tmoody@sjuvax.UUCP (T. Moody) (07/28/85)
[]
I had an idea that a collaborative work of fiction could be created
on the net. Use "followup" to append your plot developments. This
may not be bizarre enough for net.bizarre, but it is certainly pointless
enough. It may even be an odd occurrence.
Todd Moody
Philosophy Dept.
St. Joseph's U.
Philadelphia, PA 19131
tmoody@sjuvax
(Here goes...)
-----------------
The distant sound of sirens was soothing to
Pradip Snodgrass. With grim determination, he seized
his ten-foot blowgun, a kosher pickle, and a used but
serviceable colonoscope. It's time, he thought, for
somebody to *do* something.israel@tove.UUCP (Bruce Israel) (07/30/85)
In article <1217@sjuvax.UUCP> tmoody@sjuvax.UUCP (T. Moody) writes: >I had an idea that a collaborative work of fiction could be created >on the net. > >(Here goes...) >----------------- > The distant sound of sirens was soothing to >Pradip Snodgrass. With grim determination, he seized >his ten-foot blowgun, a kosher pickle, and a used but >serviceable colonoscope. It's time, he thought, for >somebody to *do* something. As he headed for the the nearest sewer system entrance, he heard a rustling in the bushes. Not wanting to get caught with his pants down, he quickly loaded his blowgun with his pickle and waltzed confidently towards the noise. It was Marlene, his blonde, one-legged, Jello wrestling landlady. With a sharp intake of breath he inhaled half his pickle. -- Bruce Israel seismo!umcp-cs!israel (Usenet) israel@Maryland (Arpanet)
nyssa@abnji.UUCP (nyssa of traken) (07/30/85)
(Here goes...)
-----------------
The distant sound of sirens was soothing to
Pradip Snodgrass. With grim determination, he seized
his ten-foot blowgun, a kosher pickle, and a used but
serviceable colonoscope. It's time, he thought, for
somebody to *do* something.
He tried to stand up, but failed. Realizing that
the sirens were for him, he dropped what he had and tried to
open the giant bear trap that trapped his legs. He
saw it happen once, when the "authorities" caught up
with his sister, they vapourised her; he thinks that
happened to his whole family.
Pradip was on the run as the last talking
marsupial.
--
James C Armstrong, Jnr. ihnp4!abnji!nyssa
Armstrong c Wheeler b Ash 1 (rats)joe@watvlsi.UUCP (Joe Morrison) (07/30/85)
Pradip slammed the heavy, padded door shut and walked outside into the thick gray air. The sirens became louder. A green station wagon roared past and as it retreated into the distance Pradip read the words on the back: "Shop Honest Ed's!" -- Joe Morrison -- -- -- -- decvax ! Systems on Silicon Group @ -- -- -- -- allegra ! watmath ! watvlsi ! joe University of Waterloo -- -- -- -- -- ihnp4 ! --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Steering wheel? Ah, now we talk options!
jj@alice.UUCP (07/30/85)
The distant sound of sirens was soothing to Pradip Snodgrass. With grim determination, he seized his ten-foot blowgun, a kosher pickle, and a used but serviceable colonoscope. It's time, he thought, for somebody to *do* something. He tried to stand up, but failed. Realizing that the sirens were for him, he dropped what he had and tried to open the giant bear trap that trapped his legs. He saw it happen once, when the "authorities" caught up with his sister, they vapourised her; he thinks that happened to his whole family. Pradip was on the run as the last talking marsupial. Talking marsupials, as a class, originated in the Bikini Atoll tests of the 1950's, with a stray wombat that happened to be at just the right distance from the blast. Since they were living evidence of the effects of nuclear weaponry, they were being chased by the CIA, as well as Greenpeace, who viewed them as a threat, for some reason, perhaps having to do with the talking marsupial's taste for blue whale blubber. The authorities came around the corner, shooting as they ran. The first, stray, shot hit the trap, and vapourized it, allowing Pradip the opportunity to jump down the deep rabbit-hole from which had just emerged a fully dressed rabbit, muttering "I'm early, what shall I do?" ----- d jj Armstrong c Wheeler b Ash 1 (rats) -- TEDDY BEARS MAY BECOME EXTINCT! HELP AN ENDANGERED SPECIES! "It was great when it all began, ..." (ihnp4/allegra)!alice!jj
csdf@mit-vax.UUCP (Charles Forsythe) (07/31/85)
MAKE SURE THIS IS THE MOST RECENT VERSION (This idea could really grow
into a large tree)
The distant sound of sirens was soothing to
Pradip Snodgrass. With grim determination, he seized
his ten-foot blowgun, a kosher pickle, and a used but
serviceable colonoscope. It's time, he thought, for
somebody to *do* something.
As he headed for the the nearest sewer system entrance, he heard
a rustling in the bushes. Not wanting to get caught with his pants
down, he quickly loaded his blowgun with his pickle and waltzed
confidently towards the noise. It was Marlene, his blonde, one-legged,
Jello wrestling landlady. With a sharp intake of breath he inhaled
half his pickle.
"Take me with you," she begged breathlessly as she hobbled towards him.
"Marlene I can't," he gaged slightly and swallowed the half-pickle," It
would be foolish, you'd never survive. These sewers are inhabited by
roving bands of insurance salemen and Amway distributers. You'd be torn
to shreds!"
"Pradip!" she sobbed, "How could you say that? After what we went
through in Newark... you remember how I fought off those
Scientologists!"
"Getting out of a 'free personality test' is a lot different from
escaping a full-coverage policy with medical benifits! I'm sorry
Marlene, but you'd be safer here. You might need this." He handed the
desparate woman the remaining half of the kosher dill.
"Disgusting!" Her tears forgotten, she was obviously insulted.
"I meant to EAT, you stupid slut!" Pradip had never been very nice to
women, but no main character in a popular-trash-paperback ever had been.
He turned away and headed into the sewer entrance. He chuckled slightly
to himself -- the drugs were starting to take effect.
--
Charles Forsythe
CSDF@MIT-VAX
"You are a stupid fool."
-Wang Zeep
"I'm not a fool!"
-The Hated Onemupmalis@watarts.UUCP (M. A. Upmalis) (07/31/85)
Pradip blew a smoke ring in the air. She finished taking off her clothes. Pradip grunted and put down the bottle of gin. He thought of the last time in Barcelona and started to take off his shirt. She hit him over the head with a frying pan. He thought of the bullfight as he fell unconscious. -- Mike Upmalis (mupmalis@watarts)<University of Waterloo> ihnp4!watmath!watarts!mupmalis
lkk@teddy.UUCP (07/31/85)
MAKE SURE THIS IS THE MOST RECENT VERSION (This idea could really grow
into a large tree)
The distant sound of sirens was soothing to
Pradip Snodgrass. With grim determination, he seized
his ten-foot blowgun, a kosher pickle, and a use but
serviceable colonoscope. It's time, he thought, for
somebody to *do* something.
As he headed for the the nearest sewer system entrance, he heard
a rustling in the bushes. Not wanting to get caught with his pants
down, he quickly loaded his blowgun with his pickle and waltzed
confidently towards the noise. It was Marlene, his blonde, one-legged,
Jello wrestling landlady. With a sharp intake of breath he inhaled
half his pickle.
"Take me with you," she begged breathlessly as she hobbled towards him.
"Marlene I can't," he gaged slightly and swallowed the half-pickle," It
would be foolish, you'd never survive. These sewers are inhabited by
roving bands of insurance salemen and Amway distributers. You'd be torn
to shreds!"
"Pradip!" she sobbed, "How could you say that? After what we went
through in Newark... you remember how I fought off those
Scientologists!"
"Getting out of a 'free personality test' is a lot different from
escaping a full-coverage policy with medical benifits! I'm sorry
Marlene, but you'd be safer here. You might need this." He handed the
desparate woman the remaining half of the kosher dill.
"Disgusting!" Her tears forgotten, she was obviously insulted.
"I meant to EAT, you stupid slut!" Pradip had never been very nice to
women, but no main character in a popular-trash-paperback ever had been.
He turned away and headed into the sewer entrance. He chuckled slightly
to himself -- the drugs were starting to take effect.
Meanwhile, half-way accross the world, on the tiny south Pacific isle
of huancikx, the natives were in a terrible uproar. The holy Sun workstation
which lived atop the highest mountain on that island, had ceased to function.
The natives, which had depended on this sacred device for divine inspiration
and guidance, were utterly baffled by the gibberish which now
emanated from its monochrome bitmapped display.
NFS: host not responding
NFS: host not responding
NFS: host not responding
NFS: host not responding
was all the natives could evoke from their onetime powerful demi-god.
LUSER, the great chief of the island, consulted with the tribal elders:
"We must consult with the great witch doctor ewtihzearrndet.
--
Sport Death,
Larry Kolodney
(USENET) ...decvax!genrad!teddy!lkk
(INTERNET) lkk@mit-mc.arpaasu@watarts.UUCP (Arts Student Union) (07/31/85)
Wow, my first article. And about Pradip Snodgass too! After vapourization, we find our hero and the rabbit, Wascally running across a bridge past a group of crazed reactionary Latvian waterpolo enthusiasts performing Swan Lake in a duck pond while singing La Marseillaise to the tune of "Ain't Necessarily So" a la Jimi Somerville in a medium to high falsetto as the "Flying Midget Garbonzo Brothers" leap from ultralights, taking their name too seriously, and make strange sounds something akin to the noise made by slapping a large green garbage bag filled with pancakes and frogs smothered in caramel sauce against the side of the recently launched ocean liner "Madonna", ( Like a tug boat, sunk for the very first time ). What? Just ask the guy in the blue, -------> over there to the right. Yea him. I think, therefore I spam. Theology, don't you love it, talk about bizzare. Love, kisses, hugs, squids Jim P.s. Bill the cat is really Opus in drag, you never see the two of them together do you, especially since Opus is missing and presumed eaten.
jharman@watarts.UUCP (James Harman) (07/31/85)
Wow, that last episode.... with the latvians........and pancakes....and Bill .... what a funny guy...sputter....ha ha ha .....Brilliance on the net. Let me shake your hand Jim. Thank you Jim. You're welcome Jim. Slap ( on the back ). Boy, isn't it nice to be able to get to a second account so you can be nice to yourself. Love, hugs, kisses, e coli Jim.
csdf@mit-vax.UUCP (Charles Forsythe) (08/01/85)
MAKE SURE THIS IS THE MOST RECENT VERSION (This idea could really grow
into a large tree)
The distant sound of sirens was soothing to
Pradip Snodgrass. With grim determination, he seized
his ten-foot blowgun, a kosher pickle, and a use but
serviceable colonoscope. It's time, he thought, for
somebody to *do* something.
As he headed for the the nearest sewer system entrance, he heard
a rustling in the bushes. Not wanting to get caught with his pants
down, he quickly loaded his blowgun with his pickle and waltzed
confidently towards the noise. It was Marlene, his blonde, one-legged,
Jello wrestling landlady. With a sharp intake of breath he inhaled
half his pickle.
"Take me with you," she begged breathlessly as she hobbled towards him.
"Marlene I can't," he gaged slightly and swallowed the half-pickle," It
would be foolish, you'd never survive. These sewers are inhabited by
roving bands of insurance salemen and Amway distributers. You'd be torn
to shreds!"
"Pradip!" she sobbed, "How could you say that? After what we went
through in Newark... you remember how I fought off those
Scientologists!"
"Getting out of a 'free personality test' is a lot different from
escaping a full-coverage policy with medical benifits! I'm sorry
Marlene, but you'd be safer here. You might need this." He handed the
desparate woman the remaining half of the kosher dill.
"Disgusting!" Her tears forgotten, she was obviously insulted.
"I meant to EAT, you stupid slut!" Pradip had never been very nice to
women, but no main character in a popular-trash-paperback ever had been.
He turned away and headed into the sewer entrance. He chuckled slightly
to himself -- the drugs were starting to take effect.
Meanwhile, half-way accross the world, on the tiny south Pacific isle
of huancikx, the natives were in a terrible uproar. The holy Sun workstation
which lived atop the highest mountain on that island, had ceased to function.
The natives, which had depended on this sacred device for divine inspiration
and guidance, were utterly baffled by the gibberish which now
emanated from its monochrome bitmapped display.
NFS: host not responding
NFS: host not responding
NFS: host not responding
NFS: host not responding
was all the natives could evoke from their onetime powerful demi-god.
LUSER, the great chief of the island, consulted with the tribal elders:
"We must consult with the great witch doctor ewtihzearrndet."
This was quite a serious descision, indeed! For the great witch doctor
lived on a distant island that was weeks away by sea. After arriving
there, the voyager would have to locate the doctor on the island itself.
A man of great strenth and sailing skill was required -- the elders
chose Thaoauaeoeia. Thaoauaeoeia, or Thaoauaeo as he was called for
short, was the island's best windsurfer. Thaoauaeoeia was, without
doubt, the only person for the job. LUSER went to have a discussion with
him about the upcoming trip.
Thaoauaeoeia was amazingly calm as he asked about the provisions for the
journey.
"On which island will I find the doctor?" Thaoauaeoeia queried.
LUSER responed slowly,"North America."
Thaoauaeoeia had a feeling that he'd be better off not doing this, but
set out nevertheless. Equipped with his best wind surfing board, a box
of twinkies and a four-pack of California Coolers (he did not yet hate
California), he set out onto the ocean.
--
Charles Forsythe
CSDF@MIT-VAX
"You are a stupid fool."
-Wang Zeep
"I'm not a fool!"
-The Hated Onemoran@aluxp.UUCP (moran) (08/01/85)
> Pradip slammed the heavy, padded door shut and walked outside into the thick > gray air. The sirens became louder. A green station wagon roared past and > as it retreated into the distance Pradip read the words on the back: > "Shop Honest Ed's!" > -- > Joe Morrison -- -- -- -- decvax ! *** REPLACE THIS LINE. PLEASE! *** Pradip (whose name backwards, incidentally, is Pidarp) had a sudden revelation of vast, incredible meaninglessness: and then he forgot it completely. Never again would he forget it as well. A smirk covered his face, sort of. Cliffhangers stood on end, and then She came along. "She" was what he called his pet ampitheatre. "Stop!," he cried, "I cannot possibly ..." he continued on, but this was not Pradip Kushkaramar. His last name was Y. ---- Alan Lustiger (??!aldvp!we40!ail) AT&T Technology Systems, Allentown (misspelled), PA Reach out and touch the right choice with the future built in.
mfs@mhuxr.UUCP (SIMON) (08/01/85)
Pradip grabbed the rabbit, saying "come on, be early with me!" The rabbit went along, having nothing better to do. They emerged into the cold gray dawn, and realized they had no idea where they were. Pradip remembered the scroll that the sage Pape Wojtyla had shown him. He followed its direction carefully, making a right over the waterfall, making sure to go over the rock that looks like a bear, but under the bear that looks like a rock. So they went on. And as they walked, they encountered a city. WHat a city it was! Purple domes bent toward the yellow sky, with orange spots populated with horned creatures that made musical sounds. Wide avenues with no place to walk on fell away like chasms between the laughing buildings. Pradip and the rabbit advanced along a crawlway, not knowing what to look for. Then they met the female. She looked at them and said "12weert[]cc tt!pwoe azsss334..tt+ ddadfkofgfgy slslse _ _ _ _" They sighed with relief. Friends at last! But behind her rose her concubine. And out of its black snout came the chilling words: "What is the price of tea in China?" -- Marcel Simon
peter@kitty.UUCP (Peter DaSilva) (08/02/85)
> [] > I had an idea that a collaborative work of fiction could be created > on the net. Use "followup" to append your plot developments. This > may not be bizarre enough for net.bizarre, but it is certainly pointless > enough. It may even be an odd occurrence. It's also a GREAT way to get NET.BIZARRE pullked like *that*. As the instigator of the kaos mailing list (mail.kaos) at Berkeley, I can attest to that. This seems to be a net-version of kaos. Any kaos members out there?
davew@shark.UUCP (Dave Williams) (08/02/85)
In article <293@tove.UUCP> israel@tove.UUCP (Bruce israel) writes: >In article <1217@sjuvax.UUCP> tmoody@sjuvax.UUCP (T. Moody) writes: >>I had an idea that a collaborative work of fiction could be created >>on the net. >> >>(Here goes...) >>----------------- >> The distant sound of sirens was soothing to >>Pradip Snodgrass. With grim determination, he seized >>his ten-foot blowgun, a kosher pickle, and a used but >>serviceable colonoscope. It's time, he thought, for >>somebody to *do* something. > >As he headed for the the nearest sewer system entrance, he heard >a rustling in the bushes. Not wanting to get caught with his pants >down, he quickly loaded his blowgun with his pickle and waltzed >confidently towards the noise. It was Marlene, his blonde, one-legged, >Jello wrestling landlady. With a sharp intake of breath he inhaled >half his pickle. > The immense Hebraic gurkin stopped, impailed on one of Pradip's gold capped front teeth. He dropped his colonoscope and it hit the hard earth with a sound not unlike an over-inflated Whoopie Cushion. Marlene chuckled with delight as this was the first time she was able to get Pradip's attention. Marlene stepped into full sight revealing here muscular body draped in a sequined cover-all made of spandex and Gortex. Her stainless steel prosthesis made a bell like tinkling sound and made little round marks in the damp ground as she approached him. Pradip knew what he must do, as his rent was 2 months overdue. He swung his now empty blowgun around. Marlene with her athletic instincts spun out of the way deflecting the blow with her matching ditty bag. "Cut it out, Prad....",she said coyly, "I just wanted to share this with you!" She pulled a wrinkled telegram from the bag. "It's a letter from Spielberg. He wants me for a movie. I knew those lessons I took at the Ali MacGraw School For Acting (Drive Thru Division) would pay off someday!" -- Dave Williams Tektronix, Inc. Graphic Workstations Division "The 6000 Family" "The workstations that made Wilsonville famous."
mff@wuphys.UUCP (Swamp Thing) (08/02/85)
In article <8506@watarts.UUCP> asu@watarts.UUCP (Arts Student Union) writes: > > >Wow, my first article. And about Pradip Snodgass too! > >After vapourization, we find our hero and the rabbit, Wascally running >across a bridge past a group of crazed reactionary Latvian waterpolo >enthusiasts performing Swan Lake in a duck pond while singing >La Marseillaise to the tune of "Ain't Necessarily So" a la Jimi >Somerville in a medium to high falsetto as the "Flying Midget Garbonzo >Brothers" leap from ultralights, taking their name too seriously, >and make strange sounds something akin to the noise made by slapping >a large green garbage bag filled with pancakes and frogs smothered >in caramel sauce against the side of the recently launched ocean liner >"Madonna", ( Like a tug boat, sunk for the very first time ). Then a farmer came out, shot the rabbit, and in a fit of primitive macho-lust, picked him up by the head and sucked the brains out through the eye-sockets. "God, that felt good". procliamed Farmer Bob. "I think I'll go squish me some frogs. Makin too much damn racket. Just wish I had me some caramel sauce." Mark F. Flynn Department of Physics Washington University St. Louis, MO 63130 ihnp4!wuphys!mff ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "There is no dark side of the moon, really. Matter of fact, it's all dark." P. Floyd
jordan@greipa.UUCP (Jordan K. Hubbard) (08/02/85)
I knew we were going to get several diverging versions of this, but I'll follow up on the most promising one. In article <293@tove.UUCP> israel@tove.UUCP (Bruce israel) writes: >In article <1217@sjuvax.UUCP> tmoody@sjuvax.UUCP (T. Moody) writes: >>I had an idea that a collaborative work of fiction could be created >>on the net. >> >>(Here goes...) >>----------------- >> The distant sound of sirens was soothing to >>Pradip Snodgrass. With grim determination, he seized >>his ten-foot blowgun, a kosher pickle, and a used but >>serviceable colonoscope. It's time, he thought, for >>somebody to *do* something. > >As he headed for the the nearest sewer system entrance, he heard >a rustling in the bushes. Not wanting to get caught with his pants >down, he quickly loaded his blowgun with his pickle and waltzed >confidently towards the noise. It was Marlene, his blonde, one-legged, >Jello wrestling landlady. With a sharp intake of breath he inhaled >half his pickle. > "What's your sign?", he gasped. Choking on his pickle. "Don't give me any of that crap!", she fumed, "where's my sea-lion skin?". He dodged a piece of jello and charged her with the colonoscope. "Yeeeaarrgh!" she said, closely approximating the sound of a wounded bull elk. She tried to hobble away but was unable to dodge in time. The colonoscope performed its intended function and she was rendered helpless. He cackled in an suitably evil fashion and wiped off the 'scope. The sirens were getting closer, it was time for him to go 'underground'. He stooped to lift the manhole cover leading into the sewer, eager to re-enter the only place he could call home. He deftly pried the cover from its resting place in the street bed and lowered himself into the hole, sliding the cover into place over his head. As his eyes became acustomed to the darkness he became aware of a presence next to him. A tiny cigarette flared and he was greeted by the spectacle of a large rodent wearing a grey trench coat (suitably tailored) and a black fedora hat. The rodent took a drag on his cigarette and gave him a conspiratorial wink. "I've been waiting for you", it said. -- Jordan K. Hubbard {pesnta, decwrl, dual, pyramid}!greipa!jordan "Here we have two bull limpits, locked in a life-or-death "struggle."
polard@fortune.UUCP (Henry Polard) (08/02/85)
In article <293@tove.UUCP> israel@tove.UUCP (Bruce israel) writes: >In article <1217@sjuvax.UUCP> tmoody@sjuvax.UUCP (T. Moody) writes: >>I had an idea that a collaborative work of fiction could be created >>on the net. A random sampling from other newsgoups would do the trick. -- Henry Polard (You bring the flames - I'll bring the marshmallows.) {ihnp4,cbosgd,amd}!fortune!polard N.B: The words in this posting do not necessarily express the opinions of me, my employer, or any AI project.
crandell@ut-sally.UUCP (Jim Crandell) (08/03/85)
> Any kaos members out there?
Would you believe a vicious street sweeper and a toothless police dog?
--
Jim Crandell, C. S. Dept., The University of Texas at Austin
{ihnp4,seismo,ctvax}!ut-sally!crandellmte@busch.UUCP (Moshe Eliovson) (08/14/85)
Here's a good laugh for you all. I decide to read
net.bizarre for the first time. I hit #273 by Charles Forsyth...
the second article...
core dump
Egad! This Newsgroup is frightening!
Moshe Eliovson
{allegra, ihnp4}!we53!busch!mte