Writer's Helpdesk
Ongoing Story
Other Stories
Links
Forum
Home

TheBlueHand

Episode 4

The 5 words were:

  1. completely
  2. energy
  3. gesticulate
  4. hot-potato
  5. redecorate

The stories:

The energy required to redecorate,
was way beyond what I could contemplate.
So instead I got completely bombed;
my hot potato got vommed.
And when I woke up I could barely gesticulate.

(Simon)

Back to the TOP!

They had known each other for years now. They had ran, climbed, fell, cried, laffed, always together.
Sarah ordered another coffee and went thru the things she was about to tell him. She was 25 now and things had complicated themselves immensely. She was about to tell Tom she loved him.
The waitress handed her the coffee and a smile. She must've had it written all over her face. She smiled back, tempted to sit the waitress down and tell her all about herself, Tom and the recent events. She didn't.
All the energy she had was slowly wearing off. The adrenaline rush was subsiding. Doubt was taking over.
She checked her passport. She had left Paris in a rush. It had dawned on her all of a sudden. Like a voice calling you in a crowded street. You turn and stare, but can't make out where it comes from. Antoine had just stared at her blankly and followed her all over their apartment, trying to understand. Antoine was anal. He had to know exactly what was going on. As if she knew!?!
She had to go. Plain and simple.
She packed her stuff and grabbed her passport. And rushed out of the door. Antoine was still after her. The last thing she heard coming from him, while the elevator doors were slowly shutting themselves, was:
"But I took today off to help you redecorate our apartment".
Yes, that was true. She had hassled him for weeks. That would've been the beginning of their life together. Would've been. Not anymore.
She had two things clearly set in her head. One was to get out of there, the other was to go sumwhere calm.
That had taken her weeks to sort out. She went from calm place to calm place. But she had known none of those places were the one she was looking for. She understood it completely while fighting her way out of the underground. Her childhood. That was a calm place. A safe place. And how could she think about her childhood wivout Tom getting in the way?
She had seen enough movies and read enough cheesy books to know that could mean only one thing: she loved Tom.
Things had sort of settled once she had been aware of that. And in 15 more mins she would've made him part of this superior plan.
She was hungry. She called the waitress and ordered something to eat.
She started eating, quickly. So as to avoid Tom catching her at it. Too late. She turned red. Bright red. Trying to express some deep concept, but ending up frantically gesticulating instead.
He sat down. She hadn't changed. She was as lively and insane as he had remembered her all thru the years.
She emitted a grunt that sounded sumthing like:
"Hot potato"
She downed a glass of water and finally smiled at him.
He had changed. Alot.
"Sorry, you caught me in a rather embarassing moment."
He smiled and took her hand.
"So, Sarah, what struck you? Why the message? It's been so long."
She frowned. Ok, it wasn't him either. Not her childhood.
She stood up and ran away.
She stopped a cab and, wiv eyes wide shut, she nodded in a general direction. Finally!
"Where are you going, miss?"
"Disneyland!"

(Carla)

Back to the TOP!

I get like this sometimes. So full of excess energy that I don't know what to do with myself. I'd found the solution this time tho. I was going to completely redecorate my flat. I've been thinking about it for some time now. I just didn't have the energy or funds before. I have the energy now and a lottery ticket for tonight's drawing. So hopefully I'll have the funds. If not, I won't go as hog wild with new accessories that I'd like to. Compromise is the essence of life. I'd survive.
"23, 14, 8, 3, 10. These are the winning numbers for the 140 million dollar jackpot!" the TV announcer blared out at me.
Holy Tamoly!!!!
I won!!!!
Never in a million years did I actually think I'd win. Maybe a couple of bucks - but the whole shebang??
I can't believe it!!
I won!!!
I actually won!!
No more hot-potatoes for lunch and dinner to save money. Now I can get one with sour cream And broccoli!!
Holy hell!
After finally surfacing from my state of shock induced euphoria and changing my phone number, I claimed my winning ticket. One hundred forty million dollars. Could that much money actually be mine?? this was surreal. Like those guys in _Waking Ned Devine_. Except I didn't die from shock and my friends don't ride their mopeds in the buff. But that's not really relevant. I could now afford to totally redecorate my place. Heck I could buy the building and redecorate it! of course I don't know the first thing about renting out flats...Eh, I'll learn! I can't wait to see the face of cantankerous Mrs. Crabtree when I tell her that I've bought the building! She'll flip! The old biddy. She needs to be in a nursing home anyway. She hasn't been up the stairs in years. If She can be a landlady so can I!
The last thing I remember of Mrs. Crabtree is her gesticulating wildly in my rear view mirror as I went to buy some paint and throw pillows. Maybe compromise is the essence of life but it sure feels good when you get Exactly what you want!

(Gina)

Back to the TOP!

The 4:45am Poem

A slight Gesticulation
And my Energy leaves me, Redecorates
my soul in a completely different shade of blunder
Outside that room window-
Some chanting--kids-- at least I thought they were kids--
One Potato, Two Potato, Hot Potato, Four.
Counting Counting Counting
Shade Shift.
blunder.
Seven Potato-- More.

(Triskie)

Back to the TOP!

Krenchov walked the corridor and after several turns finally came to the lift, pressing the button he waited for the elevator to arrive. He noticed his face in the reflection of the elevator doors, weathered face, tired green eyes, greying hair, still he didnít look bad for 58 and he should be retiring soon barring any mistakes he might make. The pinging noise signalled the arrival of the lift, it opened and, as was usual at this time of night, it was empty.
The doors opened at the ground floor and he proceeded to the reception desk where security was waiting. He noticed that the area had been redecorated in the new Andenochrome corporate colours, various shades of black and grey logos where strategically placed just to remind you who owned you. He collected his gun from the guard and signed for it, as well as the two spare clips. It was the latest model form Heckler and Koch a 11mm with built-in silencer, perfect for his line of trade. Holstering this he headed out into the muggy morning air.
The streets were completely empty except for a few street vendors selling burgers and hot-potatoes trying to earn precious money to bring home, he gesticulated to one who came over, he knew Jonsey well besides his hot-dogs he sold information and that was what he needed right now.
Jonsey told him to watch his back, word was a hit was to be made on him. Word was it was from a rival company, the G.N.D.F, eager to stop him destroying the lab they were trying to get information from. That meant they knew about the Neo Londonís lab he had to destroy well he better be careful. He paid and walked home eating his Hot-dog thinking about tonight's mission.
After a good sleep Krenchov made his way over to the eastern sector of Neo London, the company labs were just ahead of him and the usual guards were in place. They checked his I.D. and let him in not even bothering to check his briefcase; this would be their last mistake. He headed down the steps and into the basement area, this lab was old still using natural gas for heating, that would be the catalyst to destroy the building, the several pounds of Cx24 explosive, in their own right enough to destroy a building was only used as the igniter, this combination would remove the lab and most of the surrounding 3 blocks as well, and still look like a common gas main failure. He set the timers for 01:00 and left the guards, half asleep, just waved him through, oblivious to the events to take place in only 2 hours.
Krenchov moved off down the nearest ally and was confronted by two men, G.N.D.F operatives, waiting for him but they were slow, too slow, with experience from the war he had his gun out and fired 4 times twice at each, the 5th shot was a shock, it came from behind, and he checked to see no one was following him, he looked down at his chest, blood was seeping all over it he had been shot from behind, he dropped feeling his energy drain from him and before death stole over him his last look was at the smoking gun held in the hand of an Andrenochrome cyborg, his own company, he now knew had decided no witnesses to the lab accident now included him.

(Simon)

Back to the TOP!

Potato Power Now!

( speech of the honourable potato chief, mr Potato-head Jr. )
(Note: heavy movement will occur by our praised chief, please, do not laugh. He did not choose for his massive potato body and his little arms)

Throughout history, my fellow potatoes, humans have yearned for independence, freedom. Very noble it seems. Yet those ideals were never their true objectives. No! Instead they wanted power and the right to do whatever whenever. Thus ignoring the needs of what surrounded them. I say we've had enough! How many more of us must die this meaningless death! How many more will be raped, abused by the machinerie of fast food industries? How many more must suffer, being torn to pieces and then burnt (barely) alive, devoured by vegetarians: humans who have chosen to live and let live, hah!!

I have a dream! And this dream is filled with peace and harmony. In this dream, soon to be reality,  we reign the earth. But doing so we respect nature in all its aspects, so unlike humans. Now we all remember the regrettable potato massacre, now exactly two years ago. Miles around fields were completely covered with slices of potato (providing fries to those f***ing humans for months!). This proves that potato clans can only lead to evil! No need to be a hot-potato. Unity, bundling our energy, is what we need, my brothers and sisters, the only way to fight for our rights.

You ask me: many have tried before, why will we succeed? Cause this time we actually have a plan! Potato evolution may have taken a little longer, but with our present potato brains we have figured it out! We have to in a way redecorate the potato fields! A few days ago I passed our neighbours, the sprouts. Nobody touches them! And then it struck me. Nobody touches them because nobody likes sprouts. We're too damn tasty, that's our problem. So all we need is some camouflage paint and some fake bushes. I know, I know. I can hear you talking already: give up our identity, eeeew, I don't want to look like a sprout?! But please bear in mind this is only temporary. As soon as we have those humans stumped we attack, they'll never know what hit them...

He carried on, intensely gesticulating. The potatoes nodded, cheered him on. Tonight they would carry out their plan. The world would never be the same! At least that's what they thought. The next day a bus of school children stopped near the field. Apparently they were having whack the sprouts day. (part censored, containing violent behaviour, children and fake sprouts). Another pitiful point in potato history...Think about it, next time you feel like a mashed potato, you're a cruel cruel creature you are.
(Lizzy)

Back to the TOP!

Armed with a directive to redecorate the company display case and chock full of nervous energy because she believed it would get her somewhere with her superiors, Nina tried to gesticulate her directions, completely befuddling Aldo, the mailroom boy assigned to help her, and reminded him of the time when his older sister tried to carry a hot potato straight from the oven to the dinner table.
(Brian)

Back to the TOP!

I remember my first baby-sitting job like a bad nightmare. I arrived at the Jones' house promptly at 6pm and they were all ready and practically knocked me to the ground on their way out. I watched them run to their car as Mrs. Jones shouted back at me,
"I wrote down everything you need to know on the note on the fridge! We'll be back by 10pm!" Then zoom..they were off.
"Completely!," came a child's voice from inside the house.
I walked inside and closed the door, then I was immediately tackled by a pair of 6 year old twin boys.
"Utterly," said the first.
"Completely," said the second.
"Utterly completely what?," I asked.
"Mom said..we drive her utterly...," said the first.
"And completely...,"said the second.
"insane!," they said in unison.
'Oh, great!', I thought to myself, 'I'm in trouble.'
On that note, the twins left me on the floor and ran into the kitchen. I took a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable, but by the time I got there the kitchen was a total mess. Flour was all over the floor and the twins were covered in flour, cocoa, and eggs. Not to mention the assorted other goodies all over the place from the fridge among pots and pans.
"Oh, my God!," I said and stared in horror.
The twins giggled and bounded for the living room, powered by inexhaustible energy. I ran after them to find that the concoction they had created in the kitchen was all over the couch and the carpet.
"No, no!," I shouted, but it was too late...the twins were off again.
By the time the Joneses arrived home I was tied up with the laundry line and gagged with a sock tied around my head. The twins, having exhausted themselves after tortouring me were asleep on the couch with a crust of dried eggs and flour all over them. The Joneses just stood there in the doorway with their mouthes open. Meanwhile, I was trying to gesticulate for them to untie me.
After that horrifying experience, I dropped the idea of baby-sitting for extra money like a hot-potato. I never heard from the Joneses again either, they never wanted to seem me again after having to redecorate with all that damage the twins had done on that one night.

(Ponytail)

Back to the TOP!

In a world where the measure of size is a count of one-dimensional points, completeness can only be measured as degrees of saturation. The colour of the landscape is a blasted, hot, potato brown once treasured as ink but now redecorated to feature only the blackness of the mind. The gesticulations of a thousand empty eyes prove that vision is illusiory and the midnight of the pupil absorbs all energy. Blind faces turn towards the dark: it pains them less.
(Stephen)

Back to the TOP!

As if it wasn't enough that I had to redecorate. What once would've been my 'office' has, for the past 3 years now, become something else entirely. A bizarre something, a something painted in soothing pastels, with a fluffy bunny or a fuzzy teddy bear carefully placed where it would easily be found in a time of need. And, if I'd learned anything in the past few years, it was that you always want to have the plan b, the escape route mapped out, the hand on the ripcord for the reserve parachute, or the teddy bear close at hand.
I squat down, get down to eye level with him, and try to make the connection with him. Let me tell you, this boy can gesticulate like no one else. He's dancing around like someone dropped a hot potato down his pants. We do this a lot, more often that I truly have the energy for, this peculiar little one-sided game of charades. I'd like to say it's one of my favorite games, more often than not, it's just frustrating. He's not really much of a talker. Definitely something that concerns me, but that's nothing to lose sleep over yet. But, boy do we like to play this game. Well, someone does, at least.
Well, it's official: he doesn't have to pee. This is a good thing, certainly a small victory. A little tip: it's good to try that one first. Better to guess that early on and be wrong, rather than be guessing 'want your bear?' and finding out that you bobbed when you should've weaved, zigged when you should have zagged. Or something like that.
The game continues, and so far, I'm losing. But, that's ok. Because, regardless of how the game turns out, I still win. He's wonderful, and I love him. Completely, unconditionally, more than I'd ever have thought possible. He's difficult, sometimes nearly impossible, but still wonderful. He's a quiet miracle, the best thing that has ever happened to me, narrowly edging out 'losing his mother,' although that's a close second. She was absolutely beautiful, outwardly absolutely perfect, just not the sharpest tool in the shed. Fortunately for him, he got mostly his mother's looks, and mostly his father's brains. Thank God. But, somehow, we lost her. And, if God continues to smile on me, she'll never find us.
Finally, he cocks his head and looks directly at me. The strangely-familiar expression startles me momentarily, but then we have our breakthrough. Still waving his arms, but now he seems to focus more on...eating. "Ummm numm numm numm," he informs me, imitating a voice I fondly remember from my childhood, too. Coooookies. That's what we want. I'm a generous guy, but he's only getting one or two, we're not gobbling em down Cookie Monster style. Happily munching on our cookies, he smiles at me, the look in his shining eyes eerily bringing back that eerie familiar feeling from a few moments earlier. He may have gotten his mother's eyes, but at least for today, I'm grateful he inherited MY love for Sesame Street.

(Barry)

Back to the TOP!

I can't say for a fact that my owner is insane. I'm no doctor...I'm only a dog. But you people need to give us canines more credit than you do. I mean, just because we can scratch certain places and you can't is no reason to be jealous!
But, I'm already straying away from the subject...
My owner. Not exactly a skinny person, by any means, but definitely full of energy. Take the other night, for instance. It was two o'clock in the morning, and I had just settled down on the couch for a bout of shedding, when here she flies through the room.  She had *that* look on her face again. I knew my nice warm spot would have to be vacated soon.
"You know, I think I'm going to redecorate the house!," she spat, grinning from ear to ear.
I turned my nose in the direction of the clock, but she failed to get the point. Am I the only dog whose owner feels the need to re-arrange furniture at two o'clock in the morning!? And after she was done, it took me almost three days to set the new position of the garbage in the house in my mind. I think I'm lucky that I wasn't rendered unconscious when, in a fit of excitement upon her return one day, I collided head-first with the recliner!
And as far as her cooking skills...well, I must admit, she is quite the chef when it comes to fixing *my* food. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to open a can, though. But as for human food; forget it.
Several weeks ago, she attempted to make 'homemade' French fries. The smell was horrid, and the apartment was so filled with smoke even the fleas packed up and left town. At least she saved money on a fumigator. And the GREASE!! I wandered into the kitchen, slipping a few times in the space of a few feet. Of course, at my appearance, she dropped one of her French fries to the floor. I tasted it, and I don't think my poor tongue will ever be the same. That was one hot-potato! Not to mention the fact that the black thing was completely burned to a crisp.
Don't get me wrong. I love her to death. I mean, who else would scratch behind my ears and put up with ritualistic licking if I didn't have her?  But there are times..espically when she gets on the computer...that I wonder if her God didn't screw her head on backwards.  Sometimes she sits there for hours, just giggling at the ugly glowing screen. It's all I can do to gesticulate the fact that it's four hours past my dinnertime and she *still* hasn't fed me. If I had my way, that machine would be covered in a lovely pool of urine.
So you tell me. Is *your* owner like that? Or just mine?

(Lisa)

Back to the TOP!