Tilted Forum Project Discussion Community - View Single Post - Collaborative Novel Experiment: write a town

roachboy · 12-02-2008, 05:19 PM

Lobos

Everything is all fucked up. They’re coming. I know it.
It’s a matter of time. I should run.

Click.

I have no idea how to put this fucking bike back together.

No idea.

No idea.

I feel like crying.
Click.

CALLER: (Spoken.) Let's all square dance. Places all. Cartoons will help.
CALLER: Bow to your corner, bow to your own.
(Singing.) Three hands up and 'round you go,
Break it up with a dosey-do.
Chicken in the bread pan kickin' out dough,
Skip to ma Lou my darling.

I can't call anyone. you pretty little thing,
Promenade I'm afraid to leave
I'm afraid to stay. foot down,
Make that big foot jar the ground.
Lady step back There's nowhere to go.
Back you go and forward again.
Step right up with an elbow swing,
Skip to ma Lou my darling.

Click.

CALLER: Allemande left with the old left hand
Follow through the right an' left grand.

Click.

BUGS: (Singing.) Grab a fence post, hold it tight,
Womp your partner with all your might.
Hit him in the shin, hit him in the head,
Hit him again, the critter ain't dead.
Wop him low and wop him high,
Stick your finger in his eye.
Pretty little rhythm, pretty little sound,
Bang your head against the ground.

Click.

I'm loosing my mind.

Click.

The killer looks at the cheap Radio Shack cassette player, listens until the tape runs out.

Then he removes the cassette and puts it in his pocket. Hand in a surgical glove, he picks up the large black plastic bag. As he straightens up, he looks across the livingroom at A, who is tied with wire to a chair, whose face is away. The killer turns in the opposite direction and, stepping carefully over arrangements of motorcycle parts, makes his way across the living room. Very soon, he will disappear through the rear door.

12-02-2008, 05:19 PM	#22 (permalink)
roachboy Super Moderator Location: essex ma	Lobos Everything is all fucked up. They’re coming. I know it. It’s a matter of time. I should run. Click. I have no idea how to put this fucking bike back together. No idea. No idea. I feel like crying. Click. CALLER: (Spoken.) Let's all square dance. Places all. Cartoons will help. CALLER: Bow to your corner, bow to your own. (Singing.) Three hands up and 'round you go, Break it up with a dosey-do. Chicken in the bread pan kickin' out dough, Skip to ma Lou my darling. I can't call anyone. you pretty little thing, Promenade I'm afraid to leave I'm afraid to stay. foot down, Make that big foot jar the ground. Lady step back There's nowhere to go. Back you go and forward again. Step right up with an elbow swing, Skip to ma Lou my darling. Click. CALLER: Allemande left with the old left hand Follow through the right an' left grand. Click. BUGS: (Singing.) Grab a fence post, hold it tight, Womp your partner with all your might. Hit him in the shin, hit him in the head, Hit him again, the critter ain't dead. Wop him low and wop him high, Stick your finger in his eye. Pretty little rhythm, pretty little sound, Bang your head against the ground. Click. I'm loosing my mind. Click. The killer looks at the cheap Radio Shack cassette player, listens until the tape runs out. Then he removes the cassette and puts it in his pocket. Hand in a surgical glove, he picks up the large black plastic bag. As he straightens up, he looks across the livingroom at A, who is tied with wire to a chair, whose face is away. The killer turns in the opposite direction and, stepping carefully over arrangements of motorcycle parts, makes his way across the living room. Very soon, he will disappear through the rear door. __________________ a gramophone its corrugated trumpet silver handle spinning dog. such faithfulness it hear it make you sick. -kamau brathwaite Last edited by roachboy; 12-02-2008 at 05:31 PM..