A different topic, as requested by Casper: continued

[BeefyFigure]

I beg of you.  Please do not post any 11-year-old crap.  (That includes 9-year-old crap as well, Mat).


... her cell phone rang.? She paid no real attention to it, although the sound drove Michael crazy.

? "Mauti, she asked, is that your real name? You sound awfully familiar".?

A hesitant answer was given:

[Mr. Lothario]

A recap shall ensue.

Mr. Lothario:
     Let's do a forum story. The way this works is, each participant adds to the story in some way (a sentence or two, a paragraph, a page, whatever), and everyone has to work off of the sum total of the story so far. There's only a couple of rules: no killing off characters or otherwise running the story into a dead end, no using the story as an elaborate (or more likely, not elaborate) form of personal attack, and most importantly, if you're not going to play along, don't participate. Thank you. Let's proceed.

     Michael was walking along the sidewalk downtown in the city, sipping a quadruple mocha espresso from Starbucks. He had already moved past the self-recrimination over spending $8.00 on a cup of coffee, and now was moving on to a nice, leisurely caffeine high. His mind was jumping around like a flea in a frying pan as the caffeine really took effect and he was walking faster and faster without realizing it. He rounded a corner while staring distantly at a lamppost and considering how strange a world it would be if electricity flowed downhill like water and then wham! Michael was sprawled on the concrete of the sidewalk, fully four dollars' worth of coffee in an elongated puddle nearby, and the dazed-looking woman Michael had just collided with was trying to regain her bearings a few feet away. Michael blinked and shook his head.

Flame:
Seeing how high Michael was, the woman brandished a knfe, thinking it could be an easy mug. "Give me your wallet or pay the consequences," the woman spoke quickly. Michael looked around stunned, and the amount of caffeine suddenly rushed to his brain. He fumbled around, looking for his wallet when...

Infection:
When he realized after looking at her chest for a couple of minutes there was something long and hard sticking out of his pants.
He reached down and pulled out his gun, thought better of it and tried to begin a conversation with her....

Mr. Mellow:
Michael smiled at the woman and said hello. "Hi, my name is Jonathan", Michael said. What Michael didn't say was that he was a compulsive liar.

BeefyFigure:
The woman smiled back.? "Do you have a name?", Michael asked.? 'Yes, I have', she replied.? "Well, then, what is it?"

Hazard:
"Mauti" the woman replied. Michael's interest in this girl increased greatly as she laughed softly. She seemed to like him also until....

BeefyFigure:
... her cell phone rang.? She paid no real attention to it, although the sound drove Michael crazy.
? "Mauti, she asked, is that your real name? You sound awfully familiar".?
After a moment's hesitation, Michael's answer was:

[Mr. Lothario]

     "Wait a minute here," Michael said distractedly, "you're still trying to mug me!" Michael slapped Miss Mauti's hand out of his pocket and his wallet out of her hand. He indignantly shoved his wallet back into his pocket and said, "How about you put down your knife, and I put down my gun--"

     "But you don't have a gun," Mauti interrupted.

     Michael looked impatient. "That's not the point. Where was I...? ah, yes: we each put down our weapons and talk like civilized people. Besides which, we're drawing a crowd." Sure enough, a throng of people had stopped to gawk at the spectacle of a mugger and victim who were both sitting on the sidewalk.

[Flame]

Among those spectators were a little boy and his mother. The boy tugged his mother's hand, and asked her, "Mommy, why is daddy sitting on the floor?"

[Mr.Mellow]

The mother replied, "Daddy has had too much to drink, Timmy." Timmy nodded, then smiled, knowing he was in for an alcohol-induced beating tonight, which he thoroughly enjoyed. Meanwhile...

[Mr. Lothario]

   ...a nun was praying for little Timmy's soul. She knew that Timmy was a five-year-old masochist, and she was convinced that he was the spawn of Lucifer Morningstar. Her prayer finished, the kindly old nun stood up, brushed a miniscule speck from her habit, and turned around just in time to glimpse through the window a priest, a rabbi, and a horse walking into the bar across the street.

[BeefyFigure]

The nun had never seen so handsome a rabbi, despite the fact the enormous amount of hair.? Around the man stood several Japanese tourists armed with state-of-the-art cameras:? ?

? "Stop this insanity!", the rabbi shouted.? "Someone help me!"

The nun, having heard the rabbi's cry for help, ran across the street to aid him.

[*NADS Capt. Anarchy]

In her rush to aid the rabbi, the nun didn't see the out of control 18-wheeler barraling down the road at 95 MPH. Moments after she was flattened, she was whisked away to the Roadkill Cafe where she became the daily special, dubbed "Slab of Nun on a Bun."

The horse, sensing that he was about to be the butt of a bad joke, kicked both the rabbi and the priest in their nether regions. These holy men doubled over in excruciating pain, while the horse posed for photos with the Japanese tourists.

Meanwhile, inside the bar, a chicken sat down and ordered a scotch.

[Flame]

The bartender was not there, seeing as how Michael was him. In his place was a substitute bartender, who was a drunk, a crack addict, and worst of all, hungry. He hungrily looked at the chicken, and decided it was time for supper. He brought the scotch to the chicken, but put some poison in it. He waited for the chicken to die... Meanwhile, Michael's wife was busy scolding Michael...

[Mr. Lothario]

      "Shove your fingers in," she was saying, slightly out of breath. "Yeah, that's good. Deeper, deeper. Oh, god, you've got your whole hand inside. Don't get stuck."
     Michael just grunted, intent on his work.
     "You've almost got it, just a little more... mmmm, crook your finger a little... yeah, that's it! That's it! Yessss!"
     Michael handed her the ring he'd just pulled out of the drain. She kissed him and said, "Thanks, honey."

     THen the Narrator stepped in from off-camera, much to the surprise of Michael and his wife. "But wait, what's this? What happened to the sidewalk? The spilled coffee? The five year-old masochist? Oof!" That last was caused by Michael striking the Narrator in the back of the head with a baseball bat. It isn't a good idea to surprise a man who just had his hand in a pipe. As the Narrator lost conciousness, his last thought was of his own wife and child, who had stayed in Narratorland while he had emigrated to the United States to make money.

[kami]

As Michael strook the Narrator unconscious, the whole bar was sucked out from reality as we know it. In the place of the Bar was now a laundry and the people in the Bar were never seen again.
Meanwhile, Timmy's mother approached her husband who was still sitting on the sidewalk and told him that they were late and should get going. When she turned to look for Timmy, he was gone! The mother, whose name was Amanda, screamed after her child, but he was gone and she never saw him again until 10 years later when...

[Mr. Lothario]

     ... a news story caught her eye. She rushed down to the park, where sure enough, a family of squirrels had been raising him for the last decade. She tried to get his attention, but he only responded to his tribal name, "Professor Nutgrabber". She was able to lead Timmy home by leaving a trail of walnuts to their front door. Timmy's cheeks were permanently distended, but he was home. His parents embarked on the uphill battle to rekindle his memories, with much love, attention, and electroshock therapy. Finally, they succeeded. Timmy's first words were, "Eeewargh! I forgot how much I hate nuts!" His parents cried until they laughed.

     Since the universe has a dark sense of humor, it should come as no surprise that on the following day, the whole family was buried alive when their house was hit by a stray artillery shell from a live-fire exercise. Immediately following the explosion, a faint voice could be heard drifting on the wind, "Sorry...!"

     At that exact moment, across town, a bank was being robbed. 1000 miles away, an aging hippie was following along to a Yoga video. 3000 miles away, someone was punched in the face for always ending their sentences with "eh?" And in Vatican City, a Cardinal was thinking about the last issue of Playboy he'd seen (May 1960).

[kami]

[Lothario, that almost killed the story, lucky I'm here to revive it.]

Just after the family had been buried alive, the house disappeared from our dimension and suddenly the old bar appeared (thought to have been a gov't conspiracy to protect the military from being attacked on account of the stray shell). The rabbi who had passed out on the horse (which in turn had passed out on the priest) awoke from his 10 yr unexistance and wondered why he...

[Mr. Lothario]

     ...was wearing a tutu, a diving mask and snorkel, and nipple pasties. The priest, having just awoken, nodded at the Rabbi and said...

[Cossack]

,"what the fuck!" The Rabbi looked tastfuly at a woman sitting in the corner. "You know whats nice, I can date and you cant!" exclaimed the Rabbi. "Shut up and go have sex with your wife!" replied the angered preist in an Irish accent. Soon a Judeo Christian bar fight broke out.

[Mr. Lothario]

     Then the horse kicked all the Judeochristians in the nuts and walked out haughtily. But just then, THE ALIENS INVADED!

[Cossack]

Just then Col Kilgore broke in through the door and warned the intoxicated citizens that aliens were invading. He ordered a Napalm strike on 34th and Broadway. "I love the smell of napalm in the morning" he said as the aliens started to land on Roosevelt Island. Then our hero Loth came and

[kami]

...died right on the spot because of the napalm strikes.

[Mr. Lothario]

     But then he miraculously rose from the dead! A cult formed around him within moments, and as he stumbled from the still-burning napalm strike, the cult members began chanting and praising Loth as the second coming of Christ. Fortunately, a second napalm strike killed all of them (again).

     The priest and rabbi, both gingerly cradling their abused genitals, staggerd out of the newly-restored bar, groaning in pain, their fight forgotten. The priest looked at the charred bodies and religious artifacts in the napalm strike and said, "What'd we miss?"
     The rabbi shrugged and said, "Who cares? Let's find another bar."

[Cossack]

Meanwhile Micheal and his bitch, Mauti were in an opposite universe going through a psychodelic tunnel of funk at Mach 10! Mauti has seziures and...