Saturday, May 17, 2008


Okay, it started here.

Then, it went here. I don't know those people...but, I DO know WP. So, in spite of taking all precautions, I have a mild case of "Add Something To This".

Each section is in colours, which lets me play with part of the whole blogthingy that I seldom play with... then, I get to tag some people, and one of them has to do something, and they have to tag people, and eventually, it dies.

Without further ado:

Story Virus

From Splotchy, who started this thing:

I had been shuffling around the house for a few hours and already felt tired. The doorbell rang. I opened the front door and saw a figure striding away from the house, quickly and purposefully. I looked down and saw a bulky envelope. I picked it up. The handwriting was smudged and cramped, and I could only make out a few words.

He passed it to Bubs, who wrote...

I looked up and down the street but didn’t see any delivery truck, or any car for that matter. No FedEx, no UPS , no creepy-looking porno'd-out conversion van with a half-assed delivery service sign taped to its side. Nothing. It's like delivery man just disappeared. I stepped back inside, re-set the deadbolts and took a closer look at the envelope.

Mentally I ran through the checklist of letter bomb warning signs. The handwriting on the envelope, smudged and cramped as it was, was laid out in a tiny, obsessively neat block lettering. It practically screamed recently-de-institutionalized loner with time on his hands. No ticking or whirring sounds, that’s good. No odd smells, no leaks or stains on the package. Check. Weight seemed evenly distributed, that’s good too. I decided to open it.

Inside I found a plane ticket to Pensacola, a business card for a lawyer in Niceville, five crisp $100 bills and a four page handwritten note. Well. This was different. I poured a cup of coffee, threw some meat to the dogs to stop em barking, and sat down to read.

Then, Write Procrastinator caught it, and typed out:

Now I knew that Niceville is the home of Mullet Festival and by that, I mean the fish and not the god awful hairstyle. Also, Elgin Air Force base was just a hop, skip and a jump from there, but beyond that? I’ve never been in that part of woods nor do I believe that I knew anybody down there.

The four page letter was a missive from my friend from the first Gulf War, Henry Lemon. The lay out of the four pages was odd; the first page said “this money is just a small example of the money to be had.”
The second page said “opportunities and riches abound here!”

The third said “I know that I can trust you to keep this in confidence, but if you somehow have changed since the time we saved each others lives? Know that there is far more money to be made than what is in this envelope.

The fourth page said “now, get down here as soon as you can. I need a good and loyal man, that I know will have my back.”

Being a sharing kinda guy, he zipped it my contribution is as follows:

Sadly, the only good and loyal man who would have his back was our mutual friend, my roommate, Hal Stuef, but, I figured, fuck it, and took the plane ticket, the money, packed a bag and left.

Settling into my seat on Good Luck Sucker Airline, I had a drink and a couple of bags of their famous bagged snack nuts. Sure, the bags read PanAm, and there was that musty scent to them... but, you got hooked on the flavour. Some said it was a rare mold that built up in the snack bags—whatever, they were a sought after snack. One that let you forget the time, space and on occasion, you saw the face of God.

Tying my seat belt snugly around my waist, I cranked the window closed and hoped I didn’t have one that whistled this flight. I relaxed, the PanAm snack nuts had that effect, and closed my eyes, I thought about what was ahead…. Henry, good ol’ Henry! After this long, it would be great to see him again! The last time we’d been together, we were both wearing girdles, bras and running for our lives. Yeah, those were the days, my friend!

I turned to my seat partner, Gandhi, and mentioned the white outfit he had on was rocking. He nodded and said it was a little somthing he'd put together for the flight.

Next thing I knew, we were landing...


So, off it goes....


Prince, because he can go on and on about Zac and I can't discuss the artists I think are amazing

The Dramatic One

Coast Rat

Add your bits here, and on your own bit of cyberspace, and tag or whatever. I am now clear of my virus.



Writeprocrastinator said...

Wow, amazing as usual! The only things missing were Steadman's illustrations and Jann Werner telegrams complaning about missed deadlines!

the Constantly Dramatic One said...

I'm sick. I'll do this when I feel better.

Bubs said...

"Sure, the bags read PanAm, and there was that musty scent to them... but, you got hooked on the flavour..."

Love it! Thanks for playing along.

Splotchy said...

Thanks a lot for being infected!

Now I want a bag of a former airline's nuts. That sounds much dirtier than I intended.

I hope to find out what happens when they land. The suspense is a-killin' me!

Prince Gomolvilas said...

Are we supposed to do this in order? Is Peter supposed to go first?

Quin Browne said...

thank you prior writers...

and, he who gets here first, goes...

austere said...

Didn't expect a psychedelic Gandhiji for sure.

Will go and check where the rest of it goes.