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This is a topic from the Playful Penguin Place forum on inthe00s.
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Subject: Share a Story!
Written By: Dominic L. on 02/09/08 at 10:01 pm
Okay, so here we are.
Let's take turns writing a story. I know this has been done before, but that thread is gone and there were too many rules to really make it fun. No rules here, except TRY TO KEEP IT CONSISTENT! You can have non-sequitors and you can involve other stories, but don't go saying anything that contradicts what's already happened...
When one story is finished, we shall start another? Yay! Here, I'll start off.
Myra Jenkins is an old lady with an old lady's name. She spends her days watching those home makeover shows on cable, wishing she could be a part of them - only she couldn't tell anybody. Being a seventy-nine year old woman with alzheimers isn't easy, as one could imagine. No thoughts just shallow enough for her to articulate could be formulated by the shaping of her mouth. Functions that were once of her first nature have become complex tasks that require the utmost concentration and recollection. Never leaving her chair makes Myra a boring specimen, though she can't help it.
She can't help anything.
Wow, that was spooky, wasn't it? Damn right, it was. Now it's your turn. Finish it. If you can think of nothing, I guess you can start a new story. XD
Subject: Re: Share a Story!
Written By: Rice_Cube on 02/09/08 at 10:05 pm
This should be in the game board! You fail! >:(
Just kidding...I'll play :D
*ahem*
One day, while channel surfing with her nerve-impulse-activated remote control, Myra happened upon an advertisement for an off-roading wheelchair on the Home Shopping Network. Having always wanted to go mountain biking but lacking the funds and the fine motor control, Myra realized that this was her chance to make her dream come true...now if only she could remember where she stashed her emergency credit card...
Subject: Re: Share a Story!
Written By: Dominic L. on 02/09/08 at 10:08 pm
She decides to call the number on the screen, anyway. She accidentally dials the number on her credit card and reaches a mental institute.
"Sherman's Psychiatric Center, New York, New York," the voice on the telephone said.
"I'm sorry, I don't... wheelchair," replied Myra.
Myra feels the bite of being handed over to a recording of muzak.