Co-op Story Time

As usual, bolded text is A.G., plain text is mine. Hope you enjoy it!

Walking down the rainy streets, the man pondered his problem. He had won a new lawnmower in the hardware store raffle. He really hoped to win the Hibachi, as he lived in an apartment, and had no use for a lawnmower. But is was such a great lawnmower! One of those riding models with the little padded seat that fit oh so snug! So here he was, walking the streets, wondering if he should sell the lawnmower or buy a lawn.

Passing a small restaurant, he happened to glance into the window and was shocked by what he saw.

His mailman and his neighbor, Miz Greely, were seated together at a booth, locked in a disturbingly public embrace. However lewd this was, it was not nearly as shocking as what lay upon the table in front of them. The mailman and Miz Greely's flailing limbs knocked the shocking item to the floor in their passion.

It lay on the rug, waiting to be noticed.

He stepped over the odd apparition and stepped out the door. This day was getting more and more complicated all the time. After stretching his calves and thighs, he laced up his jogging shoes and started to trot down the street. Little puffs of steam seeped between his teeth in short bursts, and he couldn't resist saying "chuff chuff chuff...woo woooo" like a choo choo train. Eventually he was forced to stop, as his route led him through a doorway and into the public library. Stopping in the periodicals section, he was forced to stare at the man behind the desk.

He looked just like Ryan Stiles!

He reached out fotr a kiss, but only managed to embrace an armful of air. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Miz Greely dashed up and executed a full body check, then proceeded to rip off her clothes and writhe around on the floor. Soon she was peacefully asleep.

He who looked like Ryan Stiles prodded her inert form with his shoe.

Just then it jerked...once, twice, three times, then it lay dormant. "This shoe just isn't doing the trick" said the Ryan Stiles look-alike. Quickly exiting, he jumped into his car and drove to the mall. "There must be a shoe store in here somewhaere", he said out loud to no person in particular. However, after 30 minutes of searching, all he could find were several clothing stores, a drug store, a grocery store and a Radio Shack. Remembering he needed batteries, he trotted, stork-like, into the store.

The clerk greeted him with a strange, knowing smile and said..."hello".

"Hello?", he replied. A strange, knowling silence fell between them....and so did, also a ceiling tile. Upon the ceiling tile was perched...the mailman! He had overheard everything!

The clerk burst into tears.

It was the end of a very weird day for the clerk. First there was no hot water in the apartment, then the battery was dead in the car, finally the strangeness that just occured. But thing smay be looking up, the clerk thought, viewing the newspaper ad proclaiming:

"Riding Lawn Mower for sale"

Enter....The Flying Guy!!

I've just seen the coolest guy in the world. Last night, when my girlfriend and I were driving out of her apartment block parking lot, we were witness to the coolest guy EVER! As we paused to check for traffic, a middle-aged white male, wearing a long-sleeved pullover shirt, arced gracefully in front of our car. Arms boldly swept backwards in the hyper-efficient delta-wing formation, the man trotted gracefully down the street. Weaving from one side of the street to the other, this latter-day Icarus banked left, then right, then left again. His legs pumping, the Flying Guy maintained the serious demeanor of a 747 pilot landing his jumbo jet on a slippery runway in the middle of a thunderstorm. He glanced only briefly at us, before he whisked himelf away down the street.

Flying guy didn't say anything. His performance would only have been cheapened by uttering "vroom vroom" sounds. Instead, with total seriousness, Flying Guy briefly touched our lives and our hearts, before banking left down the dusty, sun-dappled street.

To say he brought a smile to our faces would be an understatement. Neither of us wanted to laugh at Flying Guy. Instead, we both felt a surge of child-like joy, and not a small degree of envy, for the brave street-pilot who careened in and out of our lives that lovely spring evening!

We aren't sad, though, as Flying Guy is now a part of our lives!! Walking down the street this afternoon, I took the opportunity (and the dare!) to replicate some of Flying Guy's manouvers. I may not have been as graceful, and I certainly wasn't as serious as our featherless flyer, but I surely compensated with enthusiasm!!

So, if the world is getting you down, your boss dumped on you, you hate your job, your left-over spagetti sauce grew mold in the back of your fridge...whatever! Just lean your arms back in that delta-wing shape and go for a quick flight. Trust me, it's the cheapest form of therapy you'll evern have.

Thank you , Flying Guy!!!

Better Than Awesome: co-op story writing

Want a great way to fill part of an evening in a creative, and potentially twisted way? Write a co-op story with one or more people. This isn't a really new idea, but it's a heck of a lot of fun. Each person writes a paragraph of a story, the next person only sees the final sentence and writes another paragraph, and so on. You can end it whenever you want and two or more can play. Here's a bit of weirdness my girlfriend and I created this weekend. When an author alternated, the text goes bold (I started the story, so you can see my girlfriend has all the writing talent). Each paragraph ends with the single sentence the other author saw. Hope you enjoy it!

Strongathan the strong man sat pensively. He read the pamphlet again, for the fourth or fifth time, but the words never changed. The Strawberry Girl was returning. A small salty tear traced it's way down his mighty cheek. The last time he had seen Strawberry girl was when she was stepping aboard the train with the Blue Man. Strongathan recalled the ache in his heart in watching her board the traing.

And he remembered the faint surge of hope as his eyes met Strawberry Girls one last time.

But, that time was meant to run out eventually, and it did. Time does, you know. But his skin was tingling, and he knew it was time to move on. He was a mover...and a shaker...and a rattler... a rattlesnake. A real snake in the grass, all right. But yet, his love for Strawberry was genuine enough. Her sparkling eyes set his heart aflame....but he was afraid of fire...

...yes, afraid...

And yet, he knew his wits and nudity saved him in the past. He would need to rely on them again. Picking up a branch of a tree that had been struck off by a recent lightening storm, he crept through the undergrowth that surrounded the theatre. Using his psychic powers, he willed the lock on the stage door to open, and with a creak of rusty hinges, the door opened.

Clutching the wet branch, he stepped into the darkness.

His apprehension only served to heighten his desire...for her. The darkness wrapped around him like a cloak. He made his way further and further into the darkness, and memory. Memories of happy Strawberry times, times of lightness and delight. But now, however, he had to stand in the dark and immerse himself in the darkness of his very soul. He slapped himself in the face a few times with the wet branch, in order to keep his concentration sharp.

For he had a promise to fulfill...
Packing his suitcase, he boarded the next Transatlantic flight to England. he cleared customs with little difficulty, but at some point, he misplaced his duty-free bottle of gin. Inquiries at the information desk yielded blank stares and shaking heads, which infuriated him more. "Bloody English", he thought. Still, he couldn't wait for his first breakfast of fried bread and baked beans. Calling for a cab, he sat silently as he was whisked towards London. The cabby was mercifully silent, and the ride uneventful.

Until he smelled smoke filling the back of the car.

With David Bowie warbling on the radio, he began to roll down the window, but his strength was ebbing. "Fame..." David uttered, but our hero was on the verge of unconciousness. A sweet blackness like dark chocolate, like Iman....he was beginning to hallucinate. If only he could get the window to open. Perhaps he could chew it open? Or use his unusual powers.

His powerful mind powers....
Inexplicabley failed! The women were all still wearing their clothes. Without missing a beat, he stripped off his shirts and yelled "Drop 'em ladies, your love sheik has parked his camel!" Amid the flurry of flying clothing and the shrieks of delight, an unwelcome shape rose up behind him. It was Strongathan! Looking for vengance! "Now I have you", the cross-dressing beast shouted, "and I'll show you what happens when you try to mess with a union member!" Reaching out one massive hand, he extinguised the light.

I the darkness, he waited for the end to come.

A single drop kept dripping, over and over in the corner. He attempted to align his heartbeat with the rhythm of the drip...when suddenly, david Bowie burst onto the scene, having buzzed a hole in the wall with a chainsaw. "Surprise!" he cried.

The scene evaporated in a rainbow of smootches.

As you can see, it's usually pretty silly but great fun-try it out!!