Rodrigo Istalindir
Explorer
I'm in. The sonnet was just a warm-up.
Pseudo-Ceramic DM for an ENnies nominee!
- Thread starter alsih2o
- Start date
reveal
Adventurer
The strangest day of my life began with Abraham Lincoln asking me for a dollar.
Yeah, you read that right. Abraham Lincoln, the 16th President of the United States, old “Honest Abe” himself, was sitting in front of a doorway, smoking a cigarette, and asking me for a dollar.
As I slammed on my bike's brakes and did a double-take, I stammered, “Uh, aren’t you-”
“Abraham Lincoln?” the tall, bearded man asked. I just nodded. “Yep, that’s me.”
I was still in shock. “The guy who-”
“Freed the slaves?” Abe interrupted again. “Yep. Freed the slaves, wrote the Emancipation Proclamation, ‘Four score and seven years ago,” yadda, yadda, yadda. That’s me alright. So, how about that dollar?”
“But you were shot. John Wilkes Booth shot you in the back of the head in Ford’s Theater. I saw that on the History Channel!”
“Really? Huh. Well, I’m not sure what to tell you about that. Maybe you were lied to. Ever think about that?” asked the tall man, stretching his hand out even further.
“Okay,” I sighed. “But even if you didn’t get shot, which I’m not saying didn’t happen, how the hell are you sitting right here, right now? You’d be, like, 300 years old!”
The tall man lit his cigarette and squinted at me, “Math ain’t your strong suit, is it? I’m 196 years young.”
“But, but...”
“Jesus, kid. Ain’tcha ever seen an Immortal before?”
I stopped talking and just blinked. “An Immortal? Like the Highlander? ‘There can be only one?’ That Immortal?”
“Highlander? Hey, you know what? Screw Connor McCloud! Screw Duncan, too! Always taking my press. I did more for this country in four years than they’ve done in their entire lives.”
“Excuse me,” I said as I felt oddly compelled to continue this strange conversation. “Are you saying the Highlander is real?”
Abe nodded. “Oh yeah. You know, kid, for someone who watches way too much TV, you sure don’t know much. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said as he stubbed out his cigarette and went to work putting on his boots, “My ride’s here.”
He motioned with his jaw to something in front of me. I turned my head in that direction and almost fell over. I was looking at the largest squirrel I had ever seen!
The woman riding it yelled out, “Abraham Lincoln! Where the hell have you been?! I turn around for five seconds and, suddenly, you're begging for money on the street. Haven’t I told you to stop messing with peoples minds?”
She turned and looked at me, “I’m sorry, sir, if he has bothered you. He’s gotten a little… peculiar in his old age.”
“Peculiar, my ass,” said the cranky Abe as he stood up, straightening his hat. “If I was peculiar I wouldn’t be spending my time with you, that’s for sure. Just ‘cause we’ve been married for 163 years don’t mean I have to take your jibber jabber.”
Abe walked to the squirrel and mounted it with ease, right behind the woman.
“Sorry again,” said the woman as they rode off.
I just stared after them. It was at that moment that I realized that I might well be clinically insane.
“Oh!” yelled Abe as he turned to face me. “Don’t tell anyone about this! Besides, nobody would believe you and you’d have Mulder and Scully all over your sorry butt!”
He tipped his hat and I just waved back.
“I gotta stop eating so much sugar for breakfast,” I thought as I continued peddling my way to Monte’s house.
When I finally arrived at my destination, a home which doubled as the Cook residence and the working space for Malhavoc Press, I parked my bike out front, went to the front door, and knocked.
As Sue opened the door, I could tell something was “off.” It wasn’t that Sue was doing anything strange, it was just a feeling I had. I just chalked it up to my strange encounter a few minutes ago and simply said, “Mornin’ Sue!”
Sue invited me inside. I made my way past the caffeine-powered monkeys, or CPMs as we called them, that Monte had secretly created in his garage and into the living room/office area.
“What are the monkeys working on?” I asked Sue as I passed.
“Ptolus. We figured if we put enough CPMs on it we could churn it out by GenCon.”
Sue sighed and continued, “If only Mearls hadn’t left. He’s worth 3 of these damned monkeys alone.”
Sue ducked as a glob of brownish goop came flying at her.
“I saw that Coco!” yelled Sue as she pointed at one of the CPMs whose hand was covered in… something. “Don’t think I don’t know it was you! You’re the reason Mike left! You… you…”
It was as this point that Sue broke down in tears and ran into the bathroom, bawling like an infant. I just shook my head and continued towards my station.
I found Monte hunched over his computer, the monitor mere inches from his face. I couldn’t tell what he was working on so I asked him.
“Whatcha workin’ on Monte?” I questioned as I sat in front of my system and turned it on. “The next Malhavoc wonder I take it?”
Monte just grunted and continued to type away. I just shrugged and logged into the network. I had just started checking my e-mail when Sue came into the living room. Her face was red and her eyes were puffy, but she was smiling broadly.
“Did you tell him the news?” she asked Monte as she pulled a box down from the shelf.
“What news?” I asked as I turned around in my chair to stare at them.
Monte had moved back from his computer and I could now see what was on his monitor. It was a gnome. A garden gnome, to be exact. But this was different. Attached to its base was a little headband. I just gawked at it and then turned to focus on Monte and Sue. Sue had taken a similar gnome from the box and put it on top of Monte’s head.
“What do you think?” she asked as Monte beamed proudly. “We call them Gnome-Domes. Everyone loves gnomes so much, we thought we’d create these to sell exclusively at GenCon. Once we get enough money from these puppies, the CPMs can write stuff full time while we make and sell the hats.”
“It’s my lifelong dream!” chimed in Monte. He stood up and started to do a little “gnomish boogie” as he called it.
I was about to speak when I felt it; my brain was leaking out of my right ear. I just stared into space.
“Hey Tony? You ok?” Sue said as she walked towards me. She put her hand on my shoulder and shook gently. “Tony? Tony?”
------------------------
“Tony? Tony? Wake up dude!”
I slowly opened my eyes. I was looking up at my friend Rico. He moved back and stood by his computer.
“So what do you think of my new program? Pretty rad, huh?” He smiled as I felt all the wires and electrodes attached to my head. “My new VR program is gonna rule the industry. Plug yourself in and any dream you have seems like a total reality. So what were you doing in there? I wasn’t so sure if you should’ve taken that hit before you jacked in. How did it affect what you saw?”
I just looked at him, put my head back and closed my eyes. “I think I may finally know what it feels like to run EN World. Plug me back in, will ya?”
Rico was only too happy to oblige.
Damned monkeys.
Yeah, you read that right. Abraham Lincoln, the 16th President of the United States, old “Honest Abe” himself, was sitting in front of a doorway, smoking a cigarette, and asking me for a dollar.
As I slammed on my bike's brakes and did a double-take, I stammered, “Uh, aren’t you-”
“Abraham Lincoln?” the tall, bearded man asked. I just nodded. “Yep, that’s me.”
I was still in shock. “The guy who-”
“Freed the slaves?” Abe interrupted again. “Yep. Freed the slaves, wrote the Emancipation Proclamation, ‘Four score and seven years ago,” yadda, yadda, yadda. That’s me alright. So, how about that dollar?”
“But you were shot. John Wilkes Booth shot you in the back of the head in Ford’s Theater. I saw that on the History Channel!”
“Really? Huh. Well, I’m not sure what to tell you about that. Maybe you were lied to. Ever think about that?” asked the tall man, stretching his hand out even further.
“Okay,” I sighed. “But even if you didn’t get shot, which I’m not saying didn’t happen, how the hell are you sitting right here, right now? You’d be, like, 300 years old!”
The tall man lit his cigarette and squinted at me, “Math ain’t your strong suit, is it? I’m 196 years young.”
“But, but...”
“Jesus, kid. Ain’tcha ever seen an Immortal before?”
I stopped talking and just blinked. “An Immortal? Like the Highlander? ‘There can be only one?’ That Immortal?”
“Highlander? Hey, you know what? Screw Connor McCloud! Screw Duncan, too! Always taking my press. I did more for this country in four years than they’ve done in their entire lives.”
“Excuse me,” I said as I felt oddly compelled to continue this strange conversation. “Are you saying the Highlander is real?”
Abe nodded. “Oh yeah. You know, kid, for someone who watches way too much TV, you sure don’t know much. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said as he stubbed out his cigarette and went to work putting on his boots, “My ride’s here.”
He motioned with his jaw to something in front of me. I turned my head in that direction and almost fell over. I was looking at the largest squirrel I had ever seen!
The woman riding it yelled out, “Abraham Lincoln! Where the hell have you been?! I turn around for five seconds and, suddenly, you're begging for money on the street. Haven’t I told you to stop messing with peoples minds?”
She turned and looked at me, “I’m sorry, sir, if he has bothered you. He’s gotten a little… peculiar in his old age.”
“Peculiar, my ass,” said the cranky Abe as he stood up, straightening his hat. “If I was peculiar I wouldn’t be spending my time with you, that’s for sure. Just ‘cause we’ve been married for 163 years don’t mean I have to take your jibber jabber.”
Abe walked to the squirrel and mounted it with ease, right behind the woman.
“Sorry again,” said the woman as they rode off.
I just stared after them. It was at that moment that I realized that I might well be clinically insane.
“Oh!” yelled Abe as he turned to face me. “Don’t tell anyone about this! Besides, nobody would believe you and you’d have Mulder and Scully all over your sorry butt!”
He tipped his hat and I just waved back.
“I gotta stop eating so much sugar for breakfast,” I thought as I continued peddling my way to Monte’s house.
When I finally arrived at my destination, a home which doubled as the Cook residence and the working space for Malhavoc Press, I parked my bike out front, went to the front door, and knocked.
As Sue opened the door, I could tell something was “off.” It wasn’t that Sue was doing anything strange, it was just a feeling I had. I just chalked it up to my strange encounter a few minutes ago and simply said, “Mornin’ Sue!”
Sue invited me inside. I made my way past the caffeine-powered monkeys, or CPMs as we called them, that Monte had secretly created in his garage and into the living room/office area.
“What are the monkeys working on?” I asked Sue as I passed.
“Ptolus. We figured if we put enough CPMs on it we could churn it out by GenCon.”
Sue sighed and continued, “If only Mearls hadn’t left. He’s worth 3 of these damned monkeys alone.”
Sue ducked as a glob of brownish goop came flying at her.
“I saw that Coco!” yelled Sue as she pointed at one of the CPMs whose hand was covered in… something. “Don’t think I don’t know it was you! You’re the reason Mike left! You… you…”
It was as this point that Sue broke down in tears and ran into the bathroom, bawling like an infant. I just shook my head and continued towards my station.
I found Monte hunched over his computer, the monitor mere inches from his face. I couldn’t tell what he was working on so I asked him.
“Whatcha workin’ on Monte?” I questioned as I sat in front of my system and turned it on. “The next Malhavoc wonder I take it?”
Monte just grunted and continued to type away. I just shrugged and logged into the network. I had just started checking my e-mail when Sue came into the living room. Her face was red and her eyes were puffy, but she was smiling broadly.
“Did you tell him the news?” she asked Monte as she pulled a box down from the shelf.
“What news?” I asked as I turned around in my chair to stare at them.
Monte had moved back from his computer and I could now see what was on his monitor. It was a gnome. A garden gnome, to be exact. But this was different. Attached to its base was a little headband. I just gawked at it and then turned to focus on Monte and Sue. Sue had taken a similar gnome from the box and put it on top of Monte’s head.
“What do you think?” she asked as Monte beamed proudly. “We call them Gnome-Domes. Everyone loves gnomes so much, we thought we’d create these to sell exclusively at GenCon. Once we get enough money from these puppies, the CPMs can write stuff full time while we make and sell the hats.”
“It’s my lifelong dream!” chimed in Monte. He stood up and started to do a little “gnomish boogie” as he called it.
I was about to speak when I felt it; my brain was leaking out of my right ear. I just stared into space.
“Hey Tony? You ok?” Sue said as she walked towards me. She put her hand on my shoulder and shook gently. “Tony? Tony?”
------------------------
“Tony? Tony? Wake up dude!”
I slowly opened my eyes. I was looking up at my friend Rico. He moved back and stood by his computer.
“So what do you think of my new program? Pretty rad, huh?” He smiled as I felt all the wires and electrodes attached to my head. “My new VR program is gonna rule the industry. Plug yourself in and any dream you have seems like a total reality. So what were you doing in there? I wasn’t so sure if you should’ve taken that hit before you jacked in. How did it affect what you saw?”
I just looked at him, put my head back and closed my eyes. “I think I may finally know what it feels like to run EN World. Plug me back in, will ya?”
Rico was only too happy to oblige.
Damned monkeys.
Macbeth
First Post
I always thought that I was the only one that wrote stuff that fast and really wanted to post it! Wow!
I'll have to get cracking on my own story, so I can read yours, reveal. Mine won't be around until tomorrow afternoon (at the earliest), since I always make myself take at least 24 hours to let idea percolate.
I'll have to get cracking on my own story, so I can read yours, reveal. Mine won't be around until tomorrow afternoon (at the earliest), since I always make myself take at least 24 hours to let idea percolate.
Macbeth
First Post
Yeah, I thought about some plots a good deal over lunch. The Lincoln picture was a real inspiration.reveal said:I usually force myself to do the same thing as you. I always take at least 48 hours, 24 of which is just thinking of possible plotlines. In this case, I just went with it.
alsih2o
First Post
Macbeth said:
I took that pic.
It is Ed Trotta- http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0873668/ who I worked with on a Lincoln show in TN.
Similar Threads
