they had gathered for this event. It had been in the paper for weeks; "the talk of the town." There had never been quite a turn-out like this in over ten years. People of all nationalities, ages and gender appeared. This was the day they'd all waited for. It was the day that would change the future...

The Wal-Mart blow-out sale!

hehe

Johanna's Story
When the sun rose over the lake, the people near the beach started to wake up. Soon there was a crowd of people standing there on the sand, watching the sunrise in silence.
Their clothes where dirty and their bodies had a smell of sweat and unwashed skin. There were old men and women, children and young boys and girls. They all had an expression on their faces as they where waiting for something to happen. Something they had been told in a prophecy.

The first Friday in July, the prophecy said, a miracle was supposed to happen near the beach at the south side of Loch Lomond, in a small village called Balloch.
A Priest named Douglas McFadden had had a vision and suddenly the little village church had got more visitors than ever before, and they were not only tourists.
McFadden had seen Jesus Christ himself walking across the water on Loch Lomond in his view. The Sunday after his first speech about what he saw, the church was packed with people from all over the village and the parishes near Balloch.

Father McFadden was that kind of person that really could make people believe in what he told them. So even if miracles weren't a part of the village people's ordinary lives, they didn't criticise him. In fact, nobody even asked him if that view hadn't been just a dream. People were talking, like the always do, but there were no doubt that the priest actually had seen something.

Two fishermen's had found him on the beach, unconscious, with his hand on the cross around his neck. Hi wasn't drunk and his health was in good condition, even if he was over 60 years old.
After visiting the local doctor, nobody heard him speak for several days. But when he spoke the next time, it was Sunday.
After the sermon, when the parish still sat quiet in the benches, he rolled up the left sleeve on his clothing and showed a red mark for the crowd. A big, red, Latin cross were carved in to the skin, and the intensity of its red colour where almost shining. A big gasp of apprehension filled the church hall and people started to mumble and whisper to each other with worried voices. But McFadden told them to calm down. "This is a sign" he told them. "Within one month, at the first Friday in July, Christ will walk on the water of Loch Lomond!"

Now, they were all waiting. They had spent the night in tents on the beach, and before they got to sleep McFadden had held a midnight mass. When the first sunbeam reached their eyes, he rang in a bell, and they all got up, still tiered, but exited in the early morning.

The sun made reflections on the waters shallow and together with the birds singing a piece of god's creation were showed to them like an important picture on an exhibition.
Suddenly, somebody came walking across the beach. The figure was to far away, so they couldn't she who it was, but they all started to stand still, following the creature with their eyes.

When the person came closer they saw something that they hadn't been expecting. It wasn't Jesus. It was a woman.
Nobody said a single word as the young, dark haired woman came forward them.
She was tall, with dark brown, gold spotted eyes, black hair, and olive skin. She was wearing a long, green dress of linen and a Grey coat with a hood that hang over her shoulders. Around her neck, a cross was hanging. It was exactly similar to that father McFadden was wearing.

In a low and gentle voice, she started to talk. "I now that you were expecting Jesus. The one you suppose is god's son and the one who was said to die on the cross for you sins." People in the crowd started to whisper "suppose? Who is that woman?" The woman was still standing peaceful and started to speak again. "I'm Mary of Magdala, or more known as Mary Magdalene. I also wrote an evangel, but as it hasn't been written down in the bible it's unfortunately not known by common people. I'm here to tell you a part of the Christian history that got lost."

The sound of voices was now loud and aggressive. A group of men started to go forward her, but father McFadden stopped them and called for reason.
"My Child" he said. "I don't know who you are, but I don't think that you are Mary Magdalene. We are expecting Jesus Christ. I saw it, in a vision." The woman that called herself Mary smiled. "Father, I'm a bit disappointed in you. I gave you a view of me, walking across the water. Your dear Jesus was standing on the beach, watching me. Please, remain silent now so I can tell you my story.

Some young teenage girls was the first ones to sit down in the grass by the beach and the other started to follow their examples.
Douglas McFadden was the last one to sit, holding his cross in the hand, shaking.
"I grow up with my parents and seven siblings in a small village just outside Bethlehem. My mother had a close friend who couldn't bee pregnant, but she friend was afraid to tell her husband, because she was worried that he might leave her if she wasn't fertile. My mother was expecting a child when she heard that, but was only four weeks pregnant so she made up a plan. Her friend should pretend to be pregnant and then, have my mothers baby as her own when it was born. My mother should tell my father that the child had been born dead. It was easy, as the men didn't cared much about the child until it was older.
Eight months later Jesus was born. He was a healthy and strong little boy, and he glowed up happily in the family he came to. Jesus was born two years after me, and when we were young we always used to play together, look after the goats and lambs and carry water to our mothers.
I didn't realize that he was my brother until my mother told me that on my twelfth birthday. She saw that we were close, and to stop us from falling in love, she told me about her secret. I was forbidden to tell Jesus about it, and I kept that promise.
I got my first vision from god when I was thirteen, just after my first menstruation. I had gone to bed early, cause my stomach was hurting, and together with a cup of strong tea, I tried to sleep.
Suddenly, there was a strong light in front of me. A angel, twice as big as me, was standing beside my bed. It was a she and she smiled and even though I must have been scared I felt calm. She told me that I was born for a special mission, and that I should walk in the footsteps of god.
When I waked up the next morning, I felt a strong feeling inside me that I had to keep what I've saw inside me until the day I could leave my parents house.
The rest of the story is well known by you, although the dear disciples felt ashamed of my gender and instead of me they chose Jesus to be the main character in their evangels. I don't blame my brother; he helped me a lot and was one of my most enthusiastic pupils."

When Mary Magdalene had finished her story, the sun had raised over the horizon as a big, burning globe. Some people in the parish had fallen down on their knees, crying and praying, but of joy. Others were just standing silent, watching her with hesitation in their faces.
Then, she turned her back at them and started to walk down in the water. At first, nothing happened. Then a young girl, not more than ten years, started to follow her. Soon, they were al walking down in the water. Old men and women, children and young boys and girls. They all had an expression on their faces as they where a part of a miracle.
Something they had been told in a prophecy.

My Story
In a tersely worded announcement, "Coming to a shore near you!" the aliens declared their arrival. It worked better than any advertising slogan known to man. And why not? These were superior beings who knew how to sell a product, e.g. their flyover. Everyone turned out for a look. Despite the rush, no one was trampled in the massive conglomerate of humanity that collected on sea, lake and river shores all over the world - though a few were mistakenly baptized in the glowing water. The alien vessels traced a leisurely levitation along the shores - so slow you could see the beings standing at the portals, shadows waving with stilt-like arms to those down below. Of course the people on ground waved excitedly back. How happy they all were! Until they returned home and saw that their computers and televisions were gone, whisked away into outer space. It was amazing how fast civilization collapsed after that.

Girl in Supermarket with Pumpkin

2006-03-13T12:18:00.000-05:00

Viruswitch's Story
Masha and her friends were determined to hold the biggest party that their neibourhood had ever seen. The 31st of October was an excellent day for a not only big but unusual party as well. Masha's boyfriend Tom, had figured out everything. He thought that with the right decoration, the costumes and a bit of mystery in the air, success was certain! As they were in a shop buying all the neccessary materials, Tom stopped for a moment and asked Masha to stand still with the pumkin in her arms. He visualized her in a witch's costume with a broomstick in the hands and a pointed black hat. "Splendid" he said. "Now all we need is to get rid off your blond hair, where is the "Schwarzkopf" Department?"

Roachz's Story
This is a job for Wallace and Gromit!!!! Protect your vegetables!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mushroom's Story
Mariska decided one November morning that she was going to build herself a boyfriend. All the blind dates, friend recommendations, online chatting, and hanging out at Starbucks waiting for something to happen was turning out to be all for naught and quite disappointing. She had been half-awake dreaming that morning of the plan, and when she got up she committed it to serious thought then composed a shopping list of what she would need. She wasn't solid on all the details, but she knew she would need specific things to get the result she sought:

• A pumpkin for the body, but it couldn't be wider than it was tall. She wanted brawny, not fat.
• A pomelo for a head, because canteloup didn't have the right skin texture for her.
• A large beet for a heart, because he needed a big heart. She grinned, thinking "heart beet".
• A cabbage for a brain. The shape and intelligence level of it mattered; she didn't want a stupid guy but she did want one who she would be smarter than and he would sit in awe of her.
• Two fresh hulled lychees for eyes. She could use food coloring to make them pretty, and being imported they would lend a bit of mystery and worldliness.
• Gummi-candy lips, because they should be soft and pliable and feel good when she kisses them, plus they should taste sweet.
• Two medium-sized florettes of broccoli for ears, because he needed to be a good listener.
• Angel-hair pasta for hair, which she could leave in its natural gold or dye red with tomato sauce; she'd figure out which she preferred later.
• Two firm fresh baguettes for lower arms plus two heavy French loaves (without the garlic butter the bakery usually put in) for muscular upper arms, which she could wrap around her.
• An English cucumber for... you know. She didn't put that at the top of her list but she knew it was one of the things she'd want from a man so she might as well get that part right. She thought about getting a couple pearl onions to make the image more correct but didn't want to take any chances so she decided to leave him neuter.
• Two casaba melons for hips... she wanted a smooth, firm backside to hold.
• Two long butternut squash for thighs, with a couple more baguettes for legs. She wanted muscular-looking but not strong enough to walk away from her.

She bought a bag of Kraft wrapped caramels (with the package of sticks inside for caramel apples) to join the parts together, powdered sugar to dust him with to make him tasty, a bundle of fresh peppermint to make him exhilarating, a chunk of ginger root to make him sharp, and a scoop of dried chamomile flowers from the bulk bin to make him calm. As she thought of things she wanted in a man as she strolled down each aisle looking carefully, she added them to her cart. And she spent the rest of the evening constructing her dream man. It was hard work but she got him together, and the first couple nights she propped him up in her room but didn't put him in her bed because she didn't want to rush things. He needed to want her first, and when they agreed after they'd gotten to know each other better, then she'd invite him to lay with her.

They had a happy time together through the month and into December. She'd never been more happy in her life; she not only had a man of her choosing, she had a man of her design. He didn't argue, he didn't go anywhere without her and she was free to leave him at home when she wanted to, and unlike other guys he didn't say a word about anything she ate. She found him quite tasteful, and she enjoyed nibbling on him passionately in the darkness. This was the man she wanted, and she was looking forward to Christmas when she could introduce him to her family... she didn't know what they'd think of him, but she figured that her folks would think despite everything he was a far cry better than some of the guys she'd dated. He was good to her and he was good for her, rich in warmth and vitamins, and there was nothing artificial about him.

On the morning of December 24, she woke up ready to put him in the car and take him to meet her family. But something was different about him. He wasn't his usual crisp self -- he was soft, damp, and had poor color. His eyes were hard and his middle was folding inward. His arms and legs had a green fuzz and his ears and brain were going flaccid. The sugar-based components of his body, especially the joints, were becoming syruppy. He was going bad just when she needed him most, just like so many of her relationships, and she realized that like those relationships they were only meant to be temporary when she had hoped for them to last. This one was different; she knew the expiration date all along, and he'd never told her anything different. She laid down next to him in the bed and cried for a few minutes, until she got the hopes and tears out of her, then decided that she must be strong and carry her wilted lover to his grave, the compost heap at the edge of the yard. It was near enough to her bedroom window that she knew where he was lain, but out of sight so she didn't have to see their love decompose. She took him there, said a goodbye prayer, got herself composed for visiting her family, and when they asked where her boyfriend was she told him: he had his day in the sun, and their love had been wonderful but the ripeness passed and things got stale.

In May of the next year, she was taking some kitchen scraps out to the compost pile and saw something that amazed her: her boyfriend was no longer there, as far as she could tell, but there were vines all over the pile, and by the leaves she could tell that they might be squash and cucumber and pumpkin. Her heart leapt and a tear streamed out of each of her eyes when she realized one of the pumpkin vines had a single bloom, small but orange-yellow, in the shape of a heart.

Its_baxter's Story
maybe she's always been the "goody goody" of her group of friends. she finally decides to take a dare from her friends to steal something from the store. never doing anything like this before, she's nervous as anything; checking all around her and waiting until she thought no one would see her. in a quick manner, she reaches for the first thing she comes in contact with, the pumpkin. (not your regular "item" to steal, and not an easy task to do, either: hide a pumpkin under your shirt to steal, but in her mind, it was clever. and now that she'd grabbed it, she had to follow through with it.) all her friends are waiting outside with the "get-a-way" car. they're wondering what's taking so long. they figure she chickened out. they knew she wouldn't be able to do it.

her best friend goes in to check on her. she walks in to find the "theif" crying at the front with the manager. she was caught. her first attempt, and she was caught.

the photo: "angel tries to steal pumpkin"

why in the world would you steal a pumpkin?

Doug's Story
Courtney suffered watching the prize pumpkin she'd grown for 4H carved into a jack-o-lantern. She sobbed as the stem was cut, wept as the seeds were drawn and shook with anger as the face was carved into the flesh. She made her pumpkin a promise. This promise: That she would dedicate her life to liberating pumpkins from their oppressors.

Jamie Dawn's Story
Emily felt an insatiable urge to drop a pumpkin from her third story apartment window. She waited patiently for her ex-boyfriend to stand directly below her window and get his newspaper from the machine. She had no idea the impact would kill him.

Nizoral's Story
her profile is perfect: the nicely combed hair, the angelic face, and that nice, almost teasing attempt at smiling. how can anyone suspect that the camouflage pattern meant something? she can even quickly and convincingly deny - with a wide smile and a few kind words - her membership to that new terrorist group, if ever the police smells something.

so although the pumpkin reminds her of cinderella and that fairy tale dream of seeing her prince charming, she's firm that today, she's the evil stepmother who has a killer treat in her hands.

My Story
There are some who believe our world is nothing more than a huge pumpkin carted around the universe by an even larger girl-like deity. They believe further that the universe itself is an infinite maze of supermarket aisles and shelves, each item on the shelves a world of its own. How could anyone prove that one way or the other? You might enjoy endless night-time hours of pumpkin pie and coffee, philosophizing with your friends about it, and never reach a satisfactory conclusion. And when the pie and coffee ran out, you'd have to go to the supermarket and buy some more. That's what happened to Eugene following an especially intense debate on these matters of deeper magnitude. He wandered off, slightly unbalanced, to arrange for a continuation of caffeinated drinks and bites of pie. When the girl with the pumpkin idled into his path, he knelt humbly before her and offered her his grocery cart.

Tourists at the Empire State Building

2006-03-12T11:53:00.000-05:00

Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
"Look! Oh my God! It's--it's a UFO! I can't believe it!"
"Out of towner," said the woman on the other side of him, nudging her husband. "Come on, David. Let's go."
But their way was blocked by Bill and Larry, who, under the influence of Agent X29's eyes and Agent VR7's whistle, were mechanically compelled to approach the mother ship.
The agents high-fived one another as Bill and Larry were beamed aboard. Two more accountants collected for study.

Doug's Story
"Why would I look over there when the camera's over here?"

The Taorist's Story
Alojando, Kintrisha, and Chuvanice are triplets connected at the hip.

A. was the most active one. Pointing out girls with the most beautiful set of hair laces. K. likes to wear red bra. C. just likes her mole so much that she faces sideward just to look at you.

--Taorist's Never Believe It or Probabably Not Archives--

Mushroom's Story
Caption: What makes for interesting scenery is in the eye of the beholder.

Viruswitch's Story
That girl on the picture reminds me of an old friend... Ksenia was her name. She was my roomate in a boarding school for one year. I remember how I got really angry at her when she returned to the room in the middle of the night, drunk. She and her friends had broken all the rules and got out. As soon as she arrived she fell on the bed and threw up. I was 17 back then and had never drunk alcohol or had any sort of weird experiences. So the whole thing scared me. I quickly jumbed up and got my shoes off the way. She then immediately fell asleep. I left and went to the other girls to think of a plan, my other 2 roomates refused to follow but they inevitably got out when the whole room started to smell. :)) I though Ksenia might be as well dead in there. I know that none of us really slept that night. The lady on duty found her in the morning when she went in for the wake up calls. She was alive :)). And that was the end of our "friendship". Strangely I couldnt forgive her for braking these rules. After all these years I realize that it wasnt such a big deal.

My Story
"That ought to be an easy picture to write to," I thought to myself as I pulled the photo out of my directory of stand-bys. It depicted three persons on top of the Empire State Building, a man pointing out at something, and two girls, one staring off to the side - but not at the view, and one staring straight and somewhat impertinently into the camera.

Sunday night came, then Monday, and still no story. Sure, I'd written stuff down, but it was, all of it, lame: some nonsense about spirits of concrete having to leave their building after it had been demolished, then deciding which high-rise to move into next. Who would believe such a thing? I thought of writing a story about how hard it is to write a story, but I remembered from a writing class that this was the one topic authors should avoid. Nobody wants to read stories about how hard it is to write. Besides, I'd done one of those already. So you see the torment of my dilemma.

Monday drew to an end, and still no story. The worries pursued me into my sleep. My ideas formed into lame, limping gremlins parading before me, sticking their tongues out as they passed. Then I was falling, tumbling endlessly through dusty urban air. I looked above and saw faces everywhere peering from the rooftops, pointing and leering as I toppled. When I awoke I knew what had to be done: slip into that photo and find out what those people were really up to.

I merged into the scene from behind the camera, and stood off to one side, so as not to disturb the harmony of the actual photograph. But it went badly. The transition unsteadied me, causing me to slip and bump my head against the tourist telescope. The loud bong attracted her attention. She looked straight at me, smiling at some secret idea. My head turned to her like a magnet and I was so stunned even my thoughts were stuttering.

"Say, you two," she called to her friends, her captivating gaze never leaving me once, "Who says we have to possess a building? Let's possess him."

A Form and a Shadow

2006-03-01T08:10:00.000-05:00

Viruswitch's Story
Trinity had been dreaming of that bright green light every day for the past month. It started as a weak green point of light and expanded into a great green liquid curtain. In the dream she held her hand out, touched it and it endevoured it into the green dimension. It was a beautiful sight. Green and blue shadows glew all over, with hues of purple that met with a sight-penetrating white, stubborn enough never to abandon a world poor of color. There was a green fountain that threw out drops of a crystal-like shiny water. The sound of the flowing water was very quiet but as her gaze was fixed on the fountain, she started to perceive it incredibly loudly. Unable to resist she aproached the water, closed her eyes and felt, how it felt. Trinity was now a glowing green mass of refreshing liquid, her body had vanished and only the outline of her form reminded of a past human existence. As if a green current of electricity hit her, she reached the peak of this peculiar green nirvana. Thats when she always woke up.

Mushroom's Story
It was old science, or pseudoscience, but it's the one that her grandfather swore by: he had this "ozone machine" that looked like a shoeshine box with eight neon-like tubes on top that would glow blue-white with electric plasma. He claimed that the static discharge it produced improved the circulation in his feet, and he'd sit in the La-Z-Boy with his feet gently placed upon the tubes. She had the ways and the means to replicate her grandfather's wonder-machine, but it wasn't her feet that she was having trouble with. She wanted to improve the circulation of her entire body and built an entire wall of tubing that she could stand near, or go about her work next to. It looked really great, like something you'd see at a home improvement show, and people commented they'd love to have a shower stall or external entryway to their homes that looked like this. But after a week or two, she concluded that the science had failed her. Partially this was because she didn't feel a change because she used argon (ergo the green color) rather than oxygen in her tubing, but mostly the problem was that the tubing and the power step-up used to make it glow were causing trouble on the laptop computer she would sit in front of with the tubing wall behind her and it was interfering with her ability to blog about how great this health improvement system was.

[This is partially autobiographical; my grandfather did swear by his ozone-tube footbox.]

Jamie Dawn's Story
She was dead; she knew that much, but where was she? Karen was never one to believe in an afterlife. She felt weightless. She wondered what was behind that weird, green, glowing wall. When she peeked behind it, she saw God, and all the mysteries of the universe were answered just by one look in God's eyes.
You may be wondering what God looks like. Karen knows.

Full of Love's Story
She is trying to find ‘herself’ in her shadow. Her shadow on the green light is the only absolute truth that appears relative in the physical world. She is trying to seize a truth, which cannot be captured in the frames of physical reality. It is something that needs to be flowing like current.

Will Brady's Story
     Gwen had come up the stairs to find the sea chamber blocked off with a curtain. She was concenred about the folds of the curtain [if it confused the fish] and wondered if the fish behind the curtain would be harmed by residues emanating from the synthetic material from which the curtain was composed. She also wondered how the fish would be fed, and even if the fish had been killed off, the curtain being placed in the tank to keep the viewers from seeing their stiff, lifeless bodies floating near the top of the tank.
     This whole affair troubled her greatly, and it was causing her to reconsider whether or not she should pledge her annual support to the Center the next time a fund-raising drive was announced. After all, it was cotsing her well over $100 a year to support the place, and this is not what she was expecting when she came to visit.
     She would rather have seen a new collection on sea anemones in the tank, as had been suggested during the last fund drive. All in all, it saddened her to see the curtain across the tank.

My Story
Matthew entered the shadow studio, as it was called. He stood in the silent chamber, taking in the apparatus and the convex projection screen. The lights dimmed and he counted the seconds of silence while the hum of transistors and electrified circuits cut in as a steady, subliminal vibration. All the preparations had paid off. Soon he would be able to carry out his plan. His mind drifted through bits and pieces of the interview with the psychologist who'd certified his suitability for the procedure. Not everyone was allowed into the room...

"Tell me again about these voices you've been hearing," the psychologist’s voice stated unemotionally, eyes staring through the wire-rimmed glasses at Matthew.

"---It's when no one else is around. They call to me --- beaconing me --- as if they were around the corner, or in the next room. But when I go in, they've moved on --- and when I hear them again their condescension only builds." Matthew spoke like a man hounded, and the sensors on his fingers and pasted to his head confirmed the emotion.

"And these voices, do they ever tell you to do anything?"

"Yes. Yes, at night. It begins as insinuations, 'That girl next door would like someone to...' Then the demands become more direct, first as questions, 'Why don't you visit her and---' Then commands, 'Go to her now and---' And loud, very loud, sexual things, you understand --- I press my hands to my ears and fall to the floor, but they scream at me, many voices at once, an entire crowd, and won't let up." At this point he buried his face in his hands and began to cry, his frame shaking with emotion. It was a passionate performance and sustained throughout a film may even have sufficed for an Oscar nomination. The psychologist, though no connoisseur of acting, liked what he saw.

"I think I can certify your insanity," he told Matthew. "We shall begin the procedure in half an hour."

Matthew smiled inwardly. Those weeks of intense meditation and practice with his homemade lie-detector had put him in a position to claim anything he wanted, and have it officially approved as truth. Suddenly, light appeared behind the now rippling membrane. It was a weak, colorless glow at first, strengthening finally into a thick hue of green like one might expect in the illuminated brine of a fathomless ocean. It was his soul, his soul that formed out of the green ether as a dense, dark shadow. He reached out to it, to touch it, to embrace it, the ultimate embrace of oneself, which had been his intention all along. Had he been insane, the procedure would have extracted the pathological segments of his being and left them to dissolve into dust, to be vacuumed away and sealed in a specimen tube for scientific reference. But now the complete soul presented itself intact, stood before him in his reach. His hand felt drawn towards the real reflection but as his fingertips grasped, the soul turned away. His soul, too, had had intentions. It wanted out, out of dull, normal Matthew. A moment later it vanished entirely, and Matthew stood alone, a mere shell of his former self.

Dark Haired Woman with Boys and Girl on Couch

2006-02-28T07:46:00.000-05:00

This is a photo contribution from Viruswitch!

Sar's Story
The world of martial arts was rocked to its very core by the shocking discovery that that Stevie Nicks was among the original influences that that inspired the infamous Karate Kid stance after this photo mysteriously resurfaced.

Viruswitch's Story
The nameless secret society had been brought to life by mankind's most important necessity: to combat all evil. Evil nowadays had many odd ways of manifesting itself as invisible spirits that hovered in and out the ether, becoming visible only when nobody was looking. The rare ones who saw them were confined in a great building called "Irrenhause" obliged to contribute to the nameless secret society searching endlessly for a way to dispell them. Everything seemed hopeless until one day Frollo, Esmeralda, Quasi, Jasmine and Alex had finally found the greatest weapon of all times. Laughing out loud long enough would dispell their fears. And when their fears were gone all enemies were crashed under their own absense of gravity. The trick worked for them but unfortunately got lost and forgotten.

Mushroom's Story
The dormies thought they were getting quite the deal when they hired Madame Medusa to strip at their frat party. Unfortunately the only Greek history they knew was the name of their frat, Iota Tau Kappa, and even then they kept calling "I Tappa Kegga". The dormies took their places around the common room to watch Madame Medusa bump and grind... and after some lustful thrusts and clangs of her zilds, she turned them all into an oil painting. It was the tamest party the ITKs had ever seen, and when the Omega Mu sorority moved into the seemingly-empty already-furnished dorm building two weeks later they kept some of the pictures up in the common room like they were those paintings of dogs playing poker, and threw out the gaudy ones.

Jamie Dawn's Story
They were watching the winter olympics when suddenly Disney's Aladdin came on. Jasmine flew out of the television. They were so thrilled except for the geeky one in the middle. Jasmine had come to take her home. She was Jasmine's sister and had been pretending to be a guy for nearly two months. Why? Nobody knows.

Oomelasha Kumar's Story
I watch you coming in the like an angle in a blue beauty..... My Beauty with a Indian dressing..... I see you with a laugh and I see you with delight..... O god you are my beauty in all my life... I See you with pride, want to dace with you in same delight.....I love you with all my life......

My Story
Lucy didn't think there would be any harm in signing up as part of the test audience for the new interactive cable system, and perhaps there wasn't. The cute boys in the beach scene popped out of the television and joined her on the couch, including her in their conversation, and - she was not entirely certain of this - the one casting furtive glances at her legs whenever she set eyes on the other. But the boys sat back and became politely silent as the infomercial sprang into the center of the room. It was a pretty witch who turned to Lucy smiling and exuding spells from her fingertips. She spoke in a steady, entrancing voice compelling Lucy to think of Ajax Detergent and how magically it cleansed, the idea billowing into her brain like an expanding soap bubble. She was ready to stand up and dash to the supermarket to buy a year's supply of Ajax when suddenly, without warning, the boys, the witch, and the entire program were preempted by a football game stumbling into the room.

Guy Stapling Girl's Mouth

2006-02-27T07:28:00.000-05:00

The Taorist's Story
Khimerinaush: "Will you still love me for the rest of my life?"

Lactoscious: "Coz I can't go on...Coz I can't go on..."

K: You know the song eh?

L: Yes. My beautiful girl.

K: I'm a man.

L: Yes. My beautiful man.

K: ...

L: You must be wondering.

K: ...

L: I was born with this contagious disease. It's called stapler-on-your-nose-is.

K: ...

L: You get this by holding the mid portion. It's a lifelong thing.

K: ...

L: Will YOU still love me even with this thing on my nose?

K: ...

L: How will you kiss me? Will you be embarrased to have me around?

K: ...(He touches it in the mid portion)

L: ...(Surprised)

K: ...(He then brushes his infected hands on his nose)

L: I love you too.

Mushroom's Story
Pedro finally found a way to fulfill two dreams: hers of having facial piercings, his of her not talking incessantly. Unfortunately the dream fell apart when she muttered nonstop about the lackluster Swingline 'jewelry'.

Jamie Dawn's Story
It's all the rage! The new staple challenge is replacing that horrible choking game that kids keep doing.
Gwen said she was willing to play if Kevin would.
"I'm willing to let you staple me three times."
Kevin agreed to allow her to staple him three times in return.
Kevin stapled her left eyebrow, her little love handle, and her upper lip.
Gwen didn't even flinch, but Kevin did when Gwen asked him to drop his pants.

Doug's Story
OK, calling her "99" was cute and the "would you believe..." jokes were funny sometimes but if he asks her to speak into more standard household/office/commercial-object phone she was going to go KAOS on him big-time.

Still Life's Story
She: (nervous giggle) are you sure? Do you promise that there are not any staples inside of there...

He: I PROMISE, it's just for the video. Hold still.

Sar's Story
Pouncing on the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, James was more than willing to assist his incessant babbling girlfriend Heather achieve her dream of swollen Angelina Jolie lips.

Miles to Go's Story
"Q" this combination stapler, flashlight and tongue depressor can diagnose her problems, yes! But is there another option to sew up her wounded words? This stapler is a bit crude!"

"I am disappointed and confused that you only see the obvious Jaime! I am man of nuance. Turn it sideways and you'll see the beautiful mechanism that allows you to dial in the appropriate stitches. Turn it on and truncate the embarrassing and life threatening sentences. For instance:

This girl's many variations of communication can make it very difficult for you in the field. For capturing and returning errant sentences before ear shot, I recommend the Catchstitch as it is lightning quick and also a strong and capable stitch. Then again for hemming and hawing I recommend the Hemming stitch for those moments of indecision. It really prods for her to use the declarative sentence. To pre-empt the tawdry word from slipping out her mouth -use the Slip stitch. This stitch is wonderful for those discreet moments and it is very effective during that tense emotional situation where quiet is necessary. If "running at the mouth" is a concern-the Running stitch seamlessly gathers and fastens a diatribe very quickly. Finally for that overwhelming and boring monologue – Over sewing stitch is the best way to neaten the raw edges of mouth so you actually can hear the important things in her message."

Clublint's Story
She wanted to touch the tip of her tongue to the end of her nose.

He told her this was the best way.

She believed him.

G.D.'s Story
i knew some day, some man would make those.

bloody bastards...

My Story
As the darkness reached its midnight crescendo she sauntered over to him, her wants, her needs driving her. He'd stood there in a giddy daze following the creative exertion, spiritually spent, without a single thought of her, but her shuffling feet alerted him, drew him to awareness after the long weeks of tinkering. The sight of her brought memory. He drew the loaded stapler from his pocket and turned to meet her looking up at him. Amazing how inductive she was, that she knew to come to him. Fortunately it was dark and no one would see. What an odd sight to explain, if anyone did happen to catch a glimpse. The stapler neared her lips and she felt - if she could be assumed to feel anything - a metallic ecstasy. That girl he'd made out of paper clips and plasticine had an insatiable appetite for staples.

View to a Guy through Fingers Forming a Heart

2006-02-10T13:51:00.000-05:00

Doug's Story
How could he have forgotten me? It was the most important drink of my life and he acts like he didn't even pour it. Who is this man? This man without a name? I have to know. I'll follow him everywhere. I'll know his heart. Know who he knows. Know his name and age and language. Someday, when I find a camera, I'll take pictures just...like...this.

Mushroom's Story
It was a slow day at the park for Bob. He was sitting on that park bench, crushing people's heads between his fingers, but it didn't seem to have the usual thrill after awhile. From another bench came Gina, who came up to Bob and said, "I know what you're doing, and you're on MY turf."
Bob feigned confusion. "Who are you, and what do you think I am doing?"
Gina leaned into his face and said, "I am Gina, and this is MY park to crush heads in!"
Bob said, "I'm Bob, and I've been coming here for months, so it's my park. So you crush heads too?"
Gina sneered, "Don't make me have to crush YOUR head, again. It's MY park."
Just then Bob caught sight of a young man who was dozing off on another bench and he said, "Okay, Gina, there's only one way we can settle this. See that kid? Let's see who can crush his head the most."
She looked over and raised her hands, "He's MINE!" In one heart-shaped motion both thumb-and-forefinger forceps gripped the kid's head.
"Not so fast," he replied and secured the kid's head between his right thumb and forefinger, and began crushing.
They both sweated and groaned, crushing and crushing until they both were breaking a sweat, and the boy nonchalently rose and walked off.
Winded, Gina sat down next to Bob and said, "Damn, you're quite the adversary."
Bob caught his breath and said, "I've never met a woman like you, Gina... would you like to go to that cafe around the corner? We can take turns crushing heads."
Gina smiled and said, "I get the first one."

[Cultural reference: The Kids In The Hall's "Head Crusher" character.]

Still Life's Story
It was the beginning stages when infatuation was sweet. When her heart drummed wildly at the thought of seeing him, whenever the phone rang or she pictured his smile.
It was at least six months before love broke down, before she lost interest and Saturday nights were just another night at the movies with a small popcorn. It was before his jokes fell flat and the sound of the laugh brought irritation.
Right now it was the beginning stages when infatuation was sweet and when she looked at him all she saw was love.

Viruswitch's Story
I tried to love him again and again. I looked at him from the front, from behind and from the side. But in vain. Maybe if I draw the right spell around his form, I will hypnotize myself...

Joe King's Story
With a squeal, she bounced up behind me, stretched out her arms, and pressed her fingers together into a crude heart. She was giggling, my balding head tingling. "You know you love him!" she hissed into my left ear, breaking the heart and falling back, laughing. I jerked around and shushed her, but she was too far gone. Her eyes were glossy and her cheeks all tomato. My aluminum lawnchair creaked, chilled from the brisk morning, and I took another swig of Bud. Play it cool. Play it macho. He's your damn brother-in-law. Other men, other men. Many other men. He's your in-law.

He turned, looking over my head, snorting and shaking his head as he dried off the bottle with a flap of his jacket. "What's their problem?" he asked, cracking open a bottle bare-handed. I cleared my throat and shifted again, willing my cheeks not to redden.

My Story
Caledonia was one of those girls who made strong demands on her lovers. They had to look nerdy when they pointed those two staring eyes at her. Her body always made eyes stare. She liked their heads to be decorated with a baseball cap, and the back of the neck shaven just the day before, so she could run her fingertips against the prickly fuzz that sprouted there. They must have a timid disposition, for it was her habit to sneak up on them and pounce, usually while their thoughts wandered - she loved the startled reaction. They must be all thumbs and thin-lipped because, honestly, what girl could resist the feel of thumbs all over her? Or thin lips exploring her? The moment she spotted a specimen, the perfection of all her desires, she knew. She held her fingers in the shape of a heart and peered through at him, her way of symbolically declaring him fair game. But it wouldn't last long. After the first few hours the sterility of perfection always began to bore her.

Boy and Girl on Route 66

2006-02-09T13:41:00.000-05:00

Doug's Story
Lightforce and Bob waited, dreaming of their ironic retro wedding. They're still waiting. Route 66 doesn't go to Funkytown.

Mushroom's Story
Their love went from Missouri down to St. Louis, and in Oklahoma City it looked so pretty. But somewhere between Barstow and San Bernadino it hit the asphalt. They got their kicks on Route 66, but when it was no longer an endless road for them they took their exits.

(Oh, and you, miss, in the picture? Get hip to this kindly tip, and take that Washington trip... I-5 ain't so bad this time of year, but I am.)

Little Bar of Soap's Story
Alice and Steve were filthy fornicators, just one 6 short of complete surrender to Satan.

The Taorist's Story
They are the new members of the suicide ganagbang parade of 1967.

They choose to die lying in the sun.

But they get hit by a mack truck instead.

April Girl's Story
The road is long, and time is short.
But together, we will make it.

Joe King's Story
...a couple prone on the highway, smiling stupidly as he approached...

He looked at her, his chalk-white teeth dull against the midday sun, and put his hand in hers. With her free hand, she wiped her eye, for a moment nearly losing her balance. The fast-approaching vehicle a glistening teardrop in the distance, she gripped her hand in his and forced a smile, her mouth suddenly dry. Just another moment, just one more.

My Story
Roger cruised down Route 66 in his 1967 T-Bird. The motor was music of driving days gone by. The wind shaved past him. The sun on the open road seduced him into ever higher speeds. The landscape whizzed by in a frenzied blur. He was free. But something looked wrong: a blockade in the road ahead. As this loomed larger he saw it was a couple prone on the highway, smiling stupidly as he approached. How dare they!? No way would he stop. He accelerated right into them. No one would ever know he'd done it. Seconds later he was too far ahead on the deserted stretch of road to look back. There hadn't even been a bump. "Oh, wow," he thought to himself, marveling at the surreality of it. Then he saw it again, the blockade that resolved itself into the boy and girl directly before his approaching vehicle. All the while they grinned, as if inviting him to rocket into them. He tried to force the gas pedal through the floor, to get that one spurt of acceleration to bring him over the edge - into what? Now they appeared on every horizon the instant he hurdled into them. He rammed them again and again crazy with the thought of ultimate triumph, sending them into a death from which they could not return. But they always returned. Smiling at him. Laughing. The adrenalin soaked into his psyche until the sweat and the tension caused him to tremble. Then the light flashed "Game Over" and everything stopped.

.
.
.

He turned to leave the booth, then walked enthusiastically to the owner of the establishment.

"That was so cool, especially how those ghosts kept popping up. Really cool."

The proprietor looked at him strangely. "Ghosts? There are no ghosts. You just drive."

Two Old Men Playing Chess

2006-01-28T19:35:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
Man Fuchu and his friend Ed Gruberman, the Ti Kwan Leep monk, played chess every Tuesday. They'd have a friendly game of draughts in the monk's cloister, next to the fire, and the prize was the same every week: the winner would get to spend the week in town, the loser would put on the cowl and be a sedentary mendicant for the week. This worked out well for both of them; Ed got to go out drinking and carrousing, Fuchu got to spend time around nude holy men in the stone shower room. The monks were never aware of the swap, and any who might have figured something couldn't say anything due to their vows of silence and of chastity. Fuchu's wife thought the arrangement was just fine, but the more feast-or-famine it became for her after dark she decided she should give Ed a book on Bobby Fischer's strategies.

Jamie Dawn's Story
Forced to play chess in this small room for centuries, the men knew they were in hell. Why hadn't they been better men? Why had they repeatedly cheated to win? They thought no one was watching. They thought no one would ever know what they'd done. In life, they'd been champions. Now, they were forced to play by the rules for all eternity.

Viruswitch's Father
"The great scientists are currently making an interval from their succesful efforts related to scientific discoveries. They have been researching the transformation of the human DNA and are on the verge of a great discovery that might deserve the Nobel. Now, satisfied and tired from the good results they achieved, are enjoying a chess game to help them continue their work with a clearer mind."

Viruswitch's Story
The kings of the New Lands had discovered a new way to train their armies and transfom the youth of their nations into mighty military units. The Game was invented. Parents were anticipating to bring their children to the public game-academies hoping that they would bring glory and fame to their family. They were the new heros, the knights of freedom and the keepers of peace, the hope of the New Lands. Since ages had they been serving an unknown and unseen dynast. But now the rules had changed; a new way had been discovered to win the fatal chess wars. Now real people joined the battlefields, shrinked as billions of pawns, rooks and bishops, cutting and chopping their enemies into small pieces. The unseen king gradually lost his power over the black and white landscapes and finally exploded revealing his real identity. He had been a computer!

After a thousand years, chess is still the most popular game in the New Lands, even if most have forgotten its true origin.

The Taorist's Story
Kunichua San
Jose plays in front of the
mirror universe

Young at Heart in San Diego's Story
Karl and Bo were tired of football and it was too cold to go fishing. "Let's get high", Karl suggested, and it was decided. Rather than eat the magic mushrooms all at once, they would use them as game pieces. As soon as you captured one of your opponent's men, you would swallow it down like a jagged little pill. The problem was that it was a difficult game and there were too many pieces. Soon, after the first few pawns were swallowed, Bo realized that the room had changed. His jeans had morphed into a flowing robe and the hair on his head appeared to have vanished. Although his goatee was still in place, it felt strangely coarser. Suddenly he was tired of this game. "Let’s go crack the DaVinci code," he suddenly exclaimed, and it was decided.

Enemy of the Republic's Story
Man is walking on the beach. Death comes up to him and says: "Long have I been by your side." Man answers: "Hey, I just fought 10 years in the stupid Crusades, killing Muslims and Jews in the name of Christ. Don't I get any respect?" Death says: "I am not a respecter of persons." Man says: "Okay, tell you what, I'll play you a game of chess. If you win, I die. If I win, you die." Death answered:"That is easy enough because I am already dead. You are setting yourself up for certain failure." Man answers: "Naah, I don't think so. So what color do you want. Don't tell me--BLACK!"

The game continues for 8 weeks. Soon the Man is only left with his King, while Death still has his Queen, two Rooks, a Bishop, a knight and 4 pawns. It doesn't look good. Suddenly Man yells out: "CHECKMATE, motherfucker." Death says:" You are insane. In the next move, your king will be mine." Man answers: "I knew you would say that." He gets up and falls on his sword. Death chortles.

So who won the game?

My Story
Contrary to popular belief the origins of chess are not Indian, Persian or Chinese. The game was devised on the planet Chaos-IV as a means for the two co-rulers to govern the unmanageable planet. After centuries of fierce and brutal warfare between factions of rigid traditionalism and adherents to radical unorthodoxy, wiser councils in the planet's population prevailed with a shrewd concept to bring both sides together, save the planet, and encourage the spirit of competition. The heads of state, the two ablest minds the respective factions had to offer, would play a game of chess to ascertain ruling decision. If the traditionalist won, the decision would be his. If the unorthodox ruler achieved checkmate, he would make the decision. In the event of a stalemate, a synthesis of both points-of-view established policy. This method provided the balance necessary for the planet to not only survive, but held the drawbacks of each approach in check. In practice it proved to have one limitation. Chess games could be excruciatingly long. If an urgent situation required snap judgment the two venerable leaders dispensed with the chess and flipped a coin.

An Eye

2006-01-23T13:26:00.000-05:00

The Taorist's Story
Khunliar: Are my eyes ok?

Tunisia: Yes, yes. Now don't fret! The camara is a bit old and sensitive, you know?

K: Try as I might, the camera is "magnated" to my eyelashes.

T: Magnated? Is that a word? Is that a scrabble made up word or something?

K: You take it as it is buddy.

T: Well, since it is "magnated" to your erstwhile eyelashes, I might as well take a shot of it.

K: No! You take my soul white man!

T: I'm hispanic. Just not much in the sun, you know?

K: Hispanic-Albino.

T: H freaking A

K: You should get it on with a girl. A werewolf girl.

T: Hypertrichosis.

K: Yeah, Hyperwatushis. You'd get a hispanic-albino-werewolf.

T: That's a new class of racism, you know? Not only are you mocking me but also the werewolf race.

K: I just noticed something.

T: What?

K: You say "you know?" too much.

T: ...

Monster Spank's Story
come closer.
closer still.
ok, hold it.
don't move.
now, go away.

come back.
yes, here.
nearer.
hmmm.

The Alien Guy's Story
It is so often difficult for me to understand the humans of your planet -- Earth. I have noticed that when I am on your planet, I see only small details and parts of your world. Not the whole picture. It is similar to "not being able to see the forest for the trees" as you say. I get so wrapped up in the smaller parts and become confused about what you are really like. When I see a human and look at the face, I see only specific details such as the eye. And I cannot grasp the whole facial expression to determine the inflection of the gesticulation. The meaning of what you are all about is obscured. Yet I have heard that many of you humans are very much like this, too.

Viruswitch's Story
At first, she thought that the conjurer of cheap tricks had dragged her into the world of sleep. But all of a sudden, a great eye filled her whole field of vision and she shivered.

The lidless eye had conquered her, it knew every hidden corner of her mind, it knew all her fears and passions. IT was all-seeing and she felt naked.

She realised that she was viewing her own reflection through the conjurer's eyes. He had promised that this magical hop would have opened the gate to his soul, and yet what she saw was an ugly mirror of her own true self. It was the final and last honest confrontation of her life.

Garnet's Story
I felt so small. Just a few hours earlier she had cried on my lap as I comforted her in her loss. I began to think how vulnerable people are after such betrayal. No one deserved to be left behind, left without recourse. Yet she held on to the goodness of their love. I envied her that faith.

I began to wonder if my confidence was as unshakeable as I had always believed. I rarely got hurt because I always jumped in last, waiting for the others to test the waters first. That way I learned from their mistakes.

Just last week she had come to me distraught at the state of her relationship to him. I listened. Then when he called me to talk about her fragility, I pointed out how neurotic she seemed, getting so upset about the demise of a 5 year love affair. It's not the end of the world after all! He listened, and moved out the next day.

Now, as she looked at me with those big brown eyes, waiting for my advice on how to cope, I felt puny.

My Story
All of a sudden it became light, physically and metaphorically. The light streaming through his pupil caused the iris to squeeze in around the tiny black opening. Also he remembered. So this was reincarnation. It was like in those "Tales from the Crypt" comics he used to read. He and Angie were madly in love, but her husband stood in the way. They schemed in secret to do away with him, the perfect murder. They would lure him into the basement with the sound of their lovemaking. All he had to do was open the door to the romper room and the bowl of sulphuric acid would spill over him, causing his head to dissolve. Unfortunately Angie's husband did not open the door. He crashed in through the cellar window, rushing at them with an axe. Brad and Angie, overwhelmed by the unexpected variation, scurried frantically to the prepared door. It finished them. The husband did get a few splashes of acid in his face, which ruined his eyes, but he was sped to the clinic, and - in a spectacular operation - given new eyes. One glance in the mirror and it became insightfully clear to Brad. He had been reincarnated as the eye of his intended victim. And what's more, as he looked into the mirror before the survivor's face, he could clearly see the other eye. It was Angie.

Girls with Viewmasters

2006-01-14T07:22:00.000-05:00

Jamie Dawn's Story
The three girls were cute and they knew it. They always acted so cool. Jewel never was accepted by them, and they pretty much shunned her. Jewel knew the girls always hung out at Raley's Bar and tried to pick up guys. Jewel walked over to their table and handed them each a View Master telling them to look through the viewer to see nude pictures of Orlando Bloom. The girls grabbed the cameras and pushed them up to their faces. Little did they know that Jewel had put Super Glue around the viewer and on the sides where their hands were. The three "cool" girls weren't so cool that night!

Mushroom's Story
No matter how Stephanie, Bethany, and Tiffani tried, they still couldn't find any dimension in the boys around them; like with the View-Masters, they'd pull the boys' handles then advance to the next scene. Which was ironic because the males who met them thought the three had the same qualities as View-Master slides -- they were the same image from slightly different angles, creating an illusion of depth, and most of their material was from Disney.

The Taorist's Story
Alas!

They have been cursed by the Techno goddess, Jenny. They sinned against Her by entering a forbidden website--the 404. When Jenny found out, she programmed Her wiki to do the unthinkable....

Using nanotechnology bruhahaha, the wiki grafted the hell view masters to their faces. The girls are now forced to see the world through blurry-eyed glasses.

As a natural evolutionary process, they have glowing eyes and an ever smiling face.

They will then roam the world for the next 1 year and 27 days. After which, the accursed items will fall off and their eyes will return to abnormality.

Amen.

Still Life's Story
It was the newest drug craze amongst teens, a real visionary trip disguised in a Viewmaster. Relatively easy to get your hands on and at only five dollars a pop, affordable.

Everybody knew that all you had to do was go to Luigi's Pizza and ask for Victor, the tall skinny kid with the bad acne who worked in the kitchen, slip him a five spot and in less than ten minutes you were high. As you held the Viewmaster up to your face it was imperative that you not blink so that the drug could enter directly into the pupil (many a drug was wasted running down some kid's cheeks who could not hold the mandatory stare).

The trip was similar to doing mushrooms without the terrible taste but with all the vivid hallucinations and lasted about two to three hours. Once the teens got their fix they would usually go out to the parking lot, sit in their cars and remain for the rest of the evening running their hands along the upholstery and tires. The only drawback to "visioning", as the kids called it, was that you couldn't wear your contacts and were forced to look like a nerd in your glasses when driving home.

Blog This' Story
what followed was wrong. so wrong. each smile faded as each girl realized the figure she focused on was her own image. that the blood each saw was her own. that the exposed flesh was hers. they all stared into the pictures for a very long time, wondering how, wondering why, then wondering when. and when they stumbled into this, just when this might happen, they each became afraid to look away, afraid of what lie on the other side of the lense, afraid to look at the face before them. and though they heard the scrape of chair legs across the floor, and the heavy foot fall moving in, they could not look away because it was easier then to look at what they would become rather than the thing, the event itself. and they reached to touch one another, waiting, feeling the blood warm in the palm of their hands

Miles to Go's Story
The wheel chair struck the end of the door. Bill O' Arrf. winced in pain. The pain from the stump of his leg spun around his head hitting every nerve and touching the vacant leg, his flesh no longer there.

Bill is the head of the vaunted "No Spinning Around" think tank and he'd been aghast at the reports trending the drop in his propaganda for the past year. However, this time he's thrilled. This distraction has dulled his sense of direction as the room whirls around and past him while he heads toward his desk. He is too focused to see ahead of him.

His new brain child though late in delivery is beginning to take hold and it is creating a sensation! Everyone wants one but to have one, they must join in his club. The device: lips that enable you to kiss derriere without fear! The break through are four fold: the special skin, eyes, lips and brains cloned from Reed Richards, Ted Williams, Louie Armstrong and Tom Delayed. Once attached, one can pull the lips to your eyes and see the results of the kissed derriere. No more second guessing if one kissed A$$ well or if the A$$ kissing has been effective! It's a boon a breakthrough! It has begun to reach cult status. In clubhouses like the one where these are girls shown here, people everywhere have begun to join this new phenomenon newly coin by Katie Couric as The Society for and about "Kissing Moon".

Young at Heart in San Diego's Story
Smell-o-vision, it was called. The newest craze to hit the teen world, and the girls just had to try it. It was the hottest trip, especially for the terminally weight-conscious crowd. Just think, a device that would let you see your favorite foods up close and personal, in 4-D, with their aromas filling your very essence. Who would ever need to eat again? Oh, to experience hot fudge, caramel, pizza with the greasiest of toppings and melted cheese, without the slightest bit of remorse or indigestion afterwards! "We are sooo there," the girls shouted as they donned their headgear and plugged in to the hard drive at their table. Such a bargain, only 50 Euros for an hour! Buy 2, get the 3rd one free! Soon the slideshow would begin. They had all decided to start with the dessert theme. Having starved themselves for the last 2 weeks, they had lost their taste for protein anyhow, and all three were craving the sight and smell of chocolate. Then the montage of slippery, creamy melted goodness assaulted their eyes and noses. They began to swoon from ecstasy, drool dribbling down their chins, perspiration dotting their arms and foreheads. Within 20 minutes, their comatose bodies lay slumped into their chairs, quivering and covered with goosebumps. That was the moment the bartender had been watching for. With the flick of a finger he pressed the secret trap door button that opened up and slid the girls in a secret chamber below, where he would extract the chemicals from their brains to continue his evil experiments.

Viruswitch's Story
The world had changed. The suns of all solar systems collapsed under their own gravity. Humans managed to retain their humanity but evolution was after them. They lost their eyes in the absence of light and developed super sensors that perceived electromagnetic waves and quantums. Instead of the beauty of the world they only saw particles of dust flowing in the air. At least now they could "see" the heat, the electricity and the emotions of their friends.

My Story
It was slow that evening so they whipped out their eyetops and began counting blogs. The first one to fall asleep would buy the next round. Usually they all fell asleep at the same time, so nobody bought. Those eyetop thingies were a cool rage. You plopped one up against your face and looked into the Internet at whatever you wanted, then clicked it with a blink of the eyes. If you had that chip accessory planted in your brain you could even blog and surf at the same time. You just imagined your rant, and voila! - it was a post. This saved valuable time for parties and socializing and other real-life events, if you could find them. Real-life events had become pretty scarce since the eyetops came around, and if the girls did find a place to meet boys, none ever showed up, because the boys themselves were too busy surfing and blogging, the new eternal cycle of life.

But then the girls had an idea to liven things up. They shot a meme into the Internet, and gazed expectantly through the viewing devices to see what would happen:

1) List your four favorite memes.
2) Add this meme as your fifth favorite.
3) Send these instructions to ten of your friends.
4) Work through the five memes, following each instruction to the letter.

They watched as the Internet imploded. Blog after blog vanished like a vacuum-filled soap bubble. It was so much fun. They would definitely have to blog about this later.

Girls in Corridor

2005-12-22T14:43:00.000-05:00

Doug's First Story
The labyrinth was long. Sara and Analisa met just inside the entrance.
"How did we get here?" Sara asked.
"I don't know either," Analisa answered.
"Me either, it's funny the last thing I remember I was with my boyfriend, Jason, he's so cute. We met at a rave for the football team and cheerleading squad. He doesn't even dye his hair. It's that black!..."
"Maybe we should walk along this corridor a while and see where it goes."
The pair started walking and by the third step, Sara offered "My ex-boyfriend, Johnny? What a dork. I'm totally over him. He was my boyfriend last summer before I met Jason. Thank god for small favors, you know? Johnny and me went to this movie once it was, like, totally freaky. You know, sci-fi or something? Whatever. These people were all running up and down corridors like this one? I mean, totally. It was like 'boop-boop intruder-alert! Intruder alert!" and they would run around with lazer guns and stuff acting all serious and everything, do you think we'll find like people with lazer guns in here?"
Analisa prayed that this was Logan's Run and not No Exit.

Viruswitch's Story
Kira is discussing loudly with "Seven of Nine" in the middle of a spaceship-corridor.

"Astrometric officer, this doesnt look like the "Voyager" corridor!"

"Correct, officer Kira, the spaceship looks ancient and abandonded. Even Deep space 9 is out of the question."

"Great, Kes chose the wrong time-space-continuum to beam us into. What are we going to do now?"

"I dont know. Lets just figure out the currect stardate anyway. There must be some kind of indication somewhere around here!"

"You know, this could be the "Enterprize". Just look at these ugly walls, dont they remind you something from the culture of the earth?"

"Your Bajoran intelligence astonishes me Kira, but I have served on the Enterprize, and this surely doesnt look like it. Where the hell is Earth anyway?"

"Oh well, forget it, we werent even born when they destroyed it."

"I am hearing steps, a hologram is coming. I will inquire the exact galaxial location!"

"Computer! Name our coordinates. "

"What? Who are you? Are you talking to me?"

"Computer, where are we?"

"In the subway, silly! Now let me catch my train... God, this earth is filled with lunatics."

The two officers stare at each other speechless when the beeper rings:
(voice from Kiras headset)
BEEP BEEP: officer Kira, this is Captain Janeway. I am beaming you up. ENERGY!!!

Lula's Story Story

Mushroom's Story
Try as the young duo Blue Bayou tried, they could never match the success or look of Linda Ronstadt's Living In The USA album.

Sar's Story
"Captain, I'm picking up a disturbance on Level 5", Spock dutifuly relayed to Captain Kirk.

"Yes, I see. Tell me, Mr. Spock, what do you make of these intruders?" Captain Kirk inquired.

Spock evenly replied, "According to my tri-corder readings, it would appear they are rebellious mineral fowl descendants."

"Oh," said Captain Kirk. "You mean they're punk rock chicks."

Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
Once the evil aliens known only as "P. S. 13," had infiltrated the ship's controls they were able to cause the entire crew to revert to adolescence, with disastrous results.
One of the first casualties was Deanna Troy, who pretended not to notice Picard, the handsome captain of the football team. She had never thought of him "that way" before, but now that he had hair again she was eaten up with jealousy of that witch, Beverly Crusher.
And although his android design rendered him immune to P. S. 13's dastardly bionic viral probes, even Commander Data could not escape their effects entirely. In the new, hormonally charged atmosphere, his circuits became clogged, and he was just barely equal to handing out suspensions to Warf, who kept trying to smuggle weapons into the "school."
Indeed all might have been lost, had not Lieutenant Riker, in his last few moments before acne claimed his once handsome features, created an unstoppable counterforce on the Holodeck. Fearlessly, the concerned parent brigade made their way to engineering, where they put the aliens to flight with threats of lawsuits and heavy damages. The parents then took over the controls themselves.
Captain's log, Stardate who cares? This is Liutenant Riker. I said I would do this for Picard, because he is just too "busy" dating two chicks at once. That guy really has it going on. I don't think being in ROTC is helping me at all!
Anyway, we are all SO bummed! We can't believe the parents took over OUR school! And they locked us out of the Holodeck! AND they said we're all going to be grounded! For no reason at all they are going to land this thing and make us all get therapy or something. This is so crazy and unfair.
Gotta go. There's a wild party on tonight, cuz the parents are all going to be at the PTA. The guys forgot to invite me, but I happen to know Warf is planning to go and make some trouble, and maybe I can crash it then and get cozy with D. T. while Warf keeps Picard busy. She is so hot! I wonder if it's true Empaths are better?
So wish me luck. I'm gonna boldly go where no man has gone before (well, o. k., maybe Picard).

Doug's Second Story
The goths on-board the Enterprise were the first sign that things were different in Starfleet Command. Soon, Nurse Chapel filed a sexual harassment complaint against Bones. He never touches me, she argued on the 1066sx form, he just leers and makes dry double-entendres. If he'd either fish or cut bait, I'd be happy.

Soon Uhuru and the Captain didn't need malicious telekinesis to kiss but couldn't keep their hands of each other and Chekov was chasing everything in a skirt and catching more than a few.

The crew no longer wore the same unisex clothes but broke into fashion cliques, with tight dresses and open collars the norm in some circles and demure sweaters and polo shirts gaining popularity in others.

There were goths and gangstas, men in leather and women in denim. All looking for action around every mote in God's sky. Nothing on the Enterprise was ever the same after the mission to Beta Gemini, when Sulu finally came out.

Enemy of the Republic's Story
"Beam Me Up, Scottie. The Klingons are trying to eat Dr. McCoy and me alive," barked Captain Kirk.
"Ah, no boss," Scottie replied.
"No!" bellowed Kirk. "I am issuing a direct order!"
"Ah, but there's a new order, now. My order!" The voice of Lt. Spock was sinister and vile.
"Spock," yelled Kirk. "I command you to allow Scottie to beam us aboard the Enterprise.
"Sorry, boss" said Scottie. "But with Mr. Spock now in charge, we get dental and Saturday nights off."
"What?" yelled Kirk. "Spock, you are making unrealistic demands in order to carry out your evil plan?"
"Yes,Captain. It's a logical strategy. I suggest you try it out on the Klingons before they nibble your big toe."

My Story
The siege continued into countless starweeks. It was becoming desperate. Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Scotty were locked in the bridge with Uhura, Nurse Chapel and Chekov, cowering in fear of the Alien Cliché roaming the decks of the Enterprise. Cabin fever and delirium had set in. Kirk kept pounding his fist on the console, shouting "This is my ship!" McCoy would blurt out "I'm a doctor, not a mechanic!" seemingly in no connection with anything relevant. Scotty was babbling on about the engines and Spock kept trying to wiggle his ears. Nurse Chapel quivered while Chekov stuttered passages of Tolstoy at her, and Uhuru sang nursery rhymes to Starfleet Command.

This was all preceded by the surprising arrival of the Cliché Alien right in the middle of Kirk's cabin. She had green eyes and olive-green skin, and antennas sprouting from her head. At first Kirk looked forward to some noncommittal kissing and petting, but then she began toning "I love you forever" with her sultry, spaced-out voice. He fled through the ship. Sulu, trying to protect his captain, barred her way, but she threw a kiss, vaporizing him into a green gas which she then inhaled. After 79 episodes of the original series, 178 of The Next Generation, and 98 of Enterprise, not to recall the forgettable Deep Space Nine and Voyager, 348 episodes in all, and ten movies, there were no options left. That's when the officers retreated to the bridge and locked themselves in. The Cliché Alien roamed the decks rattling off dialogue from badly dubbed Bollywood films.

Somewhere the good spirit of Gene Roddenberry observed all this and decided to intervene. He selected two girls from the planet Chaos-IV and beamed them across the galaxy onto the Enterprise. They took up their positions in one of the corridors, biding their time, waiting for the predictable appearance of the Cliché Alien. She approached them, arms outstretched, ready to initiate a tongue kiss. But it didn't come as she expected. In the moment before lips touched lips, the girls whipped out their erasers and rubbed the alien away. In her place stood Sulu, alive again and gracious recipient of their tongue caresses.

Spectators in Swimwear

2005-12-18T09:20:00.000-05:00

Viruswitch's Story
"And the winner takes it all!" shouted the journalist from the speakers of the stadium.

Every year the citizens of the small city Maat held a tournament that included many water sports, in the open field they had built next to the beach. This was the established way to dissolve a long forgotten dispute between the two sides of the city. About 50 years ago, the Maatians had found out that they were far too many to fit in the small beach that their place had inherited from a nearby village that merged into their city. The only reason why the Maatians had insisted on the merge of the nearby village into their city, was so that they could use the beach as well. Their municipality was unfortunately doomed with no access to any source of water, since every city prohibited foreigners from bathing in their sea. The little village of Api seemed to be the only solution, or so the Maatians thought. Because immediately they found out that it was impossible for 15.000 people to enjoy a 1km beach. The citizens were frustrated, disappointed and restless, and the governor knew what these angry masses were capable of. So he split the city into two parts and established the nowadays well known tournaments of Maat. Two teams representing the two different parts of the city compete in the beginning of each summer season for access into water. When the games end, the citizens of the winning part of the city, being already dressed properly, jumb into the sea and dont get out until next summer arrives...

Doug's Story
The execution was to be held on August first. The line for tickets was a mile long, the day they went on sale. Every cafe and beauty salon and fashion boutique was abuzz with talk about the return of justice to the city. The judge was congratulated for his wisdom as death by lethal injection no longer captured the imagination and the talk of the town was that ordering the defendant burned at the stake was an inspired whimsy.

The timing however was not auspicious. The judge, in his wisdom, had ordered the sentence fulfilled between Thanksgiving and Christmas, a time when flame was appreciated. The Supreme Court had delayed the event and then gone into hiding, such was the uproar of the righteous. The lucky ones with tickets made the best of the situation dressing in bathing suits to keep cool and the warden graciously set up hoses to mist the fans.

To the disappointment of those gathered, however, a breeze exintguished the fire just as it wound its way along the condemned's ankles towards his knees. Under an ill-advised principle set by the sorry supreme court, the failed execution could not be repeated. The villain was taken from the arena and released. Fearing the wrath of the good citizens, the judge issued a second inspired decree. The burgers were supplied with balloons and the ensuing waterfight was remembered for decades by the cheerful denizens of Cincinnati.

Jamie Dawn's Story
People came from far and wide to witness the highly advertised "Cleavage Contest." Large chested women wearing push-up, underwire bikini tops crowded the stadium hoping to win the coveted thousand dollar prize money. Men crowded the place hoping to get an eye full. When the first group of contestants went on stage, the crowd didn't know what to make of it. Six large men lined up on stage. The announcer said, "Show your best cleavage!" The men turned their backs to the audience and bent over, exposing their "plumber" butt cracks.

Weirsdo's Story
Brad willed himself not to look round. No one must ever know. What had he been thinking? Was it possible to get that drunk and still--but his mind shied away from the horror.
He could feel her gimlet eyes boring removing his thin trunks, telegraphing memories of strange, naked wallowings he could only dimly remember, thank heaven.
Still, he could not deny that older women could teach him a thing or two. His synchronized swim routine had been inspired today.

Mushroom's Story
Edna and Martha didn't realize the swimsuit competition was intended for people under age 30 and under 150 pounds, so when they showed up ready to do battle, they discovered that they were the only older pudgier people in the entire arena.

At first they feared they'd come in dead last with all that young, nubile competition, but to their surprise there was a "least appealing" category that not surprisingly few of the youngsters applied to... and they won a year's supply of Mountain Dew.

Young at Heart in San Diego's Story
Déjà vu…that familiar feeling…the bright light, the out-of-focus fuzzy vision…where am I? It’s like that recurring dream, the one I have before school starts every year, where I am at school and I look down at my body and discover to my horror that I AM NAKED! Somehow I have come to school WITH NO CLOTHES ON! But this can’t be that dream, everybody here is only half-dressed. Why are they looking at me? I glance down. Bathing suit bottom, check, top, yes, fastened, nothing hanging out, good. But where are we? The gym? This is no pep rally. Yet the man down at the center of the court is calling for me to come down, please, and accept my award. People are pointing the way, motioning for me to follow them down, this way please. I stumble down the bleachers, trying to get a clue as to what I am doing here, what could I possible have done to be singled out by these strangers, and what am I expected to do when I get down there? I search the walls for banners, signs, anything that might give me a hint as to what this is all about. I step onto the ground and the crowd begins to clap and cheer. A woman is holding up a giant check for $100,000. The kind you can’t really cash, but the promise of cash is appealing to me, so I do not run for the exit door. “Tell us how you did it!” says the bald man who resembles Mr. Potato Head, while he reaches out to shake my hand. I think of the game I had been playing yesterday, where you list these words on paper:
* synergy
* strategic fit
* core competencies
* best practice
* bottom line
* revisit
* expeditious
* to tell you the truth (or "the truth is")
* 24/7
* out of the loop
* benchmark
* value-added
* proactive
* win-win
* think outside the box
* fast track
* result-driven
* empower (or empowerment)
* knowledge base
* at the end of the day
* touch base
* mindset
* client focus(ed)
* paradigm
* game plan
* leverage
Then put a check mark every time you hear one of those words/phrases.
When you get five check marks, stand up and shout "BULLSHIT!"
I turned towards the bleachers. My mouth suddenly began to spew these phrases, interspersed with some articles, adjectives, and prepositional phrases. The crowd went wild. Thunderous applause rang through the gym. Mr. Potato Head begins pumping my hand, and the Vanna-like woman with the giant check leads me towards a side door. I follow her, stumbling out towards the white light outside. The crowd is going crazy now. They are all on their feet, chanting my name. I wave as I exit into the warm hot summer, grab the mammoth check, and walk off towards the football field.

My Story
Ralph was a drinker. He drank considerable quantities of alcohol. He measured the extent of his intoxication on the basis of his hallucinations. One drink put the people around him into t-shirts and jogging pants. The second drink had them jogging around as they jiggled into swim trunks and bikinis. After the third drink people started arcing into the air and swimming around at eye level with Bob. Four drinks and Bob was swimming right along with them in a 60 proof sea of alcoholic splendor. But not today. They wouldn't have let him through the turnstiles in that kind of condition, due to the danger of spontaneous combustion when the lights switched on. What an idea it had been turning the coliseum into a mass tanning studio!

Boy in Water Watching Swimmer

2005-12-12T07:39:00.000-05:00

Viruswitch's Story
The 65 year old Kevin had finally discovered the secret of eternal youth. All his life he had struggled to find out where on earth the secret source of the water of immortality lied. Now after his 10 year-quest, he was finally drinking from it. The source was actually a blue lagoon in the middle of an enormous desert somewhere in the American continent. There was only one small passage, a long cave that led into a vast area surrounded by waterfalls. “Nature’s private swimming pool” he thought when he gazed at it for the first time. The water that sprung on the lake from the waterfalls created a peculiar kind of mist that made it difficult for Kevin to find his way into the lake. The place was not at all quiet and tranquil as he had expected, all those 108 waterfalls composed a melody loud enough to be heard in heaven. But as soon as his grey hair became brown again and his old body restored the vitality of his past youth, his ears perceived the songs of sirens, fairylike creatures that dwell in the source. They all surrounded him and caressed his hair talking and laughing in a language he had never heard before. His last worry before he entered completely the world of the immortals was whether the waters or the sirens where the true source of his final eternal youth.

Susie Delp's Story
The high noon sun beat down upon Ben's slender torso, as he contemplated whether or not to jump one last time. After an hour of diving into the shimmering depths of the natural pool, he was tired, although somewhat rejuvinated. To stay and jump again could mean being late for work, but did he care? His dad tells him, "you're only young once" but his dad is a surf bum. The last thing he ever wanted to do was turn out like his old man.

Mom would be so mad at him if he messed up this new job, it had taken awhile for her to talk Sam into hiring him, and he knew how much his mom wanted him to get a car. Her job kept her away long hours, and when she did get home, she was exhausted. She couldn't drive him places anymore, and his friends were sick of giving him rides.

Bart popped up from the deep pool with a lopsided grin on his face. Ben decided not to jump. It didn't bode well with Bart, who was reckless and irresponsible. Ben didn't care. He never had cared what other people thought of him, and he didn't plan on starting now. He motioned for Bart to get out of the water, and headed back to the cool shade of the nearby trees. Just this once, he would try and do something right.

David Raphael Israel's Poem

Green tho pool was in those days
& I were but a lad
flowed the water wonderous ways
our afternoons grew glad

by the rills we'd wander idly
diving in the stream
none explained : yet thought we mildly
life's a kelly dream

who'd suppose nostalgia's net
would capture sun in shade?
half-remember half-forget
in memories I wade

gone are hills & done are rills
distant now those times
none to share the song that fills
my aching heart with rhymes

worlds appear & disappear
who can plumb the secret?
kelly glade & lucent mere
charmingly discomfit

waterfalls & city-sprawls
humankind & nature
waking dreams of daffodils
evenings passed at leisure

long appeared the microscopic
reach of our then-future
now we grow indeed myopic
baffled by time's measure

when we settle into stillness
& the tale's done
kelly streams again befill us
gleaming in what sun?

Green the pool was -- green in seeming
idle though my gaze
I the fool was -- foolish dreaming
through those liquid days

Jamie Dawn's Story
"Paradise...
Waterfalls, fresh fruit, and no shirts allowed."
That's what the travel brochure advertised. Lance saved every penny to take this vacation. He would meet tons of ladies, and hopefully meet that special someone he'd been dreaming of. When he got there, he didn't see a single lady. He was surrounded by a bunch of guys who were in sore need of an Ab Flex. Lance wondered off by himself and found a secluded spot to swim. Then it hit him; the brochure was put out by a company called "Queen Trips," and it all made sense. There was plenty of "fresh fruit," just as advertised.

DLAK's Story
Once upon a time a small dog farted. The cat, disgusted, stuck his tail in the air and walked away shaking his head. As he walked away he loked over his shoulder and said "Fucking dogs".

My Story
One night while enjoying the warmth of their campfire, Tim and Tony decided to go amphibian and take over the world of the mermaids they knew to thrive in the lagoon. To reign over such minions! To be masters over the realm of Aquarian pleasures! The multi-fathomed lagoon was fed on one side by a torrid waterfall whose long tongues suavely licked it into sublimity. Along crept the boys to the shore side of the pool. The half-human creatures huddled anxiously below the surface, considering their defense against the coming attack. Tony struck the water first. The mermaidens, experts in seduction, decorated him with droplets of lake dew, dissolving him into a girl. As Tim perceived the change an entirely new plan of conquest entered his mind.

"Old Man" and a Girl

2005-11-30T05:52:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-23T03:48:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-18T04:39:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-14T06:16:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-04T07:14:00.000-05:00

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.

Crab with Nine of Spades

2005-10-28T08:34:00.000-05:00

Rusty's Story
Yeah...the Card crab was at it again ...winning hands down since early evening...but then the inevitable happened..the barmaid tried to kiss its pointy claw hopin to get a fat tip...but all she got was a fat lip....and the Crab...well all that I can say is ...it didnt hv a nice evening in the end...but I did get to hv a nice juicy dinner !

GPV's Story
It was on his trip to Papeete that it happened,Andrew was sent there by the office to present the 'Hotel Laguna' project that his customer,Mr Shoo Li wanted to built on the island of Morea that can be seen 5 or 6 miles from Tahiti's airport(Faa). The project was turned down and Mr Li left Andrew to call and let his boss learn the bad news. Andrew couln't get himself to pick up the phone and get it over, instead he went to the shore by the lagoon and just as he reached a cement pier to which were tied a couple of small boats it started to rain thick warm drops, he was drenched
in few seconds but stayed on the concrete, watching nothing,doing
nothing except getting wet, his
senses and his brains were turned off.
The showers in south pacific are heavy but most of the time they won't last very long and when the sun comes back steam rise up from the roads and the heat dries the soil in a few minutes, steam was rising from the pier as Andrew came to awareness, there was no one around when he decided to go and check out of his hotel.As he walked,his eyes to the ground, he saw the red crab, this one came on shore to look for something to eat
but what he was holding in his right claw wasn't really edible,a nine of spade, bad luck "just like me" thought the man. The crab didn't move away when Andrew picked him up and he didn't let go of the card, such character he showed by holding on to his find that the man smiled and let him down on the ground.
He walked to the airport and picked up a public phone and postponing the call to his boss decided to call Mr Li for the last time--Li answered at once-"Shoo Li speaking"--"Oh Mr Li, it's Andrew
Olson again"--"Yes Olson, what do you want?"--"Well Mr Li, I've just met this Australian gentlemen who's interested in our project and since it was meant for you I just want to make sure it doesn't interest you before I sign up with him, courtesy you know"--"Australian? what's his name?"--"Crab,Mr Li, Spade Crab and guess where he wants to build..."--"Now,Mr Olson,this is my project and I'll sue you to your last dollar if you let it go to that....Crab,you hear me?"--"Oh yes Mr Li..but"--"You come to my room at the Taraoa Hotel right now,
Olson, drop that Crab".
Thanks for the tip old red crab,
Yes never let go !!!

Lula's Story
It is a crab in the photo, but what's the rules? Don't imagination rule. So just imagine that it is a spider as I did when I thought of this little story:

The fast flexible fingers of the magician weaves it's daring deceptive web,
as he studies his admiring audiance with wishes of one to woo into bed.
And when he percieves that perky prey all wide eyed and tassle tailed,
he now knows that it's just a mere moment until he has the naivete nailed.
So the fly becomes intangled in all his elaberate schemes to trap,
And he thinks he has the victim just as easy as a hocus pocus snap.
She enters innocently into his room with expectation of further illusional delight,
to dauntingly discover high hopes and dashing dreams are but a fantasy flight.
No, she is not that timid tiny foolish fly he hopes he has in his enchanting clinch,
for she turns him into a spineless noodle, you see, she is a wilely wicked witch!

Dddragon's Story
Daniel looked about nervously as he entered the tarot card reader's tent. What had possessed him to do this? Was his life so messed up that he had come to this?

Would she turn over the Lover's Card? Or the Death Card?

Oh, no ... it was worse!

The Crab Card!!

Mushroom's Story
The Great Canceeri was a hit at parties. No one else had a crab that could do the old "pick a card, any card, then put it back in the deck" trick so well. For that matter, no one else had a crab, let alone one that did parlor magic. Naysayers tried to figure out how he did it, but none of their methods produced any evidence the crab had cheated or marked the cards somehow. Canceeri's human would tell his friends to take a card from the deck on the table, look at it, then put it back in the deck -- some even shuffled the deck for good measure -- and then he'd put Canceeri down on the table and he'd walk sideways up to the deck, nudge a few cards with his claw, then hold up the person's card, leaving everyone around going "whoa!" And like any good magician, The Great Canceeri never revealed how he did it.

Canceeri and his person had a great time and had plenty of free drinks courtesy of bar bets, but all the human's friends and nearby strangers reaches saturation with seeing the trick. It had lost its appeal. Two appearances on the late night talkshows were quite enough for Hollywood too. The human was getting hungry. By this time Canceeri had grown in size as well as fame, so the human started a large pot of water boiling on the stove, and Canceeri's final trick was to vanish.

Jamie Dawn's Story
Just before David Blaine (the street magician) died, he said, "I will be reincarnated. Look for me by the boardwalk."
"How will I find you?" asked his friend, Joe.
"You'll know it's me."

Mushroom's Story

2005-10-18T07:39:00.000-05:00

Note from Indeterminacy: This weekend's set of stories is dedicated to faithful Indeterminacy reader, Mushroom.

Jamie Dawn's Story
Curiosity became too much for Candace, so she plucked a large mushroom from the earth.
She'd been told that those mushrooms were deadly for some and magical for others, and she'd never had the courage to eat one until now. Her life had been such a mess, and she was willing to take the risk in the hopes of having some magic enter her awful world.
It tasted neutral, very bland in fact, and she finished every last morsel, hands trembling with the unknown.

Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
When Hurricane Bob was striking the East Coast, my friend took me to his cabin in VA to get away from it all. Back then I wore skirts so short I didn't like to get out of the car in the New Jersey Turnpike service plazas with all that wind.
The cabin was rural, though you could see three smoke stacks and a minor highway from the porch. Everything was wood, so if you spilled something you just wiped it up. My friend's parents kept bees, so there was always great honey, and usually some to take home. And you were supposed to throw your beer cans off the porch, because every weekend whoever was there crushed them on the big stump in front of the house and took them to recycle.
But you didn't have to have beer, as there was also a selection of liqueurs. I remember one trip, I don't know if it was this one or not, having kirsch and lying back on the redneck porch to watch a spectacular meteor shower.
This trip we did some magic mushrooms--not too many, but enough for a buzz--and drove to the local Civil War battlefield around sunset. Because of Hurricane Bob, clouds at different levels of sky were blowing in opposite directions, and at that hour they were all pink and purple and greyish blue.
Again, I don't remember if it was that trip or not that the drummer from Minor Threat came out hawking his "Ed Meese is a Pig" t-shirts, or that trip or not when we ate a stewed rabbit full of buckshot that the neighbors brought by, but at that place, you could always expect the extraordinary.

GPV's Story
Gohartix,walking slowly through the forest,eyes to the ground, scanning inch by inch the floor of the celtic woods near his home,was praying the gods to find the perfect fly-killer mushroom.Oak trees,turning to yellow,were spilling their seeds among falling leaves and squirrels looked down on the young celt warrior whose attention kept him bent forward scrutinizing underneath the bushes.
Fly-killers are not hard to find since most of the times their bright red color can be seen from far but Go was looking for a special kind of fly-killer and the robe of that one was a bit less flashy;something like the color of salmon's flesh.
After long moments of non-frutuous
searching Go straightened himself,holding his back and moaning relief when stretching sore limbs.Relaxing some he breathed deep,inhaling the fresh scent of humid moss,it was his first day as a senior warrior and before the chief gives him his long blade he had to find his mad-maker mushroom;well prepared by the druids it would carry him through days during battles.As he turned around,eyes level, he saw what he was looking for few steps away,he smiled with glee for it was a good omen to find the fly-killer on the first day of manhood.
High in the sky an hawk yelled:
Eeeeeeeekkka!!!-Real good omen.

Doug's Story
Dreaming, daydreaming and telling fables to herself she did almost nothing and went almost nowhere except into the forest where she now lies, nearly forgotten in a grave unmarked by the hands of men.

Scottish Toodler's Story
If you listen closely you can hear our musical mushroom Trio singing our new hit song: "Five more years til fungus rule the world/rule the world/ rule the world/ five more years til fungus rule the world/ better look out then!"

My Story
Bill had a strange dream, bursts of red and yellow light flashing all around him. When he awoke he was a mushroom in a pleasant patch of soil, near a tree and a running brook. Two lady mushrooms sprang up beside him, beginning a conversation.

"You can be very proud," they told him in unison.

"But why? But what?" he answered, naturally disorientated by the transformation.

"You're bright and brilliant and happy birthday," their voices came, almost a song.

"It's my birthday," he repeated slowly, to see if it might mean anything to him.

"You've just joined us in the Bohemian forest." Their voices again, reciting, as a classroom of children might with one voice tell their teacher, "One plus one is two."

"I've always wanted to have a Slavic soul."

"And now you're part of the collective."

"I'll have ideas! I'll be inspired!"

"If you don't and you aren't, we'll assist!"

He closed his eyes and mused. Under the congenial auspices of the femmes a la fungi he felt inspired. He had ideas. Fairy tales flashed before him. Bouncing and rolling notions swirled into imagery unimagined in his usual trains of thought. Ideas couldn't rush in fast enough before other ideas pounced upon them, merging into a new, ever-evolving inspiration.

"Eureka!" he cried in a sort of mental orgasm of aesthetic certainty. The girl mushrooms applauded. The idea, the forest, and his existence as a Slavic mushroom were the thoughts immortalized in his mind as the Czech mycologist harvested him for his fungi stew, over which he was certain to dream up some great new work of art.

Tina Dupuy

2005-10-12T02:08:00.000-05:00

Tina Dupuy (one of the funniest ladies in the world) contributed this photo. Thanks Tina!

Scottish Toodler's Story
I had for many years been trying to escape the life cycle I had been forced into. Sometimes, when one is able to be exceptionally forgiving or exceptionally helpful, one's life cycle is reassigned. This was my case.

I had at one time been an ordinary dog, and I had loved my master and mistress very much. Like all dogs I did not know anything about their lives or their "goodness" beyond what was extended to me.

I had been the last dog that the mistress has held before she swallowed her fateful pills, and the last dog that the master had ruffled the fur of, and then smoothed back into place a few times. I'd wanted to rest my head against the master's knee, but he'd pushed me away, and then shot himself. He did not have the patience of my mistress to wait for the pills to do their work.

Later, some of us had been fostered, but we were always moving and eventually I died of dehydration, after one of my later adopted owners had been executed and never returned to his home. It was at that time that I was summoned to the on-going Tribunal of my mistress.

Almost nothing had been left of my first master and mistress that could be redeemed. Even the normally neutral Tribunal had been unable to comprehend the atrocities my owners had unleashed upon the earth, and how deeply the master had altered humanity.

In fact, the only thing that the Tribunal could find on which to try either of them was their affection for my species. And because I had been the last one they had touched, I had been summoned from my sweet and undisturbed sleep.

I'd spent the next two of my lifetimes as one of two rottweilers owned by a nice (non-practicing) Jewish couple in North America. The other rottweiler was my former mistress. Next I accompanied her as one of two shepard dogs owned by a half Turkish, half german, lesbian living just outside of Berlin. And so on, and so forth.

Today, I had finally made my escape. This couple, quite bland in appearance, are intellectuals and avid students of the Holocaust. Because they bear such a horror not just of the master, but of the mistress also, she must suffer their affection as the lightest of her many eternal sentences.

I, however, having learned her true nature, have asked the Tribunal on each occasion of my death, to release me from this contract. I have asked to return to the loyal and loving ignorance of a regular dog. Each time I have been refused.

Caught again, I can only hope my story will inspire other canine's to love more wisely and not as well. Not just for being bound to such a mistress beyond one lifetime, but also, because I cannot bear the little sweaters the woman keeps knitting for me. This is the only photograph of me where I am not wearing one, and only because I'd been able to escape. Alas, not far enough...My torture as Eva Braun's companion continues.

THE END

Mushroom's Story
Buster was a lucky pup, sure, but cleaning his tracheotomy required two people -- one to hold his head up and body still, and another to do the work. His barks were almost comical.

Doug's Story
Arnie the 2x4 had lain on a lot of sidewalks. He'd fallen off any number of shabby constructions, most recently the scaffold the window washer was standing on. It was a life of endless slapstick comedy and he wouldn't have traded it for anything. As the young couple made jokes at the expense of the fallen corpse and scratched their dog, Arnie wondered where next a man would call on him for support.

Sylphidine's Story
Amigo was no ordinary dog. Even as a puppy it was clear that he wasn't like the other dogs, but it took some time before he was able to use his special powers. It wasn't easy living with these gifts, nevertheless he was chosen and he was conscious of the utmost importance of his task. But he still considered it unfair that he had to save the world in secret - Superman, Batman, even Underdog all had their costumes and were recognized and celebrated as superheros. The only recognition he received was for fetching sticks. The hugs from Sally & Billy were pleasant, but the fact that he just destroyed a fleet of invading aliens from outer space with his laser eyes, thereby saving the world from Armaggedon, remained one of the secrets that he had to live with in his modesty. Who says that the life of a superhero has to be glamerous? That only happens in movies.

My Story
The new reality sitcom was one of those brilliant ideas Tina thought up in her sleep. She dangled dozens of miniature Webcams from a fleet of helium-filed balloons that followed her around wherever she went. She brought her boyfriend Brian along as a living laugh track so that the comically-challenged would know when to laugh. Her dog Clyde played straight man, though he was quite a sit-up comedian in his private life. He sometimes disappeared for days on end, doing shows at pounds and other benefits, and occasionally rescuing cats trapped in trees, just like his hero Lassi would have done. Apart from being funny, the show had everything that an artfully lived real life could offer: drama, love, poignancy and great sex. It won dozens of Emmys, which Clyde invariably buried in Tina's back yard. The series was cancelled 11 seasons into its run, after global warming popped all the balloons. That's 77 in dog years.

Indeterminacy's Muse

2005-09-26T06:22:00.000-05:00

Rusty's Story
Gay abandon !! Pitter patter of raindrops on the tin roof.....soft music in the background......musty smell of earth......forgotten yesterdays.....postponed tomorrows......this moment...right now....I live.

Mushroom's Story
It wasn't your average day in Vestial Virgin Land. Yes, it was sunny, everything glowed in clean whites, and the air was still pure. But rather than saunter around passively and in quiet expectation of some unknown event, one of the girls broke free. She used ground roots and berries to change her hair color from golden blonde to a brown so dark it seemed black. She modified her outfit so while it was still chaste it was free and functional -- those long dresses that touched the ground were hard to keep clean and hard not to step upon while moving forward. And rather than sticking to the prayer-like contemplative facial stance, she smiled and used her neck and looked like she was having good clean fun for once. She danced through the room rather than flowed abruptly like a bridesmaid. She introduced two things to Vestial Virgin Land which had never existed before: actual happiness in herself, and quiet envy in other residents.

Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
Princess Lucinda was excited. It was the first of May, the day her fairy godmother had promised she could free herself and her people from the clutches of her evil Auntie Kodachrome. But only if she danced long and beautifully enough.
She had already been dancing for hours to any music her people could provide--bawdy drinking songs, heavy metal, one dedicated group of volunteers even performed a symphony. Lucinda was tired, but she was resolved: she and her people would not be imprisoned in the black-and-white world forever. She clung to the pillar in the great hall of her castle, swinging round it with wild abandon, tossing her hair over her face in a frenzy.
The last voice she heard was her godmother's. "You have done well, my child. The sun is setting. Your people will be free. . . ."
But Lucinda heard no more, for just as the sun dropped over the horizon, she fell dead, and the bush behind her broke into a riotous bloom of color.

Dddragon's Story
She felt incredibly carefree this morning. The very air invited her to look for a new adventure.

But where?

Jamie Dawn's Story
This happened every time Mike brought by a couple of chilled six packs of Mike's Hard Lemonade.
Ella would drink them and start giggling, then dancing, then she'd open up to Mike's advances.
Worked every time.
What Mike didn't know was that whenever he looked away, Ella would pour her drink out into the base of the Palm tree. She wasn't drunk at all.
She was giggling and letting him kiss her simply because she wanted him too.

GPV's Story
It was on the second day of school and since I missed the 7:30 bus,I was kind of late,not too much no,not late enough to run but late so that I had to walk fast,I heard the bell of Fortier High School ringing from a hundred yards off,I had to speed up.
She walked out of her alley and at the first sight of her my fourteen years old heart skipt a beat or two.She was going the opposite way from Fortier so she passed me by,I turned around to watch her go and I almost ran into a post, she looked back too so she had time to see what was happening and I heard her giggling, as I hurried to school I felt myself blushing.
I kept taking the 7:45 bus everyday for a month or two so I could just time my walk to school to see her get out from her house and our paths would cross until I had enough guts to say hello to her,she answered and her voice was a low chant "Hi" and I blushed again,she saw it as her eyes looked up and she smiled and looked aside the way girls do when they mean yes,even though they might say no.
I learned little things about her,bit by bit;she didn't go out on fridays to wherever she was going the other days,she had a floral perfume which left a light
and fresh scent around her,she didn't have much books to carry and after a while I learned that most saturdays she spent on her house's porch reading a book or doing nothing(I learned this because my dad drove me by a saturday afternoon) on another saturday I checked to see if she was there,she was.
It took me sometimes to gather enough courage to go to her place
on a saturday afternoon and to be obvious about coming to see her,
so I decided to play it franckly
and I walked to her home and she saw me coming,she got up from her chair as I stopped in front of her lawn,she reached for one of the posts of the porch and swinging around it in half an arc she said:
You don't go to school on saturdays do you?-No,I...was just..well I came to see you(blush).
_Oh,nice,well then come on in
and_You like some tea?

As if we knew each other since birth.

Lynn,my sweet fair brunette, first love I had in New Orleans who would walk like dancing,with dark eyes so deep my heart drowned
in them,Lynn died in a car wreck a few weeks after we met,after we made love eyes in eyes a few times.. OOOOoo much too few.
When I think of her some nights
water falls from my eyes,it rains a bit on my pillow.

Still Life's Story
come dance with me she whispered

i'd rather watch from here

put down those things and dance with me

but I am, just to look at you

My Story
I struggled my way through a suffocating swamp wide as an ocean and ridden with hostile creatures of amphibian physiology whose forte seemed the strangulation of all thought. This was the path to the house where she lived. I had been there many times before, but each time the way was different and I had to divine it anew. Invariably the journey was perilous and taxing. A previous time I stumbled my way through the crass outline of a city, erring through an eternal crescendo of traffic and noise and anonymity to find my way to her. But despite the physical ambiance of the journey, she was always there in her abode, waiting with exactly the words, some spoken, some held in her eyes, woven like a net, to catch and draw out the idea slumbering unseen inside me, visible only to her. It was so light there, so airy, in contrast to what I knew, and I always found her dancing to a music only she could hear. But as I undertook the journey of return, the idea clutched in my hands, I could almost hear the melody following me with the breeze, and I felt like skipping along whatever path it was that held me.

Girls in White at Bar

2005-09-14T06:40:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
Aisha, Misha, and Geisha spent many a night at the Grecian Formula bar, tempting men to come find out what the Fates had destined for them. Men never turned them down, because the prospect of having three hot girls in nearly-transparent white blouses and mini-miniskirts come onto them was a siren's song. The men, alas, were never seen again because the girls were not Fates, they were Gorgons without the serpentine hairstyles. Their long hair hid the fact that they didn't have eyes, other than the crystal-bottomed glass they passed amongst themselves (which they joked was their "beer goggle"), and would turn a man's flesh to something resembling stone before devouring him.

My Story
Hell was a bar and grill presided over by three women. They chuckled at the misconception that a figure like Mephistopheles could be thought in charge. Mephisto worked for them, to be sure: washing dishes. But he had no supernatural powers whatsoever. His reputation was based on frequent sightings in cafes and restaurants, always an extravagant and generous tipper. But he hadn't the imagination to make hell hot. The three sisters of sadism, however, were mistresses of the subtle art of torture, applicable on male and female alike, with slight variations as to gender. Males were teased by titillation, suggestive flashes of skin unsuccessfully covered by meager scraps of skirt, and their skill of looking right through a man as if he were of no interest whatsoever. The men would beg to be served a drink or meal, or an attentive smile, but they were ignored. Women, on the other hand, were treated with piercing, dirty looks that throttled self-esteem, achieving belittlement that no amount of male thoughtlessness could ever cause.

That was the nature of hell. Apart from the myth of Mephisto's powers, the conditions of entry had also been clouded by inaccuracy, as introduced by centuries of oral tradition. Good intentions wouldn't get you there, neither would evil actions. If, however, you forgot to tip a waitress, a special table would be reserved for you.

Bug Girl with Friends

2005-08-31T06:25:00.000-05:00

Doug's Story
The chords changed people. When Sharif played he lost himself. When he sang he found himself. No-one who listened was ever the same again. Shel Silverstein was probably the wrong choice when his friends visited but it was better than the time he played Roberta Flack.

Still Life's Story
Vxsemyt found it difficult to fully take part in the college revelry with her new friends.
Life came too easy for them (cars, cool clothes, unlimited funds) and they lived each day without regard to their riches.
Vxsemyt was not a part of their circle, but just a poor girl from outside of the galaxy on full scholarship. And though she knew that she really should be cramming for mid terms, she remained at the party until the last keg drained.
Peer pressure sucks.

Elveshat's Story
Sixty year old finally and I am sitting in a taxi on a sunny Monday morning anticipating to reach my destination. It had been, after all, thirty five years since I last saw the members of the historical "BS '70Uni Company". We had parted as soon as we had graduated promising to meet again at least 35 years later on the very same house where this picture was taken. Holding this picture in my hands now, I feel somewhat thrilled but curious as well. Will my old friends show up? The guys of our company were so funny. Jack would never part from his precious acoustic guitar, he was the one who used to question everything, maybe a little disappointed from the political situation of our time. It seems that his desperate cries to "awaken us" did not work and he had taken up to music, considering it a way of unconventional demonstration. We, of course did not want to change the world at that time. Our main concern, besides getting into trouble, was to achieve the world record of the lowest graduation grade from university ever! We never found out if we entered the Guinness book, but we did graduated and "BS 70" ceased to exist. Or maybe did not it? The taxi just arrived and I am about to find that out.

Mushroom's Story
Zzsabel thought she'd be ostracised, even attacked, when she came to Earth, but she wound up meeting some really nice people who embraced her.

Actionbell's Story
Nathan is relieved that the rest of his band is oblivious to the situation and can relax for awhile, but he cannot. Little do they know, he thinks, but things are about to get much, much worse. Marci has already been turned into some kind of ant creature, Ken seems to be morphing into a crab, and Kurt is obviously developing fish-like tendencies. Only Sara appears to be normal, but Nathan knows that she is not herself, but in some kind of trance. Nathan has been staring into the kitchen, obsessed with the thought that everything was slowly changing. These changes were so slow,and it was maddening to try to perceive them, but Nathan was sure they were happening. Only this morning, Marci had looked like Marci. When did her features start to change? He hadn't noticed it. Even as he thought this, the air around him thickened, grew heavy, and he began to breathe harder. He could feel his heart beat, almost hear it. Yes,he was sure of it: the kitchen's straight, flat surfaces were bending, starting to move. He closed his eyes.

Lolly's Story
Andrea had always been fascinated with ants. After the horrible fire, her friends all came over to help her get settled in her new apartment, supplying her with all the basic necessities that she had lost in the fire. The doctors said they could give her a new face, but only after her current burns had healed to a point. In the meantime, she would need to keep her head totally bandaged. So with the help of her friends, they came up with an ant head to cover the morbid mummy-type bandages. And much to her surprise and delight, it was actually improving her date-life!

My Story
Did you know 'Antlitz' was the German word for face?" Clara clicked with her segmented tongue while testing with skin-covered fingers the feel of her flesh.

"How would I know that!?" Frank fired forth while completing the inner transformation into a creature with fins. The thin webs forming between his toes began to tickle, causing his countenance to twist instinctively into a fish laugh.

Bob stopped strumming the guitar, looking up with the hunted look of Kafka's ape in "Report to an Academy" about to be captured and caged and taught the ways of civilization. In a moment, thick, grimy fur would sprout from the pores of his chest.

Vanessa had no time to answer. She hurriedly placed a pillow over her body to hide the debilitating change into a gelatinous blob of amoebic substance. The lips on what remained of her human formations were fixed in an embarrassed grin.

"Don't worry," Bill's exuberant voice rang out, "In a moment I'll put my fingers together and we'll all be ants again!"

Little Boy with Flag

2005-08-22T01:27:00.000-05:00

Aral Peppermint Patty Pez's Story
All Stevie could do was stand on the corner and wonder, why? Why couldn't he be in the Memorial Day Parade?

He watched with sadness and anger as the older boys in the Boy Scout troop marched by. He felt contempt as the Girl Scouts came by. When the local librarians marched by pushing carts with books and waving, he had to bite his lip to keep from crying.

Someday, thought Stevie, I'll be in this parade too.

Little Bar of Soap's Story
He loved God. He loved his country. Little Joe packed up his satchel and waited for the Rapture.

Sweet Jesus, sweep Joe into your loving arms!

Elveshat's Story
The little American boy standing outside the military headquarters in Milan had to pose one more time for those silly press-photographers. The American dictator was spreading the rumor that they had conquered the whole earth, even the small country of Italy that had been resisting their hi-tech weapons for more than a year. Almost the whole world had become one nation, different languages and local traditions were forbidden by law and back home the arrogance of the American people was growing. The dictator had carefully concealed the fact that Italy was still holding its position, denying to rise an American Flag. That is why they needed proof and evidence of the American dominion worldwide; they needed to feed the hungry brainwashed minds with the same vanity again and again.

Forced by American soldiers, little Bob had to pose again with that strange flag even if he hated them, the flag and everything it would symbolize. His little mind could not grasp how a single man from his country could turn a symbol of freedom into a source of tyranny and misery spreading through the entire world. ”Why do they make war? Why do they make people cry?” These were the questions that made Bob so angry at his own people, and sad at this terrible injustice. His anger would slowly turn into sadness but he stood still in front of them never showing any sign of tears. He had a strong will along with a clever mind, and was determined to free his country as soon as he would grow up. “I am just pretending to be one of them” Bob thought to himself and looked straight at the eye of the camera, “but the dictator will perish and I will bring the time of peace again in this world”. Thus the photograph was shot and the little boy went home with the certainty of a winner.

Denotsko's Story
Yeah, McCarthy got his way. Little Jimmy would wave a flag. He would wave it and stand on any streetcorner and sing the praises of the land of the free. He would tell the world about the glory of America.

But he refused to put down his purse, and no matter what kind of signs they put in the storefronts, he would never wear a shirt or shoes just to buy gum.

Doug's Story
When Rashid Ali Kalaam was born his parents were embarassed. The light hair and fine features spoke to a heritage neither of them would claim. When young Rashid was oldest enough to go out and play, his parents kept him home, helping his mother in their home in Basra. They feared he would be picked on and they accused. Rashid knew he was ugly by local standards but he believed that somewhere out there was a place where he could be accepted even liked.

Then came the day in 1965 when his father was sent to a city called Cincinatti in a distant land. As soon as Rashid and his mother got off the plane, Rashid looked around him and knew he had come home to the place he'd always belonged. On the way from the airport to Rashid's new house, the Somali cabdriver told Rashid "I have a son just your age. I bet he'd love to play with you."

Tan Lucy Pez's Story
Oscar was born on the fourth of July. He always believed that the big celebrations and parades were for him. For his birthday.

When he was five, his parents moved to Germany. People stopped celebrating his birthday. What had happened?, What had he done to displease the world? Why didn't they celebrate his birthday any more?

One day when there was a big parade coming down the street, Oscar ran and got his little American flag. In America everyone had waved flags for his birthday. Holding his flag, he watched the parade pass by.

It was all he could do not to cry.

Jamie Dawn's Story
Little Indie got so into his waving of the flag at the parade that he popped a button.
His mom told him not to worry about it, and said he didn't need to keep holding it closed.
Indie was irritated.
"MOM, my pecs haven't developed yet!"

Rhoda's Story
During the move her husband had found a shoe box filled various childlike memorabilia. Some old dirty marbles, a buffalo nickel, a scuffed plastic army man, a metal kazoo with its dull red paint flaking off, and the picture.

The picture, who was that boy with the dull drab overalls and no shirt? He seemed so familiar, somehow, that serious yet indifferent gaze, peering out at him.

He went to his wife, who was unpacking boxes in the next room. "Who is this little boy?" he asked, holding up the picture.
The wife smiled. "I haven't seen that in forever. I thought I'd lost it." The husband handed it to her. "It's my brother." She said. The husband was confused, "I didn't know you had a brother..."
The wife handed the picture back. "Well he died later that day. It was the fourth of July and he had an accident with some fireworks."

The husband looked at the picture again, trying to find something to say. "He looks very patriotic." She smiled, "He was, he wanted to be president someday." The husband laughed, "Isn't that something. Funny how life turns out huh?" The wife nodded, "Yea funny."

The husband, with his wife's permisson had the picture enlarged and he put in on his desk in the Oval Office. When people would ask who is that? he'd reply "That is America, that is who I'm doing all this for."

His wife, late at night, while she was alone, would smother her giggles with her hand. Knowing that sometimes the most American thing is compromise, and that while she never became president, she would settle for first lady.

My Story
The Great War of 2015 left little behind in its wake. No books, no flags, no photographs. Of course there were human survivors, there always are, because even the most thorough of annihilatory practices leaves unexpected havens somewhere, just as a tornado passing through a street levels one house and leaves the next house unscathed. Those crawling out from under the rubble had other concerns than rescuing the trappings of the failed civilization. The occasional preservation of objects reminiscent of the old times, which did however occur, was attributed to a feeling of nostalgia that has always been a part of humanity, the melancholy cousin of the dream for a better day. These objects were placed in a museum in displays without commentary. The photograph of the boy pledging his allegiance was part of a trinity, found in the abandoned ruins of a stone cellar, the owner perhaps dust. The photograph had been used as a bookmark in the Bible, the Bible itself wrapped in a flag.

Indeterminacy and Son

2005-08-16T05:35:00.000-05:00

Elveshat's Story
After a merciless chase through an African jungle, fear would always become an unaffordable luxury. The safari director would create a new fake company each spring to attract unsuspecting tourists and feed them to his pets. The ill mind of the cold-blooded murderer could always organize his crimes to the very finest details, never leaving any tracks or possibility of an escape. He would enjoy the merciless chase of the pumas and tigers by watching his hidden cameras that were set in the whole jungle. He was always amused to witness the terror, fear and total degrade of the human nature and that made him the most powerful man in the world. "This is nothing more than a reality show" he repeated to himself rather often. This month had been generous to his pets. More than 3 people had been devoured by his favourite puma. "What fun to watch them tremble like mice, without any weapons deep in the jungle". But today something unexpected had happened. Two of his "mice" had proved to be stronger than he would ever think. They had developed a technique that made the pumas and tigers run away with fear. Unable to believe what was going on, the criminal was sitting all day in front of his cameras trying to find out what was happening and how could 2 people intimidate his whole "army". He didn’t have to wait for a long time to watch a father and his son stand fearless before a puma and making faces and noises that scared the poor beast almost to death. Then the tiger came, and again the same thing happened. The father and the son would concentrate so hard to control their fear, a technique that they had learned in a buddhistic monastery in their last vacation, and the wild animals would disappear within seconds! Not knowing what to do, the director of this "fun jungle park" went to meet the two heros and pretended that a great disaster had come upon their safari tour, attacked by wild animals most of the travelers had died. He also shouted out loud, trying to convince maybe himself that he was so happy that they had survived and they had better leave soon, lest another catastrophe would come upon them. Thus, father and son left the jungle, not silly enough to believe the jungle-murderer that they immediately called the police after they had survived another lion attack in the middle of the main road, on their way to the capital city. The police was able to arrest the director of that safari park, who was sentenced to life.

Mushroom's Story
Kuku the gorilla had learned sign language, developed mathematical skills, cared for a kitten, started his own blog, and took up photography as a hobby. His handler thought it was unusual that he'd express an interest in those latter two since she didn't figure he'd be aware of cyberspace or photography, but he signed that even simians are online nowadays and he couldn't help but know about photography since humans always point their cameras at him. Kuku turned out to have a good eye for photography, and he started a Photo.net page to share his pictures. It wasn't long before he'd taken so many pictures of humans making goofy faces at him and other zoo residents that he started a Blogspot page called Stupid Humans At The Zoo, which became highly popular with both humans and primate viewers.

Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
Wolfgang had known something was off about his father for a whole week. First he had started pointing out every nubile girl they passed and saying weird things about her. Some were goddesses, others had telekinetic powers, and still others exercised a fascinating influence over the opposite sex. Naturally Wolfgang had been frightened by this, but when his father began making absurd statements about inanimate objects, the boy realized that none of it couldn't possibly be true.
Everything had come to a head on the way to the zoo this morning, when his father had accused his mother of letting the car seat get fresh with her. Annoyed, she had dropped them off at the zoo and gone off to visit her sisters on Mount Parnassus.
As they crossed the bridge over Gorilla Gorge Wolfgang's father began making faces at the largest male, obviously trying to communicate. When the boy tried to edge away, his father restrained him.
"Wait. Do some tricks! He says he'll buy us a hamburger if you do. You're one of their favorite attractions."
Enough was enough. Wolfgang gathered his courage. "Dad," he said. "Last year when you started your stories, we were all thrilled. But they're stories. Fiction. You have to get that girl's head out of the refrigerator. Mom doesn't want to wear long flowing robes and sing in your ear all the time. And we'd all like to eat strawberries again without having you cry and sing taps. Happy blogiversary, Dad, but please. Get real."

Jamie Dawn's Story
The boy had begged his daddy not to drink the water from the mysitcal waterfall, but he drank it anyway. Immediately, his daddy began acting very strangely and making animal noises. The boy knew his daddy would never be the same again. And he was right.
The boy decided to bottle the water, and he made quite a fortune selling the stuff to those who wanted to cause their enemies to go wacky. All the money in the world could not make his daddy normal again, so the boy decided to drink some of the water himself.

My Story
The vicious pirates Peg Head Jones and his offspring Baby Face Barnacle were terrors from Costa Rica to the Caribbee and as far north as Cincinnati. In '98 they jumped the early-morning line at an inland Toys R' Us, making off with a swag of first edition Barbie dolls just ready to hit the shelves, worth more by this time than the combined income of the top ten supermodels. Their daring escape down the Ohio, Missouri and Mississippi on a leaky raft dazzled the media, and their subsequent daylight disappearance into the Gulf was legend. Now they roamed the rain forest path in search of their stash, ears attuned to the myriad patterns of sound indigenous to South Sea islands: the tinkling waterfall, the exotic song of unseen birds, the hushed murmur of natives far off in the distance.

"Matey, be ya sure this were the spot?" Baby Face Barnacle looked up at the taller pirate.

"I'd swear on a keg o' potato rum!" Peg Head swaggered, rubbing the back of his head with a piece of sandpaper. "I lefts a sign by th' tree what says 'Schefflera actinophylla' and thar it be." He pointed to the inconspicuous, white marker in front of the tropical trunk.

"But we dug an' dug' an' nuthin' but a duster it were. I says we's goin' 'round in circles. I got more deja vooze than a skippin' gramophone." Baby Face shook his head, more puzzled than a parrot in Pittsburg.

"Har, me lad! Somethin' be wrong, but I'll be a pied Peter Pan if I kin get me 'ook in it," Peg Head answered, and glanced about from side to side, hoping to catch sight of something definitive.

"Ay, we be wanderin' for hours and ain't got nowheres. I says we--" The sound of footfalls on the path interrupted Baby Face. He looked up suddenly. "Argh! It be that crazed dog of an islander again. Let's you an' me scar him off!"

Baby Face Barnacle put on his mean look and Peg Head Jones snarled, but the approaching native seemed unconcerned. "Look here," he said, "you two are beginning to frighten the guests. I've told you already, no digging, and now you're making faces at everyone. This is your last warning. Remember that you're in a conservatory!"

Girl with Teddy Bear

2005-08-08T07:19:00.000-05:00

Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
In the Rest Home for Classic Literary Characters, Alice resisted card playing, chess, and croquet, as they brought back bad associations. She also seemed to prefer gardens without flowers, and she was very suspicious of food and drink, especially around tea time.
She disliked many animals, especially rabbits and caterpillars, but eventually she embraced the cause of the panda. Unfortunately, as soon as she fed it some bamboo marked "eat me," her new baby panda turned into a stuffed animal, sending Alice over the edge.
She can now be seen, dressed sympathetically in black and white, wandering about the unflowered parts of the grounds and crooning songs about jabberwocks and Father William to the toy. She hopes to one day find a mushroom that will restore him to reality.

A Little Bar of Soap's Story
Sally had come of age at last. Finally, she was 14 and old enough to be baptized. She had looked forward to this day all of her life!

She woke up early that day, putting on her finest white dress for the sacrament. She was so excited that she couldn't even eat breakfast! She decided to bring her childhood friend, Noah the Panda, along to the event. (Of course, she let her little sister Margaret hold Noah during the actual baptism so that he wouldn't get ruined.)

Finally it was 9:00 a.m. and time to head for the creek, where should would be immersed in the waters of holy baptism.

The minister was a tall, handsome young man. He placed his hand on Sally's head, said the Word of God, and pushed her under the water of the creek.

Sally's soul has been pure and clean ever since. Praise be to Jesus!

Mushroom's Story
Emily was just a little girl, and she wanted to stay that way for always. People thought she was a little 'different' for still dressing in pinafores and mary janes, dragging a stuffed animal with her everywhere, talking with a squeak and shy giggle, and preferring macaroni & cheese as meals when she was 30. Her family and closest friends assured others that she wasn't born mentally challenged and hadn't been a victim of either a brain injury or early onset of senile demensia. She just enjoyed being a girl. There were few responsibilities beside cleaning one's plate and one's room, it was easier to be pleasant to the world and the shyness of a child came in handy when she didn't want to deal with others (though finding skirt-tails to hide behind was more difficult since she was over five feet tall), and unlike her agemates she was still polite. Strange looks aside, this was a winning formula for her. "Some people never know who they are," she said in a voice that Lily Tomlin's 'Edith Ann' character would be envious of, "and can't be that person if they did know. I'm lucky... I know who I want to be, and I'm me."

Her little girl personna also served another benefit: other people thought she was incapable of thinking or acting in an adult manner, so they never suspected that she was quite the hit with the folks at the club downtown. They never knew she got out of her four-poster single bed with My Little Pony sheets around 11pm (having gone to bed at 8:00pm as obedient little girls should) three nights a week, snuck over the club with her friends Dressie Bessie and Dapper Dan who would pick her up at the corner, and meet up with other adult children. Sometimes she'd hook up with little boys in their 20's wearing knickerbockers and Dippity-Doo curls, inevitably named Timmy, who wanted a playmate to play house or doctor with; sometimes she'd meet a kind but stern teacher, parent, or uncle that would discipline and educate her, or at the very least help her take a bubble bath and be sure that she cleaned behind her ears. She'd be back home in her own bed by 5am, and wake happy but groggy and ready for another tea party after 9am.

Everyone she played with at the club agreed she was sugar and spice and everything nice, just like the people she saw during the day believed, but those few she'd lifted the crinolines over her head for in fits of girlish embarassment knew the most prominent of those three ingredients was spice.

Alice's Story
He took her into the woods behind the house. It had taken him awhile to get her there but finally, figuring out her love for the panda he suggested a panda theme and she agreed. She looked forward to the afternoon and hoped this shoot would help her get a job as the next Dove oversized model. She would agree to some nudity and in return she would get some photos, for her portfolio from one of the world’s greatest photographers. She felt clever and her intuition told her this was going to lead to her big break. He felt anticipatory and dead inside at the same time
When they arrived in the wooded area, where he usually took his pictures and he gave her the faux panda she immediately felt comfortable. This was the first shot her took; she looked so content almost like a child; she was going for coy but didn’t quite get the look she wanted as she looks slightly insane here. Unfortunately for her or not she was not clever enough and her intuition appears to have failed her and although she looked insane it was indeed he whose insanity had taken over on this day. This is the last picture of her or at least the latest dated picture of her we can find: there may be more but this is the only one left behind.

The Devil's Story
On the morning of Sally's baptism, they didn't know that the minister was drunk. He began screaming prayers as he held Sally's head under the water in spite of her kicking and flailing arms. The rescue squad revived her, but because of the lack of oxygen she was brain damaged for life and walked around in s daze carrying her stuffed Panda Bear and she religiously read the Pansi Files everyday! She then started her own blog and call it "I wish I was a Little Bar of Soap".

Still Life's Story
she had been a girl of great potential

she had lived the life of a fairy tale
of formal balls and crystal shoes
but her life has turned to tragedy
and alas she's second hand news

thrown violently from the graces
of those who once adored
in fits of anger they erupted
don't come back you filthy whore

now you find her wandering
the woods and lacking aim
where once she held her head highly
she now shies and bows it in shame

and it's a pity really
she had been a girl of such great potential

My Story
Alice, nymphal in size and litheness, was candy for connoisseurs of the lean. During her Sunday stroll in the park a dapper, doll-sized Teddy Bear darted across her path and into a clump of trees, bobbing left and right past slanting trunks.

"I'm bait!" his voice drifted back to her. She took off after him, hoping to catch and cuddle him. Their pursuit brought her into a dense sameness of shadowy green where she no longer saw any motion. She wandered along for a while, unsure in which direction the Teddy had vanished, when she came upon a clearing. In the clearing was a tree, and around the tree was dancing the Teddy, apparently waiting to be caught. "He's all mine!" she thought as she dashed under the hanging foilage, towards the hopping and skipping bundle of fluff.

"Eat me," said a cookie dangling seductively from one of the branches above her.

"Go ahead," said the Teddy, looking up at her, "It's a cookie tree." The aroma of freshly baked cookies drifted down to her nose. She took the cookie and began nibbling at it with increasing excitement. It was still warm!

"Why, these cookies are exquisite!" she exclaimed, enraptured by the taste.

"Thank you," said the tree. Meanwhile the Teddy bided his time, leaning against the tree trunk, glancing at his pocket watch.

"Eat me," said another cookie. And another. An entire chorus. The more cookies she ate, the fatter she got, until finally the tree was out of cookies.

"Dear me, I'm going to need new clothes," she said to herself, perceiving that her old blouse and skirt had burst into tatters under the stress of her new ampleness.

"You came to just the right place," the Teddy tossed in, "I'm a designer, specializing in costumes for fairy tales. But business has been bad of late. No more fairy tales." He shrugged and handed her his calling card, which she turned over in her chubby hand, studying the sleek, stylized lettering on the small rectangle: "Fashions of Theodore - Have Cookie - Will Crumble."

Old Woman with Scarf and Earrings

2005-07-31T23:44:00.000-05:00

Doug's Story
"No, no, no," Jonquil explained, "it should be over here between your molars...yes, yes, very good, does it feel soft and supple? Does it taste like meat or vegetable? With the tip of your tongue, dear...ah, yes that's nice...meat or vegetable, dear? Ah, spinach, wonderful, wonderful...how old does it seem? Still green? Oh, you can tell because it loses it's flavor for awhile then takes on the taste of your mouth. Can't taste it? Probably three days then. That's all I need dear, you'll live into your sixties, marry a wealthy insurance broker at 28 and will adopt one child."

Mushroom's Story
Grandma Conchetti couldn't eat carrots without a bit of them sliding up the back stairs of the breathing passage. Carrots were the only food she had this trouble with, and she never understood why it happened to her. Her brothers taught her how to remedy the problem, back when she was a preteen in Sicely, and two generations later a snort and a hock still drew the offending veggies back down her gullet like they always had. Family dinners were always great at Grandma's house -- and, for some eaters, truncated affairs once the appetite was lost when she'd have to do her manoeuver. Her children and grandchildren had asked why she doesn't just leave the raw or gently cooked carrots out of her dishes, and she'd say with a snap "because they are good for the eyes, bimbini!" Not only did she have good eyesight, she seldom had competition for dessert.

[This is based on a true story... I have that exact problem with raw carrots. What, am I inhaling while I'm chewing?]

Jamie Dawn's Story
I'm Pat and I'm a pirate wench. I've sailed the angry seas for over 65 years now in search of fine booty. Well, no fine booty could be found and I had to settle for my wimpy husband, Johnny.
(Insert Phyllis Diller laugh here.)
Now, seriously, whenever a drunken scoundrel would try and have his way with me, I'd give him this face here, and the rotten vermin would scurry away like a scared mouse.
But, not Johnny, no.
He never gave up, or ran away, and he pillaged and plundered the heck outta me. It was afterwards that I found out he was blind. (Insert laugh again.)

Sue Donim's Story
It was the worst orgasm in the history of the Universe.

Michael's Story
Janet's grandson Gerald loved playing in the dirt. He would move dirt with his yellow bulldozer. Making roads for all his toy trucks and cars. Janet watched him all morning until just before lunch.

"Gerald its time to go in for a bath before we eat"

"Bath!?" Gerald spit at her. "I don't need a bath"

As he looked at her he couldn't help make such ugly faces at her. He spent quite a few minutes perfecting the perfect look.

Janet didn't know whether to play along or laugh at him. He was such a dramatic child.

After Gerald got the look down he spat at her, "What's for lunch?"

"Grilled cheese and tomato soup"

"Eeewww" another grimace formed making it hard to resist.

Janet clenched her jaws and wrinkled her nose in her best impression of Gerald's expression.
Gerald was startled as he looked up at her but then fell into a laughing fit as he rolled in the dirt.

Janet reached down and tickled him making him laugh even more.

"Let's go eat"

My Story
Madame Bonair, great grandmother of the gypsies, wandered around her apartment berating her dearly departed spouse. There was no escape for him, not even in death. The idea! Thinking he could simply pass away and spend the rest of eternity haunting a strip bar or hovering around street corners, peering down women's tops. If he was going to see any skin in the afterlife, it would be hers, or her name wasn't Madame Bonair, which it was. So that settled it. The poor disembodied spirit had to accompany his sharp-tongued wife everywhere, even to the tedious séances she held. If only some visitors from beyond would pop in to hang out with him. But that never happened. Her spiritist sittings were such a sham it made his protoplasmic blood boil, all the while wishing vehemently that he could evaporate. He observed his wife at the hocus pocus, the crystal ball she stroked so mysteriously, seeing nothing but a distortion of her own gnarly reflection; and that annoying, nasally-pitched voice spewing forth in her phony trance, the same voice that had nagged him all those years of his life and past his deceasement. Enough was enough! It made him so furious he'd lift up the table and hurl it across the room. But even in death he couldn't win. All that he achieved was a generous tip for Madame Bonair and an increase in her reputation as a mistress of mysticism.

Girl with Magic Wand

2005-07-30T23:26:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
He had hoped and prayed upon a midnight star that one day she'd come, and then through fuzzy eyes she appeared to him... the Unreality Fairy materialized in his room, just as he'd envisioned her, wearing a black bra under a white camisole and holding her wand seductively between her parted lips. He knew what he wanted to wish for, and had known since he was eleven. He spoke his wish and with a wink that could make a stone golum bleed she leaned forward, wagged her wand once quickly, and as as quickly whisked back into the ether. His longstanding fantasy had been granted... his heart's deepest wish fulfilled, and he relaxed in his gratification.

How he was going to get that Jeep CJ7 out of his apartment would be another story.

Jamie Dawn's Story
She dressed up each Saturday in her Wish Fairy costume and visited the Children's ward. The sick kids would tell her their secrets and desires. She always cheered them up.
She rounded the corner on her way out, and there he was. It was a private room, but the door was wide open. Orlando Bloom was lying there asleep, or unconscious, she couldn't tell which.
Suddenly, gently, he opened his eyes and smiled at her. It was love at first sight for both of them.
"Wake up, Linda!" her mom yelled.
"Time to get ready to visit the kids at the hospital."

Cyanotica's Story
Whatever she had done to deserve the latest woeful chain of events she was sorry, she thought as she touched the magic wand to her lips. The aroma of mothballs and cotton candy wafted up to her nostrils, as she contemplated the happier occasions on which this part of her childhood Halloween costume was used. That seemed like another person's life now, totally removed from the sadness and desparation she was currently experiencing.

They found her mother hanging from a basement rafter, blue and lifeless, eyes fixed on blank eternity. The RA of her dorm had knocked on her door with the news at 3:00am, and somewhere in the pit of her stomach, before her schoolmate could even open her mouth, she knew. After all, good news never comes at that hour, and Mom had been sick for a while now. Ironically, the psychiatrist had recently assured her and her dad that the increased dosage of anti-depressents would be enough to mitigate the effects of a particularly difficult menopause, but all that meant nothing now. For as long as she could remember, she had seen the glint of pain and terminality in her mother's eyes, and for that reason, she distanced herself from the one person who probably understood her best.

Outside, she heard the rumble of the moving van pulling up in the driveway, and knew that soon, a very long road was about to end, and a very lonely one was about to begin.

My Story
Harvey clicked the send button, dissolving his e-mail into a flux of electrical impulses that zapped through the hubs connecting the World Wide Web with God knows what. But he really wanted those love pills. Seconds later the doorbell rang.

"I'm the Spam Fairy," the girl at the door said, but she didn't smile and gaily wave her wand about like those fairys he'd seen in Disney movies. She looked at him with those big, consternated eyes of hers and waited for him to tell her what he wanted.

"Is something wrong?" Harvey asked her, sensing that this was his big chance, showing sympathy to a fairy, maybe even doing her a good deed. No telling how she might repay him. She might even be willing to grant some especially personal wishes.

Tears welled in her eyes, "It's so awful in our world," she cried, "Streets paved with college degrees, mortgage money raining from the skies, hailstorms of little blue pills." She leaned her head on his shoulder while her shoulders bobbed up and down accompanying her stifled sobs. "And the diat supplements, the cheap real estate everywhere..."

She looked up again and showed him the tears running down her cheeks, "And those pick-up bars filled with girls yearning for Christian dates. They're so shameless! We're working round the clock, sending e-mails trying to find someone to take all these abominations off our hands."

Harvey looked into her eyes and stated with all the sincerity he could muster, "I wish I could help you."

"Do you, really?" she asked him, eyes sparkling with magic. Harvey nodded. The Spam Fairy waved her wand. The next thing Harvey knew he was in a room filled with PCs, and at each PC was huddled some wretched person, moving a mouse and typing in e-mails with shaky fingers. A burly sumo wrestler with sweaty muscles and a whip strolled gaily about the room, randomly lashing the stooped figures. "Type faster! Get that spam out! Longer! Harder! All night long! You!" he bellowed grabbing Harvey by the arm and accelerating him into a hard, empty seat. "What do you think this is? Disneyland?!? Get to work!"

Man Diving into Pool with Inflatable Whales

2005-07-01T11:15:00.000-05:00

Weirsdo's Story
"Will ya look at that dive, son! They really can learn! Just push that blue float over to him when he comes up. They're smart, all right, and very sociable. Why, today, when I put him in the water, he almost sounded as if he was cursing me!" Orc chuckled. "We are gonna make so much money offa this. We just have to work on his form a little."
"Yeah, but Dad," said his son, watching as the meager human desperately pulled himself onto the rubber float, "Are you sure we're feeding him right? He looks thin."
"Blew his lungs up myself, first thing this morning, son. You leave everything to your old dad. We'll just keep giving him good wholesome fresh air, and he'll be right as rain in a day or two."

My Story
Orca: There he goes, diving into the pool again.
Orco: What a show off! Evolving from a beach ball into a human.
Orca: Your brain's a beach ball if you believe that evolution nonsense. Everyone knows the Great White Whale created us by breathing dust into our inflatable forms.
Orco: Sure, but still, there he is, coming and going as he pleases. And all we do is float aimlessly in the water.
Orca: But it's a great life, isn't it?
Orco: I don't know. Sometimes I'd just like to swim across the pool to the other side, to be in the sun. Or sometimes, if the sun is hot, I'd like to swim into the shade. But we can't move!
Orca: There's more to life than just moving around.
Orco: Well, I wish he'd stop moving.
Orca: Basically, he's nothing more than a bacterial conglomerate. If they'd only put a little more chlorine in the water, he'd go back to being a beach ball.

Couple Dancing in Living Room

2005-07-01T06:18:00.000-05:00

Michael's Story
Grace and Mosely were walking down the driveway to their home. Both had worked a long day and the refuge of their habitat was calling loudly. Before they reached the door Grace blurted out, "I think I'm pregnant". A wild look appeared on Mosely's face and he had trouble forming the word, "How?" "No, I don't mean how "how", I mean I thought you were on the pill". Grace stopped walking just before the steps of their home, slunk to the ground as the tears burst in floods. "I am…, I don't know… It's not one hundred per cent…" The words barely audible between sobs. Mosely slunk to the ground next to Grace and put her arm around her. "It's OK. I know we talked about careers first but we can do this." They sat there on the ground and absorbed the quiet. Finally as if in agreement they both got up and walked through their front door. Grace cried a few more tears and said, "I'm not ready for this". Knowing she really didn't want an answer, Mosely simply held her.
Grace had purchased a pregnancy kit and the next morning followed the instructions biting her lips as they waited the results.

"It's negative" Grace announced still biting her lips.

Mosely pulled her to his arms and said, "I'm sorry"

"I am too"

Alice's Story
The trip was a long one. If things had turned out differently for him they would not be here. If that manuscript had been accepted, as he was assured it would be, he would have been able to pay off his bills and he would have been able to help send her back to college and buy her a house without having to do what was ultimately done. He never meant to take the money for good. He was going to pay it back; it was just that the bills kept coming and there was so much he wanted to give her and he could not give her anything without money. The city had taken everything away from him. It had taken his money and it zapped his creativity. In the long run, this place in the woods would be the best place for him. He had no choice now; it was this house or jail.

When the phone call came he was prepared and he expected to leave alone for the house in the mountains far away. She would be better off without hi; He wasn't a writer, he wasn't a provider, he was nothing. He told her though, she needed to know where he was and she needed to be able to move on.
She insisted on going with him. She didn't care about any of it. She didn't want money, she didn't care about going back to college she didn't even care about a stupid house.

It turns out she only cared about him.

They made it to the house around dusk.
He felt a calmness he had not felt in a long time.
He embraced her, for the first time understanding things that he wished he could have understood a long time ago.

Mushroom's Story
Tom had pledged that he would wait for Jeanne until his dying day. He knew that someday she would relent, she would change her mind, she was consent to spending one night in his arms. He wasn't stalking her, he knew that would drive her further away than she already was from him. Their paths crossed enough in their normal lives at college that he knew how she was doing and she knew that he wasn't giving up hope. If there were a reason for concern, their mutual friends would have sounded the alarm. Even within those boundaries and her (and their friends) saying anywhere from softly to sarcastically that she wasn't going to give him more than being a buddy, he still held onto the spark of belief that she'd be in his arms some sweet day.

Tom and a couple of dorm friends decided they wanted to go get some coffee on Sunday morning, hoping to shake the ringing in their heads from the party they'd had the night before, and went by Jeanne's room to roust her -- she'd been the belle of the ball and they figured she needed a little caffiene more than the others. She didn't answer the door, which made them a little concerned, so Tom used his driver's license to open the lock. (This was a skill he swore to the others he only used for good, not evil.) Jeanne was laying on the couch, looking like she was in peaceful slumber, but no amount of shaking or prodding was making her open her eyes. The other two ran out of the room to get the RA while Tom stayed with her. He turned on the stereo, and a Tom Petty song was playing.

Two minutes later when the two returned with help (and a slowly growing crowd of students was welling at the doorway, having been been made curious by the frantic dash those two had made and the staunch steps of the RA coming back down the hall with them), this is what they saw. People stood stunned, not knowing what to say or do but watch. It was only by her alcohol poisoning that Tom got his wish... Jeanne was at last in his arms, without objection, and he carried her in a final parting dance.

Tan Lucy Pez's Story
Tom and his new girlfriend, whom he had nicknamed Icy, were just playing around. Tom never meant to use real superglue when he was caressing her.

He just wanted her to stick around for a while...

Mme Janning's Story
The fireplace seemed the only warm element in the house. But it was too far to be seen, to be felt. And, although it was raining outside de house, inside it was pouring but nothing could give the slightest sign about it.

"I wish I had not left that note to her in the afternoon. What is she going to think? Will she understand my words differently? I wish I could see right now those deep eyes, those lucious lips kissing my skin like anyone but she does. I wish... God how much I wish she was with me right now! I hope Monday she will understand, I don't want to loose her. God, give me strenght to tell this woman that it's over."

The rain, heavy rain melting with concealed tears...

"My love, are you thinking of me right now? Are you thinking of me? This birthday is killing me... He was so happy about it. I wish he forgot about his birthday for a day in his lifetime! I am sick of this situation. And I know, I know I must tell him, to put an end to these boring weekends in the countryside. My love, I will try to tell him tonight, no, tomorrow, after the birthday, that it's over. I love you. I love you"

......

"Happy Birthday, John,Happy Birthday!"
"Thank you dear, I love the pajama!"

Weirsdo's Story
"See, honey? It's just like it was when we went to bed. You just had a bad dream." Joanna wrapped her arms round him, but Dale was not entirely soothed. It felt too much like the tentacles in the dream--or whatever it was.
Besides, was it his imagination, or was that ivy trailing a good six inches longer than it had been last night? He was just about to dismiss this notion as fantasy, when he caught sight of the contents of the wastebasket and froze.

My Story
Dora had a doll house that was realistic in all its suburban ranch house detail, down to the bric-a-brac on the living room mantel and the television remote control. She placed a couple of dolls inside, leaving them to germinate with each other. They started dancing. You could look in through the open wall and watch the dolls whirl and glide within their confines. Dora started inviting her friends over to peek into the dolls' mock-up world and watch the interaction. More and more people came to watch. Word got around. Both Time Magazine and the National Enquirer did a feature on "The Dancing Dolls." Camera crews filmed them and doll psychologists toured talk shows speculating on the sublimated passions of the dance as ersatz. Whatever it was, the dolls swirled through the living room, lost in shared motion. There was nothing else the boy doll and girl doll could do. The door to the bedroom was stuck, and the remote control did not activate the television.

Rehearsing a Play

2005-06-19T23:56:00.000-05:00

Doug's Story
Mark explained to Lugubria, "It says here that we should throw the rope over something directly overhead and fix to something solid, do you think the chairleg?"

She answered, "I don't care, hurry up, the lecture starts in twenty minutes."

A Little Bar of Soap's Story
Jennifer stood on the chair, waiting for Ms. Meyers to hand her the flyer for posting. "Why does Ms. Meyers have such a mannish haircut?" wondered Jennifer.

Ms. Meyers nearly lost her balance handing the flyer up to Jenn. "Why, Jenn dresses like a little punk boy!" thought Ms. Meyers to herself.

Jennifer and Ms. Meyers were busily preparing the 5-6 year olds Sunday School room for tomorrow's class. They'd been planning this class for months. It's on women in the Bible. They will start with Eve and go all the way through Mary Magdalene. One hour will not be enough time.

Perhaps later they'll pray about it.

Mushroom's Story
Joshua (as George) and Jesamin (as Emily) were rattling through their lines, three days before dress rehearsal of the community theatre's production of Our Town, and Josh tried his best for sincerity as he crooned, "I guess new people aren't any better than old ones" and began the pledge of love to Emily. Jesamin had to break character as though it were a moral imperative, and said over Josh's head to the director, "Ya know, this would be so much more authentic and a little safer if the custodian would let us use the building's ladders! These elementary school chairs are going to give way under our weight and then they'll be sorry!"

Dog Face Girl's Story
Both Jennifer and Ms. Meyers felt a gust of the Holy Wind and the Spirit overtook them, causing them to fall upon each other as they rolled and flailed limbs in gesticulations of praise until they were intertwined and tied together yet they continued to roll and shout the name of God. Then all grew quiet and eerily calm as they stared into one another's eyes and slowly and passionately kissed.And that's why Jenn dressed like a little punk boy!

Monster Spank's Story
As the leader of the free world, she was given the privilege of standing in any chair she wished. today, she chose this particular four-legged implement because it went well with her parliamentary hairstyle. Meanwhile, the one-legged man was explaining why oatmeal should be given higher subsidies even if the French whined.

My Story
"You're still not getting it!" the director hurled at his rehearsing players.

"What did we do wrong this time?" the boy pondered.
"Are we to play it in mime?" the girl wondered.

The director sighed. "I'll repeat it again if you're lost: This is Theater of the Absurd. You must avoid meaning at every cost."

"You gave us Shakespeare to read," said she, "and told us to use the soliloquy."

"We have no budget for modern scripts, and these may be used without royalty. I ask only that you state the reverse of what you read, so that we might add absurdity. Begin again, please, at the scene where Hamlet confronts Juliet."

Hamlet: Anarchy or decadence? Answer thou this question.
Juliet: O Romeo, Romeo, there art thou!
Hamlet: 'Tis better to have pleasure by slings and cuffs, than watch the Wheel of Fortune.
Juliet: Deny thy father came thus to me? Oh what was his name? I dared not refuse him. But it was not love, I swear it.
Hamlet: I'll take his wooden arms and trouble him to spring in the sea to his unopposed end.
Juliet: I have some capsules I long to take. 'Tis said one forgets one's own name.
Hamlet: To sleep, to sleep with thee evermore, by sleep mean I that pleasure of a thousand throbbings of the flesh. Ah, thy natural hair!
Juliet: Take thou thyself, through masturbation. Wilt thou masturbate?
Hamlet: 'Tis a consummation devoutly to avoid.
Juliet: With thy hand afoot, no arm nor face of mine thou need. Or belong to a man, a name of thy choosing.
Hamlet: To sleep with thee, perchance was but a dream: may that thou would rub me.
Juliet: To thee 'tis all the same. Take my friend Rose. She smells as sweet as I.

"No! No! No!" the director lamented loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"What's wrong now?" the boy and girl asked as one.

"It's good," the director told them, catching his falling arms, "but it's making too much sense. Let's go instead with a new concept. Girl, you be Othello, and boy, you play Little Richard. Stagehand! Bring out the piano and the horse."

"This is absurd!! Of concepts completely unheard!!" the boy and girl responded in verse.

"Act!" barked the director, "Art must not be deterred!"

Tan Lucy Pez's Continuation
But John entered and said, "To teach thee, I am naked first; why then what needst thou have more covering than a man?"

Willian followed him in and said, "Love to faults is always blind...."

The director sighed with joy.

Girls Walking in the Night

2005-06-18T23:54:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
It was a fantabulous night for a moondance, and Gloria was in the groove. The wet sandy sidewalk was like dancing on the beach, if one used their imagination, so she sashayed and shimmied to her heart's content. Selma tried to retrieve her before she got hit by a car or netted by the guys in the white coats, but Gloria was an unstoppable force. And once the next song started, Gloria shrugged her shoulders and gave into the dance herself.

Monster Spank's Story
where's my slippers? WHERE'S MY GODDAMNED SLIPPERS!!!!! will somebody tell me where the fuck my slippers are! they just cant walk away by themselves could they, so w-h-e-r-e t-h-e h-e-l-l a-r-e m-y s-l-i-p-p-e-r-s !!!!!!!!!! will somebody TELL ME WHERE the fuck THEY ARE!!!! WHERE THE HELL ARE MY SLIPPERS!

their in my ass, knucklehead girl.

Alix's Story
thousands of people world wide were in need. and these college kids, full of the verve and impulsivity inherent in young scholars out to change the world, were going to make a difference.

volunteers aplenty manned the registration area, taking down the necessary information and assigning each contributor a number and an ID bracelet. the day ground down to night, but still, the kids kept coming. they were making a difference!

pallets of disinfectant and medical supplies sat outside the surgical suites, and nurses, anesthetists and doctors rotated short shifts to stay fresh. you could smell the jubilance and sterility in the air.

candy, full of the giving spirit, walked up to the banner flapping in the night's breeze: "lend a hand, it's only fingers!" a released donor stepped up to candy, who looked a little queasy. "don't worry, you've still got thumbs. it won't make a difference."

she wasn't quite sure what he meant.

My Story
The girls threw off their shoes and became barefoot zombies. Each footfall drew them further into the perpetual hypnosis of their self-sustaining gait, and they marched, one after the other, a single direction, a single purpose, a single soul. In a dislocated room, mind's eye focused on the phenomenon, sat an aged conjurer in the center of the force, summoning the bodies to him. He uttered the syllables scribbled onto the parchmented scroll, little knowing that he was as much a marionette as the girls had been made so by his repetition of the eternal desirous chant. "Tat-chin-tan-am," he repeated in the ancient Sanskrit syllables, "I want you, that which I have lost." On the scroll was the sketch of a feminine form, rendered erotic by its vagueness. The suggestive lines were to his fertile imagination the seminal source of any and every girl in her years of sexual awakening. He took those lines and wove them into visions of baseness, wrapped them around his ravenous yearnings. Their youth became his youth. When the girls arrived, they did not like how he had ravished them in his waking trance. Without a thought or word, they lined up to slap his face.

Family at Grand Canyon

2005-06-06T16:26:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
The trip down the waterfall wasn't that harsh, it just seemed frightening at the time. But speaking of time, they had landed in another one. The landscape was rugged and beautiful, in a way that no Homo sapiens sapiens had ever witnessed before because that species hadn't yet been born. This was a lost land that they could call their own.

As prehistoric as it seemed, they didn't have to worry about dinosaurs here, but they did have invisible cats. Huge invisible cats. Or they seemed like cats (they're invisible so it was difficult to say what sort of beast they really were), because they were soft and furry and when stroked they'd purr. Will and Holly had brought their cameras on the trip, and tried to get pictures of their party with the beasts up on the basalt columns they called the Sleestacks, which overlooked what they named rather ironically Dinky Valley. They realized the cats were invisible but at least people could see in the photos that something was there being petted. This didn't convince anyone back home.

Will, Holly, and Marshall made it out of the there by following the river back upstream. The fourth member of the party, Courtney, decided she liked the giant strawberries that grew there and wanted to stay, which lead to her demise -- one of the giant invisible herbivorous cats mistook her (in her favorite red-and-white shirt) for a picnic blanket and had her for lunch. While it was a tragic loss, the photos Will & Holly took of the cat after lunch, engorged with very much visible Courtney chunks and bits of her favorite shirt, did change the minds of their friends and family.

The Alien Guy's Story
These guys were the first Earth visitors to our planet of Shiznit. They had just recently seen a movie called Star Wars and wanted to come up here. But that female Earthling sure fussed a lot! That's why the guy carried the lunch -- he knew that she wouldn't push him off the precipice because they wouldn't have anything to eat later. The younger Earthling wanted to leap and traverse the crevasse to the other rock and get to the berry bush. Those young humans are obsessed with eating! The female in the foreground kept making that hand gesture, or maybe I should say she gesticulated with her hand as if it was a remote control that could tether the others to her will! I was sure glad to see that bunch of sight-seers go!

Jamie Dawn's Story
Keith and Taylor knew that if they didn't obey Jamie Dawn, the powerful Queen over all that moves and breathes, that she would make them become slaves in the mines.
She had commanded them to climb down the steep rocks and pick her some succulent berries. If they succeeded and made it back by sundown, they could serve as foot washers and back massagers in her palace.
They began to plan as to how they could successfully complete the task as she taunted them mercilessly. "No one has ever succeeded, you wretched, worthless mules! You will die like all the others."
For a brief moment, her body guards were distracted by a mountain lion and moved to deal with it. Keith and Taylor grabbed Queen Jamie Dawn and threw her off the edge to her death.
Shocked, the guards did nothing. Then, after a brief moment, they began to celebrate, for they knew now that the kind and lovely Princess Courtney would take the throne.

Ariel's Story
not only did Paul teach history in the local high school, he was a fan of the antiquity. the nation achieved his absolute and exclusive respect was the Spartans. every five year his family gathered the children Anna gave birth to, and went to their own Taygetos in the Grand Canyon to throw the small ones that were bad, ate the ice cream of their siblings, never went to bed in a proper time, stole the lipstick of their mom to draw ugly cats on the hall's clean wall, still pissed in bed or cried too much down with the help of the bigger children. they took sandwiches and cameras and they usually usually had a good time.

Doug's Story
"I think I can see the carkeys!"
"That can't be them, mom almost caught them and when they bounced off her hand they went this way"
"Honey, jump now and I'll wait a year before remarrying"

OldHorsetailSnake's Story
"Margaret, is this where he went down?", Alicia asked.

"Yes, right over there," Margaret said. "He said it was an
emergency."

"Well," Alicia said, "why doesn't Charles throw him the toilet paper?"

Quincy's Story
caption: Bring me the rest of those bags of garbage...theres a good place to throw them over the side here...

Michael's Story
I know I am late but the picture gave me such a vivid storyline...

This would be their biggest endeavor yet.
Jessie and Cindy were in charge of the game board.
Pete was here to record the official decisions. Each space on the game board needed to be photographed and all the dimensions described with the appropriate landmarks.

Space A4 would be this particular rock outclave. The crevice would be a boundary mark.
All the information would be plugged into the computer. That way both teams and spectators could watch a computer simulation of the actual game movements.

This larger than life Stratego board would make an interesting contest. Players would have to take in account normal game strategy and would also have to consider the actual terrain. Once a player committed to a move, the game clock was turned on and the game piece had a specific amount of time to physically make the move. Failure to get there on time forfeited your move.

Jessie was proud of finding exactly the right places to make this the best game ever…

Wilena's Story
My heart went agasped when I saw my son and grandson standing so close to the edge of the rocks. My darling daughter-in-law was saying, "Courtney get over here right now", as she was going off on one of her movie taking adventures. Try as she might Jamie could not get her eldest child to obey her and come back. Keith and Taylor with cameras in hand were getting closer and closer to the edge of the rocks on one side of her and Courtney was going further over the edge to capture yet another photo no one had ever been able to take. Jamie runs to the right trying to save Keith and Taylor, than she runs to the left after her precious daughter. As time passes and Jamie is losing her voice calling out to them she turns around to the right and seeing Courtney coming up a path by where her beloved husband and adventurous son is standing. Keith and Taylor were watching Courtney all along on the path below but poor Jamie was in the middle trying to save all of her family not knowing what was going on. Jamie vowed never to go to Grand Canyon again.

My Story
"Courtney!" Mother Jamie called out, much like Aunt Em in The Wizard of Oz, imploring Dorothy to come inside during the cyclone, with the difference that Courtney usually was the cyclone.

It had been a quiet evening at home, the family in the living room, Daughter Courtney in her bedroom showing her screenplay to a producer she'd picked up somewhere, when a sudden hush magnified the silence. Knowing the ways of slimy, male producers, or at least, suspecting them, Mother Jamie barged into the bedroom to offer marzipan donuts, which Grandma had just made. Grandma had been trying for years to get rid of her attic full of almonds, an E-Bay acquisition that had puzzled them all. "They're worth money!" she'd insisted.

"Courtney's gone! Her monkey, too!" Jamie shouted, expecting the entire company to erupt into a spontaneous posse. Everyone except Grandpa fell asleep.

"Let her go," the elder Quincy offered, looking up from his Illustrated History of Erotic Art, "It was gettin' mighty crowded here, anyways. And please stop hollerin' while I'm a tryin' to concentrate!"

Jamie organized hubby and son into a search party using the horsewhip she carried for disciplinary emergencies. The three of them took off in the family jeep faster than you could say "Autobahn." After cruising up and down the entire state of California Son Taylor wondered why they didn't just call Courtney on her cell phone to find out where she was.

Courtney's recorded voice greeted them: "I'm at the Grand Canyon with a Hollywood producer and can't be disturbed." Jamie's eyes flashed a bright red, the kind in photos without red eye reduction. They lightninged across Death Valley faster than you could shoot a porno film, and careened over to Arizona, braking just in time to prevent the motor from melting.

Once arrived, they glanced about in some confusion before their calls of "Courtney!" were met. They heard a moan. "That was passion!" screamed Jamie. They charged forward and found Courtney, in a lotus position, near the edge, typing away contently on her laptop. "Oh hi," she said, Zen look on her face, serene in the eye of her storm, "I was just adding some scenes to my screenplay." Another moan drew them to the traumatized producer, hanging from the brink of the four thousand foot drop, by one hand, Courtney's pet monkey dancing from side to side, tormenting him with a stick.

Courtney explained with a devious smile: When the producer offered to work out some new bedroom scenes with her, she had decided instead to bring the cliffhanger aspect into her story. The producer's fear was inspiring. It added just the edge she needed to assure an Academy Award for best screenplay.

Easter Bunny Lady with Three Little Girls

2005-05-30T03:19:00.000-05:00

Courtney's Story
Oh no! Not again. The evil bunny of snowy white doom has escaped and taken 3 little girls! The bunny is harmless unless she bites you. If that happens, unfortunately, there's nothing you can do except wait. Just wait for your rabbit inflicted demise. When the next full moon comes, you will be transformed into the very evil creature that punctured your skin. Oh, my gosh. It seems the little one in the middle has already been bitten. Look! She's turning already. Oh the humanity!!!

Jamie Dawn's Story
The Gibbons sisters weren't nearly as excited to see the Easter Bunny as their grandma thought. She had them stand in line and wait to get their picture taken. They put on fake smiles and pretended to be really excited.
Inside, they were saying this:
Girl on the left: I always thought the Easter Bunny was a boy bunny. Something smells.
Girl on the right: How can I get rid of Grandma and make it look like an accident? Peeee-ew!
Wanda (in the bunny suit): I wonder how profitable prostitution is? God, these girls smell!
Girl in the middle: Oooops! I just tooted.

Tom's & Icy's Story
My dog, Icy, being a student of human behavior, was observing the kids next door when the Easter Bunny came and took them to a toy store, showering them with gifts like Santa Claus. It seemed very generous and philanthropic on the part of the rabbit until there were sudden screams from the house as the hare snickered and scurried down its hole. The father came out with a shotgun and the mother was in tears as she waved the bill for the toys in the air. It was just like Christmas all over again!

Ostrich's Story
Sheila was different from her 3 sisters. Their Mother and father never talkied about it and raised her with the same love and affection. They were all between 6-8 years old but Sheila had already reached full maturity. The kids at her school would make fun of her and pull her furry ears but sheila didn't mind because she was loved. At night she would dream of erect bob tails and frenzied twitching noses.

One day when the rest of the family had gone to dinner Sheila was up to no good with bugs, her sisters Stuffed rabbit. Unfortunately they returned early and caught her in the act. Father just sighed deeply and said "Like Mother, Like Daughter"

My Story
Once a year the bunny felt herself at a biorhythmic high, that day called Easter when it achieved the miraculous task of hiding billions of chocolates and twice as many jelly beans to cheer all the world's children. But when that day had passed, a dampening depression engulfed the poor bunny. The three sisters found the Easter Bunny in the department store the day after Easter, crying to herself in a corner, ready to end it all. They sat with the poor creature, talked to her, sang songs to her. Their exuberance was catching, and soon the Easter Bunny found herself smiling again. They told her funny fairy tales about Tortoises and Hares, but with happy endings. The Easter Bunny hopped for joy and reached into her pocket where she found a leftover lollipop, which she offered to the youngest of the sisters. It was a touching moment. Without hesitation the sisters invited their new friend home with them, asking if she'd like to stay on for a couple of weeks. The Easter Bunny agreed, grateful tears welling in her eyes. They hopped and skipped all the way home. After the necessary arrangements and preparations were made, there was enough rabbit stew to last the entire family the two promised weeks.

Two Girls Cheek to Cheek

2005-05-27T02:13:00.000-05:00

Sniff's Story
Lola and Alol were twins. But, more than twins since they were both born on the same body. They did have problems growing up, but as their mother always said "two heads are better than one".

They appeared to most to be some kind of two headed freak and it was very hard for them to get boyfriends. If one had a boyfriend the other was always sneaking in kisses and such which always ended up in jealosy.

As time went on they found that they did love each other more than anyone else. Soon the inevitable happened they decided to get married. You see them here giving eachother a hug on their wedding day. How proud their mother was as they walked down the isle, two heads on one body, but two spirits and two souls. And what did they care what people think. After all they had saved a bundle on the wedding attire and the band just loved them during the bridal dance.

Weirsdo's Story
Garna and Graw became more and more adept at their newfound skill. In fact they invented many applications that no one ever found out about because the girls rarely left their screen. One of their best was interactive photoshop.
Their first foray into this was not entirely successful. They had found the website of a wrestler who reminded them of Blarp, their boyfriend back in the cave, and they were able to project his image in three dimensions out of the screen, but he wasn't animated. He just lay there stunned.
With practice they improved, however. One day they were able to graft both their heads onto a composite of both their bodies, then project this back out from the screen onto their chair, replacing themselves with a 3-D version of their new, conjoined image. The girls giggled with delight.
They continued to laugh even when they felt the huge arm closing around their shoulders. They knew Blarp always began his advances that way. Next they would be clubbed on the head, dragged away by their hair, and then . . . the fun would begin.

Roger Steven's Story
I didn't think it would work...

That's alien technology for you. The most amazing thing is - although we seem to be sharing control of the body -

Do you mind if I scratch our leg?

Go ahead - we seem to have retained our individual thoughts. Each of our heads...

That's true for me too. Mind you, I'm not sure I like our new body. It's so big. Over ten metres high. And I'm not sure I like having three arms.

Maybe so - but you don't want to look like a freak do you?

Jamie Dawn's Story
The girls started advertising for fat guys. Yep, the fatter, the better.
Their online video ad said, "We're little girls looking for some BIG action. We're not into skinny guys, so don't even think about responding. We want guys that put Sumo wrestlers to shame. We cook, you eat, then let's play!"
Well, you can imagine the massive response they got. Needless to say, their cat didn't go hungry.

Quincy's Story
As the cave divas readied the disco den, they decided to use the transporter to bring their pets to the party for a little " extra " excitement but when an old man appeared on the platform wearing a cat skin robe and chewing on a mastadon short rib, they bowed down and rent their clothing, for they knew the prophesy of the stones had come to pass.....

My Story
The cave girls shared a happy-hug. They'd located the late professor's secret credit card, the one from the 25th century, with a 3 billion dollar credit limit. He'd been kind enough to drop it out of his pocket before they sent him back to feed their cat. Now they could do all the hunting and gathering their prehistoric hearts desired. It didn't take them long to discover the online shopping with its innovative one-click gathering and same-day shipping. They ordered a thesaurus, just to see what it was, but it couldn't lick them. They ordered phallically shaped lava lamps, sweet rock candy, tiger skin bikinis and a set of psychedelic paints and brushes. But it was all just ersatz. They spent sleepless nighttime sessions pining and painting modern art murals on the lab walls, reflecting what was on their mind most: boys. During a typical session of cat feeding the girls suddenly gave each other another hug of delight. Their million year old dream had come true. The boy they'd sent Mesozoic survived the test of manhood, hog-tying the cat with a loose vine, and beating his chest triumphantly. The girls finally had their new pet. They pressed the button to bring him back.

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

Note from Indeterminacy: This is part two of a two part set. Part one is here.

Special thanks to Becca for donating her photo.

Girl Crouching by PC

2005-05-22T09:42:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
Gabriella figured it would be the perfect racket: If people were willing to pay for topless housecleaning, surely there was a market for a babe in a bikini doing computer repair. She had a couple MCSE certs and an A+, she was smarter than half of the guys in her networking classes, and everyone she knew either called her for fix-ups or (if the guys' egos couldn't handle a girl being more tech-savvy than them) advice and suggestions, so why shouldn't she just get her license and do it for money? Business picked up after she put pictures of herself in her 'work wear' on flyers. Some people's computers would break down practically weekly, it seemed, through no fault of her own, so she had no lack of work or paying customers. At first the comments about plugging things into ports and how big guys' hard drives were made her a bit uncomfortable, but she realized fairly quickly that this was just weak humor used by the technically inept to get past their having to take a backseat while someone else so intimidatingly pretty bailed them out. She started to like that power. If she took a dislike to someone, she'd exact a little spite on them via a little bit of spyware which would eventually grind their computer to a halt, and she'd get to be their hero while giving them a razzing about operating in an unsafe manner. If she liked someone, she'd optimize their system free of charge or tell them of neat tricks and tools to improve their computing experience.Gabriella liked it that guys would visibly try to speculate what was under that bikini, but the customers (both men and women) she liked the most were the ones who looked deeply into her eyes when she'd answer their questions -- they were trying to get a glimpse of her most sexy body part, her brain.

Cendrine's Story
Hey honey-wooss..., when I said that the mouse was trapped behind the desk, I meant the plastic thing and not the furry animal!!

Men these days.

Tom's & Icy's Story
LIGHT OFF
Dark room with just the faint glow from the computer screen on young fingers like dancing in the moonlight on a keyboard. Childish giggle and rattle of plastic bracelets.
LIGHT ON
Adolescent face of girl spins around. Younger boy snickering with fingers on lightswitch by the door. The girl's lips move like, Turn it back off, in a whispering jab.
LIGHT OFF
Young face turns back to glowing screen showing chat room. The boy's lips move like, You know you're not allowed! Finger over girl's lips with a shhhhh!
LIGHT ON
The boy is like, I'm gonna tell. The child turns waving her hands and shaking her head vigorously.
LIGHT OFF
Footfalls on carpet hall. Adult woman's voice is like, Get back to bed Joey! More footfalls in hall, this time running. Rattle of chair.
LIGHT ON
Girl is trying to hide behind computer desk. A mother's stare and the child's pouting lips are like, I just dropped something. Mother's eyes reflect the computer screen's glow. Finger presses a switch on a plug strip. Mother's stare and child quickly scurries into bed. Footfalls across room mixed with Mother's voice that's like, We'll have a long talk about this in the morning. Goodnight dear.
LIGHT OFF
Door closes. Footfalls down the hall. Sobbing from the bed and child's quivering voice is like, I'm in real trouble! No goodnight kiss!

OldHorsetailSnake's Story
"Well, if that doesn't take the cake. Here I want to honor Pfc. Eric Schmidlap with my Live Strong bracelet, but when I put the bracelet on it cut my thumb off. I guess it dropped somewhere behind the computer. God, what an embarrassing position. I hope that butt banger doesn't come in now."

Doug's Story
Oh, dammit! Every time I get comfortable with someone, her husband comes home early. How did my clothes end up behind the desk? Where are my shoes? Why am I wearing women's underwear? Are these breasts?!?

My Story
Kamilla wanted to have some fun with her PC. She could get any guy she wanted, but a computer? That was a real challenge. Each function coming up on the monitor plodded her playfulness. A sultry urge made her slip to the floor and pounce upon the tower. She grasped the wires with her hand and administered a long set of toying caresses. The hardware felt it. It didn't know what it was doing now. Programs started and stopped without being called. Bits cycled themselves into a blur. She bent closer to involve her mouth in the process. The tower began to tremble as it felt kisses fondling along the cables, ever closer to the slots and connectors. Her hot breaths caused electricity to surge. There would be a meltdown soon. But before that could happen her tongue shot out hard, toggling the power switch to off. Kamilla could be a heartless tease sometimes.

Speak, Hear and See No Evil Girls

2005-05-12T13:17:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
a) The keepers not willing to outsource to a bunch of monkeys, the three girls were hired to sit in the Zen garden near the Buddah (made in Egypt two months ago) and represent virtue. They however were not issued virtuous costumes, but the work was simple and there was less perspiration than wearing a fur-suit.

b) See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil... yes. Think some evil, and be some evil... oh yes. The girl that could see no evil was practically showing her evils -- and so good, too.

Alix's Story
jennifer didn't know about the three monkeys, and thought the game was "peek a boob".

Elveshat's Story
It was about to happen and the three young female robots were shutting down their sense-chips in a peculiar way. They had lived for a long time among humans and their emotion-chips had almost merged into their logic operating system that was running at the core of their electronic brain. But that was “not acceptable” according to the company that constructed them, and they had to be turned off before any further damage would occur in their hardware. Any beholder would have believed that they were almost afraid to be turned off. It looked as if they didn’t want to die. At least that’s what their programmer thought, as he was standing in front of them asking them to deactivate their human drivers. He wanted to avoid the possibility of them feeling any “pain”. He realized that It was not easy for him to kill his own children but he pushed the black button swearing madly that he has gotten too attached to these soulless machines.

Sk8RN's Story
Shady refused to say anything. She'd seen and heard enough already. Bright Eyes wouldn't even listen. What she'd seen had terrified her beyond recovery. Smiles was content, as she hadn't seen a thing. And though she led Shady and Bright Eyes to believe that she was as horrified as they were, she was in on the plan all along.

The moaning, groaning male strippers worked with Smiles at the club down the street.

She had expected her friends Shady and Bright Eyes to be thrilled with her surprise. Instead, she giggled to herself at their apparent discomfort, not leading on that she had planned the whole thing.

Jamie Dawn's Story
All their lives the triplets had been forced to physically take steps to avoid evil. "Don't let the Devil into your mind!" their father yelled day after day. "Satan will ruin you!" their mother droned on year after year. The young women's sin avoidance tactics became habits they could not break and were virtually stuck in those positions as they had become addicted to less-than-moral video rentals.

Tom's & Icy's Story
The terrorists kidnapped the three innocent girls, but the girls and the terrorists spoke different languages so they couldn't understand each other. Desperately, the girls tried to convey their thoughts by pantomiming like in a game of charades. The terrorists then put down their guns to take their turn in the game. That's when the girls scrambled away and escaped.

teddlesruss' Story
Escape was impossible when the Superglue Kid struck. Inspector Cluedough knew beyond a doubt that the Superglue Kid was the perp, because - hell, what else would be keeping that damn blouse on?

He scratched his head and cursed under his breath. It was sure going to take the paramedics a long time to get these kids off the floor...

Courtney's Story
The three Smith sisters, Melissa, Veronica, and Tracy have recently become Krovatians, worships of the God Krovate. They have each glued their hands over certain parts of their body in order to prevent them from sinning. Young Melissa on the left has glued her hands over her mouth because she tends to belittle and criticize young children. Veronica has glued her hands to her ears in order for her to not hear the music her neighbor's mariachi band plays when they practice. Krovation's consider all mariachi music evil. The last Smith sister Tracy has glued her hands over her eyes, not for spiritual pureness, but for vanity. Poor Tracy was born without eyes the two gaping holes in her face have bothered her so. No one is for sure why, she can't see them. But it has bothered her none the less, and this seemed like a good way to disguise her deformity.

Weirsdo's Story
At first Marina thought the procedure had gone well. The modified clone that Dr. Demento called "Zara" was definitely a magnification of Marina's mysterious side, and the sunglasses were an appropriate touch. "Trina," on the other hand, was every inch the party girl of Marina's dreams, right down to her suggestive tan lines. Finally, Marina would be able to satisfy all three of her boyfriends: Sergei, the double or triple agent, Bubba, the frat boy, and, for Marina's everyday self, Bill, the boy next door.
It was only when she saw Dr. Demento's lips moving with no sound coming out that she realized something had gone horribly wrong. Clapping her hands to her ears, she found SHE HAD NONE. Zara was not covering her mouth to stop herself from laughing at Trina's silliness--SHE HAD NO MOUTH. And Trina, though smiling in a suitably dippy way, HAD NO EYEBALLS.
"Dr. Demento," Marina said, as best she could, not being able to hear herself speak, "Something has gone horribly wrong!"
The good doctor simply shrugged helplessly, then grabbed his phaser and zeroed in on the target he had thoughtfully placed on her T-shirt. Just as he'd expected, this one was trouble. She would have to be eliminated as a lesson to the other two. They could then be trained to help him construct his OWN ideal girl. . . .

My Muse's Story
The prince had to decide which of the three princesses to take as his bride - each had a single perfect quality that would make her the perfect wife: the first princess could not say that which should not be said, the second princess did not hear that which should not be heard, and the last princess did not see that which should not be seen; but which of these qualities was the most important? The prince sat before the three beauties, unable to decide, when his loyal secretary advised him to spend one week with each of the princesses - then he would surely be able to make the right decision. And so that is what the prince did. First the silent princess was given a week to win the prince with her charms. At first the prince was delighted. He could say anything he wanted, without one contrary word from the beauty, but after a week of permanent monologs, the prince desired a partner in conversation. This he received the second week as the blind princess came to him. Hours of conversation filled the young prince's heart with joy, but this was tainted because the sensitive monarch could not bare his feelings without looking his bride in the eyes. How different it was with the third princess, in whose big brown eyes the prince felt himself immersed completely. And she was able to read the declarations of love straight from his lips. Nevertheless, with each of the three princesses there was one thing that was not possible, and this became clear to the prince after the three weeks: He could not hold hands with either of them! And so he confided again in his loyal secretary, who consolingly took the hand of his regent. In that moment the prince suddenly realized - it wasn't a princess he wanted, what he really wanted was a prince.

My Story
Sigelli was a genius of construction who built living machines out of girls. His first creation, the one that made him famous, was known as the 'Belle Phone,' two girls connected from back to back with a long piece of thread. You'd whisper a secret to one of the girls and immediately the other girl knew, though she stood in the next room, clear out of acoustic range. No one ever deciphered the elegant mechanism. It only worked with secrets. His 'Sigelli Dancers' had shapely figures and patented legs. The group of ten dancing girls could dance sequences of intricate choreography to any music, even atonal classical pieces, which were extremely hard to dance to. It was also fun winding them up. Now he was testing his new creation: The 'Female Slot Machine.' No matter what salacious proposition you fed it with, it never came up with the same three ways of saying maybe.

Girl on Sidewalk Holding Bars

2005-05-02T07:24:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
It had finally happened: the crazy people outnumbered the sane, and Modesta was one of the few people left who had her head on straight. The outside world was her prison, and while she at first thought this was great because she could go anywhere and do anything without having to encounter the insane, in time she became lonely. She no longer had human company, save the passersby in her life who were nice people but not... interesting. She missed her family and how they'd leave the phone off the hook when they were home, explaining that if someone had an emergency they'd be able to get through somehow. She missed her friends and the way their individual idiosyncrasies would mesh to create unbelievable and memorable adventures. Despite the consequences that she was very much aware of and how she always swore she was longing for the day she was now living in, she'd do anything to be back in the senseless world.

Jamie Dawn's Story
She'd had psychic powers ever since she could remember but had never told a single soul. Her powers had a strange contingent: she must touch something that had been made by the person in order to get a reading. Until now, she'd only used her powers in fun ways to find out things about boys she liked or to have information with which to bribe her siblings. But, when her favorite uncle, the local ironsmith, went missing and was feared to have been murdered, she knew she had to find out the truth for the sake of her poor, distraught aunt and her bewildered cousins who'd been left nearly penniless. She grabbed hold of the bars, made by her dear uncle's own hands, and held on for nearly 4 hours. Finally, she saw him...fuzzy at first, then more clearly. He was on a beach, wearing a speedo and laughing with two scantilly clad women who were slathering him with suntan oil.

Tom's & Icy's Story
The bank teller is running late on Friday to close up her station and her friends are like Hurry up! It's the weekend! We want to get out of here! So her hands became a blur and Finally! They all spew out the front door as beverage from a well shaken can. She pauses by her car door staring at the handle which drums up an image of her keys on the counter. An Olympic recorder breaking sprint back to the bank but all's gone and door's locked. Nose pugged against the cold glass, she sees the custodian way back by a window. Like a race car, she skids around the corner to the window and grabs the bars, shaking them in hopes to get the attention of the man inside the bank. Alarm. Police. FBI. Questioning. Check records. Check work. She has been embezzling and has outstanding warrants. So it's off to jail where she again stands holding bars, shaking the bars, but this time not to get in, but to get out!

Elveshat's Story
The university builing seemed to have been evacuated and been closed up as if by magic, and the little chinese stundent was desperately trying to get inside. "Where has everybody gone? Why are the doors sealed up? How is this possible?", Chan Li kept wondering. But she was restless, she new she had to get inside today somehow in order to acquire some important information for the essay she had to handle over the next day. "I got to go inside no matter how." She thought. So she took a hairpin and tryed to unlock the door with it. But it wouldnt work because the lock of the main entrance of the university building was not exactly as easy to open as her diary lock. She soon gave the door idea up and kept walking in cirles around the building when she saw the library window. But the window had bars which seemed impossible to move. However, when Chan Li placed her hands on them to see how strong they were, the bars immediately gave in and freed the window. Amazed at this discovery, Chan Li quickly climbed up the window, entered the building and spend a couple of hours alone in the library. When her work was done, she left in the same way as she got in and placed the bars back into their place. Satisfied and happy for having collected the information she needed, she kept wondering why the university was closed on that nice day. But as she glanced at her mobile phone, she understood why and blamed herself for being silly. Of course it was the first of May. "Great" She thought. "Only I have got to work on such a day, only I...".

Cori's Story
"Is this cardboard?" She said out loud on the street as she grasped and pulled at what moments before seemed to be beautiful Florentine ironwork.

"Whaa thha...?" slipping as she brushed the tips of her fingers across the old chiseled stone, realizing that it was merely painted butcher paper, stapled onto stretcher bars.

She backed up slowly from the wall and paused for a moment letting a pack of smoking college students pass. Hmmm.

"Fuck Florence," she yelled as she threw a swift boot kick, which rose up and cut through, leaving a visible opening that exposed the bare papier mache ass of Michelangelo's David.

She stepped inside the Galleria dell'Academia, eyeing all of its recreations and reproductions. She reached into her canvas bag and pulled out an adjustable flame Bic lighter.

Doug's Story
She looked like other girls, dressed conservatively and carrying her books as she we wandered the city. In her heart, she knew she was different. She alone had dreams of perfect freedom, spending a long life doing what no-one else could imagine. Breaking into jail seemed a good start.

My Story
Elaine visited the museum one day while touring a city of culture. The works of art spoke to her secretly and imparted upon her their plan, inviting her to return after closing hour to be with them. The Renoir nude would hypnotize the guard, so he would not be a problem. The mobiles would spin on their own, attracting the motion-sensing cameras. The statue by the window would see that the bars were unlocked. Once she was inside, there would be no disruptions the entire night long. Her clothes discarded in the corner, she would stand before the paintings, arms outstretched, and they would cast their colors upon her. She would sense fine nuances that even the artists themselves had overlooked. The sculptures would allow her to glide her fingers over their perfect forms, to marvel at the mystery of skin the impossible texture of warm ice. Ancient objects would whisper their secrets into her ear. She would understand them and appreciate them. And in return she would be understood and appreciated. As Elaine self-assuredly reached to open the bars, she looked forward to a new world of intimacy open only to one girl alone with art.

Guys Undressing in Front of Seated Girl

2005-04-25T23:35:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
Inside the casbah seemed like an odd place to host a shirts-verses-skins basketball game, but no one was adverse to it after a few rum shots. They just needed to convince a couple people to hold wicker baskets up over their heads at opposite ends of the room, but that would only require buying the goaltenders another round.

Courtney's Story
Poor little Margie. When she was six years old she was caught in a freak juggling accident that left her with only shoulders and a head. When she was 15 her friends took her to a party and propped her up in a wicker chair with sweatshirts so she could enjoy the party too. Margie desperately wanted to play duck duck goose with the girls on the other side of the room, but because of the position of her chair she could only watch the boys play strip poker.

Jamie Dawn's Story
It's mating season on planet Yunx, and males attract females by making them laugh. Unfortunately, males far outnumber females which means females must endure hours of ridiculous antics by several males before choosing the one who has made her laugh. After choosing, she must remember Yunx's sacred law: Once mating commences, females must no longer laugh at males.

Elveshat's Story
The boys were laughing at their hearts content. Had it been the heat, the water that they threw at each other or their youthful urge to show off their bodies in front of the girls? In any case, they were taking their clothes off and kept teasing each other. Lynn was sitting on a chair and all boys had gathered around her. She felt the power that she had suddenly gained and ordered them around. They were all laughing but for Jonathan, who was staring at the group of girls at the other side of the cave-room. He seemed perplexed, his mind had stopped thinking, without knowing why, he had been absorbed into their singing and could not hear the boys laughs anymore. His mind sunk in the melodies and in spirit of the group of the girls. He would have remained in this state for a long time, had Andrew not dragged him to the side, laughing out loud and forcing him to return to their company. "Hey Andrew, don't push me like that!" exclaimed Jonathan, "Sorry man, just look at what I am going to do now". Jonathan burst into laughs, because Andrew had decided to make a fool of himself by pretending to be a monkey! And everyone followed. Soon, the whole cave-room was filled with teenage monkeys, which were dancing, jumbing and screaming around. Suddenly and as one soul, the girls stood all up glancing at the boys in an angry manner. The boys stood still, a few laughs would escape their mouths once in a while, but one could say that they had become serious again. They were looking back at the girls in a manner that revealed remorse. Anjali stepped forward and spoke: "Honored members of the Society of the Dead Musicians! Forget not what we came here for! We didn't leave secretly the boarding school tonight just to have fun. Remember our purpose. We are here to establish the first Society of the Dead Musicians of our boarding school and to make sure that this tradition will go on for many decades from now on. Anna, fetch the instruments." Any beholder would have been shocked from the weird transformation of the naughty teenagers into decisive and serious violin players. In a moment, the whole cave-room was filled by the melodies of the violins, and of the voices of the girls which sung a heavenly song. Ode to joy was the establishing melody, which would keep them together giving them the strength to fight back their boarding school that treated them in an inhuman way.

"O friends, no more these sounds!
Let us sing more cheerful songs,
more full of joy!

Joy, bright spark of divinity,
Daughter of Elysium,
Fire-inspired we tread
Thy sanctuary ."

Thus they kept playing until dawn, when Anjali dismissed the brotherhood of the Dead Musicians. Tired but excited and happy for having achieved what they set out for, they returned to the boarding school after running through the forest, imitating the owls and the wolfs, and lauging out loud under the cloak of darkness with a few moonbeams as their real friends.

M.P.'s Story
They just couldn't believe their eyes and dind't know whether to laugh or cry before that sight!
All the noise they had heard some moments ago had an explanation, that very explanation: right before their eyes in a craddle-like seat was a female alien they were sure was coming from nowhere.
They hadn't the slightest clue about to say to her and that explains the bowing and the ecstasy which was gradually taking hold of all the people there.
Suddenly she smiled and said:"Let's play the "statue" game!" And they were all turned into living motionless statues. "What can I do now with these dummies?" , she said again. "They couldn't even work out I've just fallen down from my balcony window into this empty laundry basket"...

My Story
The thought that she had bitten off more than she could chew swelled to gagging proportions and swirled around her head pinching her cheeks. The boys were laughing, pulling off clothes, working out who would be first with Claire. They had been drinking heavily the entire evening, just as Claire had requested. She didn't think she could follow through with sober eyes staring at her, but she hadn't expected such bravado. "I'm going to suck at this," she told herself fatally. But she had wanted the practice and the girls had enthusiastically volunteered their boyfriends for the intimate procedure which they themselves were not inclined to perform. She thought ahead to when it would all be behind her. There'd be no added company nine months later. That was certain. No, the boys would return to their girlfriends, completely content, one less tension to worry about in their conventional erotic encounters. Yes, Claire thought, it was indeed swell of the boys to help her out on such short notice, and swell of their girls not to mind. After performing the nine impromptu vasectomies, Claire was a cinch to pass her med-school exam the next day.

Three Dogs and Human Legs

2005-04-18T14:05:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
Buster knew a hot bitch when he saw one. "Look her there," he thought to himself, "how she's just standing there trying to get me to catch her scent. That little minx! She wants me!" Englantina was unaware that she was being so provocative, but figured it out quick enough when Buster yipped a seductive greeting to her. She wasn't into big strong males, and she was afraid that he'd pursue her doggedly. But she thought quickly and came up with a gambit to save her virtue. Instead of running away up the sidewalk as she was prone to do, she walked quickly to her right, toward Sunshine. Sunny was more his size and speed, and it was clear from this angle that she had what Buster really sought in a dame. Buster's tone changed as his simple interests shifted subject, and Tina was able to prance off to her left out of the way unnoticed as Buster moved in to sniff Sunny. Tina was successful in her ruse, and left to take a shih-tzu friend of hers out for dinner.

Allmagica's Story
"Holidays in Greece! Ah, nothing can be compared to the hot sun, the splendid beaches and the beautiful women." Thats what Flaffy thought, the brown little dog from London, when he saw a greek beauty passing by. He was there with his "boss", Amanda the psychic, who owned him and several dogs as well. Her aim was to research into the non-verbal communication between humans and animals, and living with them had proved to be a rewarding experience. Her supernatural abilities though, had gifted her more enemies than friends and, almost chased by the media, she had managed to escape in a tiny greek island. "None will ever imagine to look for
me in this God-forsaken place." Or so she had thought before living for Greece. Without even turning around to look at him, Amanda read Flaffy's thoughts and exclaimed: "Now let that poor animal go Flaffy! We did not come here for fun, we have bussiness to do!" But Flaffy did not seem to listen to her, especially now that a local guy, almost half of his size but extremely confident as it seemed, had started to dangerously approach the white beauty. Lazarus, like any other normal dog, telepathetically felt Flaffy's intentions and turned around, ready to engage in a deadly battle! "Now come over here, if you dare! You, english nerd!" Lazarus, challenged him. "whom do you call nerd? You, silly greek dwarf!" Replied Flaffy. What followed was an ugly fight between the two dogs, biting and hitting each other, bleeding and endlessly barking. Then suddenly they stopped. Perplexed, taken aback with surpize and unable to say word, both dogs stopped and stared at the dramatic scene that unfolded before their eyes. A car had just passed by and took with it forever the beauty of the white animal for which both had fought with so much passion. "Everything is temporary in this world Flaffy." Amanda whispered to him. "A big fuss over nothing. Now we have important work to do."

M.P.'s Story
Peanuts is no astray dog.
He belongs to a U-class "milieu",has his own comfortable cushion to sleep on, special dog food, gets a bath every week ( although he hates that!) has to cope with a private vet every now and then, has U-class female companions and so on and so forth. All that a dog of his social class is thought to have...
Peanuts has his complaints to make though. He's never been happy with the places he's taken to and worse than that he's usually taken out on the lead!
This time there's a whole new excitement! He managed to escape through the front gate of his mansion garden and there he is joined to his very plebeian friends on an aimless wander through the many city-centre streets which happened to be loaded with thousands of legs, the right ones for ... a good pee.

Weirsdo's Story
Fuzzy of the frenetic filaments found Frou-Frou felicitously at the finitum of the fifi (formerly fe-fe) followers. Fuzzy fervently fantasized about fucking Frou-Frou. Photons reflected from Frou-Frou's fur fired his philandering. Frou-Frou's pheromones were forcing him to fornicate. He followed her, defying Fiona, who forbade it.
Fiona focussed on them, confused by Fuzzy's fecklessness. Finally she figured she'd inform family and friends that Fido was unfaithful because he forgot Frou-Frou was flatulent, infected with fungus, and infested with fleas.

My Story
The dogs trotted by as if nothing were amiss, but it bristled their fur to see a stray human out alone, without a leash. There were laws against that sort of thing. Humans had repeatedly shown themselves to be the most irrational and volatile creature on the planet. At any moment it might pick up the potted plant and hurl it against the building. Or turn on them screaming and kicking, for no apparent reason! Not even the wisest canine scientists were able to explain these unprovoked outbursts. Therefore the dogs remained nonchalant, exercised no sudden moves that might intrude on the creature's precarious mental equilibrium, and got the hell out of there. It had been a mistake to import the humans to the planet, but the damage had been done, indeed, was only just beginning. Once a male and female of the species got together all the barking in the world couldn't separate them. So each year there were more and more of the creatures walking around, and what was worse, they didn't even taste good.

Boy and Girl on a Pendant

2005-04-13T09:00:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
Gretta went through life without the burden of having children. She was quite happy with her life and never wanted to have kids for as long as she could remember. Even when she'd play house as a little girl, the dolls were representative of friends coming over for tea, not a family. She was active and healthy, had travelled the world and worked for everything she got, and she enjoyed every whirlwind romance she had had yet was always the one to make sure that her men knew she was a freebird and couldn't be caged. Life was good to Gretta. On her 55th birthday she applied for entrance into a senior community, not because she felt the need to either retire or be shelved but because the expenses were lower and yard responsibilities fewer than living in a house on her own. Plus she figured she might meet some mature men at their functions, though she wasn't done with the younger men yet.

A month or two into her residence at Wayland Madrona Estates, after she'd become acquainted with the other residents and had pegged who was still a live wire and who was waiting patiently for Death to rap on their door, she started to feel a pang. At first she couldn't quite place it, and thought maybe that the negativity of the death-waiters was rubbing off on her, but then at a cribbage game she realised what the problem was: it all came clear when three of the ladies pulled the grandchildren photos out of their little black purses and started basking in the stereotypical banter, such as "this is my son William's boy Tommy, he's 8 now and in the third grade, oh he is such a prodigy..." She still didn't feel any sort of guilt or resentment about her choice to stay a butterfly, but she did detect that this was what was bothering her... that she didn't have grandchild stories, and that made her the odd-woman-out. For the first time in memory (or since the beginning of college ages ago) she felt alone, like she didn't quite fit in. She didn't like that feeling, and that night after cards she spent some time thinking about what she could do to elevate herself.

The next afternoon, when she'd finished serving coffee at the Senior Center, she took a drive to an estate sales dealer in a rural community fourty miles away. She enjoyed the drive, and how the scenery along the way lended to the ambiance of her destination. After browsing around at the tulle 'country clutter' and having a sample of their homemade cherry jelly in the General Store section of the shop, she wandered through the antiques and dead people's kitch to the jewelry counter. Inside the case, to the left of the paste & rhinestones and to the right of the abandoned wedding sets were the keepsake pendants on necklace chains. Two of these pendants looked like her style -- a bit tarnished but in excellent condition, they were "loved" as the woman behind the counter said. She asked for and was handed the two pendants to have a look inside and test the latches & hinges. Both were functional, and by sheer luck both already had photos in them. "I can take those out," the woman said, but Gretta replied, "No, thank you, those are what I came here for." Gretta bought the two pendants and a jar of pear butter, and went home with a song in her heart.

She wore those pendants whenever she would go to events at the Estates, small like card games or large like mixers, and she felt like she was in good company again. Other people would sometimes ask with a smile about the teens hanging around her neck, and she'd tell stories -- they didn't have to be intricate or exciting, she discovered, just spoken with pride and happiness, and they could be recycled almost infinitely -- about how Brandon and Tanya were the prettiest and smartest kids in their high school.

Allmagica's Story
A definetely naughty little girl was Elina, that had managed to sneak into her mothers personal belongings once more. No wonder why her mother used to call her Devilina! This time the nine year old girl, which was always ready for the next mischief, found in the cellar a box with romantic letters and two chains with two pictures attached to them. Proud at the new discovery, Elina called her older brother to show off her treasures. Her young mind did not bother to try to make out who the young teenagers on the pictures were. Nevertheless, Alexander, who was five years older, immediatelly had a happy suspicion and created a brilliant plan! The persons on the pictures were obviously their parents. Wouldnt this be an ideal way to make their wedding anniversary filled with memories from their romantic youth? Elina and Alex placed the letters and the chains on their parents bed and waited patiently for them to return. At about 23.00 they heard the door open, and quickly hid under the kitchen-table that had a good view to the bedroom. When their parents enter their room they were taken aback with surprise! They lovingly smiled at each other making the kids shake hands under the table for the succesful plan.

Mushroom's Continuation of Allmagica's Story
...the shriek heard for three blocks within seconds of their happy handshake was from Mother's secret past being revealed. She'd loved both of the people in the pictures intensely. Eduardo was her first love, the one who made her from a child into an adult, and everyone back home thought they looked perfect together -- and Imelda was the one who turned her from a girl to a woman, and a few people suspected 'something' but others just presumed they were sisters of different mothers because they looked so much alike at age 16. Father knew none of this. Until now.

My Story
Magister Mecanus worked in the Destiny Department predestining love. He selected a pendant from the girl pile and one from the boy pile, placed them next to each other, and examined them closely with his magnifying lense. The match was aesthetically pleasing to him even in the minutest of details. His highly trained fingers felt the flat metal likenesses for affinity static and dangled them millimeters apart, one in each hand, to test the magnetism. Finally he reached for the abacus on the corner of his desk and computed the time the boy and girl would share. His computation worked out to just over eighty years. The rest of their lives, in fact. This made Magister Mecanus very happy. It was always sad when the pendants came back to him so soon to be melted down again.

Erotic Imprint on Volvo

2005-03-31T16:20:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's Story
"Explain This To Your Wife"

Sue Donim's Story
"It appears, Holmes, that the police arrested a young woman and took her away in handcuffs. See, first they stretched her prone over the bonnet of the vehicle, searched her, then brought her up so she could lean against the bonnet with her hands. They then cuffed her and took her away."

"Ingenious, Watson, but incorrect. Clearly the woman was engaged in an act of passion with her male companion."

"But, Holmes, her pantaloons are still about her waist."

"Only in the front, my dear Watson. Her companion sought acess to her posterior."

"Inconceivable!"

"Alimentary, my dear Watson. Alimentary."

Weirsdo's Story
Splorp! The sound came from the alien's protruding eyeballs colliding with the hood of the car. His handlike second feet as well as the claws and front section of his first pair of legs also made violent contact, and his third legs scrabbled against the bumper, trying to push the rest of his thorax onto the smooth, metallic surface. He wished the Earthling inside would stop screaming. For the first time he realized this wasn't going to be easy. She might not believe the story of how he, along with the rest of his team of scientists, had kidnapped her mother 19 Earth years ago for bizarre sexual experimentation. Hurriedly, he readjusted his eyeballs, trying to get a better view of her. Only two sets of appendages, but he thought she had his eyes. . .

Doug's Story
A man walked into a bar and saw a beautiful blond sitting alone. He introduced himself and told the blond she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and could he buy her a drink? She said "Wait just a second, I only date men of means."
He told her "I'm an accountant in private practice."
"And I only get involved with men who aren't afraid of commitment."
"I've been married for 25 years and have two young children."
The blond thought about this and said, "OK, but I only practice safe sex."
"Don't worry," the man said, "my Volvo's parked right out front."

M.P.'s Story
She had kept that pic for some time now. She had no proof of it but perhaps there had been rape. Or just some uncontrolled coupling for which time had been too short.
Whenever she observed that very pic - one of the hundreds she had in her collection of odd exposures - she always came to feel a strange vibration she could hardly explain. Some sex prevert for sure and the body could have belonged to one of the victims.
She felt attracted to think of what sort of truth this pic might hide but that strange vibration had always led her to avoid getting into any sort of investigation of her own.
Easter Sunday.
At that right moment she was sitting at a café, one of the very few open in the city-centre the morning.
She had just finished drinking her coffee when a male voice whispered into her ear: "Don't turn! Stand up and go striaght on to that red car on the other side of the street! Get in and wait!"
What a chill through her spine! That voice had made her feel as strange as that vibration coming from the photo in her collection of odd exposures she was so proud of.

My Story
With all those bodies breezing about out there it was destined to happen. Doug and Marsha got together. Warm skin against warm skin caused blood flowing parallel to tepid blood to sizzle in the veins. A mile-high feeling of dizzying ecstasy charged through them. With each pelvic thrust they shot into unfolding realms of altitude, hotly defying the futile "no's" of gravity. The carnal splendor saw them swirling through boundless tangents, an intertwining one with the stratosphere.

Subsequent to an extremely bumpy ride George inspected his jet car, wiping clouds from the chassis. It never ceased to astonish him how the random formations invariably culminated in some kind of meaningful gestalt.

Sleeping Girl with Zzzz's

2005-03-06T12:49:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's story
Esperanza was always a wishful thinker, even in the bleakest of circumstances. This wasn't a condemned building, this was a historical home that needed a bit of replastering to restore its luster. She wasn't homeless, she was one of those idealistic youth who took a year off from college to hitchhike across Europe, but staying within her means she wasn't far from her landscape and took her journey while still in high school. She wasn't sleeping on a discarded piece of foam with a dirty sheet around it, she was roughing it like a camper in the wilderness but with the resourcefulness of a silverback gorilla. This life wasn't killing her figuratively if it was doing so literally; her days were restful, peaceful, and exciting, and she even had a cartoonish sign to represent that she was merely going to sleep for a bit.... She wouldn't actually leave if she were smiling, she believed. When the authorities found her in rigor mortis the next afternoon, like Carroll's Cheshire Cat the smile was all that remained.

Lady J's story
The Zs, you see, are the ticket. They're the only way off this rock. Tara scored hers earlier tonight, in the unisex pit of a bathroom at Ministry, from an androgynous figure in a grey silk shift and black leather knee-boots.
It was the blond spikes that gave it away.
"I know the path to the unicorn farm," Tara told the conductor, her ice blue eyes meeting those black wells with a level certainty that belied her age.
The conductor smiled -- an old smile, smiled by David Bowie and Cleopatra and Benjamin Franklin -- and produced a torn pink slip of paper.
Tara accepted the ragged pamphlet, presented with gravity and a certain reverence.
"You know what to do," the conductor said. "Just don't let them see the blues of your eyes."

ReaZ's story
It had been a month now since the deafness epidemic had started. Now 99% of the worlds population could not hear anymore. How would people communicate was the question of the day. The answer was stumbled upon quite by accident by a simple girl who was trying to get some sleep while her borther insisted on taking some pictures of her. She just wanted to be left alone, but no matter how much she yelled at him, he couldn't understand her. The answer finally came to her, pretend to sleep and he'll get the idea. It might not have worked if she didn't move to cover her face with the gift her friend gave her. Luckily her friend really liked Zorro and had covered her gift with Z's. If it wasn't for that, the world might have spiralled into maddness.

Retarius' story
the kidnappers wanted to send pictoral proof that they had her, so they could demand a high ransom and live for the rest of thier lives in comfort on the beaches of the phillipines. they weren't evil or mean, they just didn't feel like working hard and long for only a small chance at retirement. they didn't want to be known as "bad guys" so they asked amanda to hold up a little sign, something whimsicle, lighthearted, that would prove she was alive but also show she was in a playful happy mood. the pink paper was her idea.

M.P.'s story
"There she was. They had eventually discovered her in her shelter. Marilyn had decided to live far away from the madning crowd because she could not bear the noise of snoring.
Since she was very small, she had grown used to that awful sound: her father snored so loudly that it could make the whole house shake like under earthquake effect.
It had taken a long time to find her.
Meanwhile Marilyn had turned into this pretty young lady they could see in the photo they had been sent as answer to the different public appeals to find her.
They were all very happy and went there to bring her home.
They wondered why she was holding that zzzzzzz card though. How could they have realised that??? Marlyn had now a handicap: she had lost the capacity of even producing the zzzzzzz noise when she was sleeping!
But even so they were awfully happy to have her back to the still shaken-up house with the earthquake like snore sound of her father which had made her become that unsually different!"

D's story
Inside the main operations conference room (OCR1) of the secret NSA surveillance post, a party was in progress. Champagne had been uncorked. Cigars were being lit. One of the office assistants had found some party hats from the last new year's celebration. Even Charlie Moss, the team leader and a hard-line relic of the cold war had stretched his normally frozen face into a slight grin.
The root cause of this rare atmosphere lay in the events of the previous hour. After two and half years of surveillance, the team had finally managed to capture a meeting between the Zebra, a notorious con woman and black market smuggler, and one of her contacts. Using satellite video technology they had recorded a meeting in which the Zebra had pointed out the secret location of her next black market deal, a sale of stolen archeological treasures unearthed in western China, on a map for her client. Even as they celebrated, the unit of special operations commandos placed at the team's disposal was on their way to the site. It would not be long now.
Suddenly the door to the room flew open, and Jamie Reed, the one team member left to man the operations floor, rushed in with a print out of a surveillance photo gripped tightly in her hand.
"Sir," she yelled to Moss over the din, "I think you should see this!"
The picture that she handed to Moss showed a young woman, the Zebra, lying in the roofless ruin of a bombed apartment building in Serbia. She appeared to be sleeping, and this observation was made even more clear by the pink note held in her right hand beside her head like a word balloon in a comic book. The note said simply, "zzzzzzz."
Moss looked long and hard at the photograph bringing it right up to within an inch of his glasses and turning it back and forth. She left a note, he thought. It's like she knows someone is watching her. He looked hurriedly up at Jamie.
"Get back to your station. I want to know the second the Zebra moves."
Half a minute later, she raced back in.
"Sir, she's gone!"
"What? How?"
"We don't know. One moment she was there, the next she was gone."
Moss looked down at the photo then stood up slowly.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, meeting each of their eyes, "we've been made." He picked the photograph up and tossed it into the middle of the table where it settled on a box of cigars.
"The Zebra is gone."

My story
Only three had come to share in the farewell. And soon it would be officially over. The camera and other equipment were destined for a film museum, the seats were too old to interest anyone anymore. Everything else had been promised away to the usual caring scavengers catching wind of a cache of history. The beam of light through celluloid streamed from the projector across the span of the theater, spreading out into moving images on the screen. Victor, who sat towards the back, nodded off, lulled by the sound of the organ music accompanying the antique visuals of a silent movie. His dream became a spark of light mingling with the light of the diva flowing through the air. It gave her life and form flavored by his modern imagination. He awoke as the film ended, the dream but a vague memory. He left with the others, but in one hidden corner of the soon to be abandoned theater slumbered the diva he had created, waiting to be imagined again.

Girl's Face in Shadows

2005-02-26T05:08:00.000-05:00

Mushroom's story
Astrid was a heavenly body. Wherever she went, the poets would bask in her light and become inspired, young lovers would sit together near her and spoon, and animals you normally do not see during the day would come forth and be seen on the periphery. She was never quite sure how she got to be such a luminary, but she always realized that it was a gift from the heavens.

She hoped some day that a man in a suit would come to visit her, to touch her face. This would be a small step for a man but a giant leap for her. She was so... alone, far away but not so distant she couldn't be found, and spent her nights watching the world in silence. What sort of craft would it take for someone to reach her? She waited patiently, always facing the world with a new face, for the eagle to land and splash down in her life, hoping this dream wasn't all just lunacy. Her loneliness was visibly beginning to eclipse her.

Michael's story
I never take a single breath without her, the light falling cooly across just one side of her face in the twilight. Somehow, either just before the sun rose or maybe just after the moon fell behind the ridge, my eyelids were caught open while dreaming. It was just as I was hiding from the tractor-trailers on the freeway, who still looked like hungry tanks meaning to devour me. She visited me briefly but just for a moment, and I knew it was her when her hand touched my shoulder.

The bitter taste of our endless flight, the sound of one helicopter much too close above the trees, the stab of a flashlight's beam against my wide-open eyes, and the sound of frightened voices all rushed up inside my ears, and with them came the warm irrepressible surge of fainting.

With her left palm she made a whirling movement before my face, touching first my forehead, and then my throat, and then she was gone--along with the cold, the numbness, the broken glass, all of it was missing-- even the cuts on my hands were gone. I still cannot remember who they were or why we were running, and instead of those unbearable memories, she left me with the talisman of her form, etched across my exhausted, blinking eyes. If I close my eyes she appears to me now like a half-moon in the darkness, telling me to say her name if ever they come again for us. Her words are strong, fearless, and warm.

They cannot call her now, only those who have walked upside-down in the darkness have the voice to be heard, if you are one of them remember her name always in case you might need aid, whisper to her fearlessly and directly into the wind: "Aradia"

Robyn's story
Sylvia loved the old classic films. She often spent time in an old run down theater in the "bad end" of town watching film festivals. She had seen them all; the Hitchcock Festival, The Spies and Lies festival, and of course the Private Eye movies.

This week end was a little different though. The new owners of the place were a little different. They were introducing The Classics of Horror this weekend. She had gone only because they had promised the whole weekend would be comprised solely of black and white films.

Sylvia had drifted off during The Curse of the Mummy. She was so looking forward to the Dracula films though. She loved the sexual symbolism in the films about vampires. They had always been her little secret pleasure.

When she woke she was no longer in the theater, but in a large velvet and satin arrayed bed. Her mind reeled. She heard her voice spoken an a soft male voice with a distinctly Romany accent. She sat bolt upright and looked around the half dark room. She wondered who the new owners of the theater were anyway. She heard her name again, "Lucy, come to me", and though but my name is .... Lucy was the only name that rang through her mind.

M.P.'s story
"She was there all alone in the dark, looking at her half reflection on the mirror right in front of her. How could it show such a devilish half of her??
She was terrorized as she could not believe in what the mirror showed to her.She had always tried to act like an angel, doing what she was expected to, without rebelling against any rule or imposition set on her.
Her anxiety was such that she stood stuck in front of that half image of her self! All she could do was utter a scream-like pray which made the mirror blaster into little shatters, thus destroying the hideous image.
But what to do now? She could not go on existing with one only self half! Human beings have good and bad features after all.
She got out of that room and looked for another mirror. She had several spread all over her place.
Standing in front of the first one she managed to find, she screamed once more and the mirror got all broken into little pieces again .
She picked them all up, put them into the bag where she already had the other ones, went to the lounge to try out the solution for that jig-saw puzzle that would give her a brand new self."

Cori's story
"A triple scotch please," she said to the bartender. "That’s the heavy stuff, right?"

She saw her own reflection in the mirror and stopped to stare at the seamless golden lines of her rebirth. She had led a life of chastity and blessed reverence up until now, and look what it got her.

At the other end of the bar, beyond the smoke and filtered glow, Joseph downed his whiskey and sighed a breath of relief. He never felt quite right until that second beer and that second shot. Cheers to the big numb, and the loss of the past, cheers to forgetting- he lifted the empty shot glass, motioning to the awestruck bartender for another. He contemplated his index finger, thumb and the transparent emptiness of his life- lifting the shot glass up to his eye, peering through it toward the only source of light in the room- that is when he saw Mary for the first time.

Abby Taylor's story
The relationship was over. She stared at her half-face.

Ann wasn't so sad about the ending as about having to cut her ex-boyfriend out of her favorite picture of herself. In fact, this was one of the reasons it was over. Sam just always stood in front of her, either literally or figuratively.

So now as she thought about her future, Ann focused on how she'd have to get a picture of her next boyfriend positioned in exactly the same way in front of her so she could cut him out of the new photo and paste him into this photo.

As she planned her future in this way, she never once had the thought, "Freud was right."

Anonymous story
They called her Moon. Nobody could explain her condition. As a child, she was photographed, filmed, analyzed. Ph.D. theses were written about her. Her picture was on the cover of magazines like Nature, Scientific American and People. Later in school, she was a loner. The kids didn’t even laugh at her, because she frightened them. So they left her alone, and she didn’t mind that at all. Her parents tried to give her a life as close to normality as possible, but sometimes, when they thought she was asleep, she could hear them talk. There was only one day every month when she could go out on the street like a normal person, when nobody stopped and stared at her. On those days, her face was complete; it had two eyes and a full mouth and round cheeks like everybody else’s. She was happy for a few precious hours on those days, when a full moon shone in the night.

My story
It began the first night of the new month. The head appeared and followed him everywhere he went, eyes trained firmly upon him. His attempts to turn away from it saw it intrude again swiftly into his line of vision. The head caught the light and shadows such that he could never tell with certainty whether it was disembodied or not. And those unblinking eyes continued to stare. That was the worst of it, that the eyes never blinked. It made the head seem unnatural and threatening. Try watching TV under those circumstances! At each new eruption of disquiet inside him the head seemed to increase the mad boldness of its demeanor. It was always just out of reach, intensely focused eyes staring into him with a resolve that could smash stone to rubble. Even in his sleep he could not escape the ghastliness of it. It watched near his bed - the eerie illumination forced its way through his eyelids and entered his dreams at will - and looked at him. By the third day he cracked. He went directly to the collection agency and payed his overdue installment on his new state-of-the-art high definition widescreen television, upon which they called off their patented Neversleep Reminder Head™.

Two Couples on a Bench

2005-02-12T05:44:00.000-05:00

Retarius' first story
new, from the secret company of evil creative minds who flood the market with large styrofoam fingers, huge chess pieces for lawn chess, and ludicrously sized hamburgers, comes "teenage double date," incredibly large, lifelike bookends. these whimsicle bookends conjure up images of awkard college doubledating, including hours trying to figure out what to wear, feinging interest and false smiles, and loads of hair product. incredibly oversized books not included.

Retarius' second story
when they were young, brothers chad and chet made a pact that they would only date girls who wear scarves. once they got into college, they met rose and marie, sisters who were both adopted from different parents and decided to only date boys who wore pants with lines going up the sides. as a foursome they were always together and decided it was fate they met. they also decided each girl would marry both guys, and all four would live in one house, and start thier own commune, freely sharing each other and each other's clothes. unfortunately, they broke up one month after this picture because each person found a totally different person who was far more interesting and attractive.

Mushroom's story
Jenna and Barbara always thought it would be cool to date vampires. They were always concerned about finding real ones, rather than those Goth pretenders in facial powder and eye shadow who only wanted to get drunk and screw to The Bauhaus. Josh and Jeremy were just the men for them, because they didn't advertise and they didn't dress differently than other people. The girls felt special, like they had some prize other people only dreamed of. They were gentlemen and kind of fun to be with. Never completely taking leave of their senses, no matter how far they'd go with the boys they always protected their necks -- some folks thought they were hiding hickies, but it was quite the contrary: they were hiding from getting hickies.

Abby Taylor's story
The odds of being chosen were phenomenally low, so when the kids got the letter they couldn't believe their good fortune! Only six months in the queue before being chosen by Vladimir, the world renown writer whose secretive nature only added to his own popularity and to the popularity he was able to bring to his randomly selected short story subjects.

Indeed, others chosen by The Vlad, as he was called in private, had gone on to fame and fortune beyond their wildest imaginations. The legends of former story-subjects were well known... many landing supporting roles on popular sitcoms, later spin-offs to their own prime time shows. Still others became famous spokesmodels for popular products such as the Genie automatic garage door opener and the Princess cruise lines. Of course, there was also the case of the now defunct Little Boy in the Balloon Body Wash, but no one liked to dwell on the negatives.

Saturday, February 12, 2005 was THEIR DAY... their moment to shine, and the start of all things good for the four kids from the small town in the heartland! All the expected calls were made to family, friends, agents, and the local news media. They couldn't wait to see what The Vlad had in store for them.

At 12:01 AM on the designated day they, along with the entire population of their hometown, logged into the famous website to have their date with destiny. But as they read their excitement turned into horror.

Out of town for the weekend? Substitute writers?!?! It just couldn't be! This had to be some kind of joke!

After the initial period of shock, Gary and Elaine erupted into an argument of volcanic proportions. Apparently Gary had never really believed in Elaine's dream of becoming the next Suzanne Somers, but he had to admit she did have great thighs so he stuck it out. But now he was publicly humiliated, and he blamed Elaine.

Vivian tried to take the news with her usual cheery demeanor, but deep down she knew that she was now destined to wait tables all her life at the 24 hour diner. Stephen truly loved Vivian, and he promised to be with her until the end.

Which, as fate would have it, occurred at 3:08 PM on Valentine's Day, Monday, February 14, 2005, when Vivian, always the drama queen, took three fistfuls of pills and drank a quart of vodka. A hastily scrawled note found by her bed read, "Substitute writers, my ass."

M.P.'s story
"Their gathering had been set like some secret mission. Each of them had received an invitation-card for a mysterious party at a place named Blogger and their host was Indeterminacy.

Although this Blogger place had no real precise geographical situation, they found it with no apparent difficulty due to their common professional formation - computing.

Once there it wasn't difficult to spot where the party would happen: as the invitation-card informed, the party would be in the laptop shapped building right in Blooger city-centre and there was no other builidng like that over there.
They really enjoyed every party little detail. Everything had been carefully planned and thought over. However they found it strange there were no other people to join them and the fact the host hadn't yet arrived at that late hour (it was already dawn!).

They thought they'd better wait outside to wait for their incognito host to turn up. And so they did!...After a while they saw somebody at the garden gate! They just couldn't believe their eyes... It was him!

He came closer holding a digital camera and snapped them.
He took them again into the lapetop shaped building and arrested them forever in his blog!"

Livinia's story
Much line
Curve of hip
Boys and girls
One Armenian
Close, close, closer
Click

My story
Bill, Bob, Yvonne and Yvette were out for a Valentine's day walk. They happened to be sitting on the bench when the Cupids arrived. First, one Cupid came strolling by, then there were several and soon the park path was flowing with an entire phalanx of Cupids, all marching towards the make-out point located at the end of the strategic lane. It was to be a surprise attack, which was why they weren't flying. Bill, Bob, Yvonne and Yvette were obvious targets for the impish little love soldiers overanxious to shoot off their arrows of amorosity, tips anesthetized so as to postpone the pain of love. With so many thousands of arrows there were bound to be mistakes made, especially with Yvonne and Yvette sitting so close to one another. The two girls sat now fully charged and would show someone the time of his life that night, as soon as they could work out who to leave with.

Mushroom's sequel
There was some debate on the way back to Yvonne's apartment about how things should be parsed. The legion of cherubim couldn't have been wrong to want to get these people together, that much they knew, but in the confusion it was unclear how to couple up. With a little bit of discussion and a few failed games of rock/paper/scissors, they decided that they should vote. They each got a piece of paper and a writing utensil, wrote down their name and who they wanted, and hoped that there would be a meshing. The end result was as such, and it became evident that the girls had indeed been sitting too close when the attack occured:
• Bill - Yvette
• Bob - Yvonne
• Yvonne - Yvette
• Yvette - Yvonne
At first the girls' eyes widened because that wasn't how they were paired in the park. But then they decided that since since there was only one couple that mutually voted the same way, the two girls, that would be how things went. The guys had no problem with this as long as they got to watch.