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Episode 4
The 5 words were:
- completely
- energy
- gesticulate
- hot-potato
- 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!
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