Today, rather than the usual blog post, I’d like to try something different. And it’s going to require audience participation (that means you, dear readers). Don’t worry, it’ll be fun. I promise.
The other day, I was cleaning out the spam folders for my blog and the Scribes. Normally, spam is a bunch of gibberish or poorly written attempts to sneak past Akismet (WordPress’ s filter program).
But on this day, I found something a bit different. A hidden gem that teased my imagination. The Scribes have talked about doing some type of round robin and I think this bit-o-spam would be a perfect start.
So here is how this will work. I am going to present the spam exactly as I found it. Then, I’m going to add my two cents. Next, each commenter is going to add what they think happens next. The following person is going to build onto whatever the previous commenter has written. And so on. . . .
Let your imagination run wild. Feel free to add dialogue, more characters or whatever strikes you!
Hopefully by day’s end, we will have an interesting bit of story. And, I suspect this may be from a movie, so if anyone has any guesses, throw them out there.
Here is the spam: SMITH: Well, well, it’s been a long time. I remember chasing you was like chasing a ghost.
And away we go:
“Well, well, it’s been a long time. I remember chasing you was like chasing a ghost,” said Smith.
<here’s what we have so far>
Lady Tansy Mumford sipped her tepid and tasteless tea, unwilling to rise to the comment. Mr. Edward Smith, the most odious of men, stared expectantly, his forehead shiny and sleek in the afternoon sun. Was it wrong for a lady of her genteel upbringing to wish harm upon another? After all Mr. Smith was only pursuing her for one thing.
That’s because I am a ghost, and I’m going to haunt you until the end of your days. Accident, smackccident. You murdered me and I won’t rest til the day you join me. With a horrendous cackle, the translucent image of Smith’s ex-wife faded.
“Jesus,” said Smith to himself. I have to stop mixing antacids with wine. The combination not only gives me gas, but hallucinations, too.
Smith, his eyes ablaze, turned to the tap on his shoulder. He opened his mouth, his hand fell across his lips and he took a gulp the size of Niagara Falls. He reached out to touch the wisp of his wife . . .
“I swear, Sarah, it was an accident. I never meant to hurt you.” Smith’s arm fell to his side as he slowly backed away from his wife’s apparition.
“It seems your sins are catching up with you, Smith,” said Lady Mumford as she regarded him over the rim of her tea cup.
“So many sins,” she continued. “Remember that time you bought me a
carpet cleaner for my birthday? Or those numerous times you clipped your
toe nails in the bed? And the toilet seat! Do you know how many times I
have fallen into that wet cold water? Oh, I’m going to haunt your ass,
I’m going to annoy you so bad that you’ll go crazy and no other woman
will want you.”
But ghost or not, you will not escape me. I will find you. I will
fill your email box with offers for v@aagra and beutifull babes pron.
You have no way to leave me behind except to change your email address,
and that is only a temporary solution. We shall track you to the ends of
the earth.
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