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Old May 14th, 2001, 10:39 PM   #1
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Come in an help, parody your favorite (or least favorite) author, satarize a genre, mock the all.

I'll start off with.......
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Old May 14th, 2001, 10:45 PM   #2
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<font size=7><b>It was a dark and stormy night.... </font size=7></b>

... From where I stood, in the shadows, I could discern a creeping shape clinging against a wall, like lichen clinging to a damp, yet smooth, river stone. Closer it shambled, its shadow grotesquely stumblingling ahead, dreadfully elongated like a twisted and anorexic Mister Potato-Head, kept an even march across the rain-slicked cobbles as shadows are wont to do.

I could hear my heart pounding, the sound of my blood coursing through my veins, as I attempted to pull deeper into the shadows. My back was chilled by the wet leaves of the shrubbery, each small twig stabbling like the Chinese torture and death of 1,000 cuts.

I trembled...
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Old May 15th, 2001, 03:12 PM   #3
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as it reached out it's ancient gnarled hand to touch me. I remembered that touch from a thousand lifetimes ago. The touch that both thrilled and repulsed me. I drew in my breath as its shadow fell over me and the ancient language began the chant inside of me, muerta, muerta, muerta.
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Old May 15th, 2001, 08:39 PM   #4
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Finally I saw that hand and the horrible face behind it, peering out from a deep hooded gown.

"It's you-know-who" whispered a voice in my head, "Now you're done for!"
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Old May 15th, 2001, 09:22 PM   #5
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What was I thinking. It was the week after Easter. Kids in bonnets. Women in those high heels that make their calves swell. Me with a shiner. Think. Mr. Potato-Head, muerta, the hood. Unless I was shooting blanks, it had to be him. I patted my pocket for a pack of smokes I hoped I had. I whispered, ".......?"
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Old May 15th, 2001, 11:04 PM   #6
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"got a light bigboy?"
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Old May 16th, 2001, 03:30 AM   #7
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Still chuckling at my own wit, I pulled the Marlboro from my pockets and dug deep for the last remaining match. I looked around for a place to strike it.

The screen on the mark's television set went blank as I turned away. He must be going off to bed - one of those early to sleep types, no doubt. Lighting my cigarette finally, (it's what a zip's for, after all) I turned up the collar of my raincoat and took a step backwards in the shrubbery.

I needed a way to see into the second floor. I wondered ...

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Old May 16th, 2001, 11:07 AM   #8
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Where there stairs around here? Or is this one of those inconvienent novellas I wondered into?

Say, this was new. When did Mr Potato-Head get an Everett C Kroop beard? Hmmmmm. I inhaled, spurning warnings with the flair of James Dean. <b>HA! I laugh at danger!</b>

What was that smell?
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Old May 16th, 2001, 02:14 PM   #9
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Anyone who had faced "it" and come out like I did could smoke with abandon. Puff, puff.....puff. I sniffed the air again. The odor was triggering memories. That time I spent floating in a used coffin in Bangladesh during the flood? No...was it the time I was hold up outside of Lake Okochobee in the swamp for 72 hours waiting for him to return with the goods? Maybe. That musty odor...my mother's shoe closet? WHAT COULD IT BE, it was driving me insane....
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Old May 16th, 2001, 09:34 PM   #10
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Then I had it..... wet dog. Was Mister Potato-Head really a black bear in disguise?
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Old May 18th, 2001, 01:27 AM   #11
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I gotta get ahold of myself. The dank night air must be getting to me. I toss down the butt and smash it into the ground with the sole of my worn Hush Puppy. I look down to make sure the spark is out and wish I'd chosen another spot to shove my shoe into. Looks like Mr.P Head has a puppy of his own. Now I know what that smell is. Crap! THEN suddenly a light comes on in that shadowy upstairs window. Oh oh...looks like that spud is not alone....
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Old May 18th, 2001, 10:37 AM   #12
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I'm fragmenting.

My mind tries to grasp the idea of Mr Potato-Head having a little one. Do they call it a <b><i>Tater Tot?</b></i>

The rest of my mind is worries about who else is around. This close to the Wharfs and Graveyard, anything could happen. I need a drink. Yes, maybe some gin with a twist of lime.

One thing is sure, I am off Tater Tots for a while.

What was that? A scream? An unearthly wail? Oh my God its.....
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Old May 18th, 2001, 11:15 AM   #13
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Trailer Trash Barbie and G.I. Joe all drunk and stumbling up the stairs.
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Old May 18th, 2001, 10:18 PM   #14
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That was it. I had found the source of that horrific odor. The mixture of gut rot bourbon and and dime store perfume. Seems G.I. Joe is going to be one happy soldier tonight..
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Old May 18th, 2001, 10:44 PM   #15
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My tongue finds that ache just under the crown on my right molar, worries it. Worries me. Dames, potatoes, cut boy with a kit bag. The scene doesn't add up, know what I mean? I have a choice--if you believe in false dilemmas: blow this leafy bower <b>or</b> speak up and blow my cover. I decide to ...
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