The Extemporaneous Story
 

With this thread, I want to start an extemporaneous story and see where it goes. I'll begin the story at the end of this post. Hopefully, someone else will follow and take the story wherever their imagination leads them. Then someone else jumps in, and on it goes. I put this under Tilted Nonsense because, while we are free to wax poetic or wax eloquent, odds are that we will wax chaotic. Don't be too enamored by your own writing prowess. If you feel the urge to control the outcome of the story, give it up, because someone will surely come along and twist this titillating tale in ways that you never imagined.

Enjoy!


The story begins...

As the piercing rays of morning were cast across his weathered face, Tyler awoke with no recollection of the previous night. "It must have been some party," he thought. The room was in total disarray, and all he knew was that he was in a strange hotel room, his head hurt like hell, he was naked, and beside him lay a sleeping dwarf.

Standard fare for a delegate to the Democratic National Convention. He stumbled to the sliding glass door to see if he could recognize where he was.

Tyler realized,that by tying one on the previous evening,
he had opened a door that might only be closed with a left hand...

and therefore darkness engulfed him momentarily.. he simultaneously
splashed water on his face....as he poured the tinkling essence that would
revive him,
over the rocks,
that the
maid
so
diligently,
provided.

Why the maid insisted on filling the toilet basin with cracked ice befuddled him. When he was finished tinkling his essence over the rocks, he gave himself a good shake and, with his left hand, he reached for a towel to dry his face.

He was in that strange place..almost dry..yet still damp..
that delicate balance of deciding to be enamored of his own
rather steamy visage in the mirror..or letting his gaze drift to the
most exquisitely done grout-work on the bathroom floor.

He decided to contemplate the grout work. "Grout" seemed like such an ugly word. But it didn't matter. If grout had a new name, a fancy name, maybe a French name, like "chabois" or something, it would still hold the lowly yet necessary role of holding tile together. And gathering mildew. Which provided a market for mildew removing. But there were more important matters pressing than the "food chain" of grout. "Who the hell is the naked dwarf?", he pondered...

A naked dwarf? When he first woke up that morning, Tyler had realized that he was naked and beside him lay a sleeping dwarf. But as he looked more closely now, he saw that indeed the dwarf was naked - butt naked. When Tyler reached out with his left hand to rouse the little guy, he discovered that the dwarf was no longer sleeping. He was dead!

The dwarf appeared to be asleep, but as yet our good man Tyler
has been inching around the fact that a true oompa- loompa..
was inhabitating and (apparently) still breathing in the same room with him.
The undercurrents of his thoughts quickly became riptides.

"I should take a mirror and place it underneath his nostrils perhaps"

"when is checkout time at this establishment?"

"Will I need a shovel?"

Okay..yeah..it is dead..

Tyler took a toke off of his left handed cigarette. The dwarf dilemma was upsetting his apple cart. He had to figure out what to do about "Sleepy". The vertically challenged creature formerly known as not dead. He could put "Decomposey" on a baggage cart and leave him in the hall, face down, with a liquor bottle crooked in his arm...

...fortunately for Tyler..he was due to check in for his day
job as a hot- dog vendor. His most lucrative site at Fisherman's Wharf
held the scent of an idea...

"I know that my friend would understand"..he muttered to himself..

"Maybe the best way to remember him is to dismember him...
and let there be a fish feast"

"but how do I do this alone?"

Hardly believing the situation he got himself into, Tyler decided to better examine the diminutive dead dwarf. Much to his surprise, Tyler now realized that this was a female dwarf and it had some kind of magical looking amulet around her neck. It appeared to be a hand carved jade elephant ...perhaps she was a Republican. Feeling a little mixed up about how the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs usually plays out, Tyler bent over her and gently kissed her lips, thinking that he had some kind of strange attraction to the little woman. Suddenly, the little diva of a dwarf arose!

As she rose from the musty sheets, the dwarf seemed to float towards the ceiling. Tyler squeezed his eyelids shut and shook his head forcefully.

When he opened his eyes again, the dwarf was no longer in the bed, but the amulet remained in her place. He then decided he would call Stanley to cover for him at the hot dog stand. Something had to be done.

A strange feeling swept over Tyler as he stared at the amulet. He looked at his watch. It was 10:30, but what day was it? He reached for the USA Today that had been slid beneath his door. "What the f...?", he blurted. Today was September 1st. Everything suddenly became more clear. The dwarf was a Republican! Sent by the RNC to detain him and steal his Super Delegate vote from the convention floor. Just how the RNC knew that his particular sexual fantasies involved at least one dwarf, he wasn't sure. The Bush illegal phone surveillance program, no doubt. He had missed the convention completely! His eyes moved to the headlines and he soon realized the awful truth.

HILARY'S BEEN RESIZED!

He read the headline twice. HOLY SHIT! he thought. Was that her miniaturized body in my bed this morning?

He dialed Room Service to request some coffee and a bagel. He wanted to sit and think through the events of the previous evening and what exactly had brought Hilary to his bed.

What if, in his drunken black-out, he had had sex with Hillary! He felt a dry heave coming on as the persistent visual haunted him. What if Bill had part of a threesome with them during the night? He began to think of great Republicans at that moment, like Abraham Lincoln, and well that's all he could think of, to try and dissolve the horrible fantasy.

As he munched on his bagel, Tyler resumed reading to find out what exactly had transpired. He discovered that at the convention, Hillary had lost the nomination to Barak Obama. Unable to accept defeat, she flew into such a shrill and cataclysmic rage that she imploded - but only partially. Her shrieks were so piercing that everyone in the convention hall was temporarily stunned and no one saw her leave. One minute she was there, and the next minute she was gone. With curiosity, Tyler picked up the amulet, closed his eyelids, and shook his head once more.

2008 politics. A hangover to beat all hangovers. Hillary Rodham Clinton floating above him in her new form. He threw his clothes on, clutching the jade elephant, and rushed to the front desk. He was free. The room was not in his name but was in the name Lewinsky. He hurried to the wharf. There was Stanley, purveying pork-tubes in his stead. He had to give Stanley a few bucks to get away so he could be alone at his stand. He didn't have time for Stanley's hot dog jokes. Like "What did Buddha say to the hot dog vendor?" "Make me one with everything"...

Just as Stanley left to give Tyler a little peace, Tyler sighed a breath of relief. Finally he realized that he could give up this bizzare charade and again reclaim his true identity as Elliot Spitzer. He put the amulet in his pocket and contemplated his next move as Governor of New York.

Spitz didn't realize it, but the whole hot dog gig psychologically satisfied his need to get paid for giving someone a phallus shaped item instead of having to pay to give them one.

Spitzer was serving his 9th client of the morning and his head was still in a cloud. He handed a fully loaded dog to the customer.
"How much?"
"That'll be forty three hundred," said Spitzer.
"Hey Seinfeld, I don't have time for no shit, how much is the dog?"
Spitzer was awakened to his error, and tried to recover, "Uh, sorry, $3.50 please." "Hey did you hear the one about Buddha and the hot dog vendor?

From the newsstand just down the block emerged a kid named "Woim" with suspenders on and oversized cap pushed to one side, carrying a load of newspapers and yelling, "Extra, extra, read all about it! Spitz Out!" The headline made him cringe twice. First, he had lost his day job. Second, he had paid out good money and one of the conditions was that they were swallowers. Wasn't "No. 9" obscure and Beatlesque enough to have gone unnoticed as a nickname? After all he had foregone his first choice..."NYGuv." And had abandoned the moniker "Lewinsky" early on...

Wolfing down another dog with mustard, "Tyler" just couldn't figure out who rat'd him out to the feds. In the meantime, in another part of town the east side boys were planning their next big hit. Johnny McC was out of prison now and he wanted to take over the turf. But to do that, they had to figure out a way to capture that magical jade amulet.

Johnny Mac couldn't just mow El-Ty-Spit down in the streets. And he mistrusted his minions to secure the amulet. He would have to do it himself. He would have to gain his trust. He could pose as a foodservice salesman. Or a pimp.

Johnny scurried to the library, in order to check out a book that would
aid him in his quest.

He needed to brush up on his acting skills, it had been ten years since
he graduated from the school of Stanislavski...this actor needed to prepare.

Having secured the manual..all he needed now was the closest thrift store,
and some hair-dye.

He headed back towards the hotel, stopping in at a Salvation Army thrift shop on the way. He found the rhinestone-studded jacket, silk print ascot and yes, even the alligator shoes he needed, paid the clerk and was back in the street in no time.

Next stop was Walgreens, which was only a block from the hotel. As soon as he opened the door, he headed straight for the hair color. As he was debating the appropriate color, the hairs on his neck stood on end.

He felt a chill as he read the flyer that had been left in the empty "Dark Blonde" slot in the "Just For Men" section. It seems that Ger Fer was holding a White Supremacist Rally in Times Square! With special guest appearances from Mike Richards and Don Imus. What kind of weird, alien cloud had descended over New York State, especially its politicians!? Actually this could be just the distraction he needed to get his hands on Wiener Boy...

Weird, alien cloud indeed. High above the Empire State, an invisible realm kept watch over the political processes that swirled below, as it had done since the First Constitutional Convention.

As night falls and the blanket of dark clouds rolls over The City, the reincarnated Alexander Hamilton dons his Batman uniform and takes his seat on the judge's bench atop the Empire State Building. Justice will soon be done.

http://i59.photobucket.com/albums/g2...estatebldg.jpg

"The Realm" was able to invent, or re-invent the souls and the personas of anyone alive after 1787. Since Alexander Hamilton and Adam West fell into that time frame, there was no reason not to combine their unique human qualities into one "SuperHero."

West's unlikely superpower of bad acting could be used for good or evil. Hamilton's deep hatred of Tom Jefferson was also a resource that could be tapped and unleashed for The Dark Knight. But who was to be Robin?...

The ghost of Maria Reynolds was beckoning in the winds, this sweet bird could exceed any expectations of a Robin. But her demure and discreet nature steps aside for another Robin.

Was it going to be Aaron?

"Batman Hamilton" surveyed the city and settled on two possible candidates for "Robin," Would it be El-Ty-Spitz or Johnny McC? If he chose the former, he knew he could clean him up a bit and, with the power of the jade amulet, create a dynamic duo that would fight for truth, justice, and the American Way. However, if he chose the latter, he would be stepping over to the dark side, and he would have to follow a different creed.

BatHam shook his head in disbelief at his last thought. Democrats, were bad people who talked about doing good things. Republicans, or Federalists, were good people who did bad things sometimes. So the dilemma continued in his mind. And the fact that the name Aaron came to him. Burr was a murderous traitor by nature, the blackguard had killed him, hadn't he? So it must of been "The" Aaron that he had thought of. Moses' Robin. Sure he was born before 1787. But he was a Jew. Jews could bend the rules of time and space.

Or was it Hank Aaron? Probably not. While Hammerin Hank would have made a formidable SuperHero, BatHam was the batman, and to have another bat man at his side would be, ...well...batty.

So the possibilities kept rolling in...Robin...who was it going to be? Clay Aiken? Ronald Reagan? Stoned Ho Mary Ann? Aaron Spelling? Louis Farrakhan? What about Hitler? Or Millard Fillmore?

To save the Great Metropolis from indecision and confusion, Robin Hood steps up to bat and says "I'll be that Robin"! Little did anyone suspect that the "Little John" behind this masked man would be the one and only John D. Rockefeller, who was also a well known collector of jade amulets.

So Robin found himself quickly spinning into a telephone booth and spinning out in his pimp garb.

While the forces of good were assembling, new threats and villains were rising besides the hot dog man and the pimp Republican who would be president. Ted Kennedy's head was one of the more formidable. His head had separated from his body and grew bigger every day, bouncing across the New England countryside and towns, with only one purpose...To eat New York...

As Big Head Ted was bouncing up and down the streets and avenues of The City looking for what to devour next, its eyes, which were bigger than it's stomach, were looking for just one thing ...the largest pastrami sandwich anywhere to be found. Lucky for the good citizens of TC, 2nd Ave. Deli was open again and could be used as the bait to trap the Giant Headed Democrat.