Monthly Archives: June 2011

A Daughter’s Journey

It had only been a few days since the operation, but Cassidy was finally ready to test her new legs out.

Her movement was shaky, at best. Cassidy discovered her inner beauty after the accident, and she was ready to move on.

She herkily-jerkily stretched out her top right limb and placed it down slowly. It held together, just like the doctors promised.

“We can rebuild you,” they said. “We have the technology.” They were right. Could everything the doctors promised Cassidy be true?

She reached her limb that’s second from the top out and put it down awkwardly, her doctors’ words still fresh. BAM! Two for two.

A sudden gust of wind shook her balance. The door to Utica flung open. She steadied herself, but she was no longer alone.

“Hello?” Cassidy asked timidly. “Anyone there?” No one responded. But she could feel someone, or something, in her presence.

“Surprise!” Thirteen inhabitants spun from the shadows. The Louveen Brothers broke into a bluegrass version of Brass Monkey.

“That’s my song!” screamed Cassidy. She immediately began tapping legs 3 and 7 to the beat, completely engrossed in the music.

Without warning, leg 4 fell off.

One of the Louveen Brothers picked it up and noticed the hollow middle. He dragged his knuckles against it to add more percussion.

A stranger arrived with an octagonal package for Cassidy. The room fell silent. This could only mean one thing.

“My replica UFC octagon!” yelled Cassidy. She had saved up enough UPC points from a summer Pepsi promotion to mail away for it.

It was the final piece for the soft drink flotilla. The partygoers gathered round, anxiously awaiting the sign.

All eyes were on Cassidy as she used legs 1, 3 and 8 to open the package. Just then, black smoke shot out and covered everything.

Awakening. Days later. Miles away, perhaps. In a room full of anarchist arachnids. “Dada?” she asked.

A booming voice echoed around her. “Where’s the package?” it asked. Lightning struck. Cassidy had lost the package in the smoke.

Cassidy didn’t know what to say, so instead she tried to run. Without leg 4, that proved a little difficult as she stumbled.

The lightning struck her 5th leg, and she went flying. “I told you not to come back without the package,” the voice boomed.

“But but but but but…” Cassidy shuddered. She couldn’t even get the words out. “You disobeyed me,” said the voice in anger.

Lightning struck again, this time on Cassidy’s 8th limb. She screamed mercifully. Out of nowhere, the Louveen Brothers appeared.

They broke out into a bluegrass version of Live’s “Lightning Crashes.” Everything came to a halt. The booming voice began sobbing.

Cassidy was sobbing too. “Please, not the bluegrass!” She begged.

“This song reminds me of your inner beauty, Cass,” the voice said in between sobs. It then tried to sing along with the chorus.

Cassidy had finally earned her father’s love & respect. And it only took the Louveen Brothers two covers for it to happen.

THE END

So Twitter was down today. And that, apparently, made it tough to search the storyline. At least that’s what I heard from a few regulars, and I’m sticking to it.

Thanks to @courtcan for the photo that launched this story. Thanks to @jimmydoestea for jumping in right away and to @Pawela04 for going back and forth with me all day. And a quick shout-out @FeliciaCago for the last second line right as I was wrapping up.

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A Witch’s Brew

“Let there be rain!” she declared. To her surprise, it began pouring. Did she really just do that?

She wondered what else her powers could get her. “Let there be shoes,” she cried and there she was, at Manolo Blahnik!

Ellen couldn’t believe it. The correspondence witchcraft course had worked. She’d started it on a whim, but now she had new shoes.

A late night junkie, she was all in after Erik Estrada promised “powers Harry Potter’d be jealous of” between Cosby Show episodes.

It was a wonder she even saw the infomercial. She was working on a thesis about the political meanings of Cosby Show sweaters.

However as she looked around the room at the piles of paper only surpassed by the colors of the sweaters, she felt that she needed

a break, a life, a husband who would fit all these sweaters, she turned to her tv & vanilla frosting when what did she find?

“Claire, is that you?” he exclaimed. “No, I’m not Claire, there’s no more Claire. Only Ellen,” she said as he looked around & saw his sweaters.

Ellen couldn’t believe how well her correspondence witchcraft course worked. First rain. Then Manolo Blahnik. Now Cliff Huxtable?

Cliff went to Ellen’s door and immediately began trying to fix her doorbell. Meanwhile, Ellen wanted to keep testing her powers

“Let there be music!” Immediately, a shortish man in a suit appeared behind her, holding a boombox. It was playing a mix of…

bluegrass and whale songs.

The suited man reached in his trouser pocket and pulled out a small bag that resembled Michael Gross. He handed it to her.

She took the bag and examined its contents: one marble, a Slim Jim, and some weed. “Yep,” she thought, “Michael Gross.”

Not knowing who Michael Gross was she waved her hand & turned the bag to look like the judges on @NBCthevoice @ceelogreen 1st side.

“Crap!” yelled Ellen. She loved Gross, the Family Ties dad, ever since last week’s marathon. Elsewhere, Cliff tested the doorbell.

The sky open and thunder shook Ellen’s windows. Lightening hazed her vision momentarily. Coming to, she realized all was taken away.

Lacking a pure heart, Ellen had only temporary magic. She needed to find the only one who could purify sins: Patty Blagojevich.

Patty was nestled in the corner booth at Harold’s Chicken Shack on East 53rd street, reading palms as usual.

Ellen headed to Ravenswood to track down Patty. She’d certainly be home from her reality show foray by now.

Ellen found a note on the Blagojevich’s door: “Will return by 3. On the south side getting chicken & a weave for Rod.” She sighed.

Ellen stammered as she approached Patti, “I… I just…” The two locked eyes. “It’s fine,” Patti said. “You can touch my bangs.”

Ellen didn’t want to touch the hair but cut it. The crisp hair, the faint scent of AquaNet – perfect for her next potion.

Ellen shook Patty’s hand, remarked how it resembled a man’s hand then left. She only needed two more ingredients for her potion.

With Cliff still at the house messing with the doorbell & entertaining CeeLo & The Voice judges, Ellen was in no rush to get home.

So she continued on her quest to find the other 2 ingredients for her potion. Up next: a blobfish fin.

The blobfish had been known to frequent the Redwood Tap, so that was her first stop.

Ellen, forgetting her witchcraft powers, texted “Redwood Tap Chicago” to G-O-O-G-L-E to find its address. She awaited the response.

Google texted back:

Ellen thought maybe she misheard the bar’s name. But she trekked to Elgin anyway.

Ellen got there, but alas, no blobfish. “Wrightwood Tap, not Redwood,” said a Komondor bellied up to the bar taking whiskey shots.

Not to be out done, ellen asked the bartender for the rest of the bottle of whiskey, and started drinking it like bottled water…

After chugging a bottle of Early Times, Ellen set her sights on the Wrightwood Tap. Drunk, she called Cliff to drive her there.

Cliff was busy testing the doorbell, so when his “Get Low” ringtone went off, he barely heard it over the barrage of ding dongs.

Cliff picked up just in time. “Be there in an hour,” he said. “Nope, haven’t fixed it yet.” He hung up and headed out to get Ellen.

Cliff got to a drunk Ellen right as she and the Komondor started karaoke. “Let’s go find your blobfish,” Cliff said. Ellen burped.

Cliff gave Ellen coffee to sober her up for the drive. Pulling up to the Wrightwood Tap, they saw the slimy fish at the jukebox.

“Hey blobfish,” Ellen slurred when she got inside. “I need your fin.” Meanwhile, Cliff asked the bartender if they had a doorbell.

The blobfish, tired of being harrassed for his bloblike body, acquiesced. Ellen burped again, took his fin and dragged Cliff away.

Onto the 3rd and final ingredient – a lemon. Ellen told Cliff to take her to Jewel. “You don’t need more alcohol,” he said.

They got to Jewel, and Ellen went to the produce aisle. Cliff, however, went to find the manager to ask if they had a doorbell.

Ellen grabbed a ripe lemon, paid for it, then dragged Cliff away again. She needed to get home to look at her Potions 401 syllabus.

They made it home, and Ellen looked at her notes on making a potion. Cliff went back to doorbell, while she got the cauldron out.

She dumped the ingredients in the cauldron – Patty Blagojevich’s bangs, a blobfish fin and a lemon – heated it up and stirred it.

Ellen stirred the mixture until became a frothy liquid. She poured it in an old flower vase because she didn’t have any beakers.

Now, the final exam. If the potion worked, Ellen would receive a certificate of completion from the witchcraft school.

She followed the exam’s directions, which said to pour the potion on a sheet of paper. She had no idea what would happen.

Almost instantly, the paper began smoking. Ellen was riveted. Cliff, not so much. He kept working the doorbell, oblivious.

The paper was now shaking before morphing into a person. But not just anyone – Erik Estrada. “Congratulations,” he said to Ellen.

He handed Ellen a certificate of course completion. She was a certified witch! She jumped for joy, only to be interrupted by Cliff.

“I fixed it,” he said. Ellen had lost her patience. “Abracadabra Alakazam, get rid of this annoying man.” And poof! He was gone.

If only she could find a potion now to stop the doorbell from ringing.

Ellen practiced her witchcraft all night. The only time she stopped was to order the Slap Chop, a Snuggie and Nutrisystem.

THE END

This was a fun one. I loved it. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with me writing about the last 20 tweets. Someone had to get a drunk Ellen home safely. Anyway, there were a lot of great pop culture references in this story, from Cliff Huxtable to Michael Gross (Family Ties’ Mr. Keaton) to Patty Blagojevich’s bangs. Who knew Ellen would need those precious locks?

Thanks for writing, everyone. I’m especially honored that my old co-worker @Pawela04 jumped in. He tweeted four lines, and those four tweets were his first four tweets. EVER. That’s pretty cool. Also, thanks to @BlackDreams for the continuous plugs. It’s always nice to have a more ambassadors. Hopefully she’ll pick up the little nuances the more she contributes. And I could never do this without my reliable stable of writers @kikiandkyle, @hwtibbs, @FeliciaCago, @jimmydoestea and @thatgirlmari – you guys save me and make the stories so good. So thanks for humoring me and writing time and time again. And to @swanieson – you managed to sneak a line in just in time!

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The Gnome Wars

The two friends crouched down slowly. Lamont peeked between the wood slats. “Do you see that?” he asked.

“Yes Lamont, I’m not blind” snapped Gordo. “And I can smell it. What do you think it is?”

Oblivious to Gordo’s tone, Lamont replied, “Well it smells like bacon, but it can’t be. Who has cooked bacon under a deck?”

The lawn gnomes had been plotting an ingenious bacon trap for Lamont and Gordo for some time now. They wanted vengeance on the canines.

Gordo: It’s cooking, but not bacon. I think that damned rabbit nibbled on the porch light wires once too much. Smell burnt fur?

The dogs were unaware that the gnomes dared the rabbit to bite all the way through the live wire. Just one part of a sinister plan.

“It smells like victory. Now I’ve got a craving for bacon flavored rabbit,” said Lamont.

The dogs were tragically unaware of the gnomes’ plot to teach a lesson: Never, ever piss off – or especially ON – a garden gnome.

For years, the gnomes have been pissed on. By birds. By meerkats. By donkeys. By llamas. And of course, by Lamont and Gordo.

One by one, meticulously, the gnomes got their revenge. The birds were tarred. The meerkats skinned. The llamas drugged.

The donkeys? Let’s just say those asses’ll never be heard from again. But Lamont & Gordo? They’re different cats. Cuz they’re dogs.

Bobbing side to side, the great gnome warrior, Metro Gnome, waited for the bait to draw in his unsuspecting prey.

Metro Gnome was ruthless, known to trip children for fun. Paranoid about a coup, he saw Gordo and Lamont as threats to his rule.

Metro lived a solitary life under a patch of mushrooms. He talked to himself by day and developed conspiracy theories by night.

These were the unfortunate effects of the mushrooms being of the Psilocybin variety.

Metro Gnome’s hallucinations often involved magical unicorns. Not surprising, given his brother Gastro’s My Little Pony collection.

There were rumors of a rebellion, but always in hushed tones. Metro once forced a cat to bark as punishment for purring loudly. He

was true definition of a crazed despot. Known to sit quietly for hours, he’d spring into action after wolfing down the mushrooms.

Conspiracy theories too often amplified by Metro’s cousin, Terror Gnome, who is sure someone or something is always out to get us.

“Neil Armstrong, Oscar winner,” Metro was fond of telling Gordo and Lamont. The dogs’ response? A simple leg raise & a lot of piss.

That’s why the Gnomes had beef with Lamont and Gordo. That and Lamont teasing Gastro about the Tourette’s he’s had since he was 6.

That was the last straw. Metro, Terror and Gastro Gnome had a plan. And it involved their other cousin Gee, an electric Gnome.

Shaken from his reverie, Metro saw a sudden movement reflected from the surface of his pinwheel made from the finest Gnomish steel.

It was the white haired fiend and he was approaching quickly!

“Quick!” yelled Metro. “Plug Gee into the socket!” Gordo was bearing down on them. Terror & Gastro got to the outlet just in time.

With 120 volts coursing through Gee Gnome, he began to replicate. Dozens then hundreds of gnome warriors began to appear.

As their ranks swelled, a battle cry went up. “Red Rover, Red Rover, these Dog Days are over!” Gastro twitched with anticipation.

Lamont led the charge, followed closely by Gordo. Poor Gordo was a step behind when it came to everything – sports, girls, school.

They got closer. Metro calmed the troops. “Steady! Steady!” But since their legs were really just painted on, they had no choice.

Lamont & Gordo leapt at the Gnomes. The Gnomes held their ground, as Gnomes do. Sparks flew in the air, as did some fur & plaster.

As the debris settles, Lamont is seen gnawing on fragments of a silver whirligig while Gordo bats about a small red cap.

Lamont & Gordo defeated Metro, Gastro, Terror & Gee Gnome in the Battle of Madison’s Yard. But the war may have just begun.

THE END

Ha! Dogs vs. Gnomes. Loved it. Especially the names – Gordo, Lamont, and the Gnome family (Metro, Gastro, Terror and Gee).

Thanks @MadisonZyluk for supplying the photo. Your dogs are pretty cute. And thanks to all the writers – @FeliciaCago @hwtibbs @jimmydoestea @jsetlak @paulmtracy @thatgirlmari. Special shout out to @Paulmtracy, who was writing with us for the first time. Hopefully I’ve got another addict.

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