Session October 25, 2014

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“He leaned back against the wall, feeling the bittersweet relief of closure.”

By CC

Wally was poor. Wally was dirt poor. It wasn’t his fault, it was bad luck. Everyone knew that. But he still had good taste. So when the Rev. Raymond Tardis gave him a Volkswagon camper he was upset. Yes, the funky old van had a certain cachet among the rich, who could afford little hobbies like playing with underpowered old cars that looked really silly. But Wally knew that there was a message tied up in this gift, that the Rev. expected him to start driving to work somewhere, at MacDonalds maybe, where he could wear a little suit and cap and say please and thank you all day long, and maybe even the Rev. thought he would be sleeping in it between shifts, maybe on an old dirty futon he could drag out of somebody’s garbage. Well, that wasn’t Wally.

But Wally also had good breeding so he thanked the Rev. and climbed in the VW van to drive it away. Surprisingly, he really enjoyed using up the free tank of gas and, after a day of driving around town (going through a MacDonalds drive through once), he finally coasted to a halt in a strange neighborhood. The houses looked a little odd; Wally felt uncomfortable here. A man came out of a gated compound to stare at him. Wally climbed out of the van and crossed the street in a purposeful way. Suddenly the man at the compound gate pulled out a small rocket launcher and fired one into the van. It burst into flame. The man went back inside the compound.

Wally stood gaping at the burning van. He leaned back against the wall feeling the bittersweet relief of closure. He faced a very long walk back to the ‘hood. Grateful for the Big Mac he had for lunch, and the day of sightseeing, he set off, whistling.

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"They lost themselves, transfixed by the blaze of colors."
by GS

From the bottom it didn't look so imposing, but as they climbed their sheer audacity rivaled the sheer escarpment. Almost half way to the top they rested with tenuous footholds and bated breath. As the sun rose over the horizon, the lost themselves, transfixed by the blaze of colors from both the land and the sky. With renewed enthusiasm, they continued on to the top where their helicopter awaited.

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"We all have some vices," she told him. "You just have more than most."
by TNT

She called him "Mosquito" because he was annoying, talked constant nonsense, and occasionally shoplifted weird objects that couldn't be accounted for...like bottles of Pet Sweat from a Chinese grocery.

"We all have some vices," she told him. "You just have more than most." He smiled as if flattered and remarked 'I could diversify my vices - if you like. I'd like to train bears to sing opera. That would be a real accomplishment - just imagine."

She hung up the phone on him without another word. "What a weirdo!" she thought. Meanwhile she was crocheting fancy costumes for monkeys to wear on special occasions, like Halloween. She thought of the apes and other animals as severely handicapped by the wearing of uniform fur and feathers. They should have more choices, like human's do. A red cape would be nice for the gorilla.

"Pet Sweat!" she scoffed.

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"Her temperature was falling and clouds obscured the sun."
by RMAF

Bizzie Lizzie Frizzie, the most popular woman in Mademoiselle's Home of the Fallen Doves bordello in Armadillo, Texas, loved the fermented blood of the grapes. In anticipation of one of the busiest days of the year, The Cattleman's Wild Rodeo, she began drinking at dawn, thinking about all the business she was going to perform that day. Her temperature was falling and clouds obscured the sun. She passed out until Monday morning, missing the Cattleman's Wild Rodeo on Sunday.

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“Sally ran up to them, out of breath”

by RC

The French air-bus jet liner was coming in, whether anyone wanted it to, or not, and it was definitely not lined up for the runway. In fact, it was a long ways from the runway, but the fuel was gone, and that was that. Now, for Sally, on the beach, it was a spectacular sight, as the plane came in so low over the water that it looked like it had a good chance of landing right on her lap. The people around her scattered, but Sally was too awe-struck, her mouth hanging open, noticing that she could now see the cockpit and the pilot’s faces. They seemed to have a nearly identical expression as Sally. No doubt, they had never landed on a beach before, let alone one croweded with sunbathers.

Now, it so happened that her great Uncle, who was French, was coming in on that plane, and Sally’s husband had already gone to meet him at the nearby airport, but Sally just had to get in a little more sunbathing before the season was done. It wasn’t a very good day for it, but Sally was devoted to the perfect tan, and she wanted to impress her Uncle, whom she had not seen since she was a little girl. Because of this, Sally had worn the tiniest bikini she had in her closet.

Now, the plane was over her head, and she could see the tread in the tires—Thank God the landing gear is down, she thought—the bottom of the plane was about twenty feet overhead. The plane swooshed by, and rearranged all of the now vacant towels on the beach, and kept going for the broad main street, which was one of those leading to the airport and a long, straight road. Apparently, the pilot was determined to land in the middle of that street, and it looked like his wingtips could just make it between the buildings.

Well, knowing that her Uncle was on the flight, Sally wasted no time, but got up and ran for the probable landing area. Since this was an emmergency, sirens were clanging all around and the crew was quick to put out the emmergency ramp. People started jumping off and sliding to the ground. There were quite a few safely standing on the street when Sally ran up to them, out of breath. She didn’t give one thought to the fact she was wearing only a tiny bikini, and as her Uncle slid to safety, she yelled, “Uncle Maurice, Uncle Maurice!”

“Well, little Sally,” he said once he had gained his composure. “How nice of you to meet me. Where is your husband?” Apparently, he chose to ignore Sally’s attire—after all, he was French—but when she looked down, she saw that more than the towels on the beach had gone awry.