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BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 30 Jul 11 - 06:12 PM LH asked for truly back. But Truly had been truly great. She had bended and contorted and made him look good as he learned his wizarding ways. He wasn't a real wizard like Dildoni. No he was just a fresh faced kid with a basket and a rack of swords who depended on the Ontario medical system to clean up his messes. She barely whimpered when he put the sword into the wrong hole. The one hole, the one sword that could not be avoided. The audience had no clue about LH's fuckup until they saw the ashen body and the blood pooling on the floor. LH asked for truly back. But there was no coming back for Truly. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Little Hawk Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:03 PM Um....mildly amusing. Keep at it. At least it's keeping you off the street, right? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: katlaughing Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:15 PM |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Little Hawk Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:20 PM Jack seems intent on utterly trashing this thread for some reason. (shrug) Not that it really matters... ;-) But what about the rest of you? Has no one the time or the imagination to contribute another glorious chapter to the Jake Tillington story? Or has it been fractured beyond repair by a series of inane and lurid nonsequitors from he who was born upon the bright blue sea? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: DrugCrazed Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:34 PM Chapter X Stuff happens in this chapter, that you don't need to know about. Honest. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:44 PM "If only you spent the same effort writing your own parts as trashing mine." Jake complained as they slid down the berg to the icy sea. "If only you would spend as much time writing as combing your hair." sneered Dolores. "I wish you were dead!" "given how disjointed this story is. I may well be!" "Kiss me you fool!" " No! You kiss me!" "mmmffgggmmmm" "mmmffgggmmmm" |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: katlaughing Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:50 PM LH, I think it's FUBAR. Too bad, it looked like fun. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Amos Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:59 PM Truly Grayte sat in her avocado-tinted fiberglass bathtub as the hot water grew cold and the high hills of snowy bubbles diminished into a thin, soapy scum. She could not take her mind off the sailor, and her mind was far, far away. Come to think of it, so was he. The sailor. Coincidence? I don't think so. The cooling of the waters around her eventually caused her to begin puckering in several sensitive spots and brought her attention slowly back to the present. She guessed it was time to get out of the bath, and had just raised one perfect leg out of the drippy soap scum in order to do so when the sound of a loud explosion came through the bathroom window with a silver spoon in its mouth. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 30 Jul 11 - 07:59 PM "Stuff happens in this chapter, that you don't need to know about. Honest." He is right. The subtitle is Ginsberg meets a Tea Bagger. Not that there is anything wrong with that. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 30 Jul 11 - 08:05 PM Arrgh, we 'ad just rounded Pirates Bluff haulin a thousand tons of Mentos and collided with a super tanker full of Diet Coke. Oh! The humanity of it all! As the skipper lay crushed in the rigging his last words were "Take 'er home boys! Take er home! |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Little Hawk Date: 30 Jul 11 - 09:19 PM Thigibhe le niebhiehpu grathche elenik! Schiabie! Schiabie! Zgoto nael binsmacher. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Little Hawk Date: 30 Jul 11 - 09:33 PM "Due to strategic management planning at the highest level," said Jake, "we are facing an urgent need to leverage the measurable parameters of our discourse here significantly." He paused for a moment to adjust the flow chart. "We need to evolve from a push process, in which most content production is propelled by the previous stages of production, toward a pull process." He cast a significant look at his audience as he uttered the word 'pull' and made invisible quotation marks in the air. He took the blank silence that followed as approval and went on. "To clarify the dimensions of this: In a pull process, substantiation is produced by the need for a visible presentation of concepts spontaneously generated in the context of the cerebral matter of the participants. I sincerely hope we are able to recalibrate our motivating factors in order to facilitate the implementation of this essential goal. If we fail in this, we are in danger of alienating a significant faction of our...." A loud crash came from the back of the room as Jack the Shit, lowest man on the company board of directors totem pole, fell off his chair, sprawled on the floor, and quickly scrambled to his feet, adjusting his tie wildly. He looked around in a guilty fashion..."Umm...sorry! I must have drifted off..." "Of....our...constituency!" concluded Jake, frowning severely at Jack the Shit. "Are there any questions?" |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Ebbie Date: 30 Jul 11 - 10:17 PM It's OK- I think JtS is just in an alternate reality in a VERY different story. One of these times I'll copy and paste and I'll bet it will turn out to be a good story. If he starts NOW. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Rapparee Date: 30 Jul 11 - 11:09 PM A woman screamed somewhere in the dark. The Mysterious Stanger? The Lone Ranger? Who knew why? She fell into the limpid pool of gaslight, a large black hound licking her face, his paws on her shoulders. "Dammit, Gluon! You scared me out of six years growth!" she exclaimed. Suddenly, a 'rang shot out, swinging along the fronts of the buildings. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 31 Jul 11 - 02:11 AM You're clearly mentally fucked beyond redemption. ;-) "How would you feel if you saw that in a memo addressed to you?" As they sat, pale and nervous around the board room table Jake looked sternly into their blank faces. "Eliza?" "I wouldn't like it." "But it has a smiley face. It must be a Joke right?" "It seems like a pretty cruel joke." "Will Fly, How about you?" "If someone said that to me. He'd better be joking." EJ looks a little bit puzzled. "Why would anyone say such a thing?" "Apparently someone had a writing style he didn't like." "Did he write about murdering babies or something?" "Nope. It was two people making out in a coffee shop during a flood." katlaughing, seated at the chairwoman's seat tilts her head to the side and asks "Didn't he ask him to to stop?" "Nope." Jake said, shaking his head, "The first clue this guy got that he was doing wrong was insults to his writing style and his sanity." "Harsh" Whispers Drugcrazed. Ebbie looks around the table at the downturned heads and says, "That is personal attack. Isn't it?" The eyes drop lower. They all look at katlaughing. "Winky face! Doesn't count." Says Jake. "But the guy's feelings?" "Winky face! Winky face." "Did he end it there?" Asked Gnu. "No. he went on to say this." God, what dross! Someone else had better rescue the situation soon, throw Kenya and Brazil down a cosmic wormhole and get this thing back on track. If I was Jake, I'd get Sam to shoot them. ;-) Your writing isn't just bad, Jack...it's horrifying! "But at least this critic must be some sort of premium example of flawless, reality centered writing." Rapparee chimed in. "Not really." said Jake. "His idea of good literature is writing about American Politics from the point of view of a made up monkey. And Look at the horse shit he had me say." "Due to strategic management planning at the highest level," said Jake, "we are facing an urgent need to leverage the measurable parameters of our discourse here significantly." "What a stinking pile of horse crap." They all say. "But surely to deserve such harsh treatment he must have disobeyed, clearly understood rules." Jack the Shit picks himself off the dirty stinking cockroach infested board room floor. He has been so withered by Jake's stare that he can't even bring himself to wipe the roach turds off his suit. He says, "Look. It was me. As far as I knew the only rule was "write bad fiction." I did that. But it was evidently the wrong kind of bad fiction. I was hurt alright. But he was winking. So he was kidding right? So I continued to play, on my own. I was having fun. I was outside the story. Some played with me. Some pointedly didn't. But this boardroom shit is going a bit far. Isn't it? I am not part of anybody's boardrooom. I am just Jack the Shit. The guy who resisted when George the Gentleman called him deranged. I am out of here. Jake, you have the floor." Jack the Shit takes a chair and breaks out the picture window. It takes several tries, but the end result is very satisfying. He plummets a hundred and thirty stories to the ground and dies. But that is OK. He was a shit anyway. He goes to Johnny Cameron's pub and Rick shows him that in Fiddlers Green there are no scars. Amos drops in now and then. Jake says "Good riddance to bad rubbish. He is in a better place now. Come back from that window all of you. The party is over. This board has work to do." "First order of business mission, goals, rules and limits. We either have them or we don't. We DO NOT jump down someones throat for breaking rules we have not made clear. Second, if someone is doing something that bothers us, we ask nicely. We do not make personal attacks with or without winky faces. Third, we think about our own history before we attack a writing style for being surreal, for instance, if we habitually put on a metaphorical Gorilla suit we cannot accuse someone else of "bright day-glo pink and lime green polka dots" Our derangement horse has clearly left the barn many many years ago. "The fourth order of business is more personal. This is Jake talking here. I didn't want to to treat Jack like that. He was an asshole, yes, maybe deserved it. I am a not cruel guy. I am not mean. This is not a playground and I am not four years old. The *Omniscient Editor who is not an editor but deletes anyway* put those words in my mouth and made me take those childish actions. Who will be the next victim of the winky faced insults? Are any of you safe? I will be a part of this no more. I hereby resign form the board and also from the story." "The only way out of the story seems to be this one. 'If I was Jake, I'd get Sam to shoot them.' These are the omniscient editor's own words. I trust he will honor them." "Sam come in here please." Sam walks in carrying a 457 magnum. The room gasps. Sam raises the pistol taking careful aim at Jake's third eye chakra. A tear wells in Sam's eye. "I can't." he cries "You are such a beautiful and well rounded character, the product of so many hands." "You must!" I have become and instrument of evil and I cannot live this way." Sam lowers the gun and bows his head. "I can't...." Jake takes the gun and places it in the middle of the boardroom table. His final words were. "Will one of you do it? Please." |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Ebbie Date: 31 Jul 11 - 03:29 AM Ahhhhhhh. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity Date: 31 Jul 11 - 04:51 AM So are these supposed to be individual stories???..or someone whose head is wobbling in the gutter, hallucinating??....before I either wobble with you, or work a separate gig, I just wanted to know! Trying to catch my breath, bouncing...almost on the floor, GfS |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: GUEST,Eliza Date: 31 Jul 11 - 07:38 AM Well, I for one gave up about twenty postings ago! Not sure if this was meant to be a continuous piece of bad fiction (as I thought) or different people shoving themselves in, a propos of nothing, and scuppering the admittedly loose, plot! Bit sad, as I was enjoying it tremendously. Never mind. Have a pile of ironing to do. Good luck to Jake Tillington and his fellow characters. It was an excellent idea Little Hawk, but I suppose not everyone has the same agenda! |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: GUEST,livelylass Date: 31 Jul 11 - 08:17 AM Though I didn't follow all the references, I found Jack's pastiche of ludicrously hip self-involved writing, pretty entertaining myself. Keep up the bad work Jack, in the words of Ricky Gervaise "because, the regime don't like it man!" |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Little Hawk Date: 31 Jul 11 - 10:30 AM As always, Eliza, too many cooks have spoiled the soup! ;-) But then, it only takes one bad apple to spoil the whole barrel, right? We have had story threads that managed to work pretty well in the past, but sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. Anyway, all people really come here for every day (whether or not they know it) is to express themselves and while away a bit of time. And in that sense this thread is serving the purpose as well as any other, isn't it? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Little Hawk Date: 31 Jul 11 - 10:37 AM Jack, I must say that your last bit of writing on this thread was hilarious and inspiring! It was well-constructed, witty, and memorable. I think I see the possibility of a promotion in your near future. ;-) |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Amos Date: 31 Jul 11 - 10:55 AM George the Gentleman, dressed in gray flannel pajamas with red trim and a wine-dark silk dressing gown, wearing Army boots on his delicate feet, took the dirty shuddering freight elevator to the buildings top floor. He liked top floors. They always made him feel superior. When the stained old box cvame to a halt, he climbed out between the jammed-open halves of the freight doors, landing lightly on the 21sr floor of the Boredom Building. The floor was cavernous, dark, and smelled of World War I business associates. He made his way to a fire escape and pushed it open, blinking in the sudden inpouring of bright daylight. He stepped out onto the cracked tare-and-gravel surface, his feet making little crunchy noises as he walked toward the balustrade. Leaning over, he stared down into the street below, where shards of boardroom window-glass were still glinting in the sunlight, reflecting the colors of the remains of Jack the Shit's blood, guts, and over-priced jewelery. He definitely felt superior up here. The fleeting thought entered his mind that he should jump, join Jack in redecorating FOurth Avenue and giving folks something doubly exciting to discuss over breakfast. But he didn't. He never did. He just looked down. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Little Hawk Date: 31 Jul 11 - 11:04 AM Oh, wait...I guess it'll have to be a posthumous promotion for Jack the Shit. Oh well, perhaps it's better that way. Dead heroes can't screw up the company agenda, can they? ;-) Now, where were we? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Rapparee Date: 31 Jul 11 - 11:19 AM Behind George a hand covered with orange-colored fur grasped the ledge and then another did so. The orang-otang (for such it was) quietly pulled itself up and padded noiselessly across the roof. In one hand was a bolo knife. With its free hand it seized George the Gentleman from behind and lifted him well clear of the roof. With the bolo it cut the laces to his boots, which fell off. "Urk!" said George suspensefully. "Urk!" |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 31 Jul 11 - 11:30 AM After the "Mentos Incident" The Flying Dunceman became a ghost ship, plying her trade in the Seas Melville in search of that most elusive prey, a comprehensible plot. As they rounded Belabored Point into Latte Bay they saw a stirring in the water and the piranha cleaned skeletons of previous victims of sundry and assorted mayhem climbed on board and join the crew. A tall, skinny set of bones climbs up the rope ladder, he materializes into some sort of half man, half pinniped critter with two huge teeth, and a cheesy mustache, think of Tom Selleck with his two front teeth missing. A tall zombie with an eyepatch, hook and wooden leg clomps over to him. Arrrgh! I be Captain Ascab! 'oo might ye be? Leo, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflective surface of a cutlass 442, lowers his head and say's I used to be Leo DeCrappio, handsome star of such classic films as "The Nave He Ate Her" and "Catch Me by the Can." "Who be ye now?" "Apparently.... I am the Walrus." |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 31 Jul 11 - 11:39 AM Heeeeellllloooooo!!! Heeeellllooooooo!!! Its Jake here! All aloone in the booored room! Is anyone gonna shoot me or not? Oh look there's George! Over there on that building looking down on Mr. Shit. Geeeooorrgee, Oh Geooorgie! I am out of the closet now! We can be toooogeeeether! Come on and shoot me with that big pistol of yours Georgie! Gasp!!! Oh my! What is that big orange ape doing to George? Nothing, sinful I hope! |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity Date: 31 Jul 11 - 02:04 PM Coupled together, or individual?? GfS |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 31 Jul 11 - 02:27 PM Answer the question yourself. Write whatever you want. Since Little Hawk has switched from writing to critiquing, the thread could use some more writers. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Rapparee Date: 31 Jul 11 - 07:21 PM As his shoes fell to the roof, George screamed. The ape shook him and he stopped, his brains all but scrambled. From somewhere Jack was calling that he had finally come out of the closet, but the Orang-otang still held him off the floor of the roof. As the bolo pared away his toenails, George wished that he had worn socks. From the stairway to the roof, Belize, unseen, raised her rifle and suddenly a tranquilizer dart blossomed in the primate's gluteus muscle. It screamed and dropped George, cropping his hair rather shorter than he liked with a swing of the bolo. Then the drug took effect and he (it was most definitely a male) fell like a rolling stone, seriously cracking some of the roof joists as he did so. In the distance music was playing. "Night Train," murmured George as he lost consciousness. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Little Hawk Date: 31 Jul 11 - 07:22 PM I switch seamlessly as I please from one to the other, Jack. Why? Because I can! ;-) And it pleases me to do so. I am perfectly happy to let others contribute to the story as long as their habituation to the idea of doing so compells them to...and I note that you seem more compelled than most...simply by the number of your posts here. So go to it. Have fun. Your next contribution awaits. Then ask yourself: "Will I still be doing this a month from now?" My guess would be...no....but there's no way of being completely sure about that. It all depends on how deeply your ego has bitten down on this particular chance to exercise itself. If very deeply...then you could well still be posting on this thread a year from now. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: autolycus Date: 31 Jul 11 - 07:42 PM The next thing he knew [if I remember correctly], the door opened, and a gun came in carrying a man. It fired the man who slunk off muttering oaths like "I swear I'm never going to be employed by a gun again". [My writing teacher said always remember to address the reader from time to time, like Jane Austen.] Dear reader, I hope you're following all this and write back to me with any comments you have, especially as I feel my plot construction isn't all it should be. Before I send thisd off to you, perha[ps you'd be kind enoughto send me your address, so i know where to send this note. Ta. The gun put itself down; well, when I say 'gun', I mean write 'gun' I mean, OF COURSE, a hired gun, aka as bloke who looks dodgy and carries a gun, for doing stuff like asking questions afterwards. "Where's Jake?" he queried, doubtfully [c in a circle, Agatha Christie.] "Who's Jake?" I mumbled,as i wasn't sure of my ground. And because of that flood earlier in the book where there was a flo....oops, not supposed to ruin your disbelief - sorry. At that point, the gun was stuck (luckily for me) for his next line [luckily for me) ( damn, repetition's not good, is it?) "I quite like repetition" said the gun [still actually a man, dear reader - hello - er, dear reader - oh - dear reader's buggered off. Well I think i may just slope o....ahhh End of chapter - um - um - shptrfotnieigh-ty. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: GUEST,livelylass Date: 31 Jul 11 - 07:49 PM Aarghextra! |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 31 Jul 11 - 10:46 PM "A year from now? A year from now? If anyone is writing on this thread a year from now then Tolstoy will have been replaced in maximus verbatude." The Omniscient narrator opined. "Jack is dead." Said Jake. "His closet remains unexplored while mine is scrumptious!!" He then picked up his iPhone and fingered the display. Hey Paraguay, can you and Uruguay get over to Belize's lair and keep that ape from defiling my paramour? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Little Hawk Date: 31 Jul 11 - 11:35 PM "What kind of a world would we have if apes didn't defile paramours?" Chongo asked himself this as he downed a third shot glass of scotch and regretfully put aside his worn paperback copy of "Thuvia, Maid of Mars". Boy, could that Edgar Rice Burroughs write! You'd practically think he was part chimp with the amazing stories he came up with. Surely he shared some extra genetic coding with the great apes beyond that of most of these sorry humans? However, more prosaic matters were pressing. Such as the rent. And the new case. It involved the mysterious disappearance of one Jake Tillington, a corporate employee who had vanished shortly after a conference meeting discussing marketing strategies for 2012. Chongo wouldn't have been much interested except for the fact that Jake's sister Agatha had turned up at his door and offered him a cool $30,000 to find Jake with a $5,000 advance. That got Chongo's attention right away. Agatha was an odd one. She looked like a cross between Olive Oyl and the traditional skinny spinster librarian with the rimless glasses. She looked, in fact, like she had just tasted a pretty sour pickle. But she was obviously loaded, therefore definitely worth listening to from Chongo's point of view. He had little to go on. Nothing but an email that said, "I will be home late, so if you call, do it after 11 pm. - Jake" Jake had been a bit later than that...three days had gone by with no further word, and Agatha was in panic about it. So, it was time to buckle down, question possible witnesses, follow up on hunches, and oil up the old tommy gun...just in case. You never could tell. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Janie Date: 01 Aug 11 - 02:27 AM A small, inflatable raft appeared from seemingly nowhere, floating on what...a torrential river? The ether? a raging sea? The apocalyptic flooding of the Chicago sewers that had been prophecied by the Great Dildoni? (you know, he who is also prophecied to Rise Again) a raging tide of passion? No matter. At least not to the slim maiden, (or depending on the light and one's inclination, the plump matron.) In any event, she is the only and obvious commander of the little craft. To a careless observer, especially to those not concerned with where paragraphs should begin and end, she seems placid, even oblivious to all the turmoil around her as she paddles and sings, slightly off-key, "Row, rho, roe yer boat, gently down the stream...." As she passes any given point, all action briefly ceases, as folks, even the Chimp, stare, dumbfounded, and little cartoon balloons appear over their heads, containing lines like "what the f*ck?" There is one, however, with much more keen powers of observation than the rest. That person, and that person alone, notices the maid (or is it matron? or perhaps it is the raft itself?) is actually gathering up anything or anyone that could or has been labeled "turgid," hauling the same from the waters around into the raft, and dropping all that turgidity into little jewelled boxes with tight clasps. Was that Agatha sitting back in the shadows, watching and pondering? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: autolycus Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:12 AM No. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:21 AM The following post is copyrighted (1991). Do Not Enter, unless you agree to only read it for your own enjoyment(I hope). It is the first intro scene. Do not copy or in anyway use without my permission. Other than that....enjoy! GfS |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:22 AM SCENE #1 MICHAEL'S HOUSE -- NIGHT House in wooded area, Santa Monica Mountain's. (Topanga Canyon) TITLES: "35 Years Ago" Though window, gathering of late teens, early twenties, sitting, smoking, laughing, passing pipe, and tossing an occasional beer. About 200 miscellaneous types of candles flickering on shelves, and various furniture etc. Stereo in the background. SFX --MUSIC: Rises in volume on opening of scene. "BRING OUT THE ROSES" MICHAEL Michael, early 20's. beard, accompanying the music with a guitar. VOICE Hey Mike, toss me a beer……damn !..got my Zig-Zags wet, anybody got any papers? WIDER VIEW He reaches over, grabs a beer, tosses it across the room. He resumes playing. SPFX --- Suddenly an ultra bright light blasts through the windows. Curtains blowing wildly. (As if a police helicopter has its spot lights on the house and flying low). Michael flings off the guitar, bolts up, and begins shooing people out of the house. MICHAEL Quick!! Everybody out!! It's a bust! Guest scatter. Light through window ceases as room clears. Complete silence. Michael runs to the door, looks both ways for safety, bolts out. EXT. BACK OF MICHAEL'S HOUSE He scrambles up and over a retaining wall. Keeping low to the ground, he runs up the hill, through the bushes. MICHAEL IN WOODED AREA AND BRUSH SFX --Distant sounds. Pursuing dogs and panting and barking, sirens shouted orders, crunching of twigs and footsteps through the brush. Michael ducks under the brush, and rests behind a large rock. AD LIB. SPFX -- Ultra bright shaft of light comes near him. He evades the illumination. Light moves away. SFX -- Background ambience of chaos increases….as if it getting nearer. MICHAEL (Horrified and nervous) Hell has finally arrived! Shit! SFX -- Gun Shots, machine gun fire, major police action. MICHAEL God! They're actually shooting at each other. We've gone too far!! Michael rises to see what he can Expression reflects horror, shock and disbelief. He ducks for cover ..looks up …ducks again. MICHAEL Guess it's too late to go home! He thinks, looks as if he is deciding, the rises up. MICHAEL (Shouting at the top of his lungs) THIS IS BULLSHIT! THOU SHALL NOT KILL…DOESN'T THAT MEAN ANYTHING TO ANYBODY ANYMORE!?? MICHAEL (Whispering to himself) Jeez, they've been trying to do away with that. VOICE (O.S. in distance) Tell 'em , brother! SPFX -- Suddenly the shaft of bright light blasts down on him. Within the circling whirlwind shaft of light everything is illuminated . SFX --Great whirling rushing sound, increasing in volume. SERIES OF SHOTS -- Holographic miniatures, different locations. #1: Kids stealing car parts and rummaging through car; man runs out of house, after them with a shotgun. #2: Man entering house, …partially clad, holding his pants up, trying to exit window. VOICE: I want your wife…..she doesn't love you anymore!! (SFX --Gunshot) #3: Burglars working on a window. #4: Man standing guard on his porch with a rifle; wife in window, holding two children. MAN (Angered) Since the collapse, people just think they can take just about anything they want….and nobody is going to stop them! #5: Policeman running into his house looks at his wife. POLICEMAN I had to see if you were alright WIFE (Shaky frightened) It's gone mad. .all mad. POLICEMAN I'm staying ….I'm guarding you and the house, quick, get my revolver! Michael moves behind the rock, for cover …away from the scene. Slowly rises above the rock to look. Suddenly he rises up and declares. MICHAEL This is ridiculous, everybody's gone nuts! ..I'm tired of running! Either I need help ..or you do! In any event, I'm coming down! SPFX -- Instantly the light extinguishes. SFX -- Ambience returns to that of a normal wooded area at night. Michael walks down the hill in disbelief, looking around, as if to say, 'Where is everything? What happened?' He approaches his house, the door is still open, and the candles still burning. Everyone is gone. Puzzled, curious, he walks down the driveway approx 20 yards, sees a stranger. (PAUL, late thirties, tall, friendly, calm standing alone under a tree. Michael's quickens pace, as he approaches. DRIVEWAY MICHAEL & PAUL MICHAEL Is it over? PAUL (Knowingly) For you it is. Michael hugs him, the draws away, slight distrust and curious. MICHAEL Who are you?? PAUL Your neighbor. That your house? ..with all the candles?? MICHAEL That's funny…I've never seen you. How long have you lived here? PAUL Quite a while. Why don't you come down to my house? …Oh, by the way, my name is Paul. MICHAEL (cautiously) Yeah,….. Okay. INTERIOR --- PAUL'S HOUSE Michael entering into the front door and into the living room. There is no furniture. A woman, early 20's walks into room. WOMAN May I get you some water? MICHAEL No… No thank you…… How come I've never met you two before? He turns, looks at them as he is inquiring. They are silent. MICHAEL Well??? Michael snaps around, rushes to window, looks astonished. SPFX --From out of the window, he is looking at the North American continent, from approximately 200 miles southwest of Southern California, over Pacific Ocean. 150 miles above the earth's surface. In the darkness, he sees 'mosaics' of lights, clustered together in various locations, stretching for hundreds of miles. These are NOT city lights, but lights transposed over the earth's surface. Red's clustered together, yellows, blues, greens. They appear to be at war with each other. They are conscious and madly evil, driven by an aggressive nature. Then small 'bubbles', clear, as if visible radio waves, form and rise up from the land mass. First one, then another, then two more, then four more, then eight, doubling in binary fashion. When they reach an altitude of approx 100 to 130 miles, above the earth's surface, they burst, from them, concentric circles, (as ripples from a pebble tossed in a still pond) spreads out. The swells collide with other 'bubbles', then burst that bubble, which sends out more concentric circles, bursting yet more 'bubbles', till the sky above America looks like boiling water. BACK TO SCENE Michael, speechless, turns to Paul ..opens his mouth to speak… PAUL They're going through a cleansing process. The circles that open the other 'bubbles' is the word of the Law, which will govern the planet from hence forth. Michael's jaw drops open in astonishment. MICHAEL Man! Like this is major earth history! PAUL ( Smiles and says nonchalantly.) It happens periodically, when it needs to. They do that for a while, it settles down, they forget, then it happens again. This isn't the first time. MICHAEL Well, who gives the law?? PAUL It comes from where Life comes from. When they ignore the Law, it causes and 'indignation' within them, because things get so far out of hand. Even though they know better, they choose not to follow it, that in turn creates the heat,…which makes the 'bubbles' Like desparate 'prayers'. MICHAEL Are there many of 'you guys' around? PAUL Well, actually there's quite a few, where ever we can find them…. Perhaps tonight, we found one more. Direct eye contact between the two of them. Paul smiles at Michael, as Michael turns to look out the window. Everything has returned to normal. Michael, dumbfounded, suspicious, and curious, steps to the door….. Opens it. MICHAEL Maybe I should head home PAUL Feel free. MICHAEL (unsure) Yeah…yeah, I think I'll do that… Good night. Thank you. I gotta' get . WOMAN Good-bye. PAUL Yes, Good-bye, we'll see you later. MICHAEL Yeah ….maybe. See ya'. Michael shuffles out the door. INT. MICHAEL'S HOUSE --EMPTY, QUIET Michael, candles still burning, plops down on couch, and gazes. NEXT MORNING Michael waking, runs his hands through his hair, staggers to the door, takes deep breath of fresh air. EXT. PAULS HOUSE Michael knocks on the door, sees "For Rent" sign, cups hands and and rests his face on them, to look through glass. Nobody there. It is vacant, dusty. He walks to the edge of the porch, in thought, and stares across the canyon. MICHAEL (Exhaling exasperation) JEEZ!!! **************************************** INTRO MUSIC. End of scene one. GfS |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity Date: 01 Aug 11 - 05:39 AM For all those who are not familiar with a 'shooting script'. A shooting script is the one the Director uses, while filming. There is little description in it(as Directors like to do that). To fully get the picture, your mind is the camera...what you read, is what takes place. It is YOUR imagination(or the Director's) that fills in anymore. Terms: SFX...Sound effects SPFX..Special effects Wider View...Camera backs away, revealing a wider shot of scene. POV...Point of View...As if the camera is your eyes. Titles..Words or super-imposed over the scene or on screen EXT...Exterior, where shot is filmed to take place (Outside) INT...Interior where shot is filmed to take place (Inside) O.S...Off screen, usually a voice, but character is NOT in scene. I think I got most of the ones used in this scene. Any questions?..just post them. Musical score, and soundtrack was also composed by yours truly! GfS Legend: |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 01 Aug 11 - 09:26 AM Congo's iPhone rings the ring tone is "Its raining men." He fumbles with it and tries to answer it but Ape fingers ain't built for touch screens. A single 38 caliber slug silences the phone. Brriinnng rinng...Brriinnng rinng...Brriinnng rinng... "Chongo." "Hold on! Hold on, calm down Madam." "You say you are not a woman. Could have fooled me." In fact the high pitched shrieks of the voice on the other end of his classic black 1930's desk phone with earpiece on a string and mouthpiece on the base had fooled Chongo. "You say that you are Jake Tillington. You are in the boardroom. You have been there the whole time. You just talked to your sister on the phone. The case is solved." "What about the 30 grand?" "Yes I do think I deserve it." "No I do not think that I am a dirty money grubbing gumshoe." "I will not do that to myself, even though for a chimp it is anatomically possible." "I'm gonna find your sister and get my moolah!" "No I don't know where "Gentleman" George is." "No I will not send two of Chicago's finest up to the boardroom to tide you over. Not that there is anything wrong with that." "Good Day sir, or madam, whatever you are. Good day!" |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 01 Aug 11 - 10:30 AM |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Rapparee Date: 01 Aug 11 - 10:32 AM Out at the Department of Agriculture's Sheep Experimental Station, the water was rising. In a panic, the shepherds drove their flocks to the highest ground they could find in that flat desert-like land and soon Janie's Nipples* were white with wool. *These are real, honest-to-God, hills in the USDASES. I'm not making this up. See a good topo map if you disbelieve, sinner and a heretic. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 01 Aug 11 - 10:33 AM GfS, Please parse the following sentence and rephrase it in your own words. "Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction." Please do not post the answer here. This exercise is for your own edification only. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 01 Aug 11 - 10:46 AM As the flood rose and the ground heaved, tongues of water lapped at the tips of Janie's Nipples, a geological formation in power county Idaho, USA not to be in any way conflated, by inuendo, or otherwise with any body parts of anyone involved with the writing of this story. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 01 Aug 11 - 10:49 AM Meanwhile, Jake's nipples were red and throbbing, hot and nasty after having received the attention of two of Chicago's finest. 'Finest what' you may ask? You may ask, but don't expect a coherent answer. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Lonesome EJ Date: 01 Aug 11 - 11:45 AM This story is so bad it's like an aggressive virus for which no cure has been developed. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Amos Date: 01 Aug 11 - 12:30 PM "Can we find a cure, b efore its too late?", Sandy asked tearfully. "I don't know," Ernesto told her. "It's a fast multiplier, and no immune systems yet found have any resistance to it." "Oh, my god! My god!! What have we done???!!!" "What do you mean exactly, ma'am?" "Oh, no!! I can't tell you. We never should have...oh, gosh...I can't...NEver mind. We HAVE to find a cure...we HAVE TO!" She grabbed his lapels and shook his natty blue pinstripe suit jacket, disturbing his color-coordinated tie. "Settle down, ma'am. Looks like you know more than you're telling me. Why doncha sit back, have a stiff drink, and spill the beans," Ernesto said, smiling with his pearly teeth, but not with his steely gray eyes. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: GUEST,Guest from Sanity Date: 01 Aug 11 - 12:39 PM JtS: "Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction." What's the matter with you? If a story is true, wouldn't it be 'bad fiction'?..or..I didn't think you'd be asking for 'inspiration'. Actually, I don't know what you mean.....(Was it too 'good'?) GfS |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Little Hawk Date: 01 Aug 11 - 12:51 PM Well, I found it interesting. We could use a cleansing like that at present. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Let's write a truly bad piece of fiction From: Jack the Sailor Date: 01 Aug 11 - 12:52 PM I remember it well. It was back in the days of the cold war and Commie infiltrators like Ayn Rand, Allen Ginsberg and Chongo the Chimp were poisoning the minds of our youth. We had to fight back but how? Shooting them would make them martyrs and there was only so much that the heroes of flag waving literature could do. Thank god for loyal Americans like Paul Verhoeven! The NSA (National Story Agency) was commissioned to construct a meme which would be a fail safe against all dangerous literature leading to total destruction of the work it is deployed against and a certain degree of "mind rot" in the authors. Unfortunatly, once an author is infected, his or her works are often tainted for many years thereafter. The meme is deployed automatically against Canadians trying to inflict free healthcare upon the US public. |
