U Damn Write!
 

Inspired by "The Extemporaneous Story" its time to start another ongoing story. Same idea...An opening sentence or paragraph to begin the story and anyone and everyone can post to it to build a story. You can be serious or not, but stupid seems to be more fun.

Stepping over the detritus,
She fumbled for the lightswitch.

And the light revealed a truth...that housekeeping was not a forte' of hers. But she had other strengths...

she could suck a golfball through a garden house..........


talent indeed.

She had the gift of gratitude. Grateful for her literate existence. That she could spell and use nouns and verbs correctly. That her drug and alcohol life was behind her. Grateful that she wasn't Canadian.

As she twisted the light switch, stumbling over the poor, dispossessed souls that lay strewn at her feet, she felt the weight of her hypocrisy. Although she was living a life of altruism and self-sacrifice, she was all too aware of her critical nature and the way that she denigrated people with her thoughts. Sometimes she felt like she was about to explode, as she obsessively mended the down-trodden. For, in her heart and mind she hated them and found herself irritated and repulsed by their petty weaknesses.

But she could fly. And nobody could take that away from her. Just levitate and speed off, still standing, like a wind surfer. Like her thoughts. Like her desires. Like her baby turtles.

Like her desire for baby turtles. Girls like that are mad for turtle meat.

The wind was her.

And because of her years of contact with baby turtles, Sally was the most virile vector of salmonella that the world had ever known. Paradoxically, she could only find meaning in her life when she was tenderly helping the people she despised. However, in doing so she invariably innoculated them with the bacteria that she had grown immune to, so long ago.

Her tender loving nature was to the point of obsession. She belonged to a group more sensitive than PETA...And she daily had to endure the taunts of "Bacteria Hugger!" from friends and family...

All it took was one swell foop..a sideways motion of the hand and neck..
to send the stereo-types on their way.....
....to shrug the last of the contagions..
off her shoulders..

" no longer shall I have to be holden to others and their constrictures..
I am the salt that floats and the salt that stings."

"can someone tell me what I mean by that?..I feel a tad..
waterlogged..at the moment...hmmmm..maybe if I tip my head to the
side...oh..my that tickles...my ear...."

The twin tailed siren walked with earth legs to the ocean, the wind gently caressing her long wavy locks. As she slowly viewed the earth surroundings she had no regret leaving. This world was foreign and inexplicable. That they would take her image and make it a symbol for overpriced caffeine products was only one of many contempts she bore. She walked into the abyss...

The water beckoned; the joy of effortless buoyancy, as she slipped
beneath the surface, brought forth the gift of tears she could not produce
on dry land.
A present returned, a present given.
She pondered,
" It has been many cycles of suns,will I find the place, I have only the faintest memory of ?"

"For now I shall simply swim," she declared,
"The guides will appear, I shall fear not."

With a graceful, forceful thrust, she dove deeper.

Transformation. Breathing water again. Long strides brought her quickly to twenty knots. Two sentinels caught up and escorted her on either side. The manatees looked at her and each other as if to smile. She was laughing and cheering for joy. This was the real world. Mercy and justice were married. Their children were the mysteries of the deep...

She closed her eyes and plunged forward. Open, receptive gills took in the torrents that washed away the tears and the pain that she had felt on earth. She was free.

Along the edges of her euphoria, however, a change had taken place. For a moment, she ignored the warning and held herself in the sweetness of the moment. When she opened her eyes, she discovered that the sea had darkened and had grown much colder. She glanced at her sentinels and she was horrified with what she saw. The manatees were gone and in their place were two steely-eyed barracudas.

She shot to forty knots and entered the portal of a sunken ship with the accuracy of a laser beam. The barracudas crashed nose first on either side of the window.

She quickly barred the portal and as she peered out into the sea, there were no signs of the barracudas. She was relieved, but too suspicious to venture out again. To gather her thoughts, she decided to rummage through the wreckage to try and discover where she was.

She quickly located the galley.
Rummaging for something tasty to snack on, she spied her favorite delicacy;
Pomegranate Fig Newtons, aged to perfection, and pleasantly soggy.

Her hunger satisfied, she had energy to further explore the ship.

Denizens of the deep had expressed themselves with graffiti on the walls. "Geraldo Sucks!" and "I Got Your Treasure Right Here Baby!" were a couple of the unoriginal entries...

...there was "Don't go in the head, something died in there!" and "Kilroy was here." But she had no idea what that meant. As she perused the walls, she heard a whimper from another part of the ship. She peered through the cracks of a small cabin. Inside, huddled in one corner were several shivering youths who looked like poor urchins straight out of a Dickens novel. Sea urchins, of course. They were poor and wretched and hungry. They had sooty faces and tattered clothes and even their names were quite Dickensian. Names like .....

Timmy...and Marquis St. Evremonde, which was an unusually cruel name to give a kid. His parents were alcoholics. There was a sooty faced girl amongst the lot. She was one of many sea whores. She couldn't remember her own name but said that it rhymed with a part of the male anatomy. Starbuck the siren could only guess..."Venus"?..."Pock"?..."Flick"?..."Grotum"?..."Zeener"?...

After much guessing, the girl finally remembered.

"Tool!" she exclaimed.

The siren was puzzled. "You're name is tool?" she asked.

"No, mum," she replied "Me name. It rhymes with a word that is suggestive of a word that is suggestive of a part of the male anatomy, not directly as I thought."

"So what is your name," asked the siren.

"Cratchet, Bob Cratchet," replied the girl.

Starbuck doled out Pomegranate Fig Newtons to the motley crew. The children slammed the cookies into their faces. She beckoned them to the galley to look for more food. A man was in the galley and fear swept over the siren and the children...

Motionless, they stood transfixed by the sight of him. Although they had never seen him, they knew in an instant that it was him, the one responsible for their plight; the one who had turned the children into drifting vagabonds; the one who had forced Starbucks into exile while he transformed their sacred city into an unimaginable abomination.

Aqualung! So...he wasn't a myth after all. Just keeping bad company as usual. Underwater Donald Trump and AquaRush Limbaugh stepped out of the shadows as well as Buoy George and his new band, "Sea Men".

With "snot running down his nose," and "greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes," Aqualung leered at the children, "with bad intent."

Starbucks gathered the children together and cried out, "What are you doing here?"

"Spitting out pieces of my broken luck", said Ack, with deep sea diving sounds. "And learning the "Hokey Pokey."

Aqualung put his left foot in and took his left foot out. He was about to put his left foot in again and shake it all about when he was interrupted by AquaRush Limbaugh, who insisted that he lead from the right, in all matters. A bitter, pointless argument about left and right ensued as Buoy and the Sea Men played "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?" With Aqua's Lung and Rush distracted, The Donald acted quickly and whisked Starbucks and the urchins out of the ship and into a submersible Limo that was waiting outside. They sped away into the deep.

The urchins were now fed and felt safe. One of them pulled his T-shirt over his head with his face showing and chanted "Sea Hunt, Sea Hunt".

The others ignored his silly antics and sat quietly as the Sub-Limo pushed farther into the darkness. Up ahead, a ray of light shone around the end of a coral reef. As the Sub-Limo entered the light and turned the corner of the reef, Starbucks' eyes widened. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Two large mounds rose up from the sea floor. Little boys with gills were climbing on them, rolling down them, laughing and playing. It was some kind of underwater shrine. Yes, it was a shrine...to Linda Hix's boobs...

Starbucks looked at the Donald, who had an odd smile on his face.

"What is this?" she asked, "And who is Linda Hix?"

Trump explained, "I was 14 years old. She was 18, and I couldn't take my eyes off her."

"She must have been beautiful," Starbucks asked.

"No not really," said Trump, "She just had the biggest boobs I had ever seen. I swore one day I would build a shrine to them."

"That's disgusting," replied Starbucks.

Trump reacted angrily, "No, it's not disgusting. It's good. You're fired!"

Starbucks protested, "You can't fire me!

AquaTrump just shrugged and swam toward the monuments, shedding his clothes as he gloried in them, making sand angels and laughing at the top of his aqualungs. As Starbuck looked beyond the shrine, she discovered it was only the entrance to a vast underwater theme park...

The park was like other such parks, except that the theme was sex. At the entrance was the Vagina Monorail. Beyond that lay a plethora of sex-themed rides and attractions that Starbucks found both appalling and amusing.

The queues were always long at the Orgasmatrons. Lined up like a bank of Porta-Johns, they were very popular at a quarter a pop. Plans were in the making to move them near the exit of the park as, the men especially, would lose interest in seeing the rest of the park and wanted to go outside for a smoke. The women seemed to only want to be held which was not good for the park either.

Starbucks' amusement was short-lived, however, and her mirth soon turned to disgust. She wasn't disgusted with the sexual nature of things, but more by how cheesy everything was. After all, it doesn't take a genius to sexualize a theme park, with all of the plunging log flumes and roller coasters that disappear into deep, dark places. And Trump was certainly no genius. She had to get out of there, so she started to swim ....

Again, it wasn't that sex turned her off. It was just that she was fish from the waist down. All she had heard about mer-sex was that the female "poops" out some eggs and the merman "comes" along and spews sperm over them. Whoop-de-doo. Also, she wondered about mermen. She knew there were "fish sticks" but did they have "fish dicks"?

Starbucks was determined to find out, so she set out to find a mer-man and look at his junk. Finding a mer-man wasn't as easy as it seemed, however. For reasons unknown to Starbucks, the mer-man population had dwindled over the years. Now that she was back at home and not pushing coffee, it seemed that the numbers were even lower than before.

She came upon a field of multicolored sea anemones. They were so beautiful. In the sea world, anemones were well loved creatures. Anyone who didn't like them was considered an enemy of anemones. Those who didn't like them but wanted to change usually joined "AAA". "An enemy of Anenomes Anonymous".