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Shady Stoat
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 Posted: Thu Dec 01, 2005 6:15 am Post subject: |
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 I'll accept 'both' if you can come up with a rationale. Otherwise it's Xandara or Suki or neither - or something else that I've failed to spot! 
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Ingrothechundyer
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| Posted: Fri Dec 02, 2005 8:59 am Post subject: |
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| Shady Stoat wrote: | | The Powers That Be wrote: | | Shady Stoat wrote: | | Unless I get a resounding clamour for me to carry onto 'Round 2' of the story |
Clamor clamor clamor!!!
(I hope an American clamor is good enough  ) |
*bursts out laughing* You just don't want to live in the slums by yourself any more!  |
*joins in the clamour for round 2*
This story is hilarious
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Fri Dec 02, 2005 1:16 pm Post subject: |
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OK, I've got four or five ideas for 'Round 2'. (I accepted the nomination, BTW, and will be writing chapter 10 onwards whether or not I get anywhere in SGotM).
Looks like the decision point for chapter nine will be how we proceed from there. This could be fun...
In the meantime, thanks Ingro and Powers, for thoroughly cheering my day up
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Fri Dec 02, 2005 9:38 pm Post subject: |
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| Smee wrote: | Great chapter.
I spotted this:
| Quote: | | show up at the most importune moments |
- at first I didn't recognise it as a word, but looking it up I find it is. However the word I thought you meant, inopportune, I think works better in this case.
I've got to say go with Suki. The knees might be perfect, and she seems nice but she could have some horrible aspect that you don't know about.
Better the cat you know. 
Happy Writing. |
Are you kidding? There's no real option here...lets get the blonde!
_________________
 Chapter 5: The Rendezvous 
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| Posted: Sat Dec 03, 2005 12:40 pm Post subject: |
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Knowing some of these authors I've been reading in the past few days, Xandara will turn out to be some form of vampire.
And plus, every guy in this situation will go for kitty cat anyday.
So I say go for the lioness.
_________________
...So I've been summoned back from beyond the veil.
...No plans yet.
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the smell of yellow
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| Posted: Sat Dec 03, 2005 4:14 pm Post subject: sugestion |
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| knowing what happens in storys i sugest that he whakes up to the rinning of his alarm clock and makes a jeneral remark about the dreem and then leave the story at the conclusion of dought.
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2005 11:08 am Post subject: |
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| Idea master wrote: | Knowing some of these authors I've been reading in the past few days, Xandara will turn out to be some form of vampire.
And plus, every guy in this situation will go for kitty cat anyday.
So I say go for the lioness. |
What? But she's...hairy! Besides, I think Larry had enough with her for one day.
_________________
Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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Cantolope
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| Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2005 11:31 am Post subject: |
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I still think that my idea sounds the most used (o and by the way ime "the smell of yellow" i used it as a name because my account
starter e-mail was slow)
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Cantolope
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| Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2005 11:42 am Post subject: |
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*blinks* *looks at screen again to make shure* GASP!!!
did i post in a form with some of the greattest writers??? 
GASP!!!!
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| Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2005 4:27 pm Post subject: |
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| I say go for Xandara. He should be relieved to have survived one date with Suki. He shouldn't push his luck and lock himself in a shuttle with her.
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| Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2005 4:42 pm Post subject: |
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Well, I am greedy, so go for both. But I don't have any ideas how!
Nice chapter Stoaty, but...
*groans* 
_________________
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Wed Dec 07, 2005 7:50 am Post subject: |
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If anyone still wants 'both' and can think of a 'how' to go with it, say so in the next 24 hours. The poll is going up tomorrow. Current options are Xandara, Suki and neither.
This should be interesting... 
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ethereal_fauna
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| Posted: Wed Dec 07, 2005 8:00 am Post subject: |
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Hell, even a feeble excuse should work. Tell them he remembers something written in the fine print about contestants always being accompanied by studio personnel until they no longer were associated with the show in any manner. That would include this final transport, and he could suggest Knees go with them. Maybe he never read any fine print, but it sounds good.
Whether he actually experiences a fantastic tryst or is instead treated to a vulgar display of jealousy and...erm, cat-fighting , either way sounds highly amusing.
Unless poor Larry is content relocating to Furtopia, I don't see any relationship with cat-woman going far. He does want a relationship...he's tired of being alone. But Suki is hardly the girl he'd take home to meet Mother. At least Xandara could pass as a tourist from France.
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The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Wed Dec 07, 2005 11:13 am Post subject: |
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*grins*
Good suggestions, you two... but Lordy, I think it would be difficult to tamper with the shuttle in full sight of everyone.
Fauna: A weak excuse I would probably accept (after all, they both seem interested in him so far)... but the Mayor has already stated that if he chooses the shuttle, he and Suki will be alone together. Given that he's involved with the show, he ought to know.
So... nothing acceptable so far, but keep trying if you've a mind to
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Thu Dec 08, 2005 7:00 am Post subject: |
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| 3 day poll. Make your choices...
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Sun Dec 11, 2005 8:05 am Post subject: |
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Suki it is. I'm going to start writing chapter 9 now.
I sure hope he survives the shuttle trip...
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| Posted: Sun Dec 11, 2005 11:30 am Post subject: |
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The majority picked Suki. Your wish is my command...
Chapter Nine
Larry’s mind whirled with frantic speed. If only he could find a way of having it all.
He began to dwell on thoughts of Xandara and Suki, sharing a claustrophobic little shuttle with him for the whole of the evening. Maybe into the night, through the dawn rising and who knew how far beyond…
His imagination hit the reverse gear and accelerated out of there while it still had a chance!
Suki had almost been the death of him. She still might, alone in that shuttle. Then again, it had been wonderful. Did he really want to throw all that away on a maybe?
He looked at Xandara. A little thrill ran through him as he remembered the way her slender arm had linked in his. The way she had smiled at him. They had talked so easily. She had been sweet and accepting, beautiful and comfortable. And interested. He was almost certain of that.
Larry had just about come to his decision, when a new inspiration hit him. Maybe there was a way to have both – or at least keep his options open.
Take the place on the spaceship, and his fling with Suki would be over. Take the small shuttle, however, and he still got the lioness. Then, if it didn’t work out, he could still seek out Xandara while they were finishing with his part in the show. She’d still be there… and had already proved that she could be very understanding.
Pleased with the logic (and having hesitated for quite long enough already), he smiled at the cat and approached the shuttle. Suki’s feral grin spoke volumes – if the Kama Sutra could be said to have volumes.
It was going to be an eventful trip…
-----------
The shuttle finally landed the following afternoon. The stage crew gathered around as its door slid open.
There was a pause. Then a lioness appeared at the top of the steps. Golden eyes glittered against the artificial lighting and she yawned lazily as she made her way towards the team.
Xandara stepped forward to meet them.
“Welcome back, Miss Marrauwl. If you’ll follow Linid over there…” she pointed to a carrot-shaped creature with one eye and three pointy ears, “… he’ll take you to the interview room and have a nice, informal chat with you. Where’s Mr. Cludge?”
Suki turned back to point at the shuttle. Her tail swished slowly back and forth.
“In therrre,” she said. “Disappointing. Verrry disappointing.”
Wasting no more words, she sauntered after the hopping carrot-creature. Xandara shook her head slowly.
“Bivv! Strigglagar!” she ordered, picking out a random pair of stage-hands. “You’d better go up there and patch the poor man up. Take the first-aid kit. And the stretcher. Better get the oxygen tanks up there too. Radio me if you need any of the major supplies. Just do the best you can.”
As she walked from the room, she sighed and smiled at the same time. Men – they were so fragile – and so predictable!
------------
Larry lay on the shuttle floor, lost in a red haze of exhaustion. Somewhere, he knew he still had muscles that worked. He just couldn’t find them.
Nor did he want to. If he so much as twitched, that devil-cat might decide he was up to one more performance. He really really wasn’t! Lionesses might enjoy carnal pleasures that lasted into the days rather than the hours. As far as Larry was concerned, though, when you lost count of how often, it was too often!
He closed his eyes and once again let semi-consciousness wash over him. Dimly, he was aware of a change in the light as a shadow loomed over him. A voice said something. He might have burbled a response, he didn’t know. He lay, limp as a ragdoll, while he was cleaned and bandaged and manhandled back into his clothes.
The next few hours remained forever dim in his memory. He had a vague recollection of being carried from the space shuttle, to an enthusiastic round of applause from the crew. There was a constantly changing sea of faces, a round of injections that seemed to either revive or re-blitz him and an alternation of pampering and pummelling to get him back into shape again.
He supposed he must have been interviewed about the date. It stood to reason, although he could remember nothing about the interviewer or what questions she had asked. Or, indeed, what responses he had given. In nights to come, when he would awaken with hot chills of embarrassment, it was no comfort to know that, whatever he had said, it could not be worse than the footage of the date itself.
It was evening before he finally felt that he could stand on his own two feet. They, at least, were working (although he was doubtful as to whether some of the more overtaxed body-parts ever would again). Staggering from the recovery room, he was swiftly pointed in the direction of the After-Show Party.
A little butterfly of hope fluttered its way into Larry’s heart. Now that Suki had proved too much for him, perhaps he could talk some more to Xandara. His head still fancied her, even if the rest of his body was currently numb to the possibilities.
Of course, it was impossible. He had already blown any chance he’d ever had with her. Even so…
He pushed on the party-room door, muscles groaning at even that much effort. It swung open and he stepped inside.
The room was a forest of weird life-forms. Small groups mingled together; headhunter pygmies chatted amiably to large violet ducks; zombies clinked glasses with many-tentacled squids; a withered crone appeared to be confiding secrets to a life-form that resembled nothing more than a giant ear. The most disturbing thing was that Larry was beginning to recognise the vast majority of them by sight!
Almost the first thing that caught his eye was the emerald-furred cat. She was leaning forward, brushing suggestively against one of the lighting technicians – a man with three hairy arms, each of them as long as an orang-utan’s. For a moment, Suki caught Larry’s eye, then deliberately turned her attentions back to the hapless stage-hand.
Larry wished him luck. He was going to need it!
His eyes roved the crowd, seeking out his target. Finally, he spotted her.
She smiled a welcome at him as he wobbled over to her corner of the room.
“You’re looking better,” she observed.
“Uhh… yeah,” he muttered, blushing. “A bit.”
Xandara’s gaze tracked over to Suki. “She’s looking better too. Didn’t work out too well for you, did it Mr. Cludge?”
Was it his imagination, or did the blonde look just a little too satisfied at that? He couldn’t be sure – but if these last few days had taught him anything, it was to take his chances where he could get them.
“Well, maybe not yet,” he said, deciding to take the plunge, “but I could think of a way to end on a real high note.”
Xandara raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“You could agree to go on a date with me? I mean… if you want to? Whenever’s convenient, of course. No pressure. I’ll just let you…” he took a deep breath, aware that he was beginning to jabber. “I mean… could I give you a call some time?”
For a long moment, she stared at him. Then she broke into a smile. A moment later, she had taken a notepad from her purse and scribbled something on the page. She folded it and tucked it into Larry’s breast pocket.
He grinned back, unable to contain the happiness within him. For a few seconds, he stared upon perfection… and then life broke in on them again.
There was the deep, throbbing “WHHHOOONNNK” of a siren. It seemed to fill the room before slowly ebbing away.
“Oh dear,” said Xandara, her smile fading. “Time for you to go. Call me, Mr. Cludge.”
Larry started to say something, but of course she couldn’t hear him. The teleportation was already underway. He faded out before her eyes, until there was nothing left but a slight sparkle to the air. Then, even that was gone.
What a nice man! Xandara smiled as she started to put the notebook back into her purse. Then she froze, halted by a sudden thought.
Damn! In the surprise of the moment, she’d forgotten to put her galactic area-prefix on the paper. Without it, the phone number was completely useless. What a wasted opportunity!
She sighed… then shrugged. Oh well. She’d be able to rectify it easily enough, when he returned to the show the following week. Blind Date never let go of an unsatisfied customer…
Last edited by Shady Stoat on Sat Feb 11, 2006 8:13 am; edited 1 time in total
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Sun Dec 11, 2005 11:43 am Post subject: |
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No decision point, obviously enough, this time.
I'll be creating chapter 10 as soon as I can, beginning round 2 - after I've run the gauntlet of all my other new chapters.
We're not finished yet! (taken from volume 21 of "Famous Last Words And Other Witless Witticisms")
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| Posted: Sun Dec 11, 2005 12:03 pm Post subject: |
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A wonderful end to a most...interesting story. I do like the way you tied in the next series. And I think he might avoid all contact with the show if at all possible, what with the memories of the lioness and the various wounds.
So! Do we get a new series anytime soon, o masterful stoat?
_________________
...So I've been summoned back from beyond the veil.
...No plans yet.
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| Posted: Sun Dec 11, 2005 12:07 pm Post subject: |
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| Very nice end to part one! I'm looking foward to the start of round two
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ethereal_fauna
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| Posted: Sun Dec 11, 2005 1:37 pm Post subject: |
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Mwahahaha so he's doomed to return. Excellent!
_________________
The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
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| Posted: Mon Dec 12, 2005 2:29 am Post subject: |
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Excellent
That was quite the experience.
And it all begins again.
I look forward to Round 2. Poor Larry.
Happy Writing.
_________________
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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| Posted: Sun Dec 18, 2005 12:08 pm Post subject: Best of Three: ROUND TWO! |
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ROUND TWO:
The Perils of Popularity
Maya rose from his bed, smiling and wiping at her eyes. Len stood too, handing her a tissue from the box on his bedside table. She took it, dabbing daintily where her mascara was in danger of running.
Suddenly, she turned, flung her arms around Len and kissed him on the cheek.
“Oh, Lenny,” she said in a quivering voice. “You’re such a good friend!”
For a moment, the hug squeezed tighter. Len shifted his midriff subtly away from her embrace before disengaging her arms from around his neck.
“Go on,” he said, forcing a smile. “Go and talk to him.”
The tears seemed in danger of flowing again. “Do you think he’ll listen?”
“Only one way to know that.” He opened the door to his room and gave her a gentle push into the corridor. “Go find him.”
Maya looked at him one last time, beautiful even though her eyes and nose were red from crying. Then she turned and headed past the rows of identical doors, towards the stairs.
Lenny waited until she was completely out of sight. Then he closed the door and banged his head against it.
THUMP!
‘You’re such a good listener, Lenny!’
THUMP!
‘Why can’t more men be like you, Lenny?’
THUMP!
‘Let’s not spoil the friendship, Lenny.’
“Story of my life,” he muttered, flopping back down on the bed again. He reached underneath it, fingers clawing past a stray sock and a long-forgotten comic-book. Finally, he found what he was seeking. He dragged the four-pack of beer out, popped the first cap and took a deep slug.
Ah, that was more like it! Technically, the only beer allowed in the college halls of residence was the stuff they sold downstairs in the bar. Like anyone took any notice of that! He took another gulp from the bottle, then moved towards his desk.
Time to get girls out of his mind and do some work. His essay was due two days ago. Borrowed time had finally caught up with him!
No sooner had he got his books open than there was a knock on the door. Len sighed.
“Yeah?” he called.
The door opened. It was Robbie. With some effort, Lenny stopped himself from groaning.
“Uh… hi?” ventured his neighbour. “Just thought I’d pop ‘round for a… look, do you fancy heading out tonight? Pizza? My shout?”
Oh boy. “Sorry, Rob, I’ve got to work tonight. My project’s overdue.”
“Oh. Okay.” His neighbour looked at him with lost-little-puppy eyes. “Maybe some other time then?”
“Uh-huh,” answered Lenny, noncommittally.
The door had barely closed when it opened again. To Len’s complete lack-of-surprise, it was still Rob.
“Err… before I go?”
“Yeah?”
“I was wondering…”
“Mmm?”
“…if you could get your Dad to sign a copy of his book for me,” finished Robbie in a rush. He held out a much-thumbed paperback, with hope in his eyes.
Lenny sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Only I’m a big fan. I got the first edition of ‘Scared Kind’ when it came out, I must have read it a hundred times. Your Dad’s so great, I’ve been on his website and everything! Did you know there was this…”
“Look. Robbie. I’ve really got to do this essay. As in now!”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll just leave the book with you. If you could…?”
“Rob!”
“Right. Sorry.”
Finally, he left. Lenny took a deep breath and a deeper swig of his beer. He stared at his essay without seeing it.
Why had he thought things would be any different once he got to college? Ever since he had hit puberty, it had been the same. Everybody wanted to be his friend!
Girls loved him. He was always the one they could run to with their problems. The one that they could confide their deepest secrets to. The one that never – ever – got the girl.
He had tried everything. Being nice, being nasty, being passive, taking the lead, romance, seduction, innovation, inebriation and in one memorable case, falling to his knees and begging! They all just fixed him with sympathetic eyes and said some variation on a theme of:
“I just don’t see you that way.”
Guys were a more complicated problem. They wanted to be his friend for one of three reasons.
The first (that he became aware of) was that they wanted to meet his Dad. Larry Cludge, famous author of: 'Close Encounters of the Furred Kind', 'Close Encounters of the Blurred Kind', and a whole series of similarly titled books. Although not what you would call mainstream-popular, his father’s fiction had become a kind of cult classic, read by geeks, nerds, trekkies, students and other weirdos all the world over. Len could quote almost every paragraph verbatim – not because he particularly liked the stories, but because he was constantly having people reciting them at him!
Still, famous Dads exist. Len could have dealt with that one. The second category was more unsettling. It consisted of guys who became his friend just so they could meet his Mother! Sandra Cludge. Tall, blonde, quite pretty he supposed – in a motherly kind of way. For some reason, though, every other male in the world seemed to go wild over her. One look, that was all it took. Then he would hear nothing but endless monologues about soft skin, beauteous blondness and exquisite knees.
It was a blasted nuisance! If only he could have inherited a tiny fraction of her ability for attracting the opposite sex, he wouldn’t have been the most popular bloke-without-a-date on campus!
Not that he couldn’t get a date if he wanted to. That was where the third category of males came in. He had nothing against gays. Some of his best friends were gay. Come to think of it, most of his best friends were gay. The trouble was they all wanted to be more than just his best friend. He was constantly having to fend them off with excuses and carefully-worded rejections. Take Robbie, for example…
There was another knock at his door. He stood up so fast that his chair crashed over behind him. Taking a moment to gather up his papers, he marched to the door and threw it open.
Helen. Another stunner. He had been trying to get her attention for five months now. She had that look on her face – the one that said she needed a shoulder to cry on.
Well, his shoulder was wet enough already! He made up his mind.
“Sorry, Helen. I’ve got to go. See you later.”
And with that, he fairly fled!
-------
Len wandered the streets in the darkness. He supposed that he was going to end up at the library sooner or later. At least that way he would get his assignment done. Academic success would still be an option, even if romantic success was not.
What was he doing wrong? He wasn’t twisted, or cruel, or even bad-looking! As a matter of fact, he had inherited more of his Mother’s good looks than his Father’s average ones. Unblemished skin, slightly scruffy fair hair, tall but not gawky frame, eyes the colour of chocolate drops. It should have come together to form a package that worked – yet, when it came to affairs of the heart, he seemed about as popular as genital warts!
He lifted his eyes to the sky. “Is it really too much to ask that I get one lousy date before I turn twenty?”
There was a strange blurring of the air where, a moment ago, Lenny Cludge had been standing. Then it cleared, leaving only a few papers, fluttering in the breeze…
--------
Lenny blinked. There had been a dazzling light and the feeling that he had been baked, for a fraction of a second, at bone-melting temperatures.
Slowly, the glare faded from his vision, only to be replaced by that of a bank of spotlights. He shook his head and tried to take in the details that surrounded him.
There was a wooden stage. A single bar-stool. A curtained partition. A red-headed hostess, with the grin of a rabid Cheshire-cat. Dimly, in the black pit of the audience, Lenny could see a host of freaks, fiends and funguses. It all seemed vaguely familiar, somehow.
Then realisation smacked him between the eyes. ‘Close Encounters’, chapter two! It was an exact replica of what his Dad had written. He was inside the damned book!
Panic sunk its feral claws into his heart. He could hear his breath, ragged and hitching in his ears. Three words framed silently in his mouth.
“What… the… hell…?”
Suddenly, a firm shove caught him in the small of the back. He stumbled onto stage, windmilling his arms to regain his balance. Either by chance or perfect aim on the part of the shovee, he landed in the centre of a spotlight. Whilst he was still gazing around wildly, the redhead fixed him with her unnatural grin.
“Well, hello Chuck, and welcome to…”
A resounding voice boomed out discorporeally.
“…Intergalactic, Inter-dimensional Buh-liiiiiind Date!”
There was a sound like a score of hippos being disembowelled. Lenny could only assume (in the frantic recesses of his consciousness) that it was supposed to represent theme-music.
He tried to think, through the mists of his terror. Assuming he was not dreaming (his imagination could never be this bizarre!) – and assuming that he was not insane (he was much less sure of his ground here) – then any second now, he would be forced to sit in the chair. The mad redhead was going to ask him what his first question was.
Somehow, he was finding it hard to get past the quote from his Father’s first book. It played through his mind, looping like a dysfunctional computer program:
“Uh...um, where am I? Who are you? What's going on here? How did...”
“Well? Come and sit in the chair, Lenny my luv.” She moved rapidly to his side, fixed him in a grip of iron and shepherded him to the stool.
He followed her numbly, tuning her out as she explained the rules. He already knew the rules – his Dad had written them!
Could he make a run for it? Would it do any good? Was this the reason why his Father had never explained where he got his inspiration from? Or why he always changed channel when ‘Blind Date’ came on TV? Or how he had got all those scars all over his body?
A trillion questions raced through his mind. With the instincts of a survivor, he picked out just one.
Was this real? He pinched his arm, hard, and sucked in breath as he felt the pain.
It was the best test he had. As far as he could tell, he was really here. If he ran, he would be stopped – and even if he wasn’t, where could he go?
“So, chuck. What will your first question be?”
Lenny gulped. He had to think – and fast. If the books were anything to go by, his entire survival might depend on the quality of these questions. What was he going to ask??
=========
Okay, I know everyone was expecting Larry to come back. I just couldn't do it to the poor chap. Instead, we get <da-da-daaaaah!> "Son of Larry." Two victims for the price of one
First question, anyone?
Last edited by Shady Stoat on Sat Feb 11, 2006 8:14 am; edited 1 time in total
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Ingrothechundyer
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| Posted: Sun Dec 18, 2005 12:46 pm Post subject: |
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Yay! Very nice start.
"Will dating you kill or severly injure me?" sounds like a natrual question knowing what his dad has written about his dates.
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Smee
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| Posted: Sun Dec 18, 2005 1:02 pm Post subject: |
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Awesome Chapter 
I was suspicious when the exquisite knees cropped up, but didn't twig until the end. The whole concept is great. So Larry Snr got the blonde - there's another story right there surely.
But in the meantime we have Larry Jnr - I must say, feeling some empathy for the guy.
First question? ... Are your nails retractable? Pointy? Considered claws? Are you furry? Are you capable of easily injuring a human?
Happy Writing.
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The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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| Posted: Sun Dec 18, 2005 5:15 pm Post subject: |
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I think a better question would be...
"Are any of you familar with a certain Larry Cudge in any way, shape, or form?"
That way he could avoid his dad's mistake, you know. And the tiger-lady again.
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...No plans yet.
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| Posted: Sun Dec 18, 2005 5:19 pm Post subject: |
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| Hmm I wonder how many of the contestants watched the show? It sounds like Larry had many appearances so would be well known to anyone who had watched.
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ethereal_fauna
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| Posted: Mon Dec 19, 2005 4:46 am Post subject: |
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Certainly he wants to ask the right questions, but I have a feeling that he's never quite believed what all was written in his father's books. He's going to have thoughts racing through his head about the different questions his father asked, the odd scenarios and frightening dates. And then like a flash-freeze it's going to crystallize in his head, and the first thing he's going to blurt out is, "You mean to tell me that my mother is an alien?"
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The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
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| Posted: Mon Dec 19, 2005 5:14 am Post subject: |
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Hurrah! Great concept! And ahaha! Just thought of something!
Anyway, first question. Bugger. No idea. Er, something along the lines of 'Is your anatomy compatible with a human one, at least sexually."
There I go again, lowering the tone. 
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My Amazon page.
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Smee
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| Posted: Mon Dec 19, 2005 5:15 am Post subject: |
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| Quote: | | And ahaha! Just thought of something! |
*Remembers a similar 'ahaha' when you were reading Dear Dotty.*
Surely not another Storygame
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| Posted: Mon Dec 19, 2005 7:24 am Post subject: |
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| Don't worry Smee. I think I know what he's talking about
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Tue Dec 27, 2005 10:27 am Post subject: |
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You have five days to vote. It has been clinically proven that voting in Best of Three is the most reliable cure for mince pie overdoses and hangovers of all types.
So go ahead, be good to yourselves
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| Posted: Mon Jan 02, 2006 2:46 am Post subject: |
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"Do you mean to tell me my mother is an alien?" won.
*deadpan* Thanks guys!
I'll start writing it
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| Posted: Tue Jan 03, 2006 10:36 am Post subject: |
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CHAPTER ELEVEN:
Parent Power
“Uhhh… uhhh…” stammered Lenny.
“In yer own time, chuck. No hurry.” Brilla landed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
If it was meant to be reassuring, it failed. Lenny floundered, trying to get his head around the fact that he was far from home, in a world which, until today, he had thought came from the twisted recesses of his Dad’s imagination.
“Err… ahh…”
“No pressure, my luv. You do understand the meaning of ‘scheduled time-slot’? ‘Live show’? ‘Paid by the hour?’ Take your time, far be it from me to hurry you.” His hostess was getting an edge to her voice. Lenny gulped, remembering some of the passages about Ms. Padd in the books.
She could get nasty when riled. Gary Fledge, the hero of the stories (and how on Earth had he missed that oh-so-subtle pseudonym??) had run the gauntlet of Brilla’s attentions many times. He remembered the third book, when she had tried to break up Gary’s budding romance with a member of the stage crew by having her…
Hold on! Gary had ended up marrying that member of the stage crew! And if Gary was really Larry, didn’t that mean…?
His eyes opened wide. The words blurted out before he could stop them.
“Hang on! Are you trying to tell me that my mother’s an alien?”
“Interesting question, Mr. Cludge. Let’s put it to contestant number one!”
“No! Wait! I didn’t mean…”
Lenny half-rose from his seat. With a force that seemed disproportionate to her size, Brilla slammed him back down onto the bar-stool, with an eye-watering thud. Lenny floundered helplessly for a few seconds. Then he saw a crew-member on the sidelines, preparing what looked suspiciously like a large syringe. He gulped and subsided.
The first voice came across the partition. It was high-pitched and squeaky in a way that started out sweet and ended up irritating.
“Gosh, that’s a strange question to be starting out with, you must be new here, now how to answer it, is your mother an alien, would I know your mother? I’ve travelled around a lot but it’s hard to say really ‘cause I don’t know you or your parents by sight so I might have seen them and not noticed that I’d seen them, then again it’s a big galaxy and the chances are I haven’t met any of you before, so I would…”
At this point, the voice trailed off. There was a blessed moment of silence, then it spoke again.
“Wait a minute, did you say Lenny Cludge? Cludge, as in Larry Cludge? Are you any relation?”
An excited ripple spread through the ranks of the audience. Lenny watched with disbelieving eyes as the crowd of freaks leaned in and whispered and pointed. Brilla was beaming so hard that it looked as if someone had stitched the corners of her mouth to her earlobes.
“Lenny Cludge,” she said, giving his shoulder a firm shake that made his teeth rattle. “Son of Larry.”
Lenny felt a sudden, insane urge to laugh. It sounded like the something his father would come up with for the title of a book.
Come to think of it, that wasn’t funny!
“I knew it,” squeaked Contestant One. “Larry Cludge, he was in the re-runs, I’ve seen him in the anniversary special too. ‘True Love: Survivors and their Stories.’ What a show, I rolled my hair flat laughing at that one, I remember when Larry was bad-mouthing the fire-troll and she came out from side-stage and picked him up by the hair and swung him around like a lasso, it was so funny , then there was that five-headed lizard woman, she took him to the snake-pits of Anuuria where that snake rose up and bit him right in the…”
“Contestant Number One!” Brilla interrupted the monologue at last. “Answer the question please.”
Another voice sounded from the opposite side of the partition. It was rich and slightly accented. Foreign would have been a good word, were it not for the current location.
“She probably doesn’t remember what the question was. Better repeat it before her brain-cell wears out with the strain.”
“I do remember, I remember exactly, it was about… oooh, let me think, it was about… something to do with… let me see… err…”
Brilla’s hand was clenching so hard on Lenny’s shoulder that he could no longer feel his arm below the elbow. She snarled a repeat of the question while Lenny writhed in discomfort on the stool.
“Oh, that, well, as far as I remember, Larry married one of the show employees in the end, so she’s bound to be an alien, yes. I just adored the wedding special by the way, it was smashing, especially when all the old dates turned up to throw things at him and the girl, boiling rice I think it was, or bits of mouldy bread or something like that, of course they didn’t stop at that, most of them wanted to…”
Brilla turned and gave a nod to one of the troll stage hands. He turned to a set of tangled ropes in the wings and began to pull on one of them. Lenny followed Brilla’s eye-line and looked up into the rafters. A large pyramid-shaped weight was being winched along the pulley-ropes above the contestants. The ropes creaked as they strained to hold its mass. It was huge and it swung pendulously as it moved. If it fell, no doubt it would take out the floor below it, and half the rest of the stage as well!
He watched with his mouth agape as the weight stopped approximately fifteen feet to his left (presumably over contestant one). His skin felt as if it was trying to crawl away to a safer place. The problem was that no place was safer. He wanted to go home! He wanted to be cosy and warm, stowed up in his room, complete with his platonic girl-friends and his not-so platonic boy-friends. He’d happily put up with his old life in a heartbeat, if someone would only give him the chance!
If his dad’s books were anything to go by, though, that chance was not going to be easy to come by.
“First warning, Contestant One. Answer the question.” Brilla barked, then wrenched her face back into its feral grin. “My luv.”
Now the first contestant’s voice was so high-pitched it was virtually ultrasonic. “All right, all right, I’m answering, yes, okay, yes, I think your mother was an alien, if she was working on the stage crew here, she probably didn’t come from the same planet as your dad, although I think I’ve been on a whistle-stop tour of Larry Cludge world, as we like to call it on our home planet, and I must say I didn’t think…”
“Shut up! You miserable squeaking excuse for a sentient being! How much more of your… Oh, do excuse me, I’m so sorry. Brilla. Ms. Padd – do you think we could consider the first contestant to have answered her question now? Is there the slightest possibility that we could continue with the show. Thankyou so much!”
Lenny’s eyes widened in alarm. Presumably, that had been the third contestant. It certainly hadn’t sounded like either of the other two – although it hadn’t sounded much like itself either! Were all of the contestant going to be psychotically strange?
He thought back through the pages of Close Encounters. And groaned. Of course they were!
“Contestant Two,” breezed Brilla. “Your turn, my lovely.”
“Well, if it’s aliens you’re worried about, I think you’re in the wrong place, sugar.” The accented voice spoke in creamy tones.
The audience laughed uproariously, almost drowning out the second contestant’s next words.
“Anyway, aliens can be just as… compatible… as your own race. Give me the chance, handsome, and I’ll prove it to you!”
There was an ‘ooooh’ from the crowd. They shuffled forward in their seats, staring from Lenny to the hidden contestant like a pack of vultures. Of course, it was less surprising when you considered that at least half a dozen in the back row were vultures
Lenny felt a confusion that he couldn’t identify. It was nothing to do with being on a nightmare show, trapped among aliens who wanted entertainment at all costs. No, it was more…
He suddenly realised. A female had actually shown some interest in him! Him – Lenny Cludge – world’s most popular pariah with the ladies! Suddenly, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted this to be a dream or not.
Then his eye caught sight of the hanging weight above Contestant One, and he was damn well positive again!
“Number Three, my luv. Your answer please.”
“Well, Brilla, I think the other two contestants have the advantage over me in question one.” The voice was light and conversational, flowing with pleasant timbre that carried across the studio without having to shout. “They are obviously old enough to have watched this boy’s father in his original episodes, whereas I have only seen the more recent examples of the show. However, I would have to say…”
“Are you trying to call me old?” Contestant Two’s voice was a soft growl.
“She’s probably older than the two of us put together, you can never tell with her kind, they always look like that, she could be…”
“Her kind? That is discrimination of the highest order you snivelling maggot, I’ll scoop your worthless eyes out with a teaspoon just before I…”
“Oh. Oh. And calling us ‘old’ isn’t discrimin… disciminini… biased then? What about that, eh?”
Suddenly, all three contestants were shouting at once. Lenny looked nervously at the partition, then he looked at Brilla. She was wearing a dreamy expression that promised no intervention whatsoever. No doubt she would let them slug it out for the pleasure of the viewing public.
Maybe it was time to take advantage of the distraction and try to make an escape. He thought through Gary Fledge’s many attempts to get away and how they had all ended in disaster. Then he thought about the network of scars that covered his father’s flesh.
He wasn’t going to end up like that! Not allowing himself to think about it any more, he launched himself from the stage, landing heavily on the floor in front of the audience. He scrambled upright, ignoring the shockwaves that were running painfully up to his knees.
There was shouting behind him. He tuned it out, eyes fixed on the door up the shallow steps to his right. Swerving into the aisle, he successfully dodged past a security guard’s long-taloned grab. Then he was off and running up the steps, taking them two at a time, watching the exit get nearer, nearer, nearer…
Someone grabbed his jacket. He shook them off, but by then two more appendages had reached out. Then, as he was struggling with those two, half a dozen more joined them. He was pulled to the side where the audience was reaching out for him. Lips (and beaks and other orifices) murmured the sacred name of Larry Cludge as he was inexorably pulled into the loving embrace of the audience.
He flailed and writhed, as bodies of all shapes and size pressed in on him. People had risen from their seats to get closer. Bits of his clothing were being torn, bits of his body prodded. He gasped out his protests to the unhearing hordes, in a voice that got ever more faint and muffled as he disappeared under the weight of the crowd.
He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe! He was drowning in a sea of adoration. The world began to blacken around the edges, tunnelling his vision to a tiny pinprick… until even that sparked out.
--------
Lenny opened his eyes with some effort. He felt battered and bruised, as if he had been caught in a stampede. It took him a moment or two to get into focus… then he realised that nothing had changed.
Well, virtually nothing. He was back on the bar-stool in the centre of the stage. The audience had returned to its seats. Presumably the contestants were on the other side of the partition. Brilla was certainly on this side, and she looked as though steam was about to pour from her ears. The maniac smile was gone, replaced by a look that would terrify a typical shark.
Other than that, the main difference was that he was wearing nothing but a pair of undershorts that were approximately sixteen sizes too big for him. He was still looking down in disbelief when the cherry-haired hostess leaned close in and hissed:
“You don’t want to try that again, sonny boy. Just because the producer’s on your side, it doesn’t mean you can get away with it a second time. You may be wearing his shorts, but you’ll be wearing a matching pair of shackles in a flash, next time you put a toe out of line. Understand?”
Lenny didn’t understand. He nodded anyway. Then, when Brilla moved away from his face, his eyes were drawn to movement at the side of the stage.
Looking over, he saw a creature that looked like a cross between a giant and a bloodhound. At least nine feet tall, he had sacklike skin that hung in loose folds from his brow to his feet. His flesh was mustard-coloured and scaly and he was winking and waving at Lenny.
His mind went from confusion to conclusion in one rapid leap. Somehow, he just knew that this was going to turn out to be the producer. And, for some reason – presumably the same reason that had held true all his life – the producer had more than simple friendship on his mind.
He tried not to consider too deeply the meaning of Brilla’s words about the producer’s shorts. He supposed he should be grateful for the fact that his wrists weren’t strapped to metal bars at this point – but looking over at wrinkle-skin, he wasn’t sure whether having the producer’s favour was a blessing or a curse!
Neither was he given any time to consider the matter. Brilla plastered on her friendly grin again.
“Now, chuck, what will your second question be?”
=========
I've experimented with the use of colour for the contestants. Reading it back after I'd written it, it was hard to tell who was speaking at what point. If this is distracting, let me know. Otherwise I'll continue with the colouring until two of the contestants are knocked out of the game.
Last edited by Shady Stoat on Sat Feb 11, 2006 8:15 am; edited 1 time in total
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ethereal_fauna
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| Posted: Tue Jan 03, 2006 11:34 am Post subject: |
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Lenny doesn't seem to catch on too quickly. I could see him disregarding the whole thought-out question notion and blurting out something again. Or maybe muttering something like "Whoo-boy, I'd have been better off going out with Robbie wouldn't I?"
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The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
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| Posted: Tue Jan 03, 2006 1:35 pm Post subject: |
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I think we should pull something similar from the first series...
"Uh...please describe, in a little detail, as to the contestant sitting on your...right."
And another...
"Just what the hell is that thing?" *While pointing at the producer*
And perhaps a third...
"Is there any way out of this nightmare?!"
You have your choices now...
_________________
...So I've been summoned back from beyond the veil.
...No plans yet.
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