there's a story in
progress here, so please have a seat, read on, and add your own piece.
I want to know where the creative people are, and I want them visiting
here!
The story thus far:
It was the 3rd of September.
The moon, pregnant with promise, lit a dreary landscape. I put on a jacket
and was surprised as it ripped around my arms. Not again, I thought, as
I raised my monacle and ran towards the
dry cleaner van as it
sped away. The idiots had used the wrong fluid to clean my silk jacket
and there will be hell to pay. After the smoke from the exhaust cleared,
I shined up the buttons on my Ike jacket and headed into the techno crowd,
where my friend Isaac asked me how I managed to get into his clothes.
I made a silly remark, and he vanished as well...
I want more! I want to see
your words on my page! Click the thingie below to add to this bit above.
(It's so crazy it just might work!)
click on laughing boy here to add your bit. Go ahead. Poke 'em right in
the nose. I'll laugh. |
These are the nice people, now friends, who've helped with the story so far.
Doncha wanna be on the list! Then poke laughing boy up there in the nose,
and have at it!
he's gifted! he's creative! he's absurd! he's Grass Shoe Meadow People! |
his own island has made Bill really relaxed. Go have a look. Plus there's
a cute animation. |
 It's not often I find someone
who's hip both to Stan Freberg and the Marx Bros. I'm in love. |
The Story form page went up on the 2nd
of July. Let's have 100,000 words by September!.
I HAVE THIS MANY 
SILENT PARTNERS
IN LITERARY CRIME!
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