Category Archives: @brianpinkley

The Mythical Maudfish

“Whoaaaaaaa!” At the last moment, she leaned to the side, holding on for dear life.

She’d been riding this ship for the past 15 hours and her legs were getting tired…But she NEEDED to hold on to the

magic potion that would return her to her normal self. Now she needed to find a safe place to

hide the potion from Lord Stickywic, who needs the potion to cure his own ailment

of sticky warts. Everything he touched stuck to him like glue, which was very frustrating because he worked at

Wal-Mart. And Wal-Mart sells everything.

The townsmen always thought it a little weird that a Lord worked at Wal-Mart. But Wal-Mart hires everyone, so they got used to it.

After all it beat when he worked at the currency exchange and they were never getting the right amount of money.

Maude began to clamber down to the raft she’d prepared. “Stickywic will never think to look in New Zealand,” she thought.

“In New Zealand I will hike the highest mountains to find the perfect place to hide from him & complete my own transformation.”

But what was Maude transforming into?

Slowly she realized her feet had started to develop a webbed appearance.

If only she’d had webbed feet *before* rafting to New Zealand. Would’ve made the trip easier. The hiking, not so much.

She expected more of a spiritual transformation. This physiological change was making Maude nervous.

She pouted her lips as she thought this, inadvertently making that “duck face” so many girls make in pics on social network sites.

Maude began to notice her legs coming close together, and hair getting longer. Was she turning into a mermaid?

Maude rushed to dive off the peak of the mountain into the water below. Perhaps she

could avoid turning the catfish that was her destiny from birth.

She dove. As she fell through the air, she noticed Sir Mortimer Reginald IX in his combustible airship headed toward her.

Sir Mortimer was a part of a crew of combustible airship pilots who routinely searched for divers throughout New Zealand.

Tales of Maudes turning into catfish had circulated amongst the pilots for centuries, becoming long-lost lore of drinking ballads.

“A Maude into a Catfish, a Maude into a Catfish, a Maude into a Catfish,” they’d sing cheerily, glugging from their steins.

Never did Mortimer imagine that he’d be the one chosen to catch the mythical Maudfish.

And now here he was, almost face to face with the Maudfish. He pulled the throttle, knowing this was an opportunity of a lifetime.

An opportunity that was coming to a screeching halt because he forgot to gas up before leaving.

His combustible airship began sputtering. “Uh oh,” Sir Mortimer lamented.

He was going down.

Maudfish had other plans though. Seeing Mortimer’s boat going down

and where was Lord Stickywic? The potion is almost done for & he gets called in for the closing shift at WalMart!

It was too late. Mortimer’s plane crashed before Maudfish could get to him. And Lord Stickywic never got the potion.

THE END

Ahhh, the mythical Maudfish. Never before seen. Until finally, Mortimer gets his eyes on it. But of course, the old “he’s out of gas” storyline had to rear its ugly head. And Mortimer crashed. Poor guy. I bet the rest of the airship pilots are singing ballads in his honor.

Thanks @brianpinkley for supplying the photo. It’s pretty hilarious. And has nothing to do with the story.

And thanks to @nella22 @brianpinkley @lesliestaysup @melmo3 @swanieson @officerpupp @jsetlak and @Pawela04 for writing again with me. Special shout-out to @mscileppi, a new writer! Yeah, Maria! Hope you enjoyed it. So glad you jumped in.

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Chicken and BISCUITS

He’d already missed his court date once. It couldn’t happen again. But the memory loss was setting in.

His small apartment was strewn with post it notes to remind him of what he was supposed to do, his new court date among them.

“This worked for the guy in Memento,” thought Jack Bauer. But the memory loss struck again. “What’s up with all these post its?”

The worst was when lapses struck while he was composing a note. On the far wall were half finished notes he couldn’t decipher.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. “Open the door, Jack,” said a woman. Jack was confused. He didn’t recognize her voice.

But he did recognize that smell… Pizza? Tacos? Sushi? What WAS it??

Chloe walked in with a bucket of KFC & coleslaw. She looked familiar to Jack, but couldn’t place her. “Do I know you?” he asked.

“I’m your parole officer, we’ve been through this” she said as Jack grabbed a piece of chicken and thought..parole officer?

“Since I know you won’t remember, I’m also your sister.” She was unshaken, pecking him on the cheek as she went to the kitchen.

Jack kept eating his chicken as he read a post it up on the wall. “I like Extra Tasty Crispy,” he mumbled to himself as a reminder.

And that explained the “Extra Tasty Cris….” that was written on the wall in sharpie next to the phone…

Jack finally got up with a wing in his mouth to open the door. As the door opened, there was a woman who looked…

…like Chloe. She stopped him. “You just opened the door, Jack. Remember?” “No, I don’t,” he said. Chloe was in for a loooong day.

The look on his face made her eyes roll.That or the wing hanging out of his mouth. “Napkin?” She asked, wiping his chin.

Sneaking out the back and knocking again was just one of Chloe’s ways to amuse herself by fucking with him.

She was neither his sister nor his parole officer. If KFC was open already, he must’ve missed his court date by now. Again.

“On second thought,” Chloe admitted, “this mess calls for a Wet-Nap.” She tore one open and the smell of rubbing alcohol hit him.

For 2 seconds, Jack had a flashback to his torture in China. They used wet naps & opium to try & get him to talk. He never did.

Memory issues made the present fuzzy, but the reason for his torture was still clear to him: smuggling art from the Hunan province.

But how could a man with memory loss pull off the biggest art heist since the Thomas Crown Affair? Easy – Chloe.

Before they met, her reputation proceeded her. Her work was clean & quick. The press named ‘La Chat Noir’ in over 32 global thefts.

Interpol had been after her specter for years. Yet, they only had anecdotal leads. He’d known her to put out false stories for fun.

Like the one about her Club Med Couples Escape to Ixtapa. Within minutes, Interpol moved in, only Chloe was nowhere to be found.

Another story Chloe once used? That she’d be hosting an open mic night in Quebec. Interpol swarmed there too but again…nothing.

She needed Jack for her next heist. He was the only one who could navigate the museum & its hundreds of security guards & lasers.

But Jack, still in the throes of memory loss, couldn’t remember where the museum was…let alone Mexico.

Luckily, he didn’t need to remember where Mexico was, since the museum was in China. Too bad he couldn’t remember that either.

Jack woke up mid-flight. Window seat. Nothing but clouds. Story of his life. Wondering, Who’s this woman seated to his left?

He asked her for a drink. “Right away, Jack.” She stood & headed toward the back cabin, glancing briefly at the man seated in 4F.

Suddenly, it hit her. Seamus O’Reilly, the head of Interpol, was in 4F. But he was fast asleep. So for now, Chloe dodged a bullet.

Chloe got a water bottle from the back, then ducked into the lavatory. She unscrewed the sink panel to retrieve a black duffel bag.

Meanwhile, Jack was left alone, waiting for a drink he didn’t even remember asking for. “Man, I wish I wrote it down,” he mumbled.

He reached into his pocket & found an entire stack of post-its. All different colors & messages. “Black duffel bag!” one said.

And why am I married to Adam Sandler?

A purple one said, “Sink panel. Lavatory.” Jack was piecing things together. He went there, passing O’Reilly, who was drooling.

And the next post-it read, “By any means possible, keep the bag out of Chloe’s hands.”

Jack hoped he’d recognize Chloe. He should have drawn her face on a post-it note. He headed to the back of the plane when suddenly,

he saw a woman step out of the lavatory clutching a black duffel bag. He didn’t recognize her, but he knew what he had to do.

He had to pull out another post-it note to remind him. It said, “When you see a woman with a duffel bag, wake up the Irishman.”

Jack wondered how he’d find an Irishman. He looked left & saw nobody. He looked right. And there was O’Reilly, between Lee & Cheng.

Jack suspected this man was Irish by the corncob pipe and top hat over fiery red hair. But the next post-it confirmed it: 4F

Jack reached over Cheng to wake O’Reilly up. “There’s a woman with a duffel bag.” Seamus turned to Lee & said something in Chinese.

Lee nodded. Without hesitation, he grabbed the bucket of KFC stowed under his seat & ran towards the back of the plane.

“No thanks,” Jack said as he patted his stomach. “Had some earlier.” But this was no ordinary KFC bucket. Lee’s gun was inside.

Lee & O’Reilly knew what they had to do-distract Chloe & retrieve the Picasso. Jack could help, but only if he had his memory back.

Lee grabbed the gun but it was covered in grease. Delicious grease. It fell to the floor and discharged one lethal bullet at …

…the goats stowed above the seats in row 24. Chloe heard the gunshot, and she came running out of the lavatory.

Through screams, goat blood, and chaos, she found Jack. She ripped apart his post-it notes. “Biscuits,” she whispered in his ear…

“Biscuits?” he repeated. “No!” she screamed as Lee and O’Reilly handcuffed her. “I said Risk IT!” And suddenly he remembered.

BISCUITS was code for “Beat Interpol STAT. China Understands I Thieve Statues”. But it was too late. Chloe glared at Jack sternly.

Jack’s memory came back fast. “Crap! I missed my court date!” Chloe snickered, and O’Reilly stifled a laugh. Lee openly mocked him.

Jack looked at his watch. “There’s still time!” He pulled a parachute out of his bag and opened the door. “Jaaack!” screamed Chloe.

Jack nodded at Chloe & winked twice. That was their sign. They’d meet at the Peach Pit in 13 days. Without warning, he jumped.

Just like that, Jack was gone. O’Reilly and Lee handcuffed Chloe to seat 4A, while Cheng cleaned up the goat’s blood.

THE END

Wow – this was awesome! 13 writers (including me) contributed on this one. Thanks @AgentLuke for supplying the photo. And thanks to @ParkRidgeDDS @hwtibbs @LundieP @foiledcupcakes @nella22 @brianpinkley @Chrisa_Hickey @jsetlak @thatgirlmari @FeliciaCago @kikiandkyle @jimmydoestea for writing.

We may have just written Season 8 of 24.

 

 

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Higher. Higher and Higher.

The teleporting vessel stared Mel in the face. Were the myths of power true? He was about to find out.

As Mel stepped into the teleporting vessel, also known as the “waffle shoes,” dark clouds began to fill the sky.

Lightning began to strike as frigid rain fell from the clouds. mel was picked up by a strong gust of wind, carrying him higher.

Mel kept being lifted higher. Higher and higher. Just then, he heard this lyric in the distance. “Is that Bette Midler?” he asked.

Mel reasoned, it must be an auditory hallucination, a side effect of teleporting in his grandmother’s shoes. She loved Bette.

Grateful that his grandmother lined the vessel with odor eaters, Mel laced himself in and put the vessel in hyperdrive.

As the G-force made his lips flap faster than a hummingbird’s wings, Mel could still hear Bette. “Is that ‘The Rose?'” he wondered.

Peering over the side of the vessel, Mel was shocked w/what he discovered. “The true power comes from the Wind Beneath My Wings!”

Mel couldnt understand why Bette was here but she was, waiting in a strobe of light dressed in red. “Welcome Home Mel.”

In this dream he was Sophie Frederica Alohilani von Haselberg on a crazy Tay al-Ard. What had the sufi given him to prompt this?

“This Tay al-Ard is crazy!” Mel/Sophie screamed. Bette tried to calm him/her down by belting out “From a Distance.”

But it didn’t work. Melphie wanted to teleport home. S/he climbed into the vessel & commanded “Fly against the sky!” Off they went.

When they got home, Melphie was ecstatic. So was Bette, who started singing, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank God for you!”

THE END

Thanks to @brianpinkley, @AlondraAlkaline, @jsetlak, @ParkRidgeDDS, @thatgirlmari and @nella22 for collaborating with me on this story. And of course, thanks to Bette Midler for being Bette Midler.

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