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Post by Akbar Le Grey on Jan 19, 2006 9:00:38 GMT -5
Sorry everyone, I didn't feel like finishing 667 right now. But I'll be very careful with this one.
PROLOGUE
The doorbell rang. Char ran to answer it, as she was getting tired of counting the tiles on the kitchen floor. She opened the door. There was no-one there. She stuck her head out and stared down the street. Nothing. But then she looked down to the doorstep. An effigy of a red-haired 16-year old lay there. It had long red hair and glasses. Char’s face broke out into a smile of pure bliss. She ran back into the kitchen to get the matches.
‘Char, Char, wake up, or I’ll steal your breakfast beer!’ yelled Pandora. She straddled Chars abdomen and began to beat her head with a pillow. Char jumped up.
‘What the hell did you do that for?!’ she yelled.
‘Trag wants to talk to you,’ replied Pan, a smug smile on her face, ‘oh, and I’ve already had your breakfast beer.’ Char groaned as she half-heartedly threw an inflatable bagel at Pan. It was going to be one of those days.
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Post by A. the Returned on Jan 19, 2006 9:10:46 GMT -5
This looks entertaining although I'm disappointed your not finishing 667.
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Antenora
Detriment Deleter
Fiendish Philologist
Put down that harpoon gun, in the name of these wonderful birds!
Posts: 15,891
Likes: 113
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Post by Antenora on Jan 19, 2006 9:21:14 GMT -5
I hope you finish 667 eventually, but this looks quite funny.
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Post by PJ on Jan 19, 2006 17:46:26 GMT -5
Yes, funny... And random. Me wantses 667!
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Post by Charles Vane on Jan 19, 2006 17:53:36 GMT -5
The doorbell rang. Char ran to answer it, as she was getting tired of counting the tiles on the kitchen floor. She opened the door. There was no-one there. She stuck her head out and stared down the street. Nothing. But then she looked down to the doorstep. An effigy of a red-haired 16-year old lay there. It had long red hair and glasses. Char’s face broke out into a smile of pure bliss. She ran back into the kitchen to get the matches.
That was adorable. I'm interested to see where this is going.
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Post by raoawr on Jan 19, 2006 22:49:55 GMT -5
Hehehe, I giggled with glee when I read this.
Inflatable boob my ass, it would totally be an inflatable bagel.
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Post by Charles Vane on Jan 19, 2006 22:58:22 GMT -5
Charlotte, why do you think people always see us as raving drunks?
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Post by raoawr on Jan 19, 2006 23:05:51 GMT -5
Maybe they confuse our witty gone awry personalities for drunkness? I have to say, I am completely sober, and I haven't drunk any sort of alcoholic beverage since New Year's Eve.
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Post by Akbar Le Grey on Jan 20, 2006 3:30:32 GMT -5
Charlotte, why do you think people always see us as raving drunks? I was under the impression that that was how you wanted people to see you.
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Post by SF on Jan 20, 2006 8:01:49 GMT -5
It makes me sad when people don't finish stories, or take a long time to update them, as I usually forget all that has happened in the story by the time they update it.
However, new stories are always good. This seems enjoyable.
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Post by Akbar Le Grey on Jan 20, 2006 11:09:41 GMT -5
Consider this another part of the prologue. The story proper will start at their meeting with Tragedy.
An alarm clock burst into flame on a marble-topped desk, considerably raising the temperature of the room. Dante kicked his blankets off, which started a long chain reaction which would conclude with a new alarm clock being dropped onto the table by a chute.
‘Damn,’ he swore to himself, brushing hair out of his eyes, ‘I really should stop oversleeping. These alarm clocks that blow up to tell you that you’ve overslept are getting expensive.’
‘Good morning, Dante,’ Came Antenora’s voice from the kitchen. Dante automatically felt better, and jumped out of bed. He grabbed his robe, to find that the alarm clock had burnt it. He swore yet again, and checked his watch. Two curses 10 minute after waking up, he thought, not bad. As he trudged into the kitchen, he saw Antenora sitting at the table poring over one of his stories, a mug of coffee in her hand. He smiled, and picked up a mug off the counter.
‘Oh, by the way, Trag wants to meet us today,’ she said, still looking at the book. Oddly enough, it was at this moment that he realized how hot the mug was. He threw it out the window, and it hit a bird. Traumatized, the bird decided to relax by going and ‘communing with nature’ on PJ’s windowsill.
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Post by Charles Vane on Jan 20, 2006 12:22:50 GMT -5
Maybe they confuse our witty gone awry personalities for drunkness? I have to say, I am completely sober, and I haven't drunk any sort of alcoholic beverage since New Year's Eve. Me neither. But that doesn't count because how was I supposed to know those margaritas had alcohol in them? Charlotte, why do you think people always see us as raving drunks? I was under the impression that that was how you wanted people to see you. Interesting, I haven't put any effort into trying to get people here to see as anything. I'm just carefree. And drunk. Anyway, nice second prologue. It was just as prologue-y as the first. I like the exploding alarm clock.
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Post by PJ on Jan 20, 2006 17:28:04 GMT -5
PJ's windowsill? I have a baaaaaaad feeling about this....
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Post by Alice Wilde on Jan 24, 2006 20:23:50 GMT -5
I approve of this story. ‘Good morning, Dante,’ Came Antenora’s voice from the kitchen. Dante automatically felt better, and jumped out of bed. Really really approve of this story. That part made me smile. This looks great...but, with whom are we at war?
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Post by lauren on Jan 24, 2006 22:09:57 GMT -5
Interesting. I can't wait to hear more.
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